Greg House kicked and struggled under the rough hands of the two fridge sized nurses.
"I'm fine dammit! Where the hell is Wilson?" he shouted for the third time.
"Sir, you've been in an accident. You need to calm down." House bit back on the venom that rose in his throat. Injuries and possibly broken ribs be damned! He had to tell Wilson something important and he had to tell him now.
"Sir, can you tell us your name?" the male nurse asked. House fixed him a look of pure malevolence. "Steven. It's me. I stumbled into Plainsboro for a reason." The nurse looked confused, "Greg House. Fifth floor?" he prompted, "Diagnostics?" Steven's face remained blank.
"I'm the 'jerk' that put the frog in your coffee last week?" None of these comments seemed to register. He looked over his shoulder at his coworker,
"Lynn, fetch a sedative for Mr. House here."
"Oh my god!" House tore himself away from the two dim wits and hobbled in Wilson's direction.
"Look. This guy's more trouble than he's worth. I'll ring up Wilson." Steven decided. Lynn muttered her assent and attempted to bring House back to the exam room. House only returned upon seeing Steven call Wilson and when the pain in his leg returned with a bitter vengeance. He sat there, alone, trying to piece his thoughts and feelings together into a coherent sentence. Blood dripped into his eye and he remembered the accident. It had happened in a flash, glaring headlights and the full weight of a truck's bumper slamming into the driver's side door. The offending driver hadn't even stopped to see if House was alright. Instead, he sped off into the night and left the diagnostician unconscious. For perhaps an hour House laid in the car, his condition worsening by the second. And god, it had taken him being hit by a truck to finally recognize his feelings for Wilson. How could he be so stupid? The truth had been staring him dead in the face and he'd ignored it.
"There he is! Why'd you send the flying monkeys oh wicked witch of the west?" Wilson looked up from the clipboard in his hands and uttered a small laugh. One of mere consolation rather than actual enjoyment, not even slightly sounding like he meant it.
"Car accident huh?" Wilson said, putting down the clipboard. The truth of the matter fell over him like a bucket of ice water. 'Wilson doesn't recognize me. Nobody recognizes me.' He nodded dumbly in response to the doctor's questions.
House was fed up with these games, "You've got to be joking."
"What?"
"Wilson. It's me."
"I don't-"
"Look at me!" he roared. Pain had made him impatient. House felt on the verge of tears and despised the feeling. Worry clouded Wilson's features, was this man going to get violent?
"I'm your best friend!"
"Okay, sure." the younger man scoffed.
"I am!" House was standing now, glowering down at Wilson. Wilson crossed his arms, "Prove it."
"I know that the scar on your lip is from the time in college when you tried to pierce it yourself. That your second ex-wife divorced you because you wanted to paint the front living room brown." With every declaration House stepped closer. Soon they were a heartbeat apart.
"I know that you love the ocean because it reminds you of your mother. That you hate seeing children in pain." House gathered his courage, and let loose the words he'd been holding in his chest.
"I know that you love me. And that I love you." In an instant House's lips crushed Wilson's.
"House wake up." Wilson coaxed, sounding vaguely annoyed. House awoke with a start finding his best friend standing over him.
"Morning." he mumbled sleepily. Wait. He was in his office. Wilson recognized him. He hadn't been hit by a truck. 'Weird dream.'
"Cuddy's looking for you. You do remember you've got a job here right? That this isn't your palace in which you can do what you please." Wilson nagged. House found himself smiling.
"Meet you for lunch later?"
"Yeah, yeah sure." Wilson responded, turning to go.
"Hey Wilson," House hesitated. His thoughts raced, his palms sweaty.
"Yes?"
"I um-" Wilson fixed him with an honest gaze. A warmth in his brown eyes.
"Nothing. See you in a few." Wilson shrugged. Maybe House would tell him later. Maybe he would finally get around to telling him his true feelings. Maybe.