Aftermath
"I followed your advice. Too bad you didn't."
HOUSEMD
"H-House? What are you doing here?" Wilson asked wearily from the couch, flinching as House limped closer, each thud from his cane reverberating painfully through the oncologist's skull.
"Wanted to steal some chips. Thought you'd be drinking yourself into oblivion in some bar somewhere. Huh. Guess I got caught."
"Could you keep your voice down? I've got a splitting headache," Wilson mumbled, scrubbing a hand over his face as his friend plonked down on the armrest sans chips. "Why are you really here? Come to brag to me about the awesome sex you and Cuddy just had? To lecture me about my dating choices?"
"Nope and nope. You're two-for-oh – I might just give you one more guess if you say pretty-please!"
Wilson swung his legs around into a sitting position and rested his head in his hands tiredly. "Just go away," came the muffled reply. "I'm not in the mood."
House sighed, relenting. He limped past his friend to sit down on the couch beside him, so close that their shoulders were touching.
"You're an idiot," he said softly as he watched the oncologist closely.
Wilson looked up at him at that, eyes brimming with barely suppressed tears, before leaning against House and closing his eyes, fully prepared for the expected round of mocking to begin. He felt House tense, and for an awful moment he thought his friend would pull away, make a joke, and then leave so that he was, once again and very ironically, alone. But then House wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer, resting his chin atop the oncologist's head.
"You're an idiot," he said again, voice gentle, affectionate. "No wonder you get hurt so often."
Wilson squeezed his eyes shut more tightly, biting down hard on his lip to stop the sob that was building in his chest from escaping. He turned his head and buried his face in House's chest, trying to stop the emotions that were building behind his closed eyes, but he could feel the tears leaking out, could feel them dampening House's t-shirt, as the diagnostician surely could. As if in confirmation of that fact, he felt House's arm squeeze his shoulders, felt a hand run lightly up and down his back. And then:
"It'll be okay, Jimmy."
Wilson couldn't stifle a gasping sob then, bunching up the material on House's shoulder and clutching at it desperately. He convulsed again, trying and failing to choke back the tears that were now streaming down his face. Through it all he could feel House's arms tightening around him, the way he was rocking ever so slightly. House's fingers were running slowly through his sweat-soaked hair, and Wilson could hear his heart beating and feel his chest moving and smell his cologne. He let out a shuddering breath. He couldn't lose this. He couldn't lose him. But he had, in a way. House was happy with Cuddy. He wouldn't have time for him anymore, which he had all but proven when he'd sent him away earlier. He still wasn't sure what he was doing here tonight.
"You... you never told me why you were here..." Wilson muttered thickly.
House pulled back, but Wilson held on to him, grip like a vice. "It's okay," the older doctor said soothingly, disentangling himself carefully from his friend. "I'm not going anywhere." Once he could see the oncologist's tear-streaked face, he admitted quietly, "I was worried about you. I know you're not good with losing people. Cuddy could tell I wasn't... fully there. I told her what happened and she was worried, too. So... here I am."
Wilson shook his head vigorously, squeezing his eyes closed again. "I thought... I thought I'd lost you, too," he choked out, collapsing against the diagnostician's chest as another sob ripped through him.
"Never," House vowed softly. He ran his hand lightly up and down the oncologist's arm, not at all shocked by the distraught confession. "Not for all the sex in the world. Well, maybe for all of it..."
Wilson laughed shakily through his tears. "You're such an ass, House..."
House smiled, recognising the pseudo-insult for what it was. "Love you too, Jimmy."