Hour of Need

All night the tension had been thick enough to cut with a knife. It took House an unusually long time to bring it up, but sure enough, three or four beers in, he did.

"What do you really want, Jimmy? Why are you really here tonight?"

Wilson hesitated a moment before he asked, "Are you alright?" House rolled his eyes, got up and started limping heavily towards the corridor. "House, talk to me!" The diagnostician still ignored him. "House, please! Just tell me what's been going on."

House stopped, leaning heavily against the wall just outside his bedroom.

"I'm going to bed," he said without looking at his friend. "Lock up on your way out." He pushed off the wall and continued into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Wilson sighed. "House? You're sorely mistaken if you think I'm going to go away when you're so obviously upset. Come out and talk to me about this."

Silence.

Wilson sighed, frustrated. House could be so stubborn sometimes. He turned the door handle but it just rattled uselessly in his hand, locked. Just as he turned to leave, he realised he was being an idiot – there were two entrances to the bedroom – and upon closer inspection, saw that House appeared to have also momentarily forgotten this fact.

"Fine, House," he called, calmer now that he had a plan. "Have it your way. I'm going home. If you're not in by 11 tomorrow I'm coming back round!"

He walked noisily back to the front door, opening it and then slamming it closed. He waited a few minutes before he turned and crept quietly back down, through the bathroom door and into House's room. The light was out but the dim glow from the street lamps meant he had no trouble seeing his friend, who was lying in the foetal position on his bed, shoulders shaking ever so slightly. Wilson's expression softened as he made his way over to the bed and knelt against the edge. House started, whirling around to look at his friend, eyes wide. Wilson felt something inside him break when he saw his friend's tear stained face. This is the cost of pretending you don't feel, he thought sadly. You wind up crying alone while everyone goes on with their lives, oblivious to your pain. Wilson blinked back against a sudden stinging in his eyes. How hadn't he seen this pain before? He opened his mouth to say something but House beat him to it.

"Figures you can't leave me alone in my 'hour of need'."

Smiling slightly but otherwise ignoring the jab, Wilson asked quietly, "What's wrong, House? Just talk to me. Maybe I can help."

House shook his head almost imperceptibly. "You can't," he said as he turned away again. "Just go home. I'll be okay."

"Oh, yes, you're obviously so okay right now," Wilson retorted, struggling to keep another sudden surge of frustration out of his voice.

"That's why I said I will be okay - future tense!" House retorted.

"House..."

"Nothing either one of us can do about it! Just go home," House said lightly, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him.

"House," Wilson said again, sounding pained.

"Wilson," House mimicked without turning around. "Look, just... go away! You can't fix everything. In fact, you can't fix anything! My leg, my personality, my relationship with Cuddy..."

"Cuddy? What happened?"

When House didn't reply, Wilson sighed and went around the other side, moving carefully onto the bed and causing House to half sit up, confused. "What're you doing?" Wilson didn't respond, pulling back the covers and worming his way under them until he was lying right beside House. "Are you... oh my gosh! Are you going to swoop in and save the day with some sympathy sex? You're in love with me, aren't you? Explains a lot. I always knew it, really..." House joked, but his voice lacked its usual snark. This observation was not lost on Wilson.

They were nose to nose, so close that Wilson could feel the hurt radiating off House in waves and that Wilson's breath tickled House's face when he spoke.

"You're an idiot," he told the diagnostician quietly. "And you'll be an okay idiot - you just have to let someone get close. I don't just mean physically," he added quickly as House began to make a snide remark in an attempt to break some of the tension. "But for now, seeing as you won't accept comfort any other way, physically will have to do."

"What are you..." House began as Wilson reached out and drew House in so that his friend was pressed against his chest. House squirmed for a moment, trying to get away, but then seemed to realise it was pointless and relaxed in his friend's grip. "What do you think this is going to do? You think I'm going to suddenly open up to you, that I'm just going to break down and cry?"

"Technically you already did that last bit," Wilson pointed out, smiling slightly. His voice reverberated pleasantly through the ear House had rested against his chest.

Wilson heard House sigh. "S'pose you got me there."

Wilson waited patiently, confident House would, in fact, open up to him, assured by the fact that House's hadn't continued in his efforts to pull away. He needed this. After a while, just as the oncologist thought his friend might have fallen asleep, he became aware that the front of his t-shirt was damp, and realised that House had been crying silently into his chest. He tightened his grip on his friend, gently massaging circles between his shoulder blades and murmuring soothingly to him.

"Okay..." House sighed after a while, pushing back and sitting up against the headrest. "I suppose you might be able to help."

Wilson stayed silent, fearful of undoing his progress. The pair sat in silence for a few minutes.

"You just gonna sit there like a stunned mullet while I pour my heart out to you?" House asked, sounding amused for the first time that night.

Wilson laughed, and just like that, the tension was broken.