Author's Note: Sequel to Diagnosis. If you haven't read Diagnosis, this will not make sense.
Reverse-Diagnosis
By Kage Chikara
"You're emotionally stunted."
House turned in his chair and faced Wilson with a thoughtful smirk. His brows drew together. "Hmm. You know, you may be on to something there." He said. "Maybe that's why I never got picked for any of the basketball teams in school."
"Well, in a way, yes, since no one in their right mind would want to play on a team with you. I've been thinking about it and I think I've finally solved the great mystery of Dr. House." Wilson said. "You're an emotional cripple."
"Wow." House said, leaning forward, his eyes wide.
"Wow?" Wilson repeated, sidetracked for a moment.
"You've actually beaten Cuddy to a cripple joke. I think I'm at a loss for words." House said. He took the ball that rested on his desk and spun it.
"Don't you even want to hear my evidence?" Wilson said, crossing his arms and looking down at his friend.
"Gee, you're going to tell me you don't think I'm emotionally perfect? Wow, no one ever said that to me before." House leaned forward and assumed a thoughtful, listening posture. "Thrill me."
Wilson grinned without humor. "What kind of person discovers his best friend has a homosexual crush on him and then goes to the trouble of kissing him just to confirm what he already knew, for the sake of his own curiosity?"
"We're best friends now?" House furrowed his brow, slumping in the chair. "Because me and Foreman are getting pretty close. You might have to get me a new car or something to regain your position."
Wilson reached over and snatched House's cane. House sat up and glared at him. "Hey, didn't your mother teach you not to touch another man's cane?!"
"There's more. You can't stand me having a sane, normal relationship, you sabotage every chance I have for happiness and you're always there to remind me of why you're the worst friend anyone could ever have. I couldn't ask for a more malignant, cancerous relationship than whatever we have."
"Trust an oncologist to describe me like a tumor." He snatched for his cane and Wilson pulled it away. "Well, you're right, of course. It must be true love."
There was a pause and Wilson's smile became something softer. "Maybe." He agreed.
"We're really going to have to work on your sarcasm meter." House muttered.
"I think in your own twisted, needy, sociopathic way, you care about me. You're too emotionally stunted to show it, so you have to turn it into some kind of game, some kind of diagnosis ritual. You have to rationalize your feelings or you'll never do anything about them. Except keep fucking up my life, which, by the way, I don't appreciate."
House watched him, his expression unreadable. "You're forgetting the woman thing."
"What 'woman thing' is that?" Wilson asked.
"I like them. I look at them. I'm not gay, I've never been gay and yet suddenly I've jumped ship to the other team?"
"I like women too. Three times, I liked them enough to marry them." Wilson pointed out. "And I think you've kissed men before, at least, because there's no way a perfectly straight male can manage to kiss another perfectly straight male with that level of confidence. But that aside, I don't explain gender and sexuality. And I can't explain us. Or you. And you can't explain it either. And that's what really scares you, isn't it, House?"
"What really scares me is that you're going to start asking to be called Miss Scarlet and getting me to hold your purse."
"Ah, there we go again. You always have to be top dog. Anything that makes anyone question your masculinity, any hint of an emotional side gets squashed behind a wall of sarcasm. The Dr. Greg House Show. I've seen enough to know better." Wilson was smiling now, some combination of smugness and pain. "Also, if I had a purse, I would never leave it with you." He couldn't help but feel the tight pain in his chest, diagnostic of nothing except his own stupidity. He had seen House at his best and worst.
He had seen enough to know how hard that façade was to pierce, how unwilling House was to be vulnerable to anyone.
House popped a handful of pills thoughtlessly. Wilson put his cane down flat on the desk and turned away, toward the door. "Where are you going?" House asked, without inflection. Wilson felt a tired pride that House hadn't managed to come up with anything in the way of sarcasm.
"To my office. I have work."
There was a pause and despite himself Wilson looked over his shoulder to find House watching him. "What if I tell you everything you just said--aside from the cripple thing--is bullshit?" He said.
Wilson took a soft breath.
"People lie." He said, and walked out.