A/N: Re-watching season 3 has put a whole new wave of short angsty H/W ficlets in my head. I think I'm going to just post them as chapters from now on. So this is not a continuation of the shoulder thing; it's just a separate little scene.

"House?"

Something in Wilson's voice said that this would be a Conversation of some kind, and House really wasn't in the mood. He said, without looking up from his computer: "Can it wait?"

"Not really."

"I'm two minutes from the end of a level."

"Finish it later. Listen: when Tritter searched your place he found almost seven hundred pills."

Now he really wasn't looking up. "If he'd searched your place he'd've found almost seven hundred wives. Go away."

"I'm not here to lecture."

"Course not."

"I mean... at first I was happy. I thought of how many milligrams of Vicodin were not currently destroying your liver..."

House just turned the volume up and went on playing.

"And then I was confused," Wilson said over the sound of the space monkeys' lazer beams. "Because I hadn't prescribed you that much this fall. You hadn't prescribed you that much this fall. Even if you hoarded up three-quarters of the scrips we wrote you, you wouldn't have put together such a stash."

"So?"

"So, you must've had some pills from before. Tons."

"Yeah. Pills litter my apartment. They always have. Sometimes I accidentally confuse them with cereal and eat whole bowls at a time. Vicodin Krispies, you should try it. Then we can go to rehab together. Actually... I think they had a Sexaholics Anonymous group at my facility too, you could kill two birds with one stone."

House's voice was bitter and he was talking just a little too fast... Not to mention he only lashed out this deliberately when he had something to hide... so Wilson pressed on without reacting to any of the baiting. "Why did you come begging me for a scrip? You could have gone weeks, months before you ran out."

House shrugged. "Lapse in judgment."

"You didn't want pills."

"I did want pills, as evidenced by the fact that I then stole them when you wouldn't give them to me," House snapped back, then pretended to look both ways for eavesdroppers. "Oops. Hearsay anyway - it's inadmissable."

The defensiveness confirmed Wilson's suspicions. He swallowed hard. "I am so sorry."

"For what? Are you wearing a wire?"

"Stop it! If you can't fool me you sure as hell can't fool yourself! You snuck back for my pad because you wanted me to think you'd wanted pills," Wilson accused. "Because you wanted you to think you'd wanted pills... But what you really wanted..."

"No." House stood up suddenly, sacrificing his game. "I don't want to hear it. You had your chance to talk, you said what you wanted to say, and that's that." He snatched up his jacket and cane and headed for the door.

Knowing that House would never allow this conversation to re-open in the future, Wilson chased him down the hallway to make the most of the one chance he had. "Look, I get it, okay? You needed me to be there for you and I wasn't. I'm sorry about that. Now would you just give me a chance to-"

"Stop following me."

"House-"

"Go away! This isn't a chick flick. Shh - listen. See?" he said after a moment. "No sappy music. I'm not going to give you a hug. We're not going to cry together. You were mean, I got over it, we're okay. End of story."

He was watching expectantly, waiting for Wilson to nod and drop his eyes, giving up... but Wilson held his ground. "I screwed up," he repeated, giving full weight to every word, "And I'm asking you to forgive it. Next time will be different, okay?"

Strangely, House didn't answer. He looked away, swallowed, shrugged. Turned and continued on.

"House...?"

House paused. "I heard you," he said quietly, without facing him. "I said we're okay. Now leave me alone."

The End.

poor Guilty!Wilson. i want to give him a hug.