017. True

Two Sides

Wilson leaned against the low wall that separated his half of the balcony from House. He stared flatly in through the balcony door to House's office. House was slumped in the chair behind his desk, staring at the desktop and brooding. For once though, Wilson didn't care what House's problem was though he had a sick feeling he might already know. He watched and waited until he saw first Chase, then Foreman and finally Cameron leave, the latter shooting House a glance that was a mix of worry and disapproval.

Wilson walked forward and pushed the door open. He let it thump closed behind him then walked over and closed the blinds. He didn't want what was about to happen to become a spectator sport. When he turned back to face House the older man gave him a single curious look then his gaze skittered away. Wilson's face hardened and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Is it true?" he said bluntly.

Again he got the barest flicker of a glance before House looked away again.

"Jesus, it is, isn't it?" Wilson said angrily. "I wasn't imagining things when I got home last night. You had sex with Stacy in our bed."

House's jaw tightened but he didn't say a word in either agreement or denial. He also wouldn't meet Wilson's eyes.

Wilson glared at his lover silently for a long moment then his anger suddenly evaporated, replaced with bone-aching weariness and despair.

"Why?" he asked softly. "I know…I know you don't love me. I know that part is one-sided. But…I thought you at least respected me. Jesus, Greg…" His voice trailed off.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence in the room.

"Hypocrite," House said sharply.

Wilson's anger flared again. "Be that as it may," he snapped. "I'm not the one who cheated. I haven't wanted to, wasn't planning on it. I was happy!"

House didn't answer and he looked away again.

"Why?" Wilson demanded. "Are you leaving me for her? I know she divorced Mark. Guess she's got a great track record with disabled men. Come on, Greg. I think I deserve to know."

Wilson glared at House, his hands now on his hips. House flicked another glance at Wilson then he stared at his shoes and grimaced.

"It's not…one-sided," he admitted reluctantly.

Wilson frowned. "What?"

House finally looked up at his lover though his face was opaque. "It's not one-sided," he said flatly.

Wilson stared for a moment as he deciphered that. Once he had, his jaw sagged for a moment and delight lit up his eyes then his expression hardened.

"You'll forgive me if I don't exactly believe you," he said snidely.

"What do you want from me? An engraved plaque. You knew what I was like going into this," House snarled defensively.

"I thought I did," Wilson replied. "I thought you'd be the last person to cheat. Guess I was wrong. And if I was wrong about that, what else was I wrong about?"

House looked away; his hands flitted around for a moment before settling on the handle of his cane. He was silent, staring at his shoes for a long, long moment.

"I don't know why," he admitted reluctantly.

"How can you not know why?" Wilson said with irritation. "I always had a reason. Not always a good one but it was a reason. You're going to have to do better than that."

"I don't know why," House snapped, enunciating each word clearly, his head snapping up to glare right back at Wilson. He grimaced before continuing in a softer tone, "I don't know why. She…offered, I accepted, I don't know why."

Wilson sighed and sat down heavily in the arm chair in the corner of the room. "Were…are you tired of…us?"

"No," House said, his glare fading into a worn out look.

Wilson hesitated then asked the question that had been haunting him since he found out what had happened.

"Are you…getting back together with her?"

House looked at him with surprise. "No," he said firmly.

"Why not?" Wilson asked, wanting to keep poking the sore spot for some reason. "She does. I could tell that much when I saw her today." He paused. "Does she even know about us?"

"No, she doesn't," House said, looking down at his shoes again. "And I don't care what she wants. I don't…want to be with her."

"Jesus, Greg, I just don't understand you," Wilson said with exasperation. "Last time she was here, you chase after her until you get her into bed then send her off to her husband. This time you do almost the same kind of thing. Is this a new thing with Stacy whenever she turns up? You pester her, screw her then dump her. Trying for some kind of episodic revenge?"

House scowled down at the floor and didn't answer.

"Can you at least tell me why you don't want to be with her?" Wilson demanded. "For my own curiosity, if nothing else."

House continued his silence for a long moment. "She still won't look at my leg," he finally said.

"You don't like people looking at your leg," Wilson said, suddenly wary. "Not even me."

"You do it anyway," House countered, looking uncomfortable. "You touch it."

"It's part of you," Wilson replied matter-of-factly, realising where Stacy had failed and feeling unaccountably smug. "It's not all that you are but it is part of what makes you you. Why would I try to deny that?"

"She does," House said flatly.

"She feels guilty," Wilson replied, not really knowing why except that he'd made a sudden decision that he wasn't going to be like his ex-wives; he wasn't going to let House go without a fight. "She'll probably always feel guilty."

"Then you know why I don't want to be with her," House said with a scowl.

"But you'll screw her casually whenever you feel like it," Wilson said, deliberately extending the goad.

House's head snapped up and he transferred the scowl to Wilson. "Jesus, you are a fucking hypocrite. You never seemed to have much of a problem screwing around on your many wives. Why the hell are you riding me?"

"It was our bed, Greg," Wilson said angrily. "You fucked Stacy in our bed. At least I had the decency to take them to a damn hotel."

"So it would have been alright if I'd taken her to a hotel?" House snarled back.

"NO!" Wilson yelled. "It wasn't alright to take her anywhere!"

He slumped back in his chair and scrubbed his face with one hand.

"You're jealous," House said with a hint of surprise.

Wilson froze for a second. "Of course I'm jealous," he snarled. "What the fuck did you expect? I told you I loved you. I meant it."

House stared at Wilson for a long, long moment. Wilson wasn't sure what his lover was looking for but he apparently seemed to find it. House turned his head so that he could stare out the window into the growing dark then he sighed. It sounded as though he'd given up whatever battle he'd been fighting. He turned back and looked Wilson in the eye, every wall gone, everything he was feeling plain in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

Wilson's jaw sagged as he both heard the words and saw in House's eyes that they were the simple truth; no tricks, no artifice, just honest-to-god truth. He swallowed hard and nodded, unable to speak at the moment.

"And I…meant what I said before," House continued, starting to look a little uncomfortable, his gaze dropping away again. "It's not one-sided."

"What isn't?" Wilson said, his chin coming up and challenge written all over his face.

He wanted…needed…House to say it. He knew he was asking a lot but for once he needed something for himself. He watched as the emotions flickered across House's expressive face; reluctance, hesitation, fear. Then the other man looked over at him and those negative emotions flowed away, replaced by apology, affection, the barest of amusement and finally, finally, the one thing Wilson had wanted but never expected to see.

"You're…actually going to make me say it, aren't you?" House said ruefully, just the hint of a plea in his eyes.

"Only if you mean it," Wilson replied.

House sighed and slumped back in his chair. "Yeah, I mean it."

He fell silent again and Wilson waited him out.

"I…you're an insecure, hypocritical idiot who should know better than to get involved with me," House said with what Wilson could tell was an insincere scowl. "I was an idiot to sleep with Stacy, it won't happen again and I…I love you."

Wilson's lips twitched and he struggled against a smile. He should have known he wouldn't get a heartfelt declaration but he liked what he'd gotten; it was more genuine.

"Good," he said with satisfaction. "I want you to tell Stacy about us."

House gave him a jaundiced look. "Do I have to?" he whined and Wilson somehow felt the pieces of their friendship and relationship fall mostly back into place. "Can't we just let her catch us playing tonsil hockey or something?"

Wilson raised a speculative eyebrow then shrugged. "Okay."

He almost laughed at the sudden suspicion that ran across House's face.

"Okay?" House said warily. "Since when are you 'okay' about public displays of affection?"

"Since you slept with Stacy and I found out I can be possessive," Wilson replied blandly.

He almost laughed again at the look of speculation and mischief that appeared on his lover's face. He stood and walked over to lean on the desk.

"Get your bag," he said casually. "You can come up with whatever embarrassing plan you want on the way home."

Surprise flickered through House's eyes for a moment then he nodded and got to his feet. Wilson waited while House got ready then he smirked.

"You are changing the sheets on the bed though," he said firmly. "Before we go to bed tonight. Or I sleep on the sofa."

House gave him a long look then nodded once, soberly. Then he gave a very put upon sigh and rolled his eyes.

"Yes, dear."