070. Upset

Root of Cause

Wilson stood in the hallway and bit his lip. He'd been in and out of his office all day and every time he'd been in this corridor he'd seen calm and serene people entering House's office then leaving it in various states of upset. He hadn't really been too concerned at first, assuming that someone must have done something stupid and House was taking it out an all and sundry. However it was now late in the afternoon and it was still going on and Wilson was starting to get a little worried. House's sour moods usually spent themselves by the fourth stupid person and he'd just settled for being irritated and mocking.

He sighed and started walking towards the door to the office. It was a wonder he hadn't had one or all of House's team in his office, asking him to calm their boss down; that was not an uncommon event and he'd certainly seen Foreman stalking away looking furious earlier in the day and Cameron leaving in a state of near tears just after lunch, so he was a bit surprised he hadn't had any visitors.

He stopped just in front of the door and peered inside the room. House was sitting behind his desk in what could only be described as a full-on curmudgeon mode. He was slumped in his chair and scowling at the desk, thumping his cane against the floor. He looked like he was quite willing to take to anyone who entered the room with that cane.

Wilson rolled his eyes then settled his expression into one of bland curiosity that he knew drove House up the wall. He pushed the door open and ambled into the room, sitting down in the chair opposite the desk and stretching his legs out.

"I counted eight," he said conversationally.

"What?" House snapped.

"Eight poor souls who have felt the dreaded stinging lash of Dr Gregory House," Wilson said with quiet amusement.

House's scowl deepened. "Want to make it nine?"

Wilson carefully concealed his surprise. He had been expecting to get at least some signs of amusement from his comment, not to have House turn on him as well. He considered the matter for a brief moment then mentally shrugged and decided on a full frontal approach.

"Alright, what bug have you got up your arse today?" he said firmly. "Because in a battle of snarls between you and Cuddy, I'm going to back Cuddy. And that battle's got to be coming soon."

Something flashed across House's face that Wilson couldn't quite identify but he knew it was dark and unpleasant and his levels of concern and worry ramped up abruptly.

"I'm fine," House said bluntly. "Piss off."

"Yes, because that's going to convince me," Wilson said firmly. "What's wrong?"

House looked mulish. "Nothing."

"Try again."

"Nothing!" House snarled.

Wilson crossed his arms. "Try. Again," he said flatly.

House glared at him then turned to face the windows. He was silent for a long, long moment then his shoulders slumped slightly.

"I worked something out," he said in a quiet, slightly defeated tone.

"What?" Wilson pressed. "Something about your patient?"

House shook his head and was silent again for a moment. "About me?"

Wilson frowned. "Are you sick?"

"Not like that," came the dismissive response. "Just…something. It's not important."

"Considering the way you've been acting today, I think it is important," Wilson replied. "Tell me."

House hunched his shoulders and his entire body just screamed defensiveness. "No."

"Why not?"

"It's nothing."

"I don't believe you," Wilson said patiently. "Tell me."

House turned around and Wilson's eyes widened at the pained expression on his friend's face.

"You don't want to know. Trust me."

"Tell me," Wilson repeated with a little less patience. "I doubt there's anything you could do after all these years that would upset me."

House snorted and stared at him. Wilson waited patiently, figuring he could easily outwait his friend.

"I…" House began before he trailed off and stared at the top of his desk. He looked uncomfortable and unaccountably nervous and Wilson was torn between worry and curiosity.

House looked up and suddenly Wilson got it. It was there in House's face. For once the walls were down and House was letting him see it all. And there, written across his face, were emotions Wilson wasn't expecting. Desire, want, lust, fear, hope, worry…and love. Wilson stared at House and swallowed hard. He was almost operating on automatic as he pushed himself to his feet. He briefly saw the hope grow then he turned and strode out the door, not seeing the pain that flooded across House's face before it became utterly, frighteningly blank.