077. Hate
One Mistake
Wilson stood in the middle of House's office as House stared at him with hate in his eyes.
"Get out!"
The snarled order made Wilson flinch and he opened his mouth. The glare that was levelled at him made him shut his mouth again and he gave House a plaintive look. It had no effect, if anything the glare increased in its intensity.
"Get out!"
Wilson hunched his shoulders at the rage and hate in House's voice and slowly slinked out of the office. He spared one final glance through the glass and saw that House was facing away, looking out over the view, his shoulders tense. Wilson sighed and continued walking towards his office. Once inside he slumped down into his chair and scrubbed his face with one hand.
He didn't know why he'd done it. He was happy with House, happy sharing his life, sharing his bed. But when the little brunette at the bar had smiled at him with what could only be classed as a come-hither look on her face, he'd gone wandering over. He could blame the alcohol, he could blame a lot of things but it wouldn't be true. He hadn't been that drunk. He'd made the decision to sleep with the girl on his own.
He'd woken this morning in a strange apartment, feeling hung over and then, once the realisation of what he'd done had sunk in, a growing sense of impending doom. The brunette had still been asleep as he'd quietly slipped out of her bed, gotten dressed and crept out of the apartment. House had been gone already by the time he got home and that had only increased the sense of trepidation.
He'd quickly showered and dressed then gone in to work to find that his little indiscretion was the central piece of gossip in the hospital. He'd overheard three little globs of nurse talking about it on his way to his office and the trepidation grew once again. There was no way House could have missed this news and from the dirty looks the last group of nurses directed his way when they saw him, he was definitely being cast as the villain in this piece.
He'd dropped his bag off in his office and gone straight to House's office, hoping that perhaps his willingness to confess might smooth things over. He loved House; he didn't want to leave him. The first thing he'd noticed when he got to House's office was that his ducklings were conspicuous in their absence. The second thing he'd noticed had been the forbidding expression on House's face. He'd never had a chance to get his apology out; House had simply reminded him in a low, deadly tone of what he'd said when they'd first gone from friends to lovers. He would not accept Wilson cheating on him. Not at all. Not ever. No second chances.
He'd tried to explain but that was when House had looked at him with so much hate that he'd been struck dumb then ordered him out. Wilson rested his elbows on his desk and buried his face in his hands. He didn't want this. Didn't want to be alone, didn't want to be without House but he had no idea how to fix this.