Wilson didn't move, didn't speak, didn't think for a full minute. When House's words finally registered, Wilson blinked. He realized that House was observing him very carefully. He got it now. House had said all that because he wanted to know how Wilson would react. He hadn't meant any of it; it was just to spy on him. Get inside his head. Screw with him. And it had worked. Wilson had fallen for it. He really was an idiot. You would think that after- how many?- years with House, Wilson would brighten up to his ridiculous tricks. But Wilson always fell for them, because he had fallen for House.
It was the routine that would never change. It had existed for all these years, and even through all the drama, still it stood. House would whine, bitch, complain, and ruin something perfect. Wilson would always scold him for it. House would trick Wilson. And Wilson would avoid him for a few days. But in the end, Wilson was always right behind House to catch him when he fell. Every time.
Wilson needed needy. And House sure as hell was needy. Wilson stuck to House like House stuck to Vicodin. House would push him further and further away. Experimenting. When would Wilson snap? When would he finally walk out, having had enough? When was Wilson's breaking point?
Wilson didn't know. He feared the answer. He had tried to escape House, many times. It never worked; he always came running back. Deep down, Wilson knew he always would. House would never be able to push him away, try as he might. This was the routine.
But this was something new. House would say the most outrageous things, either for the shock value, or to get an answer. But why would House say this? What was House hoping to learn from Wilson's reaction?
House sighed. Looking out Wilson's window, he stood slowly, and walked out the door.