Rating: K+
Warnings: None.
Pairing: House/Wilson
Prompt: Wilson/anyone, prompt: dirty little secret, any rating.

---------

"You bastard!"

House blinked, mildly confused at the anger in Wilson's voice. "Excuse me?" he asked, as he closed the front door behind him.

House didn't have a chance to avoid, or even brace for the blow. It came suddenly, without warning, and the first he knew of it was feeling the air leave him as Wilson's fist hit his abdomen. House dropped his cane to the floor and doubled over, arms wrapped around his stomach, futilely trying to draw in sufficient breath. "I told you not to tell anyone," said Wilson. Out of the corner of his eye House could see Wilson placing his hands on his hips, it almost would've been amusing, if he could breathe.

"Am I…" House attempted to take a breath deep enough to allow him to finish his sentence, "your dirty little secret?" He tried to laugh, but it turned into a chocked groan, and gasp for air.

There was a pause, long enough that House didn't think Wilson was actually going to reply, but not quite long enough for House to catch his breath. To House's surprise, Wilson started laughing. Not in the friendly, that-was-a-good-joke, way, and definitely not in the nervous, you-didn't-really-mean-that, sense, but more of a repetitive growl, it sounded almost manic. It made House feel somewhat anxious. House raised his head slightly so he could see Wilson's face. Wilson was smirking. "Yes, you are actually," Wilson replied, once his laughter had died down.

House blinked and shook his head, "You don't mean that."

Wilson snickered. "Actually, I do." Wilson leaned over and picked House's cane up off the floor. House, naturally assuming Wilson was going to give it back to him, put his hand out for it. Wilson whacked House's arm with the cane, then threw it over his shoulder. It hit a book case, knocked over a few books, and landed on the floor with a thunk. House yelped, withdrew his arm, and rubbed at the sore spot. That was going to hurt in the morning.

"What the hell did you do that for?" House asked.

Wilson ignored him and began searching House's pockets. He grabbed House's cell phone, keys, wallet, and vicodin. House was confused, but didn't attempt to stop him. Before he knew it, House was standing on the front step, and Wilson had locked the door. House knocked weakly on the door, not sure why Wilson was so mad. "Wilson?" he asked. "I didn't say anything to them. They found out for themselves."

Wilson opened the door a crack, the chain was on, so House couldn't have forced his way in, even if he had been strong enough. Wilson shook his head, "I don't believe you House. Now get lost."

"This is my apartment, and you took my stuff!" House shouted, "Where the hell am I supposed to go?"

"I don't care House. I really don't care." Wilson slammed the door in House's face. House tried knocking again, but there was no answer.