Hilson; House MD; J. Wilson, G. House, L. Cuddy; Romance & Angst; themed; all characters belong to House MD and its owners.

Dr Gregory House sat at his work desk; rolling his red and yellow oversized tennis ball between his hands along the desk; absolutely, tremendously bored. Boredom was nothing unusual for Greg; given his vastly superior intellect and openness to new experiences- he'd suffered with chronic boredom for as long as he could remember.

Usually, he would be working a case, which at the very least would temporarily satisfy his curiosity and constant need for novelty. However, it didn't stop the frustrations at how long the lab and test results would take to come back- which was part of the reason that he much preferred jumping immediately in with treatments based on his educational guesses on what was afflicting whoever his current patient was. Foreman was in charge of his cases at the moment; at the request of Cuddy which she's probably doing that purely to spite and bother me House thought harshly, frowning. Given the choice was currently between doing clinic hours; the most despised and useless duty in the hospital, at least in House's mind- or sitting here numbly rolling his ball around on the table and hiding from Cuddy, he knew his choice was simple.

He had been down in the clinic earlier that morning; under great sufferance, but he had his debt of hours to repay still- the bargain he'd taken to save James Wilson's cousin, who turned out to not be his cousin- but when 2pm rolled around on his 1-5pm shift in the clinic; House had scared off his last patient who was only there for a blister on her heel that took ten seconds to diagnose, and ten minutes to convince the young woman that it was because her shoes were about three sizes too small and not that she had a flesh eating bacteria. Flesh eating bacteria would have been more fun… House thought coldly. After scaring her off by eventually yelling at her to stop wasting his time; House had managed to get her out at 2:01 before he'd pulled out his tiny, portable television and a bag of chips he had stashed in the drawer and set to watch 'General Hospital'.

It had taken him about 25 minutes to have been found by Cuddy as he munched away with his azure eyes glued to the tiny screen. As punishment, she had taken his little portable box of joy to lock away in her office until 5pm, and not to bother sneaking in to steal it from her possession because she was going to be in there in meetings all afternoon. Like I'm a child. Since there was no way that he could sneak in and out of her office, while also searching for his beloved tiny TV without her catching him- House had gone with the next best option; to be sneak out of clinic and be painfully bored in his office rather than deal with another idiot in the clinic.

House knew that Wilson had a very light workday today- maybe he will be up for some company… and that was all the suggestion House's mind needed before walking out onto the balcony and jumping the small brick wall barrier between his and Wilson's offices. He barged through the glass door into Wilson's office to see that Wilson was most definitely not alone- there were a couple in their 20s sitting on the other side of the desk; the woman had her head in her hands sobbing her way through Wilson's box of tissues on his desk, and the father looking longingly and sadly; clearly on the brink of tears- at the young boy who couldn't have been older than about three years old; pushing a toy truck back and forth sitting on the carpet, utterly unaware of the type of situation happening here.

Wilson shot House a warning look; not that House particularly cared what the parents thought of him; and the little boy was much too young to understand the gravity of what was happening here. Greg always had a soft spot for children, although sometimes twinged with a bit of jealousy (of course not in this case) and had the child been older and able to grasp the seriousness of his situation that he didn't just have nosebleeds and felt tired all the time out of nowhere; which House had gathered from the distracted, inconsolable mother, and in fact had leukaemia then House would've at least thought before he spoke and not placed the rubber stopper in the bed of the little boy's truck and watched with glee as the little boy giggled and clapped as House pushed the truck back and forth using his cane. House clicked his tongue, which got the boy's attention and uttered words he knew were so cruel, but at least this patient wouldn't understand him. "Is Doctor Wilson a nice man?" House asked the child, to which the boy nodded enthusiastically, followed up by "are you going to become Dr. Wilson's latest little bald-headed kiddies?" this statement elicited different reactions from every person in the room; the little boy just looked confused by the question before shrugging and going back to playing with his truck, the mother let out a wail only a mother losing her child can, Wilson looked indignant and disgusted, while the father stood up aggressively from his seat and strode towards House. The father knelt next to the little boy "Tony, baby, cover your eyes" and when the toddler covered his face with his hands- the father took a hard right hook into House's cheek and jaw; sending him stumbling onto Wilson's couch with an involuntary yelp and whimper as he crumpled down. Embarrassed, House got up and left, sitting out on Wilson's balcony, petulantly staring inside while Wilson for sure was grovelling and apologising so profusely to the parents.

Once their consult was over; with plans to start chemotherapy on Monday, Wilson opened the glass door and let House in. "Your such an ass. That poor boy had gone through enough today; and you just had to say something insensitive while he was here. You know, while I don't like it, I accept you say these things when we're hanging out or in private- but you can't say things like that to a toddler dying of cancer, House. You just can't. I don't know what goes through your head sometimes; I really don't,"

House shrugged, feigning indifference. "He's going to be finding out soon enough. That all the other kids he sees in paediatric oncology all just happen to be skin heads? I doubt he's going to think he's joined a Nazi or skinhead cult, Wilson. The boy-"

"Tony" Wilson interjected.

"Tony- has absolutely no idea what anything I said meant. He couldn't have been older than three. He was clearly even still in pull ups Wilson. He has no concept what leukaemia, cancer, oncologists, or chemo are. He doesn't know anything aside from that he likes chicken nuggets and the Wiggles".

"You knew exactly what I meant, House. What you said was cruel to his parents".

"And that is exactly why you are the oncologist and I'm the lowly diagnostician who people don't come to see until they've run out of options. You have a heart, I have a fist of stone where a heart would normally be,"

Wilson blushed slightly, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink for a few seconds, "no you don't House. You just are who you are" Wilson diverted his gaze shyly away from House's eyes. Wilson reached out a tender hand to run gently across the quickly forming bruise on House's cheek before chuckling lightly to himself as he looked back, quietly and intensely scrutinising every cell of where the fist had hit before unconsciously and swiftly flicking his tongue out to moisten his lips. "You do get yourself into trouble a bit- I guess you're just lucky that the colours of the bruising offset your eyes so beautifully. Makes them even more… pronounced".

There was an air of an almost predatory nature in Wilson's words and actions that sent a small shiver down House's spine- he wasn't sure whether he liked it, feared it, found it creepy, or a combination of these, and an awkward moment of silence hung in the air. House was the one who broke it; "are you coming over to watch the Monster Thursday Truck rally tonight at my place?" House brought up.

Wilson paused, "is that why you came here?"

"Initially. That, and Cuddy took my TV away during General Hospital, like I'm a petulant child or something. So, I'm avoiding clinic as payback,"

"And in doing so, proving her exactly right," Wilson chuckled.

"Next thing you know, we won't even be allowed to pop narcotics throughout the day at work to fend off the constant headaches from the idiocy of patients,"

"Yeah, somehow, I think that might already be a rule," Wilson chuckled again.

"So, you're bringing the food, right? Because there's only peanut butter, canned soup, and a bottle of olive oil at my place; and I know you like to eat well,"

Wilson frowned for a moment; "why do you have olive oil, when you never cook anything?"

House's mouth broke into a leery grin as he winked, "lube,"

"What?" Wilson was caught completely off guard by that response, making House's grin just grow wider.

"Lubrication. Works on door hinges, sticky drawers etc. And you could probably use it for other activities too – at least solo ones; can't use it with girls, it breaks down the condom, among other issues. So, I'll see you at 7?"

Wilson's eyes widened slightly, and he hoped not visibly so, "yeah I'll see you at 7,"

"Omniscience; Wilson, remember?" House tapped his forehead with a grin and limped out of the office; while Wilson watched him leave.

I think I'm falling in love with my best friend. Oh, God no. Maybe it's just because we're always together. If you spend that much time with someone, and pretty much exclusively see only them; feelings are bound to get murky Wilson comforted himself; before his mind raced again except I don't truly believe that that's the case here. I think I'm actually falling for him… harder than I have with anyone else; more than I did with my wives- even more than I did with Adam back at McGill. But House is straight as an arrow, I'm sure. And I'm all he has; I can't risk hurting him, even if it means pushing this crush down as far as it'll go…