"So, what does it have to do with, Wilson? Because from where I'm seeing it, it seems pretty obvious to me," House straightened up, not breaking eye contact with Wilson, "I was in pain, and you were helping to massage my leg while watching me be in pain, and the next thing I know-"

"House, wait a minute, let me explain-" Wilson began to interrupt.

House's glare darkened, "No, Wilson, just… just shut up, would you? Let me talk, for once in your life James, shut the fuck up! Let me speak!" House stared Wilson down; who held up his hands in submission and dropped his eyes from the aggressive, infuriated glare of his best friend, and the use of his first name in conversation; especially spoken in such an infuriated tone.

"You reached out and touched me, Wilson, you were massaging my leg for me; which is fine on its own; I know that you know what you're doing. But what isn't fine, Wilson, is me opening my eyes again to see you rubbing me down with a fucking growing erection! What the hell, man! It seems like you're just getting off on my pain, and that's not okay!" House's volume rose with each word until he was practically yelling and spitting in Wilson's face as he bit off his words with as much venom as Wilson had ever heard.

"House, you know why it never worked out with my wives?" Wilson asked in a muted voice, his eyes still downcast; hoping that his volume and body language would help bring House down.

"Yeah! I do! Because you could never keep your snake in your pants!" House stood up now; and Wilson couldn't help but inwardly flinch at how this conversation was progressing and going rapidly downhill.

"No, House, it was because of you," Wilson started to rise to his feet; feeling uncomfortable with being seated while House was standing.

"Don't project your filthy bad habits onto me, Wilson!" House snarled, getting right into his face, and his voice started to quiver ever so slightly, "I… I have…. I have never cheated on anyone, ever!" House shoved Wilson in the chest, pushing him back onto the couch.

Concerned with the route that this conversation was inevitably taking; Wilson drew in a deep breath and decided that it was worth just getting the whole thing over with, ripping it off like a band aid. "I like you, House! Can't you see that? I have a crush on you! I like you romantically, sexually, whatever! I am only into you,"

This revelation stunned House into silence; "umm, okay…" a few tense, strained, awkward seconds passed before House spoke again, "Wilson, I need time to think… you're the only person I have in this world. I need time to think about this and process it. I think its best if you left for tonight,"

With an understanding nod at how confused and scared House must feel, Wilson simply nodded, stood up, shimmied past House who was as still as a statue with an unreadable expression on his face; but the closest that Wilson could read was one of a mixture of confusion, betrayal, fear, and maybe mixed feelings? Or at least Wilson hoped. He knew that the only other person who knew them both well enough to talk about with this who might know what to do was Cuddy, as much as House was going to hate that.

Flinching violently as the door slammed shut behind him; Wilson blinked back hot tears that were beginning to form in the corners of his eyes. He rolled his eyes up skyward to drain away the prickles of tears threatening to fall, and with a slow, steadying sigh; slowly began to make his way down the stairs and into his car; the clear night sky with the moon shining bright and the streetlights reflecting off from his wet eyes; he felt like a puppy that had just been kicked and booted out of the house for a mistake he'd made; but wasn't sure if it was the mistake, his explanation and reasoning, or House's disgust at the thought of having a homosexual relationship with him that was the main cause for his infuriated response.

On the other side of the door, House hung his head low. Why Wilson, why? He couldn't disagree that he found Wilson to be incredibly attractive and had snuck a few glances and had some thoughts himself, it wasn't as though House hadn't experimented before; Dylan and I did have a lot of fun back in the day, House shook his head; Wilson is very different than Crandall- I know Wilson; and I know his track record. He can't sustain a relationship if it killed him. He always cheats, it's what he does, its just who he is. I can't have a relationship with the only person I care about, knowing that whether he acknowledges it or not; its only a novelty for him. I need to be with someone who is going to be able to deal with this, me, long term. And so, with a heavy heart, and a heavier mind; House limped off to bed, doubting that his swirling mind would allow him any rest tonight.

Wilson walked into PPTH at just past 7:30 the following morning; knowing that even if House did show his face at work today, he'd certainly not be here by now. Wilson hadn't gotten any sleep last night; maybe if he was lucky, he'd dozed off for about 20 minutes after hours of crying into his pillow the night before. As though he'd absolutely destroyed everything and ruined nearly twenty years of friendship with the best friend he'd ever had. He looked as rough and dishevelled as House usually did that morning; he'd skipped his usual extensive morning routine and just had a deodorant shower which he hadn't done since high school, pulled on some clean jeans, and was still wearing his same shirt as the night before, no tie and with the first couple of buttons undone. He hadn't even bothered to comb his hair.

"What happened to you?" Cuddy queried, when Wilson staggered through her door; sounding half incredulous and half curious at the rough state of her wunderkind oncologist who looked as though he'd been sleeping under a bridge.

"I'm here about House… I need to talk to you about him," Wilson began.

Cuddy rolled her eyes, "of course you do. The two of you got into some kind of issue last night; which is probably why you look like a hobo,"

"House dresses like this everyday-"

"I'm well aware of that fact; and I didn't say that House doesn't look like a hobo every day. What nonsense has he roped you into this this time?" Cuddy muttered, straightening the papers on her desk and looking up at him, eyes narrowing slightly, as Wilson felt his cheeks redden; feeling both a bout of protection towards House in that moment, and not knowing how to broach such a sensitive subject with Cuddy- one that until 12 hours before; he'd told nobody; "the hospital isn't repaying the bond to bail you two out- not again, Wilson," Cuddy continued, shaking her head with disappointed eyes; clearly expecting this conversation to be headed in another direction than it was.

"We didn't get up to anything illegal!" Wilson cried, and Cuddy narrowed her eyes.

"If he's sent you in here to retrieve his Gameboy and that stupid television set; tell him that I said no. He's not getting them back until Monday. I'm sick of patient care coming second because of those stupid devices. Is that it?"

"NO! Nothing to do with any of that!" Wilson nearly yelled; "God, why won't anyone listen to me? Just hear me out for once instead of making assumptions about what I am here for!"

"OK, Wilson, what are you here for?" Cuddy queried.

Wilson drew in a deep, shaky breath; "I'm in love with House, and last night I told him and he didn't react the way I'd hoped,"

Cuddy let out a hearty laugh, "yeah, good one Wilson. You're not the first one to pull that prank on me; I don't care what you call each other- I'm not giving you and House spousal privileges," she glanced at Wilson's shamed, pained expression; "wait, you're not joking, are you?" and all Wilson could do was slowly shake his shamed, dropped head; staring down at the carpet by his feet.

"Wilson. Here, tell me what happened," Cuddy said, and Wilson took the seat opposite her and began talking; pausing briefly and blushing heavily when he told her about his imaginary blow job on House and how it had caused his body to involuntarily react and betray him.

Cuddy sighed; "House has texted saying that he's busy with something and needs the day off today to sort some stuff out, I guess I know what now. Wilson, you have nothing to be ashamed of. And regardless of how House may or may not decide how he feels; its not your fault; and he's still going to need you as a friend- that I absolutely promise,"

Wilson nodded numbly and slowly got up to leave; Cuddy placed her hand gently and kindly over Wilson's and looked up to meet his eyes; "and Wilson, no matter what – House is always going to love you and need you. He might have sounded upset last night, but between you and me; I think it was just shock. He just needs some time to process. You know how House is; he needs to think about this on his own and come to terms with it and make his own decision. For all his faults however, and there are many; House is an extremely forgiving and loyal man; probably to a fault, and House is not a homophobe, either. He just needs some time,"

Wilson nodded shortly; and turned to leave, "oh and Wilson, two more things," Cuddy called after him, "what we spoke about here is going to stay here- you don't need to worry about that from me; and secondly; for God's sake, straighten yourself up before you see any patients. It's bad enough having one department head who looks homeless in this hospital without adding you to it," she smiled, "who knows? Maybe one day you can domesticate House,"

Wilson smiled back, "domesticate House. Pretty sure it'd be easier to tame lions into housecats,"

Wilson pushed the thoughts into the back of his mind as he set to work that day; trying to avoid the inescapable loop of self-criticism swirling through his mind. When he was packing up for the day; feeling more depressed and lost than ever from not having heard from the man he'd confessed his undying love for under 24 hours ago who had quickly and immediately thrown him out of his home and was so disgusted with him; he received a text message "lots to talk about. I'm sorry for the way I reacted last night. We need to talk, come around for dinner tonight. You're paying," and with this message, Wilson's heart sang. He cares what I think! He really, actually cares!

Pulling his coat on and locking the door behind him; Wilson whistled quietly, perhaps if he really wants to talk to me. Maybe I haven't screwed this up after all. Smiling and striding confidently towards the elevators, through the lobby and car park to his car, slipping into the driver's seat and headed towards House's favourite takeaway restaurant; reciting House's favourite order repeatedly in his head; Wilson couldn't help but feel a little bit of hope, which was then replaced by nerves and uncertainty as he pulled up in front of House's apartment; seeing House's old black Mercedes parked in the spot in front of him; he shyly grabbed the food and shuffled up to the front door; feeling the emotions he would for a first date as he knocked nervously and ran his fingers desperately and self soothingly through his dark hair to make himself look better groomed, and less like a hobo, Wilson though sharply. He glanced up as House opened up the apartment door; expression unreadable, and stepped aside for Wilson to come in.