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Enlightenment
by Jaryn
"What is that?"
Wilson spits the mouthwash into the sink before looking back over his bare shoulder to where House is standing in the bathroom doorway. "What is what?"
"Here," House says, stepping up to Wilson and pressing two fingers to his right shoulder blade. "There's a scar, it looks like a knife wound."
Wilson frowns at him, "What are you talking about?" Turning side on to the mirror, Wilson looks at where House's finger is in the mirror. "Oh, that."
House raises an eyebrow. He traces the scar with a fingertip and watches Wilson watching his hand. "How'd you get it?"
"I...it was just a scratch. From a tree branch. I've had it for ages. What on earth made you think it was a knife wound?"
House doesn't immediately reply, focused on Wilson's eyes - which aren't quite meeting his - and his face. "Too neat and the amount of scar tissue indicates it was deep. Must have been one hell of a malicious tree branch."
"It's not a knife wound. Do you always have to be so dramatic?" Wilson shrugs off House's finger and busies himself by putting the cap back on the bottle of mouthwash.
"Ah Jimmy," House pulls his Vicodin out of his pocket and attempts to pry off the lid. Every now and then he gets a bottle with a lid that refuses to comply; karma, House figures. "When are you gonna learn that you can't lie to me."
Wilson turns around and House can't help casting a look down at his very rarely seen bare chest. For such an apparent sex-craved man, Wilson is - for some reason House can't figure out - very bashful about his body. "What makes you so sure?"
"About what? That you're lying now or that I always know when you're lying?" House grunts as he continues to wrestle with the bottle.
"Both."
House pauses for a moment and meets Wilson's eyes again, "I know you."
"Do you?" Wilson asks and something about his hardened expression leaves House suddenly feeling both uncertain and victorious.
"You wouldn't ask that unless you were hiding something from me."
House is surprised when Wilson laughs softly and looks down at the floor between them. "So you think you know everything about me."
"I think I know all the important things."
"Important to you is everything, because you love knowing everything about people and the dirtier the better," Wilson says and reaches out to take the Vicodin bottle out of House's hand. "You don't know everything about me."
"So enlighten me."
A tight smile stretches Wilson's lips as he struggles with the bottle only for a moment before managing to pry it open. Instead of just handing it over, Wilson takes one of House's hand between his, pressing the bottle into his palm and meets his eyes. House stares back at him, only hearing static inside his head - which is a very, very rare occasion. Wilson draws in a breath as if he's about to say something, something big, but after a moment he just lets the breath out again and lets House's hand go.
"Goodnight House," Wilson says and slides past House to leave the bathroom.
House shakes out a pill and smiles to himself after swallowing it. "That's all I needed to know," he mutters before picking up his toothbrush.
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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