Let me tell you a secret. - What Not To Do With A Sex Toy (4/10)

23.28 pm - What Not To Do With A Sex Toy (4/10)

Title: What not to do with a sex toy (chapter 4 of 10)
Rating:  PG-13 this part, but will eventually be R/NC-17
Pairing: House/ Wilson... Slash eventually
Word Count: 783 (this part)
Warnings/Spoilers: Inappropriate use of an inappropriate toy, bit of angst, comedy, pranks, swearing, some fit-throwing, a bit of what you'd probably consider crack. No spoilers that I can think of.
A/N: This might be the weirdest thing I've ever written. It was inspired (if you can call it that) by something on Facebook.
Disclaimer: Technically, I don't even own this computer outright.

Chapter Four

House arrived home at around ten-thirty, slightly inebriated and a bit more cheerful than he’d been earlier. Until, that was, he noticed Wilson sitting on his couch. Unless Wilson was a ninja (which House doubted), he’d been sitting there in the dim light, completely silent for at least an hour as House made and ate a sandwich, had a few glasses of whiskey in the kitchen, took a long bath, and changed into his pyjamas before coming into the living room. He’d intended to see what was on TV, decide he didn’t want to watch any of it, and play piano instead, hopefully annoying the hell out of his neighbours at the same time. Wilson, as usual, had to ruin it.

Since House hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary in the kitchen, bedroom, or bathroom, he considered that maybe he’d misjudged Wilson. One look at the man confirmed his suspicions, unless Wilson had suddenly become a much better actor than he’d been a few hours ago. He looked devastated. Completely and utterly devastated. Sad. Hurt.

Crap.

House didn’t know how to deal with ‘hurt.’ Anger, he could deal with. A few harsh words with perhaps a fist or two thrown into the mix– that was a straightforward, Houseian thing. Frustration or embarrassment, he wasn’t quite as good at, but it was still at least something familiar. But, if he was honest with himself, he’d never really wanted to hurt Wilson.

‘I’m leaving,’ Wilson said, indicating his packed suitcases on the floor. ‘Tomorrow.’

House frowned. ‘That’s not what this is about.’

‘Isn’t it? It’s not about you jerking me around? Convincing me to move back in here so you can go through my things and use them to humiliate me the first chance you get?’

‘Oh, quit whining. It was a harmless joke,’ House said, crossing the room slowly. He sat on the chair next to the couch. ‘It’s not like nobody knew it was me. Not like anybody knew the thing was actually yours.’

‘You did.’

House shrugged. He hadn’t actually considered, in depth, that the thing actually was Wilson’s. Obviously, he knew it was, but it had mostly struck him as just funny.

‘Maybe,’ House began. ‘Maybe I just figured you’d got it just so you could stamp ‘Property of Greg House’ on it and tie it to the second floor balcony to humiliate me. Maybe I just wanted to beat you to the punch.’

‘Bullshit.’

House caught Wilson’s eye and studied him for a moment before nodding. ‘I... honestly hadn’t given any consideration to the implications of you owning that. Therefore, I did not ask it for a medical history, show it to your ex-wives, or do a rape kit on it. Although, if I had thought about it, I probably would have put on some rubber gloves and given it a proper washing-down before putting my jeans on it. I’ll probably have to burn those, now.’

Wilson closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face. He mumbled something.

‘What?’

‘I said, "fuck you," House,’ Wilson said, removing his hand from his mouth. ‘You find that in my stuff, and your first thought is, "how can I use this to humiliate Wilson?" That’s just your way, isn’t it, though? Hurt people in any way you can, for your own amusement, without taking the time to consider how it might affect them. Even your supposed best and only friend.’

‘Wait, you’re upset that I didn’t confront you about it?’

Wilson scoffed, not even bothering with an eye-roll. ‘Yeah, House. I’m upset that you didn’t come to me and say, "hey, why don’t you show me exactly what it is you do with that thing?" You know, for a self-proclaimed genius, you’re unfathomably stupid sometimes.’

‘You’d rather I’d have just put it back and let you keep your little secret?’

Wilson gave House a flick of the wrist. House returned the gesture with an eye-roll.

‘Okay. You got me. I’m sorry I looked through your stuff. I should have respected your privacy and let your dirty little secret stay in the closet where it belonged. Happy now?’

Wilson stood up and headed for the door, not even bothering to collect his things. House followed closely behind.

‘Wilson. Wait.’ House grabbed him by the elbow.

‘What? You just want to humiliate me some more? No, thanks.’

‘You don’t have anywhere to go.’ House looked down at his feet.

‘I’m going to sleep in my office.’ Wilson pulled his elbow loose and reached for the door handle.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ House asked quietly.

‘Don’t pretend you don’t know the answer to that,’ Wilson said, and left, slamming the door behind him.