House MD Oneshots + Imagines

What Could've Been (Gregory House x James Wilson)

It's been a week or so since House found out that Wilson is dating Amber and he still feels like he's drowning in jealousy.

Apparently, it's been going on behind his back for months now, which makes it hurt even more- not that he had the right to know, anyway.

They're sitting on House's couch, a few minutes into some lesbian period drama that Wilson wanted to watch. House likes it, but he won't say that out loud. Instead, he sits silently with a neutral expression on his face, munching at the bowl of popcorn in his lap. Wilson sips at his hot chocolate.

Meanwhile, House is thinking of the many years that he strung Wilson along throughout their friendship. No, he's not just thinking of them; he's regretting them terribly.

James Wilson is a ray of sunshine in the early winter that makes the apartment bitter cold. He seems happy for once- genuinely happy- big brown eyes sparkling with a youthful sense of hope that House hasn't seen in years, pretty pink lips pulled into a gorgeous smile. It seems that Wilson has started taking care of himself again. His lips aren't chapped, his eyes aren't riddled with wine-hued bags, his hair is combed, and his breath reeks of mint and cherries.

House can't stop thinking about how happy Wilson seems.

But House is selfish. He doesn't want Wilson to be happy if it's not with him and the fact that Wilson is happy because of Amber is killing him, eating him apart from the inside out. The jealousy is pooling in his stomach like heavy black tar to the point where he feels like he's going to puke.

He clutches the popcorn bowl in his hand, ready to vomit into it if he has to. Wilson tosses an arm around his shoulder, and it feels like he's being burned by the warm forearm pressed against the back of his neck and the calloused fingers dangling above his collarbone. It's not the same as it was. Just a year or two back, Wilson would've been blushing and falling apart at the seams doing something so bold, and now, he doesn't seem to think anything of it- not because he doesn't care, but because he just doesn't feel that way anymore. His eyes meet House's, content and reminiscent of hot chocolate. It's clear that whatever romantic love he might've had for House is gone. For some reason, that thought is what makes a sudden realization wash over the diagnostician.

The worst part isn't that Wilson is happy- no, the worst part is that, after all these years, Wilson has finally moved on from him.

Wilson is no longer exhausted, no longer tired, no longer following House around like a puppy and enabling each and every one of his toxic antics. No, Wilson is happy with his job and happy in another relationship that's distracted him from House entirely.

"House, what's wrong?" Wilson asks, breaking House from his thoughts. The older man looks away and dismissively shakes his head, but Wilson doesn't buy it. "C'mon, don't give me that. I can tell something's on your mind."

And it's true, something is on his mind. Lots of things are on his mind, actually- he just doesn't care to voice any of them out loud, afraid to find out which thought will be the one to drive Wilson away entirely.

Mostly, he's thinking about the fact that Wilson is done chasing after him.

In the background, he's thinking about everything that could've been; what their shared home might've looked like, how Wilson would propose, if they would've had dogs or cats or even kids , how happy they could've been together if Amber hadn't come into the picture- no, if House had been better sooner. He wants to blame it on Amber, and he probably will if it ever comes up in conversation, but within the walls of his own mind, even he can admit that none of this is Amber's fault. It's his own.

He was the one who let Wilson down so many times. All Amber has ever done is build Wilson up, as much of a cutthroat bitch as she may be.

"You're not wrong," House starts and awkwardly pushes Wilson's arm off of his shoulder to scoot away to the other end of the couch, but then, he decides he can't do it in good conscience. He can't tell Wilson the truth and have him feeling guilty for something that isn't his fault. So, he decides to lie, making it as convincing as possible. "You remember that patient from earlier?"

"The one that you think has the thyroid problem?" Wilson tilts his head in that cute way he always does when he's curious about something. A tuft of chestnut-hued hair falls in front of his eyes, so he does that precious thing where he tries to look up at it and blow it away with a bit of a pout. House can't help but smile, completely and utterly smitten. "It's unlike you to think about a patient on the weekend. I mean, seriously, House, you're not clocked in! Take a break. I swear you've been working too hard lately... No wonder you've been acting so weird. And you really had me thinking there was something wrong with you. Just chill out and watch the show with me, will you? I only have a couple hours until I get to meet Amber, and I'd rather not have you miserable and thinking about work during them."

Wilson grins and turns the volume up, seemingly satisfied.

House smiles something bittersweet and shakes his head before leaning back into the couch.

He ponders on what tonight could've been like if Wilson didn't have a dinner date with Amber in a few hours, if things were the way he wanted them to be. Maybe they'd share a bottle of wine and cuddle up on the couch, get distracted in the middle of the movie and kiss until they tumbled into bed together. They'd make love, whisper sweet nothings into each other's ears, and fall asleep in each other's arms.

What could've been, what could've been, what could've been-

What could've been between them had House not fucked it all up?