Fandom: House, MD
Pairing: Gregory House, James Wilson
Word Count: 6005
Rating: T
Warnings: Slash.
Disclaimer: House, MD © David Shore
Author's Notes: This entire thing is brought upon by Lupin Drake who I had a nice chat with and this sprung up from her. This fic is a counter against angst. Kinda. I tried to make it funny instead of angsty, but there may be some that kind of slipped in like a little sneak. Enjoy!
"I thought after marriage number three you decided to call it quits with the ladies."
It seemed that whenever he wanted to avoid House, the man had somehow detected this and had deemed it rude if he let his buddy-old-pal walk to his office all by himself. The man, despite the fact he wields a cane, somehow managed to sneak up on him without Wilson hearing the familiar 'thump-thump-thump' of the very trademark that made House known--besides his attitude.
Now that he listened carefully, the sounds seemed muffled. Just to be sure, Wilson spared a quick glance at the cane. Ah, there--new rubber stopper. Man that House was a crafty bastard.
House gave him a suspicious look and peered down at his cane just after Wilson did. "Hey, if I find any filing on this baby, I'll file you in half."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Wilson replied dryly and made a beeline for the elevator, hoping that he could catch it before it closed. And--he didn't.
He could hear House's snigger from behind. "What, trying to avoid the conversation?"
"Wait, we were actually having a conversation?" Wilson made his eyes widen in mock surprise. "Oh my--maybe I should. Don't want to ruin your reputation now, do we?"
"Back to basics! Who was the lucky lady that slunk into your bed last night?" House was a determined and aggravating bastard when he wanted to be.
And apparently--he wanted to be a determined and aggravating bastard at the moment.
Wilson rolled his eyes with an annoyed sound rolling out the back of his throat. "There was no woman. In fact, I didn't go to bed last night."
"You lie. You look well rested."
"Right," Wilson made a mocking face at House, then poked a finger at the ceiling. "How dare I look well rested after sleeping on the couch in my office? How dare I?"
The elevator doors opened and Wilson made his escape--only it was abruptly cut short when House staggered in after him, not allowing anyone else in. "Sorry, catch the next bus."
Wilson looked away with embarrassment at the angry looks the people were giving, but the doors soon cut off the faces and left him in a small metal box with a monster inside.
Where was that nail file when he needed it?
"So, are you sure there was no woman? Maybe your secretary?" House leaned towards him with a leer and Wilson crinkled his nose at him.
"There was no woman, and my secretary is on vacation in Maine with her husband. She won't be back until Friday."
House sniffed. "Okay, even that's a good cover up story. I almost want to believe it."
"Ask Cuddy."
"Now there," House looked delighted--almost like he suddenly had an epiphany. "There's a woman."
"I won't sleep with my boss."
"You can pretend she's not. She can be--" House leaned in closer, almost too close, and made an almost convincing compassionate expression. "--a friend."
"You're in my personal space and no, I wouldn't do that to Cuddy. Now would you please," Wilson scooted to the other side of the elevator, ignoring the smug look on House's face. "Stay over there. Stop trying to molest me."
"Jimmy boy is a nervous boy when he has something to hide," the smug grin widened, teeth bared in a leer.
"Jimmy boy feels uncomfortable with you trying to rape his air," at this House barked a laugh and Wilson's face felt hot.
Thank god the elevator had mercy on him and the doors opened. He rushed out, with House close on his tail. He was just passing House's office when the man just had to do a follow up on the previous conversation.
"Was she anyone I knew?"
Wilson whirled and snapped at him. "I wasn't sleeping with anyone! Now would you just--go away!"
House pursed his lips as he pretended to think about it. "Well, I don't know. One moment. Let me ask Cameron if she slept with any Boy Wonder's last night." House slunk into his office, and only then did Wilson follow him.
"House!"
Cameron looked up from her article with a surprised expression that quickly turned into one of concern. "What's going on?"
House twirled his cane as he hovered over the table. "Oh, I asked Wilson if he would go on a date with me," Wilson's head spun towards him with his mouth unhinged and eyebrows drawn in as a scowl, "and he called me fat and it hurt my feelings and--you know, stuff like that."
Wilson, at a loss, just snorted. "Well, then you're a fat bastard. And my personal life is none of your business. So go to hell." He turned to leave, and House always had the last remark.
"Should I be saying that last line? You mocked my waist line." He feigned hurt and Wilson just left with an annoyed sound, disappearing down the corridor.
Chase blinked rapidly and just shook his head before resuming his crossword. Foreman pursed his lips and crossed his arms as he stared at House warily. "Do you enjoy pissing him off?"
The man smirked. "Not as much as you. Hey--you're single. Want to go on a date?"
Foreman picked up a file and shook his head with a smirk as he handed it to House. "Not a chance. New case."
If there was anything that House liked, it was puzzles. Or mysteries. But preferably puzzles.
His currently puzzle was a patient, but his ducklings were busy running blood tests and other complicated health stuff that he had no interest in at the moment.
His interest was currently in his view at one o'clock in the deep corner of the cafeteria, hiding behind a potted tree, eating a Caesar salad and drinking a carton of milk.
What made James Wilson, Boy Wonder Oncologist, House's best friend, want to sleep around with so many women?
House already knew it was Wilson's need to fix the needy or the broken. Now once the pretty lady was no longer needy, Wilson lost interest and looked for some other broken heart and soul, whipped out his sewing kit of love, and went to work patching her up like a tear in a blouse.
House did not just compare sex to sewing. He did not, did not, did not.
Did toooo.
Aside from the mocking voice, something had to be done to save Wilson from himself. If House could find the neediest woman, a woman that could never be fixed, a person who would need constant love and affection forever and ever--
--or maybe--
His lip curled as he stalked across the cafeteria, careful to avoid Wilson's line of view.
--it could work.
He stalked up behind his friend and smacked him soundly on the back, producing a choked noise and a glare from the man as he settled down opposite of him--stealing a crouton from his salad.
"You're a slut."
Wilson's flushed face didn't help at all make the glare as fierce as he was trying to make it. He looked like a teenager caught with his hands down his girlfriend's shirt behind the bleachers. "That's mean. I am not." He wiped up the small amount of milk that had dribbled onto the table and pointedly ignored House's piercing smirk.
"You are the very definition of slut by the mere fact you sleep with every woman you meet."
The oncologist crumpled the napkin into a ball and tossed it into his salad. "I don't sleep with every woman I meet."
"Just most." House stole the fork and started to poke at the napkin. "Why don't you try something different?"
There was a wary air to Wilson. "Like...?"
House looked up with a smile. "Date a man."
Wilson glared. "I'm not dating you."
The diagnostician jabbed a fork in Wilson's direction. "Ha! The right answer should've been 'I'm not gay'. Bzzt, you lose."
The man sprung to his feet and threw his hands down into clenched fists. "I'm not gay!"
And that's when they both suddenly noticed that every head in the cafeteria was suddenly turned towards them. Wilson shifted on his feet awkwardly and ducked his head as he attempted to rid his tray without being noticed.
House remained seated at the table and ignored the stares. "Dinner at seven?"
Wilson whirled and actually snarled at him. "No." Then he marched out the cafeteria, slamming the tray onto the garbage bin loudly.
"Do you really think he meant it?"
Foreman sighed, bringing his head up to glare at the ceiling and allowed his shoulders to sag in exasperation. He taped idly on the counter as he waited for the test results to finish printing. He turned his head slightly to give Cameron a bored look. "I think he's just trying to piss Wilson off."
Chase piped up from the table behind them, looking through the lens of a microscope at the Petri dish in front of him. "Why? What'd Wilson do this time?"
Foreman rolled his eyes. "Not what, who."
Cameron made a shocked face. "What?!"
He turned to face them both, who were now giving their undivided attention to him. "Face it: House is either jealous of the number of woman that Wilson gets or the fact that Wilson goes for them. Either way, this smells rotten and I don't want to get any on me."
Foreman turned and grabbed the test results just in time to hear a choked noise from behind. He turned and saw Chase's eyes narrowed, face slightly pink.
"Wait...House wants Wilson?"
They stared at each other in awkward silence.
If there was any way to avoid House, it was by either by going to his parent's house, walking beside Cuddy all day, or hiding in the clinic.
So, to the clinic he went.
The nurse handed him a file with a smirk (he shifted uncomfortably at her gaze) and pointed to the first exam room. "Your patient."
He went towards the door and ignored the stifled laugh from behind him. He hoped to god that they weren't in the cafeteria and heard his earlier outburst.
Then again, this is Princeton Plainsboro. Word goes around really fast.
He opened the door and nearly walked into the doorframe at the sight he saw. "House?" He peeked inside and saw nobody else inside. "Where's my patient?"
House gave him a pointed look. "I am your patient."
The oncologist scrunched his face up and shook his head. "The hell you are." His voice squeaked. God, he hated getting stressed like this.
House squirmed on the table. "What the name on the file say?"
Damnit, he didn't even look at it before entering.
He spared a glance and saw in neat type HOUSE, GREGORY. With a defeated sigh, he closed the door behind him and pulled up a chair. "Fine, what's the problem, Mr. House?"
"I seem to have a cough."
Wilson stared at him boredly. "And?"
House made a pained expression. "I seem to have some pains that won't go away."
"Take a Vicodin."
"It's not the leg if that's what you're thinking," House shifted slightly. "And it's more of an ache. Nothing has touched it."
Suddenly, his interest was aroused. Interesting. If House is hurting and it's not his leg, and nothing was working on it, then maybe--House really was serious about this.
"Why type of ache? Like--" he fumbled his hands as he tried to find his words. "Where is it?"
House spread his arms and dramatically swept his arms. "It's a heart ache!"
Never mind. House was still an asshole who liked to mess with people.
"House!"
"Maybe," he pinched his fingers together, "one little date..."
Wilson had already sprung from his chair and had the door open. "No!" And at that, he slammed the door behind him, throwing the folder at the laughing nurses as he stalked away to hide for the rest of the day.
The next day started too good to be true. He got into the hospital without being harassed for a dinner date, went through his first round of patients with no trouble whatsoever, and he hadn't had any House to break down his door and demand a consult.
By eleven, he should've known something was up.
When he walked into the clinic and literally had Cuddy pounce on him, he knew that yeah--something was up.
"He won't answer his phone."
Wilson blinked at her slowly. "He didn't come in?"
She looked annoyed. "No, and he won't answer his phone. But," her annoyed frown started to warm slightly and she eyed him. "He has a new one on his answering machine."
Wilson shrugged. "Okay, and...?"
She crossed her arms and gave him a questioning look. "It says 'Wilson, if that's you, my love, I'll pick up the phone if you agree to go to dinner at seven with me.' What's going on?"
He felt his face burn. From anger or embarrassment, he didn't know.
This would not bode well if their boss knew.
"I have no idea what that is about."
"Whatever it is, work it out." She leaned in and scowled. "Tell him to drag his ass back into this hospital because he has a case. If he doesn't, he can look at an additional week of clinic duty." Then she turned and stomped away with a loud click of heels and twist of hips.
Clinic duty could wait. He did have a lot of paperwork. It didn't do itself, after all.
He was probably a step away from his door before somebody else pounced on him.
Somehow Chase, in all his Aussie glory, managed to squeeze between Wilson and the door and grinned at him sheepishly.
"So...have you got a hold of him?"
Wilson felt his head start to hurt. "No."
Chase looked like a kick puppy and almost, almost made Wilson want to hug him.
Remember, almost.
"We need him." His eyes got wide, almost comically puppy-eyed. "Cuddy's harassing us."
Wilson knew a plea when he heard one. 'Save me from the devil woman!' He sighed. "I'll--I'll try to get Cuddy off your backs."
Chase looked disappointed, he opened his mouth to say something, but apparently thought better and just nodded. "Okay."
And just as he did in his Aussie glory, he squeezed out from between the door and Wilson and snuck away.
It was on his way down to lunch when he ran into Cameron. Actually, it was more Cameron running into him, but who cared?
The fact was the two met in the hallway. She looked pissed off about something and Wilson was far too hungry to care.
It was when she planted her hands on her hips in that fashion that warned of an oncoming lecture and/or harassment to do something to had to do with House.
"Did you call House?"
The gentle throb behind his temples was now increasing to a marching band. He brought his hand to his nose and massaged the bridge of it before peaking at her through his fingers. "No."
She huffed, blowing her bangs out of her face. "Why?"
"I was busy."
"You're a horrible liar."
He squinted at her, bringing his hand down and stared. "What?"
She turned smug. "You hid in your office. Ironically, I'd like to add, right after Cuddy harassed you about calling House. Plus, you refused when Chase asked you. So, why didn't you call him?"
Oh god this was embarrassing. The part about his predictability or the fact that he was being lectured by someone so young (and female) he wasn't sure, but it was.
"Just call him!" She snapped, breaking him out of his daze and he shook his head.
"I can't," he awkwardly started but she snorted at him and glared.
"Why not? What did he do this time?" She threw her hands out in a show of attempted support and irritation.
Wilson rubbed the back of his neck in nervous habit. "He--" She bowed her head in a show of 'please go on or I'll kick you in the shin', and he swallowed. "He wants a date."
She stared. "That's it?"
His eyes widened as he stared at her incredulously. "That's it?! What do you mean 'that's it'?"
She rolled her eyes. "Just go with him then! What, you want a lecture from me to you just like you did when I went on a date with him? Okay, don't hurt him. Blah, pieces, glue, back together, yeah, I get the idea. I'm pretty sure you do too. Just go with him!"
He brought his up and silenced her. "Are you listening to yourself? You're asking me to go on a date with House. In case if you haven't noticed, neither one of us are gay."
Cameron merely smiled at him. "Then tell him that. He seemed pretty adamant about it yesterday."
He scowled. "He's a jerk. He likes to mess with everyone's heads."
She brought her hands up and crossed them. "Just call him. The patient doesn't have until that long to live for the denial, the anger, the depression, the bargaining, and the acceptance. Just skip right to the last part and just do what he asks, okay?" She turned to leave but paused. "It wouldn't kill you to do it for once. Maybe the patient, yeah, but not you."
Just as he had expected, he didn't get to escape from work before Foreman came to him. He already had a headache that started to stomp on his brain and at this point he didn't want to hear another thing about dating House.
He was more than willing to strangle people at this point with his tie thank you.
"No, I am not dating House," he growled at Foreman.
Foreman shrugged. "That was plan A. But I think you'll like plan B better."
"Oh?"
"Just go to his house," Foreman started, "Knock him out with his cane, and drag him here. Hell, I'll help you."
Wilson stared at him wordlessly before nodding slowly. "I like your idea better. But why plan B? Why couldn't this be plan A?"
"Well, as you know, plan A was to have you pretend that he was a really masculine woman and take him on that damn date before Cuddy hangs us from the railings. It's just dinner he wants, right? Take him to McDonalds. You know how he is with the burgers and fries. Get him a salad. He'll hate you and call off the date instantly."
"Are you serious?!"
"About the salad thing?" Foreman shrugged again. "Yeah, I see how he is with vegetables. Such abuse..."
"No, the dinner and date thing, why--are you really serious?" Wilson did not want to be talking about dating his best friend, who happened to be a guy, with Foreman. No he did not, did not, did not.
Foreman stared at him. "I'm serious."
"I'm not dating him."
Foreman sighed. "Fine. Tell Cuddy that the patient is going to die because you won't take House to dinner. Better yet," he smiled. "Cameron already has."
Oh how Wilson hated House at that moment. He was a good teacher too. His pupils learned well.
He would've been proud if he had seen this.
Hiding in morgue from Cuddy is not the best way to spend the last hour of work. Of course it's no different than hanging out with House when he was in the morgue, it was just--a little creepy without General Hospital playing.
Wilson dug out his phone and glared at his pager as Cuddy beeped him for the seventh time in less than ten minutes. He quickly silenced it and turned it to vibrate, placing it on the metal table beside his chair.
It was now or never.
He dialed House's number and allowed the phone to ring. The answering machine picked up, playing that god awful message that Cuddy had teased about earlier.
The beep echoed in the room and he sighed.
"House? House are you there? It's me. I'm calling about--" he hesitated and his mouth went dry.
Oh god, what am I doing?
"--I'm calling about dinner," he forced himself to spit out the word and almost instantly the phone was picked up.
"Hi!"
Oh god, House was far too cheerful about this whole thing.
"House, you win. You want dinner? Fine. I'll take you out--"
"Na ah! I'm taking us out! I made reservations. Wear a nice suit and tie. You know, like you always do. Meet me at Bistros at quarter to seven. Don't be late!"
The phone went dead and Wilson stared in utter horror at the metal bins in front of him.
House already arranged for it. He knew.
Bastard.
He snapped the phone shut and started to grumble about how the world is full of assholes when suddenly, his phone rang. He fumbled with it for a second, then answered. "Dr. Wilson speaking."
"House called. He's coming in. Said something about making a compromise with you. Took you long enough," Cuddy snapped at him and he cringed. "Now what's this I hear about a date between you two? Are you having a threesome with some poor, helpless woman?"
"No, he's taking me out to dinner."
"One meal won't pay back a thousand pizzas and a million rented movies. But it's a start." The phone went dead and Wilson decided that yeah, it was late enough and that he could call it a day.
At exactly quarter to seven he arrived outside Bistros and saw House standing outside--in a suit.
Yeah, he was dreaming.
"There you are," House waved him over. "Come on, everything is all set. Let's go."
"Do we really have to eat here?" Wilson sighed and House made an annoyed face.
"What, complaining that I'm actually feeding you something other than take out?"
"I'm complaining that my wallet may hate you by the end of tonight."
House whipped out his credit card and smirked. "It's covered."
Wilson stared at the shiny plastic before narrowing his eyes. "Is that even your credit card?"
"Chase won't miss it, I promise. Anyway, dinner and alcohol awaits!" He hooked the cane around Wilson's arm and tugged at him, motioning for him to follow.
In less than two minutes, they were seated in a corner with low lighting and had their drinks and appetizers. House was wolfing down some breadsticks and Wilson poked at his salad.
Finally, he dropped the fork into the bowl and sighed agitatedly. "Why are you doing this?"
"I'm hungry. Pass a napkin will you? I think I got some on my forehead."
"Your forehead is fine, and I meant this whole dinner, date, thing," he waved his hands awkwardly. "Why? Is it because you're bored? Are you mad at me and trying to get back at me or something?"
"Yes, I'm bored. I'm bored with fast food. Yes, I mad at you. So to get back at you, I'm making you eat everything this kitchen has to offer. Maybe it'll make you explode and I can rest in peace."
"I'm serious, House." Wilson snapped, and House looked up, blue eyes piercing him.
"I am too," he tore off the end of his breadstick and offered it to Wilson. "Want some? It's good."
"No thanks, and no you're not. You would never have taken me out, you wouldn't have risked a patient's health over something so juvenile like this. Damnit House why--"
"This is juvenile?" House's tone no longer was teasing. It was low and had a bite to it. Now they were talking seriously.
"The fact you refused to come in to look over a patient until I agreed to dinner, the fact you messed with me in the clinic, had your team threaten me..."
"Hey, I didn't make my team do anything, that was all them," House took a sip of his drink and smacked his lips. "Were they good?"
"Too good. They may have excelled their sensei. But the point is, this was just a little too--I don't know, you went too far if this was a joke."
That, Wilson decided, was the point in which he probably should've just kept his mouth shut. House slowly pushed his plate away silently, moving his glass off to the side with it. He rested his hands on the table and stared intently at Wilson with angry eyes. "This was all a joke to you? You think I was joking?"
"Honestly," Wilson sighed. "I can't tell with you anymore. I'd like to think that some points were a joke, but assuming by the fact that you look like you want to stab me with your steak knife, I'm going to say that no, you weren't joking the whole time."
"Damn right I wasn't."
"Were you serious about the dating thing?" Wilson's skin suddenly felt too tight. His stomach was coiling and his mind was reeling. Where was this going? What was going to happen? Was he going to survive this night? Was their relationship going to last after this?
"At first I wasn't," House started slowly, looking away. "I just wanted you to stop whoring yourself to so many women. My theory was that you needed needy women, and they if you could have the ultimate partner that was always needy, you'd never need to have anyone else. But--things changed, obviously."
Wilson's stomach settled slightly. The butterflies calmed and his skin loosened. So House did it because he cared? He wanted Wilson to watch himself better?
It was--almost sweet.
But he couldn't, shouldn't--
He wasn't gay. House wasn't gay.
Right?
Wilson opened his mouth to voice his thoughts but suddenly he was cut off by a pager. He reached down and checked his and found that the noise came from across the table. "Damnit," House grumbled. "Patient being a spoil-sport. Sorry." He rose from the table and supported himself with the cane. "Call this a test run. We'll do the real thing tomorrow. Same time? Same place?"
"I don't think that's a good idea," House's face fell slightly, but resumed its normal stoic expression almost instantly.
House bowed his head and hobbled out of the restaurant silently.
Almost instantly, their dinner arrived. Wilson looked up and smiled at the waitress shyly. "Would it be too much trouble to have this in a doggy bag?"
Her scowl lightened at his expression and she nodded, taking it back on the cart.
Wilson sighed and couldn't help but blink when he spotted the credit card that House had sitting next to his salad bowl.
He snatched it and tucked it into his pocket, making a mental note to give it back to Chase in the morning. He took out his own card and covered the bill when she came back (giving a generous tip for all her trouble which was no trouble at all) and left with a large back of warm food.
He contemplated on bringing it back to the apartment with him, but realized that his mini refrigerator wouldn't be big enough to hold all the food.
So to House's apartment he went.
It was only after he had stuffed all the food in the fridge did it dawn on him that there was a little bit more to dinner than what was there to the naked eye.
Things needed to be talked about. Things needed to be said, straightened out, and not brushed under a rug like Wilson wanted.
Wilson looked at his watch and saw the second hand crawling around, the time reading back a few minutes before seven-thirty.
He could go to the hospital and corner House, but he had the patient to worry about.
Eventually House would come back. He needed to sleep after all.
So, Wilson took off his jacket, tossed it onto the arm of the couch and made himself comfortable with the remote.
It was going to be a long night.
The sound of a car pulling up outside the apartment was what woke Wilson after watching one too many episodes of Law and Order. He blinked as he tried to rid the sleep from overcoming him again and turned his head to stare at the clock.
Ten thirty.
It seemed so much longer, but then again, time seems to slow when things aren't going good or you're bored out of your mind.
He picked up the remote and flicked the television off, and reached across the arm of the couch to turn on the lamp. He didn't exactly want to scare the shit out of House at this point. It wouldn't bode well.
The gentle thumps of the cane reached his ears as he leaned back into the couch and sighed, twiddling his thumbs anxiously. The door opened and House stepped in, depositing his bag in the doorway. He didn't seem to notice Wilson yet.
So, Wilson spoke.
"Hey. How is he?"
House didn't even flinch. He looked up and blew out a haggard breath. "Stable. Idiot nurses didn't bother giving him the medication like I told them to. Because he missed one dose, he crashed."
Wilson frowned at the anger in House's tone. He rose from the couch and entered into the kitchen, grabbing a couple beers from the fridge. "I brought the dinner here. I don't have enough room in my own fridge." He went back into the living room and saw that House was already sprawled out on the couch. He nudged the man's shoulder with the bottle and the other man grabbed it with mild agitation.
House placed the bottle onto the coffee table with a sigh. "What are you doing here?"
Wilson shifted. "I want to talk to you."
"About?"
He frowned. "Well, earlier, you know I--"
"I won't force you into dinner again. As you said earlier, it was childish. Stupid. Foolish."
"I didn't say all that," Wilson made an exasperated wave of his hand and finally brought it to his hair and brushed it through coarse strands. "I--I was nervous. I don't know, if you want to try again, fine."
House silently rose to sitting position on the couch and scrutinized him. "You want to go to dinner again?"
"It was a test run tonight, right? Fine, let's do the real thing tomorrow--"
"No."
Wilson cocked an eyebrow. "No?"
House shrugged. "You're not gay. I'm not gay. Why bother? It's okay. I won't tell Chase. I don't want him crying, knowing that his one true love is as straight as Cameron."
Wilson clenched his teeth and placed the beer onto a shelf on the bookstand behind him. "Are you sure?"
House narrowed his eyes. "You were married three times. With women."
"And if you haven't noticed, they've all failed. With women. So maybe, maybe," He swept his hand between them. "Maybe this is something worth exploring, you know? As they say, 'give it a week'."
"Nice, comparing a relationship to suicide prevention. It fits, doesn't it?" House smirked at him, lips tight and eyes hard.
"No, House, stop. Don't joke about this," Wilson pointed at him. "You started it. You wanted to 'save me from myself'. So let's do something. Start with dinner. Tomorrow. At seven."
"Eight."
Wilson cocked his head and House shrugged. "Season premiere. Can't miss it."
The oncologist rolled his eyes. Typical House. "Fine, eight. Same place?"
House smirked at him. "No, meet here. I want to surprise you."
Oh god. This can't be good.
"Fine, but don't steal Chase's credit card again," Wilson placed his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes. "No matter how much of a kind gesture to offer to pay for dinner that was, I don't mind."
"You won't have to tomorrow. Foreman's buying."
"House."
"I'm joking, gosh," House picked up his beer and popped the metal cap off. "Why so serious?"
Apparently, Wilson had done some good by accepting...or...encouraging a second dinner date.
House must have been in an incredibly good mood because his team stopped by his office before he got ready to leave with huge grins and encouraging words ("Go get him!" "If you do anything, you know, protection?" "Can I have my credit card back?").
It was only after he had managed to shove them all out of his office did he realize that he was now going on a date with House for a second time.
A second time.
'For real', as House had put it.
Wilson smiled as he slipped the tie over, under, looped, and made sure his hair looked good. It was time.
He waited in his car for ten minutes just to make sure he wasn't too early. When the clock read seven fifty, he hopped out and bounded up the steps, practically yanking the door off the hinges.
What he saw before him was something right out of a spa magazine.
Candles--everywhere. The house had a fresh breeze smell, with a slap of lilac in there somewhere. The lights were all off, so the candles set off a deep glow. The shades were drawn, blocking out the harsh street light from right outside the window.
Wilson blinked rapidly as he stepped in, closing the door quickly behind him.
"Oh, you're here."
And there he was.
Oh my god.
"You still had five minutes."
Is that...
"I decided that we could have dinner here."
...oh god...
"I had the delivery boy bring some stuff over. I used some Martha Stewart recipe."
I think I've died.
"So if dinner is bad, blame it on her."
I've gone to heaven.
House was posed in the doorway to the kitchen...
...in a robe. But not just any robe.
In that damn ultra fluffy navy blue bathrobe that Wilson bought him for his birthday last year that he never, ever, EVER wore.
And House was probably naked under it.
Wilson felt his face flush hot and he stammered. "I-I-I--"
"Is the robe too much?" House peered over his shoulder, as if he were trying to determine whether or not he should ask 'does this robe make my butt look too big or too naked?'
Wilson forced himself to swallow. "Shocking."
"I'll change," but just as he turned to leave, Wilson pounced.
"Good morning!" House briskly entered the office and offered the brightest smile. "How did you all fair last night?"
The ducklings stared at him with wide eyes and cracked jaws.
"So good that you lost your tongues? Excellent! No case this morning, which means--play time!" He hobbled into his office area and booted up his computer.
Cameron lent towards the other two and smirked. "I win. Fork it over."
Foreman and Chase pulled out their wallets with irritated faces and started to pull out several twenties, sliding them across the table as the girl tallied up her winnings with a victorious grin planted on her face.
"So, when do you think we'll be free to do that again?"
"Anytime. But one question for you House."
"Yes?"
"Really, scented candles?"
"Didn't like them?"
"Loved them. But use only one scent when you do that. I think there was a sugar cookie candle in there somewhere."
"Gift from Chase. Couldn't let it be left out."
"So considerate of you."
"Aren't I nice?"