Author: lucretiafly
Characters: House/Wilson
Rating: T
Word count: 429
Summary: House makes a bet with Wilson. Set during the Tritter arc, to provide a convenient antagonist.
Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing. The lucky ones are David Shore et al.

When Wilson met House at the elevators on the way home that evening, things were refreshingly still normal between them. House looked dejected and worn out – his patient hadn't turned out to be as fine as he had claimed, and he was out of ideas.

"Want to come over tonight?" he asked Wilson tiredly. "I won't try anything – just in the mood for beer, TV and then passing out. I'll even get the pizza."

Wilson glanced at his friend suspiciously. Putting himself in close proximity to House more than necessary this week was probably only leaving himself wide open for House's advances – he again deliberately ignored the innuendo – but on the other hand, pizza and beer with House sounded good right now, and you should never turn down an occasion when House was paying. Not that Wilson was able to pay right now, but still. Gift horses and all that.

"Well, if you're paying, how can I refuse? But I don't trust you, so don't think you can fool me into thinking the bet's on hold."

House smiled appreciatively. "Good boy, Jimmy. Never get complacent."

At Wilson's alarm at having his suspicion apparently confirmed, he reassured, "But I still probably won't try anything."

"Hmm. Whatever, House." Rolling his eyes, he strode out of the lift and towards the parking lot. "You're not gonna win."

The evening passed pleasantly enough, and although Wilson was careful not to let himself get too drunk, House seemed to stick to his promise of 'probably not trying anything'. Aside from a half-hearted attempt at sliding a palm over Wilson's thigh that he didn't follow up on when the other man shifted away, there was nothing more than a brushing of fingers as beer bottles were passed and the usual faint touch of legs as they sat on the couch.

If Wilson thought he detected an increase in pressure as the night went on, well, he was allowed to enjoy it. Appreciating the sensations he had dreamed of for so long did not mean he was seduced, and definitely didn't count as sleeping with House.

He was a little disappointed however that House didn't try harder when, at the end of the zombie flick they had stumbled across on TV, he stood and looked down at Wilson.

"Coming to bed then?"

Wilson screwed up his face in a mock-grimace.

"You're not getting me that easily. My standards may be low, but not that low. I'm on the couch tonight."

He was even more disappointed when House just shrugged and limped off to his room alone.