House
It had finally been done: Wilson had actually won a bet he had made with House. He could hardly contain himself as he strode into House's office on Friday morning. House looked up at him suspiciously and accepted the cup of coffee that Wilson offered. "This isn't laced with laxatives or something is it?" he asked as Wilson took a seat opposite him.
"Nope. This is a coffee of celebration."
House snorted. "'A coffee of celebration'?" He tentatively sniffed the stuff before taking a swig. Wilson rolled his eyes.
"This isn't a strategic operation. It's coffee. Enjoy it."
"And what are we celebrating?" House asked, dismissing Wilson's admonishments.
"We are celebrating the end of our bet. I finally beat you at your own game."
House narrowed his blue eyes at the man in front of him. "So you slept with Cuddy last night?" He took another sip of coffee, studying Wilson.
"Yes. Contrary to all of your musings, it wasn't half bad. Of course, I've had better." Wilson caught House's eyes. "Which means that you'll go to the musical with me. And cook me dinner."
House laughed. "Did you think I was serious about all of that?"
"You aren't getting out of this one, House. I've booked reservations and the tickets are in my pocket. Tonight you and I will be eating at the Chateau and then we're off to the theatre."
"You sound so pleased to have beaten me," House replied. "Well I have news for you: I made other plans. I didn't expect you to actually win a bet."
"But…"
House cut Wilson off. "I don't want to hear it. We're not going to that stupid musical. I'm not going anyway. I made reservations at a place called Ms. Kitty's Pussy Parlor that I won't be able to get out of. You'll have to reschedule dinner…that doesn't sound half bad."
"HOUSE! We had a deal!"
"And I made plans accordingly. When do you ever win?" House took another drink of the coffee. "You can either join me at the parlor and eat delicious fish snacks and 'kitty treats' or sit at home. Your choice."
Wilson stood, supremely annoyed. All of his plans destroyed by what he had thought to be the man of his dreams. He glared at the diagnostician and walked out of the office, bound and determined to get a date for the musical and to piss House off, since the bugger hadn't wanted to be taken out for an actual date. "Pussy Parlor!" Wilson muttered as thought it were a swear phrase. He marched to the elevators and pressed the button for the ground floor.
Wilson burst into Cuddy's office and tossed the tickets down on the table, barely containing his anger. "You're coming with me tonight to the Chateau and to a musical. Be dressed and ready at 7. I'll pick you up."
Cuddy stared at him, flabbergasted and merely nodded her confirmation. Wilson turned on his heel, then gathering all of the strength of mind left in him he put a flirtatious air into his words and turned back around when he reached the door. "Wear something spectacular, I have something very important to discuss with you," he told her, his tone silky with none of his previous feelings showing. Cuddy's eyes lit up and she nodded once more, picking up the tickets and watching the head oncologist disappear around the corner.
