A/N: Blame boxing day football for why this isn't the best chapter. I keep getting frustrated with the teams I want to win playing like shit. (I'm looking at you Portsmouth, missing that easy-as-sin penalty...)

"You actually agreed to this?" Cuddy was busy massaging her temples, staring at the two men in front of her, unsure of what to think. "You actually really agreed to play along with his damn ruse?" Wilson shifted foot to foot uneasily, while House looked perfectly casual.

"Well-" Was the best Wilson could come up with. She turned to look at House, her eyes narrowed.

"This is as far as this ruse goes, correct?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean that you're not going to go around embarrassing Wilson-"

"He can stick up for himself." This was the one thing that House hated most about Cuddy, her urge to mother everyone in the hospital, himself included.

"Knowing you, you'd start necking with him-regardless of whether or not he wants to start necking with you-in the middle of the ER, just to provoke a reaction." He couldn't say that the idea hadn't crossed his mind. "If you do anything, say anything, about this, you will be doing sixty hours in the clinic a week for the rest of your life."

"Yes mommy." House's tone was as mocking as it could get. "Do we at least get honeymoon time?" Cuddy grit her teeth for a moment, and looked between them.

"Do you actually have any plans?"

"Pizza, beer, and lots of bad movies, preferably someplace with less garbage and toxic waste than this state?" Wilson didn't even try to hide his relief at the fact that House hadn't even considered a honeymoon. The second that the word had come up, he'd started to panic at the idea of House already starting to make plans, as it would lead to nothing but embarrassment on his part. He could see it now, being relegated to the couch in a honeymoon suite, enduring the stares of everyone else in the hotel, just for House's perverted pleasure.

Cuddy sighed, and looked between them for a long moment. "Fine, you two have my blessing to go take a week off, hopefully in opposite directions of one another, but House, I'm warning you now, if the rest of the hospital finds out about this stunt because you pull another stunt to announce things, Foreman will be running your department, and you'll be in the clinic for the rest of your life." Wilson gave a small, grateful smile at Cuddy, letting him know that he was quite thankful to her for putting a very real punishment on anything that House would try and pull.

As they retreated out of their boss's office, Wilson looked nervously over at House. "You're not planning on telling anyone, are you?" House quirked an eyebrow.

"What happened to not caring what anyone thought?"

"I said I didn't care if they found out, which they're going to. I will care if the first words out of your mouth when you walk in to the conference room are 'guess what, Wilson and I are getting married.'" He was glad for the privacy of the elevator, it allowed him to talk candidly without fear.

"And what will you do if I were to tell them?"

"It's off. I don't give a damn about the money, it's nice, but I don't need it, if you tell them, then the whole thing's off. You wanted to know where the line in the sand is? It's there, I'm not going to be publicly humilated in front of my coworkers for your twisted pleasure." He didn't like the grin on House's face, it usually foretold something horrible was about to come.

He didn't realize it was because House was actually proud of himself, that obviously something of the conversation they'd had last night had gotten through. It gave him something to gloat about, something to rub in in the middle of an argument. Instead they parted ways on the fourth floor, each of them going to their own offices for the rest of the day.

He was starting to think that House had actually upheld his end of the deal when Taub stopped by. "Yes?" He asked the other man, curious to know why one of House's fellows was standing in front of him.

"I drew the short straw." Taub said, and Wilson quirked an eyebrow. "We wanted to know if you were getting remarried." He was regretting that sip of coffee that was currently stuck in his throat, and not wanting to leave.

"What?" He managed to squawk.

"Well, he was asking about some of the more detailed parts of a Jewish wedding, and since you and Cuddy are the only two Jews who he'd actually care about if they got married, and Cuddy's obviously not getting married, or else we'd all have heard about it, it left you."

"And you care, why?" Wilson asked.

"Because House is unbearable when he's not bothering you?" Taub tried, and Wilson rolled his eyes. "He is, when you were gone, he was downright...miserable. We wanted to know that if you were, how long the honeymoon would be so that we could plan accordingly." Of course, that was the way that the minions thought. Cover their own asses first.

"A week. But we haven't even set a date yet." Taub's eyebrows raised.

"Haven't you two been friends for a long time?"

"Yes, why?"

"You've never had a Jewish wedding?" Wilson shook his head.

"The three ex Mrs. Wilson's all insisted on their churches. Much to my mother's dismay." Taub gave a small smile.

"I know the feeling." There was a small moment of shared comraderie, before Taub spoke again. "Mazel Tov."

"Thanks." was all Wilson managed, before turning back to his charting. So House had avoided telling them directly, and at the moment, the entire team thought that he was getting remarried to some girl. And they had no clue that House was playing the bride. Or groom. Or whatever you called the second person. And he felt a feeling of dread starting to sink in-they weren't going to have to kiss were they? Even in a civil ceremony?

He walked out to the balcony, not actually expecting House to come out there with him. "I thought it was a civil service?" He asked, staring down into the courtyard below.

"I'm allowed to see if there's any glaring differences between the vows, aren't I?" Wilson shrugged. "Although I don't see why you wouldn't want to get married under a Chuppa-they make some very interesting ones."

"Can't be any worse than the burning of Atlanta one my cousin had." House quirked an eyebrow, and Wilson noticed the gesture out of the corner of his eye.

"She had a Gone With the Wind themed wedding, her Chuppa was the burning of Atlanta." He heard the snicker of laughter next to him, and couldn't help but join in. It had easily been the tackiest wedding he had ever attended, but then again, he wasn't fond of admitting he was related to the girl.

"So, since this is your idea, what else needs to be planned?"

"Not much, unless you want a reception?" Wilson shook his head.

"That implies people." House shrugged.

"You know you're awfully defensive about no one finding out. You know there's a betting pool on us, right?" Wilson paled slightly-he'd honestly never heard that. "I'm all for not telling anyone, simply because Jen in Radiology stands to win the most, and I hate her." Wilson rolled his eyes.

"She's a nice girl-" She was always willing to bump Wilson's patients up to the top of the MRI list, at any rate.

"She goes out of her way to make sure I don't get my patient's scans, X-rays, or anything that involves beaming electrons of some kind through their bodies." Wilson rolled his eyes. "So I refuse to let her win fifteen hundred dollars by announcing things."

Wilson's face turned stark white as he heard the amount. "Fifteen hundred? On us?"

"Well, that's on us getting married, there's a lot more who'll be getting a lot less for other things-for example, if I decide to kiss you in the middle of the cafeteria, Ross over in Peds gets a hundred, but if you kiss me, anywhere in this hospital, Regina the lawyer gets three hundred." Wilson's hands gripped the railing tighter.

"This has been going on for how long?"

"At least the past five years?" Wilson banged his head off the railing repeatedly.

"How is it that people were putting bets on me, and I'm completely clueless?"

"If it's any consolation, I stand to win three grand if you bang Cameron."

"No, it's not. You don't have any money riding on this, do you?"

"Of course not, as one of the participants, I'm ineligible to bet. Could you sleep with Cameron though? I could use that money-" Wilson merely shot him a glare, and turned to walk back into his office. "Kidding!" House called to his back, as he stalked back inside, collapsing into his chair. So of course the entire hospital would be betting on them.

After all, they were an old married couple, pretty much. They fought, and bickered, and always made up in the end. Sexless, and nearly loveless, but yet they always seemed to find each other out of a sense of routine-they always seemed to find their way back to one another, no matter how much they didn't want to. He looked up when he heard a knock on his door, followed by Cameron.

"House is up to something." No hello, no greeting, just an observation.

"Of course he is, he's House, he's always up to something."

"I think it involves you." Wilson rolled his eyes. "He's been doing that hinting thing, where he tries really hard to act as though he doesn't want us to figure it out, but he really does. And I think it involves you, so I came to warn you."

"I thank you for your caring, but I can take care of myself, it's House."

"Do you have any idea of what it is?"

"Well considering that he mentioned that he has three grand on us in the hospital betting pool, I'd stay far away from the doors to any closets, lest he shove both of us in one for two hours so he can collect." He took some sort of perverse pleasure in the sickly shade of green she turned at the idea. It was an easy deflection.

"Why?" He cocked his head, trying to figure out what, or whom, the question was directed at. A higher power perhaps, questioning why she hadn't actually gotten out of Princeton when she had the chance? "Why do you keep putting up with his schemes? Every time it always ends with him walking all over you, and yet you keep doing it." Wilson sat there, pondering her question. Truth be told, he didn't have an answer.

"Because-" He paused, trying to think of something good to say. "-He's House." As though that would simply explain everything. Cameron merely threw her hands in the air in a gesture of exasperation, before leaving his office. Although she had a point, why did he keep following along with House's grand ideas that never ended well?