Title: Twenty Years of Stealing My Food: Part 12
Author: hwshipper
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Heel and Toe Films, Shore Z Productions and Bad Hat Harry Productions in association with Universal Media Studios.
Beta: the ever reliable triedunture
Summary: History repeats itself as House gets a hot girlfriend, Wilson encounters the bartender he met back in part 10, and Wilson gets married for the second time.
Excerpt: Wilson ran the tap and splashed water on his face. "House, tell me I'm not making a mistake."
Twenty Years of Stealing My Food: Part 12
Wilson arrived at House's apartment and waved a triumphant envelope. "I got it!"
"I knew it," House said swiftly and smugly, and when Wilson shook his head and laughed, House added, "No, I really did know: I found the list of newly appointed residents on the Mass Gen mainframe yesterday."
"You!" Wilson said in friendly exasperation, and punched House lightly on the arm.
"So, you'll be switching to Boston?..." House raised a querying eyebrow.
"As soon as possible." Wilson had finished the last of his exams; he was through with med school and keen to move on to the residency he'd worked so hard to get. He really felt things were going well for him. "I need to find an apartment somewhere around here. I'm gonna go looking tomorrow."
"I know a place," House said immediately. "Guy in my department just got an attending post in Philly, he starts straight away. He's got an apartment two blocks down from here."
Wilson hesitated. "How big is it?"
"Dunno. Same size as this one, I think." House looked curiously at Wilson. "Why?"
"Well, Bonnie's moving to Boston with me," Wilson said diffidently. "She doesn't have any reason to stay in New York anymore... she thought she might as well look for jobs here as there... and to save money, we could share an apartment... we kind of live in each others' apartments anyway already..."
There was silence for a moment, then House gave an expansive shrug. "Cool."
Wilson looked hard at House, who returned an innocent blue gaze.
Wilson didn't say any more, but he was suspicious; that had been far too easy. He'd been expecting a lot of grief from House about moving in with Bonnie, they hadn't been going out that long after all... He'd even wondered if House might say move in with me, and had been prepared for an apologetic counter-argument as to why this was not a good idea... apparently not required.
Wilson couldn't decide if he was relieved or sorry.
Wilson soon found out why: House had a new diversion of his own. Wilson and Bonnie were walking down Newbury Street out shopping one day, a couple of weeks after they'd moved to Boston, when Bonnie said suddenly, "There's House, and look, who's that with him?"
House was sitting in a coffee shop, next to an extremely attractive Latino girl who Wilson didn't recognize at all. They were sitting close, and House had an arm thrown casually around her shoulders.
"I... don't know."
"He's got a girlfriend," Bonnie said, excitement at new gossip in her voice. "She's very pretty..."
"Um, do you want a coffee?" Wilson suggested, already moving towards the door.
They went in, and Bonnie went straight up to House and said brightly, "Hey, Greg, nice to see you! Won't you introduce us to your new friend?" She beamed at the Latino girl, who smiled back, showing straight white teeth.
Wilson hung back a little awkwardly, but House seemed unfazed. "This is Raquel. Raquel, dice hola a Wilson y a Bonnie."
"Hello Wilson and Bonnie," Raquel said in a clear but awkward voice. She smiled again, a little shyly. "Please excuse my poor English."
"Raquel is originally from Cuba," House explained. "She came to the US a few years ago and is here working at the museum for a year, as a curator in the art of Ancient Americas section... she's improving my Spanish and I'm improving her English."
"Welcome--to--the--United--States--of--America!" Bonnie said, very slowly, exaggerating each word, as if she was speaking to a particularly stupid child. Wilson felt himself blush slightly and he tried not to look at House's smirk as she went on, "My--name--is--Bon--nie."
"Hello, Bonnie," Raquel said gravely.
"And I'm James Wilson. Pleased to meet you, Raquel," Wilson said, trying to sound as unpatronising as possible.
"I am very happy to meet you. James?" Raquel snapped her fingers suddenly, and said something swift in Spanish to House; Wilson didn't understand any of it, but caught the word Hi-meh. House laughed a little and nodded, looking vaguely embarrassed. Wilson and Bonnie looked enquiringly at him, and House translated, "She said, you're Jimmy, the one who sent me the girlie postcard."
"Oh." Wilson laughed too, a little nervous. She meant the one he'd sent from his honeymoon; he knew House kept it thumbtacked to a shelf above his bed. Wilson hoped she hadn't looked too hard at the back of the card.
"So. Raquel. Tell me everything," Wilson collared House the next day at the hospital over lunch.
House shrugged and bit into one of Wilson's sandwiches. "Met her about a month ago at the museum; she was trying to explain an exhibit to a dumb-ass soccer mom who thought that if she just spoke louder Raquel would understand her. I translated the dumb-ass question and Raquel was very grateful. She's paranoid about her English, I said I'd correct her English if she corrected my Spanish, and we just went on from there."
"You broke up with Tigris?" Wilson felt the need to clarify.
"Wilson, meeting Raquel finally gave me the perfect reason to break up with Tig," House said fervently, and Wilson understood from this that whereas Tig had been a Bad Influence, Raquel was a Good Influence, and House recognized this and was glad about it.
Fine, Wilson was glad too. To a point. So long as it didn't change some things too much.
"You want to go out for a drink tonight?" Wilson said, casually, tilting his head on one side and dipping his eyelids.
House stared back at Wilson, and Wilson knew House was getting the message loud and clear; sex was on offer afterwards. If House still wanted it, now Raquel was on the scene.
"I'd say no," House said presently, "except somehow I think you'd get your way eventually anyway."
Wilson smiled at that, and bit into an apple.
Over time, Wilson didn't really see much of Raquel. Bonnie thought Raquel was stupid (although it was patently obvious to Wilson that nothing could have been further from the truth) and Raquel clearly found Bonnie puzzling. And Wilson was now living with Bonnie, and House was spending most of his free time with Raquel, and when Wilson saw House it was usually just the two of them for a guy's night out; Wilson didn't have any reason to spend much time with both House and Raquel.
When he did, on occasion, Wilson found it amusing to sit back and watch while they bantered away. House talking in Spanish and her in English, each pausing occasionally to correct the other, while endlessly, shamelessly, flirting. They made a handsome couple. She was tall, with short raven dark hair and flawless skin, and House openly lusted over her in public, and she teased him back. She was perfecting his already very good Spanish, although he sighed about the Cuban accent he was acquiring.
Wilson resolved to learn Spanish. One day. Maybe he'd watch some telenovellas. Although realistically, he knew he was unlikely to get round to this for the next fifteen years or so.
Wilson and Bonnie spent the holiday season that year in New Jersey. Hanukkah, Christmas and New Year went by as they traveled first to his family, then to hers. They discovered neighborhoods they both knew, even a couple of old mutual acquaintances. His parents loved her, obviously pleased to see him moving on after his divorce. Her parents loved him, apparently relieved to see she had finally managed to rid herself of the abusive quarterback boyfriend.
They were at a party at Bonnie's sister's house late on New Years Eve, discussing how great it was that they liked each others families and got on so well, when Bonnie said with a laugh, "We're so well suited, we should get married."
"Maybe we should," Wilson said, being affectionate, a little drunk and giddy.
She stared at him. "You really think?"
She was wide-eyed and agog; her mouth slightly open in anticipation. As if her dream had just come true.
Wilson hesitated, and couldn't bring himself to spoil the moment. He said, "Uh yeah. Why not?"
Bonnie screamed a little, then hailed her sister across the room. "Hey, listen up! We're engaged!"
The sister came bounding up, screaming back, "No shit! That's so awesome!"
And that was how, somehow, Wilson found himself not only toasting the New Year in but also being toasted by the entire party with congratulations.
The following morning he was a little shocked by what had happened, but by this time Bonnie had called both her Mom and his Mom to tell them the news. All Moms and Dads were duly delighted.
And on reflection, Wilson figured why not indeed? They'd been living together a while now and got on really well. He was very fond of her, yes, he loved her. She could be a little silly and somewhat helpless at times, but he mostly found that endearing. She needed someone to take care of her... he could do that.
House had spent the holiday season comfortably ensconced in his apartment with Raquel; English, Spanish and body language all playing an important role in a cozy couple of weeks. Back at work a few weeks later, House was having lunch with Wilson when Wilson said far too casually, "Hey, House, there's something I need to tell you."
"Don't tell me, let me guess. You're pregnant," House said, munching chips.
"That's right, and you're the father," Wilson said, poker-faced. "No, it's about Bonnie."
"Oh God, she's not, is she?" House said with apprehension.
"No, no, no," Wilson said hastily."But we are engaged."
"You have to be fucking kidding me."
Wilson sighed. "I knew you'd be happy for me."
House snorted, taking a few seconds to gather his thoughts on this unexpected development. "Why the hell do you have to marry her? You've known her, what, six months?"
"A bit longer than that. So what?" Wilson spread out his hands.
House shook a finger at him. "You're jumping in way too quick because you're trying to compensate for the fact that your first marriage was a disaster from start to finish. You're just pathologically trying to prove you can make this one work this time."
"I love her."
"Oh, crap. Give me a break." House crumpled up the empty chip bag. "I know you think you do, but actually you pity her. She's just so pathetic, it just feeds your emotional vampire-ism."
Wilson shook his head. "I know you don't think much of her, but honestly, House, you've never even tried to get to know her. Is the lecture finished yet?"
House glared at him. "I'm not getting through to you, am I?"
"No." Wilson was firm. "We're getting married, later this year. And its not going to be a big do like last time – it'll be a small wedding, near both our families in Jersey. And-–" Wilson gulped slightly, then went on-–"I'd really like you to be my best man."
House was rendered temporarily speechless. When he eventually managed to speak, he barked, "Again? You have to be joking. Do you want to put a hex on everything before you even start?"
"No, I just want you to be there with me," Wilson said patiently.
"Shouldn't it be your brother's turn this time?" House demanded. "He might do more than punch me in the nose when he finds out."
"I can deal with Jon," Wilson said, in a tone that brooked no disagreement. "Anyway, I don't want to have a bachelor party this time."
"Then what's the point in being a best man?" House groused. "We have to at least give you a send-off to remember."
"Yes, you can do that," Wilson said brightly, and House realized he'd agreed to do it. Again. He rolled his eyes, and argued some more, but Wilson wasn't budging.
Despite Wilson's efforts, some things were the same as last time. Bonnie spent much of the next six months flitting back and forth between Trenton and Boston, being fitted for a wedding dress, booking a hall, and worrying over seating plans. It kept her busy, since she couldn't seem to find a job that suited her. She thought she might work in sales, but hadn't found the right area for her talents yet. Planning her wedding was a pleasant distraction from all that.
A few days ahead of the wedding Bonnie went out to New Jersey to oversee preparations, and it was agreed that Wilson, House and Raquel would travel out the day before the ceremony.
The night before that, their night together in Boston, House insisted that he and Wilson have their own mini bachelor party, or at least go out and getting plastered.
"We should only go to bars we've never been to before," House declared, and Wilson laughed and said, why not.
It was fun. They rolled from street to street looking for bars, avoiding places either of them recalled visiting, going into unfamiliar doors. They were nearing the end of an enjoyable evening, and House was pushing open the door of what he thought might be the last bar of the night before they headed back to his apartment (that being tacitly understood by them both), when Wilson suddenly stopped dead behind him.
"Wait. I think I've been here before."
"Well, I haven't," House said breezily, and strode inside. Wilson followed; it was busy. Wilson looked around from side to side as House propelled him towards the bar.
"I've definitely been here before..." Wilson frowned, the alcohol apparently having affected his memory.
House shoved people aside without compunction, and they reached the bar.
A bartender turned towards them and said, "Hello gentlemen, what can I get you?" and then stopped, holding a couple of glasses midair. He was looking at Wilson.
House looked at Wilson too, and saw two dark red spots of color forming on Wilson's cheeks.
"Hey," Wilson mumbled.
"Hey," the bartender responded, putting the glasses down on the counter. "How are you? It must be, what, a year?"
They knew each other? House was immediately fascinated and took a closer look at the bartender. He was tall and thin, with short bleached blond hair and a diamond stud glinting in his right ear. Very interesting.
"You were getting divorced when we met before, I think?" the bartender said to Wilson. "Did that go through?"
"Yeah." Wilson wasn't really looking at the bartender, but he certainly wasn't looking at House. "It did. But... funnily enough, I'm getting married again now. Day after tomorrow, actually."
The barman peered at Wilson, apparently decided he wasn't joking, and said, tone was heavily overlaid with irony, "Huh. Then I guess congratulations are in order." He reached for a bottle under the counter. "So what's this, bachelor party time?"
"He wouldn't have a party, second time around," House butted in. "What do I know, I'm just the best man."
The bartender looked at House and suddenly his eyebrows, also bleached blond, shot upwards. He looked at Wilson and said, "This is the best friend."
"Uh, yeah." Wilson's face was as red as House could ever remember seeing it, and Wilson was looking determinedly at the floor.
"Pleased to meet you," the bartender said in a friendly voice, and he sloshed whiskey generously into the two glasses. "On the house. Second time around as best man, too?"
"That's right. It's an exclusive sort of club, I like to think," House said nonsensically, his brain working as fast as it possibly could. Which was some way short of full tilt, unfortunately.
"Thanks for the drinks, uh, nice to see you," Wilson said, and grabbed both his own and House's glasses and headed away from the bar as fast as he could. House lingered for a second, hoping for a few more words with the bartender, but it was just too busy. House followed Wilson to a quieter corner of the room.
Wilson thrust one glass at House and drained the other. "Drink up, we're going."
"Not so fast, sonny Jim," House protested, and took a deliberately small sip. "What's the story?"
"There is no story. I knew I'd been in this bar before. I guess I talked to him then." Wilson's cheeks were fiery.
"Talked to him? Must've been a real heart-to-heart." House stared at Wilson, who didn't meet his eye. "What, did you sleep with him or something?" There was a moment's silence. "Christ, you did." House was incredulous. "You did!"
Wilson threw up a hand. "It was nothing, it was just a one night thing... Cath had just thrown me out, I didn't have anywhere to live, I'd come to Boston. You were out with Tigris, I'd had a few drinks, I suppose I just wanted to talk to someone, and... he was a nice guy, we went to a club..."
Suddenly House remembered the evening in question, and in particular he remembered the state in which Wilson had come home the following morning. "Fucking hell. I remember. I was at the Locke-Ober eating oysters... You came back and couldn't even walk straight..." He stared at Wilson, suddenly seeing him through new eyes. "What the fuck! I had no idea."
Wilson shuffled his feet uncomfortably.
"Always led by your dick!" House's voice rose in sudden anger. "I always knew you were a soft touch for a sob story from a small brunette with a decent pair of tits, and now I find out you also can't resist blond barmen with a sympathetic ear. And a sympathetic earring."
"What difference does it make? Why are you judging me?" Wilson was defensive. "It was a year ago! My marriage had just collapsed! And you were out with your girlfriend. Why shouldn't I do what the hell I wanted?"
House took a gulp of his drink, and found he'd drained the whole glass. "Let's go."
They caught a cab, and traveled back to House's apartment in silence. House was full of conflicting emotions. The rational part of his mind said so fucking what. So Wilson had had a one night stand with a bartender a year ago. If it had been a barmaid instead of a barman, House would have despaired momentarily, called Wilson a slut and moved right on.
Instead of which House felt a distinct tinge of betrayal. And it was ridiculous. What difference did it make that the bartender was a blond boy instead of a blonde babe? He and Wilson had never been exclusive, House just didn't expect it from Wilson, or want it particularly himself. And goodness knows it wasn't like either of them hadn't been with other men before they'd met... it just hadn't happened since, as far as House was aware.
As they arrived at House's apartment, Wilson said quietly, "If you'd rather I didn't stay over, just say."
"No. Stay over." House was gruff. He didn't know what he wanted, except that he didn't want Wilson to go.
They went inside. House closed the door behind them; it was dark, but he didn't turn on the light. Instead he asked abruptly, "What did you do with him?"
Wilson stood with his hands on his hips. House couldn't see his expression in the darkness, but the stance said it all. "Do you really want to know?"
House didn't know if he did or not. "Yes." No. Perhaps.
"Fine." Wilson's voice rang out low but clear. "We went to a club. We danced. I sucked him off in the bathroom. And later on, I fucked him up in the ass in the alleyway outside."
Holy crap. House found himself gasping; he hadn't expected such a blunt reply. What was Wilson thinking?
And yet--Wilson hadn't spoken lightly, he'd told House this because he'd known it would have a certain effect. House didn't want to be turned on by this, but damn it all to hell, he was.
"And yes, of course we used a condom," Wilson added.
"Wilson, you're a fucking slut," House hissed, and practically leaped on top of Wilson.
House fell on Wilson with greedy, grasping hands, pulling at Wilson's shirt and yanking it out from his pants; thrusting his hands up inside, running them over Wilson's chest. Wilson responded in kind, fairly snapping at House's mouth and neck while wrestling off House's T-shirt. They stripped rapidly, House suddenly desperate to have Wilson naked; Wilson apparently feeling the same about House.
As soon as House spied Wilson's cock, long and red and half-erect already, he grabbed it and pressed it up against his own rapidly stiffening one. Wilson uttered a very pleasing, "God, House," as House skimmed a drop of pre-come off the tip of Wilson's cock with his thumb, and ran it lightly down his shaft.
The two of them stood up close, rubbing against each other practically in a frenzy, before House pulled back and breathed, "Suck me off like you did him."
Wilson pushed House towards the couch; House sat down with a bump, and Wilson dropped to his knees on the floor. House heard himself squeak as he felt his cock disappear down Wilson's throat; fuck! Wilson practically swallowed him at first, then switched to small shallow sucks, licks and kisses across the tip; House whined and bucked, and then pulled back and out to climax across Wilson's face, spurting across Wilson's nose and forehead..
Wilson sat back on his heels and ran a hand over his face.
"He do that?" House muttered between breaths.
"Actually, yes," Wilson gasped, and House found himself spurting just a little more come at those words. "Gonna let me fuck you in an alleyway?"
"Too cold out," House's brain was barely allowing coherent speech. "Ass fuck in here do?"
"If we're standing up against a wall," Wilson said, and House almost felt himself come again, but didn't because he was now utterly spent.
Wilson scrabbled around on the floor for his jeans, finding his wallet in a pocket and then a condom in the wallet. He rolled it on, while House wobbled to his feet and tottered towards the nearest wall. A few seconds later, Wilson was right behind him, nipping at the back of his neck, running hands across his back, and then down to feel his ass.
"Spread your legs," Wilson muttered, and House shuddered a little and obeyed, leaning on the wall with his hands and jutting out his ass. He felt something cold oozing, and then some fairly perfunctory probing, and then Wilson's cock, long and hard and deep and intrusive. House whimpered and forced himself to relax, not actually too difficult given that his legs felt like jelly after his recent orgasm; he could barely stand. Wilson leaned forward, covering House's hands on the wall with his own, supporting House's body with his own weight; moaning into House's hair with each thrust. He came with a final high-pitched gasp of "House," pumping furiously up inside; then they both collapsed in a heap on the floor.
"Hope you enjoyed your wedding present," House murmured after a few minutes.
Wilson snorted with laughter. "I don't think that was actually on the gift list."
House snuggled down comfortably into Wilson's chest and muttered, "No, but it's prime material for my best man speech."
"I know you're kidding." Wilson sounded confident, but House knew with a twinge of satisfaction that Wilson would be worried about this right up until House sat down at the end of his speech.
The five hour journey to Trenton the next day was a little strained, but could, House thought, have been worse. They left late, both still hungover, met up with Raquel and spent the day traveling. He and Raquel checked into a hotel while Wilson went to stay with his family before the wedding the following day.
House could remember very little about Wilson's first wedding, and looking back, he remembered even less about the second. It was much smaller and more family oriented, but many features were still the same. There was still a mindless swirl of meringue dresses, an excess of proud mothers mushroomed by hats, and a steep climb of white marzipan and icing resting majestically on a side table. Wilson's two small nieces were bridesmaids, and spent the whole time shouting and running around in straight lines like tiny white tractors, until contact with a hard surface deflected them in another direction.
It all went smoothly. House behaved himself in his speech, which was only slightly more cynical than the one he had given last time, and avoided being openly contemptuous of the bride or mentioning bartenders with diamond earrings. Wilson looked duly relieved when House sat down.
It also went smoothly because Wilson kept Jonathan well out of House's way, spending most of the time with his brother when he wasn't being photographed with his new wife. House was quite happy with that, as explaining American wedding customs to Raquel in Spanish kept him nicely occupied, but he was perturbed to notice Wilson getting more and more drunk as the afternoon progressed. At one point he noticed Jonathan take a silver hip flask from a pocket and offer it surreptitiously to Wilson. Wilson took a swig without demurring, which gave House the impression this was not the first time he'd done it that day.
It was late in the afternoon, guests were on the dance floor, and it was nearing the point where Wilson and Bonnie were due to leave, when House found himself alone with Wilson. Raquel was chatting to a relative of Wilson's who knew some Spanish, Bonnie was saying goodbye to her mom and sister, and Wilson came stumbling up to House with a, "Hey."
"You look pale," House observed, and caught Wilson by the arm to stop him falling over. He smelt mint on Wilson's breath, although the mint failed to disguise the raw alcohol behind. "Bonnie will think she's married a lush."
"Huh," Wilson said, and his white face turned a little green. "House, I think I'm gonna be sick..."
For fuck's sake. "Not in here you're not." House grabbed Wilson's elbow and propelled him out of the back of the room into a long corridor. House pulled Wilson along a few feet, pushed open the nearest door, and found a kitchen.
House glanced around; empty, long chrome surfaces heaped with unused linen and clean plates. He pulled the door shut behind them, and propelled Wilson towards the nearest sink. "Right, now you can throw up."
Wilson leaned over the sink, but he wasn't sick, and after a moment or two standing still, color started to return to his face.
"You're an idiot," House said brutally. "Grooms do not have the right to get drunk at their wedding. They have an obligation to stay sober and talk to relatives and deal with stuff."
"I know. I'm okay now." Wilson ran the tap and splashed water on his face. "House, tell me I'm not making a mistake."
"You're not making a mistake," House parroted back.
Wilson groaned. "But am I, House? Really?"
House hesitated, and when he replied, he chose his words carefully. "Grooms should not want to be seeking oblivion in a whiskey flask at their wedding, unless there's something wrong."
Wilson was silent, leaning on the sink.
"But you've done it now," House added with false bonhomie. "So you need to make the best of it."
"Yes. Yes, I do. House, I haven't said thank you... your speech was great." Wilson was suddenly fervent. "I do appreciate it."
And Wilson turned towards House and leaned forward, and House did the same, and they kissed. House tasted whiskey and freshmints and a trace of fruitcake. They exchanged several brief, tender kisses; mouths sucking swiftly on lips, tongues rolling around teeth, then one long, passionate kiss that neither of them wanted to end. House put a hand on Wilson's shoulder, and Wilson put a hand on House's chest. Wilson briefly tweaked a button as if to undo House's shirt, but refrained: House shivered ever so slightly anyway, and ran a hand delicately through Wilson's hair.
Eventually House pulled back and said gruffly, "You have to go..."
Wilson nodded, squared his shoulders, and followed House out of the kitchen.
Wilson and Bonnie said goodbye to their guests and drove off on their honeymoon, a low key local vacation, and returned a fortnight later with a small white Westie puppy.
END OF PART 12
A/N: TBC. Next part: Wilson and Bonnie struggle with married life; House takes Wilson on a road trip, and they encounter a gray-eyed fair-haired stranger in a bar.