A/N: If not knowing the year this fic is set doesn't bother you, skip this note. If it does, keep reading. Though I always knew this fic was set in the future, I didn't want to commit to a year for a couple reasons. If I set it immediately after season two, season three will rather quickly render the fic AU. The other is that each chapter will be loosely holiday-themed, and I was considering using several religious holidays that can fall on different months in different years, so I wanted to keep my options open. Anyway, the fic works on the following premises: that it happens in the near future (within five years after season two ends) and that the ketamine treatment eventually failed (which I think we all know it will).


February 14th

It lay on House's desk, pink and red and unbelievably girly. House picked the envelope up gingerly as though it might bite or explode or something and looked at Wilson, who'd situated himself in the chair across from the desk.

"What is this?" House's voice managed to convey equal parts disgust and annoyance.

Wilson propped his feet up and considered. "Well, knowing you, I'd say it was either hate mail or a death threat, but it certainly looks like a valentine."

House tore the envelope open and examined the card.

"So?" Wilson prompted after a moment. The expression House was wearing was an interesting one; and if it had been anybody other than House, Wilson would have said he looked almost embarrassed. House caught Wilson's considering look and quickly schooled his features into a more customary scowl.

"It's nothing. A moronic 'thank you' for being so unbelievably clever as to correctly diagnose a case of whooping cough. I already told her if she wants to show her thanks, she should do it with money or sexual favors. Preferably both." House moved to toss the card in the trash, but Wilson intercepted it, snatching it from House's grasp and dancing out of reach before House could protest.

"Dear House," Wilson read aloud, "I hope this Valentine's Day you will think, however briefly, of me. With Much Affection, Allison. P.S. I'm free this evening.'" Wilson stared at the card a moment longer. "Wow. She's not one to mince words." House reached in his pocket and produced his pill bottle. This was probably going to be a two-Vicodin conversation. "Gotta admire that go-getter attitude."

Wilson turned the card over as if looking for another postscript that revealed the joke.

"But didn't you tell her you weren't interested?" House shrugged in a way that indicated he knew Wilson wouldn't like the answer and took the card back from him; Wilson yielded it without contest. "You can't possibly be thinking of going out with her again. It's such a colossally bad idea. You already know it won't work, hell, you probably don't even want it to."

"So glad I have you here. Clearly you know me better than I know myself."

"She's half your age, House."

"But not too young for you? It that what this is? Some kind of geriatric cock-block?" Wilson froze, his mouth slightly agape. House took it as a sign he was on the right track. "You could have just said you had the hots for her. It'll make it ever so much more satisfying when I nail her. This cock will not be blocked."

"House…" Wilson said half warning, half pleading.

"Surely she's not your type, not nearly needy enough. But then again, if marrying the dying doesn't count as messed up, what does?"

"I'm not interested in Cameron," Wilson said.

"Then why do you care?" House asked, eyes narrowing.

"I…I'm just worried about you. Last I checked it was sort of in the job description as your best friend."

"Bullshit. You're always telling me I need to get some. It's just now that that 'some' might be coming from Cameron that you're worried."

"She's your employee," Wilson pointed out, already knowing the scorn it would earn him.

"Oh, that's rich coming from you. Since when have sexual indiscretions ever been a concern of yours? Actually, I'm surprised you haven't shown more interest in young Cameron. Only a matter of time, I suppose."

"I'm not interested in Cameron," Wilson said again, more vehemently.

House paused, watching Wilson carefully as he stopped to consider and decide upon his next offensive. Wilson breathed a little harder. If House was good at anything it was figuring things out. It had only been because House hadn't bothered to think about things at all that he hadn't figured this out. But now Wilson had given him a reason to consider.

"Who are you interested in, Jimmy?" House's voice was softer now, mildness finding weaknesses sarcasm had missed.

Wilson took a steadying breath and looked House in the eye. "I'm not currently dating."

"Okay," House said, and Wilson relaxed just a bit. "But that's not what I asked. I know you're not dating. I want to know who you're interested in. You've always got your eye on someone. If not Cameron, then who?"

Wilson grimaced. "No one."

"Lying." House's voice was a mocking sing-song.

"Fine then. How about I'm not telling you?" Wilson said, irritation getting the better of him.

"What are we in? The fifth grade?" House said, then affected a school girl's squeal. "Come on, Jimmy, teeeeeell meeeeee, please? I promise not to tell anyone, cross my heart and hope to die." He resumed his usual sardonic tone. "So, one of the nurses? Not still sweet on Debbie in Accounting, are you? It's been months since you've been down to go over spreadsheets."

"House." Wilson sank down into one of the chairs, rubbing his eyes so hard that he saw spots for a few moments afterwards and wondered just how House had maneuvered the conversation from his love life to Wilson's. "Just drop it. I'm not feeling up to this."

"Not up to this?" House sneered. "Then why are you still here? This is my office and you're the one with two good legs. Why don't you use them to walk out? Unless you actually really want to tell me." Wilson really wanted to wipe that smug look off House's face, but trying to do so would just confirm House's suspicions not allay them. House sat down in the chair next to his, leaning in so that their faces were mere inches apart. Wilson kept his gaze stubbornly on his clasped hands and wondered if avoiding House's eyes was more telling than if he met them. After so many years of friendship, House could guess his thoughts to a degree that was downright uncanny. Wilson let the silence stretch out, uncomfortably aware of it and of the question that still hung between them. Finally he pushed away, stood, and walked out. At the door he paused, but didn't look back.

They spent the rest of the afternoon avoiding each other. Or at least, Wilson avoided House; he couldn't say if House was avoiding him too, but he had his suspicions. He tried to get some work done, but as it turned out, House could be just as distracting in his absence as he was in person. Wilson kept replaying their conversation, analyzing and reanalyzing every word, expression and weighty pause. After awhile he graduated to imagining House and Cameron's future relationship. It would end badly, he knew. Cameron would eventually get tired of her pet project, would end things, and then Wilson would be left to pick up the pieces again.

But…what if it did work out? Cameron was beautiful, smart, and had shown a surprising tolerance for House's crap. The thought that the relationship actually could work had simply never occurred to Wilson before and suddenly he felt like a prize fool. House had always shown an uncharacteristic soft spot for Cameron. Maybe she was he needed.

Wilson froze, half-way through reorganizing his desk. He needed to talk to House, and he needed to do it now. House was in none of his regular haunts: empty clinic room, the roof, the maternity lounge. Wilson finally caught him in the parking lot, making an even earlier departure than usual. House ignored his approach, stowing his cane and strapping on his helmet. Wilson stepped in front of the bike, impeding the getaway; House revved the engine in response. Wilson refused to flinch, denying House the satisfaction of a response.

"If this is a game of chicken, I'm so going to win," House said, voice muffled by the helmet. Wilson just settled his hands on his hips, prepared to wait, but it didn't take long for House to cut the engine and pull off his helmet.

"I think you should go out with Cameron," Wilson started without preamble.

House looked momentarily taken aback. "That's a remarkable 180 from this afternoon. Any particular reason for the complete change of heart? And why you couldn't wait to say this?"

Wilson shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his lab coat and wished he'd grabbed his overcoat. New Jersey winters were not conductive to long conversations. Or anything else, really.

"I still don't think it's a good idea, but I understand that it's not really any of my business and you are, at least in theory, a mature adult capable of making his own decisions." Wilson pressed on before House could respond to that. "And if you want to go out with Cameron, well, then, you should go out with Cameron. I'm happy for you."

House digested that. "…Okay. Can I go now?"

"What, that's all you've got to say? Nothing else?"

"That I'm glad I have your permission? Yeah, great, thanks so much." House watched Wilson shiver for a moment. "Are you trying to catch pneumonia? Because if you think I'm going to nurse you through…"

"Don't worry on my account; I come from hardy stock." The fact that his teeth were chattering undermined that statement somewhat. There was a long pause in which neither of them moved and Wilson considered the best treatment for the case of hypothermia he was quickly developing.

"I'm not going on a date with Cameron."

"What?" Wilson said dumbly.

"I'm not going on a date with Cameron," House repeated. "She's too nice." The way House said nice made it sound obscene.

"Oh." It was the best Wilson could do under the circumstances. Extreme cold seemed to have an adverse effect on his ability to string together sentences. Or maybe that was just the way House was looking at him now. "Okay, then. Whatever you think is best. I'm going to go in now. Before I lose anything to frostbite."

"You're the idiot who seems to have forgotten how to use his cell phone-"

"I didn't think you'd pick up," Wilson objected.

"-Or leave messages." House rolled his eyes. "I'm glad we had this chat. Now get out of my way. I have a need for speed."

"Among other drugs," Wilson said, but stepped out of the way.

"You know, if I didn't know better, I'd have said you're jealous. And if it's not Cameron you're interested in…"

"That's right," Wilson scoffed. "I am desperately in love with you. Greg, darling, say you'll be mine."

House grinned and nearly clipped him as his bike squealed out of the parking lot, in flagrant disregard of the clearly marked speeding limit. Wilson looked after him for a moment in a way that was definitely, absolutely not wistful and then hurried as quickly as he could on numb feet for the well-heated halls of PPTH.