"Forget about it, House." Wilson was slightly out of breath, as if he'd run up the corridor.
House bounced the ball one last time and then caught it and placed it on the desk. He turned to Wilson with a questioning eyebrow.
"The idiot's drunk. The nurse just found a bottle of vodka in the back of a drawer, he sneaked it in somehow. It explains everything."
"Well, the guy does have end-stage lung cancer. Who's to deny him a little fun?"
Wilson ignored the quip. "Sorry I dragged you in here and ruined your Saturday night."
House took in Wilson's slumped shoulders, his downcast expression. Yeah, he was obviously not having a good day.
"Saturday night's not over yet. Want to come round and watch a movie?" House calculated that he could watch a movie with Wilson and still have time to corrupt Jess's body in new and as-yet-unexplored ways before it got too late.
The immediate relief on Wilson's face told House he'd done the right thing.
"Yeah, that'd be great. I mean, if it's okay with you. Do you think Jess will mind?"
"I think Jess will be asleep. I tired her out today," he said suggestively, earning a disgusted look from Wilson.
House was proven right when, about thirty minutes later, they walked into his apartment to find Jess passed out on the sofa. House gave her a nudge.
"Hey, sleeping beauty," he said gruffly, lest she mistake it as a term of endearment. "Get up."
She opened one eye and looked up at the two men fuzzily. "Oh, hello Wilson."
"Wilson and I are gonna watch a movie. You can join us or go to bed, but either way you can't have the couch. I'm going to pee, so you've got that long to make up your mind."
Jess sat up, stretching and made a face at House's retreating back as he headed for the bathroom.
"Charming isn't he?" Wilson asked.
"A real sweetheart," Jess agreed sarcastically, rising and stretching.
"Do you know Julie Walters? The head of PR at Princeton Plainsboro?" Wilson asked, taking a seat on the sofa where Jess's legs had been resting a moment earlier.
Jess started, her guilty conscience immediately making her look for hidden meanings. "Not personally, no," she said carefully.
"Oh, I just wondered if you did, having similar jobs and all. She's retiring, you know."
Jess nodded, realising that Wilson was just making conversation. "Yes, I'd heard on the grapevine."
"She'll be missed. House has no idea what she does to protect him."
Jess smiled. "Ah, the fate of all good PR people is to fade into the shadows and let others shine when it's their turn to shine, and then to step into the spotlight and take the heat when it's not." She yawned. "Sorry Wilson, but I think I'm going to go to bed and let you boys watch a movie. I've had a huge week."
"That's fine. Sleep well."
House returned to the living room a moment later. Wilson heard them say their goodnights in the corridor, the sound of a single lip-smack the signal of their goodnight kiss. The sound made him feel sad again; simple affection from a much-loved partner now denied. That, even more than sex, was what he missed most.
House continued on into the kitchen and opened the fridge. "Beer?"
Wilson nodded and deftly caught the bottle House tossed to him.
They both took long swigs and settled back on the sofa. House roamed through the channels for a while before finding a repeat of Something About Mary and settling on that.
"You know House, Jess is really lovely," Wilson said a moment later.
"Don't say stuff like that, it makes me feel like you're my mother."
Wilson sighed. "No, I mean it. It's important. If you've learned anything from me, from what happened to Amber, don't let this slip through your fingers."
Wilson expected another smart-aleck remark, some joke about his three failed marriages and slippery fingers, but House just took a long drink and then stared off into the distance. Eventually, he spoke.
"I…I'm thinking about asking her to marry me."
Unfortunately Wilson had just taken a sip of his beer and his surprise at House's statement made him draw a breath at the same time. He ended up coughing and spluttering, House banging him on the back.
"I know, I know," House said once Wilson had stopped coughing. "I know exactly what you're thinking. How I'll be a crappy husband, how I've never made it work before, how I'm too selfish too—"
"No, House that's not what I was thinking." Wilson felt he had to interrupt. "I was just surprised. It's not something you've ever…I mean, I've never heard you—"
"Yeah," House said with a heavy sigh. "And it's kind of late to change my mind. But Jess…" He broke off and drained his beer. "Jess is different," he said eventually. "I can imagine it with her. I can see it. Not the whole white-dress catastrophe obviously, but I want…" Wilson could see that the words were hard for House to say. "…I want to make the promise, you know, that stupid 'for as long as we both shall live'."
Wilson nodded. He'd said those words himself. Three times in fact. And he'd meant it, every single time.
"It's the first time I've ever felt that was anything other than a prison sentence. But I don't want to push her into something she doesn't want."
"Knowing Jess, I don't think that's likely," Wilson said. "You sound like you're pretty clear on what you want, House."
"Yeah, yeah I guess I am." He nodded slowly, seeming amazed by his own admission.
"So when are you going to ask her?"
House shrugged.
"Well, when you do, let me know how it goes. I need to take my tux to the drycleaners," Wilson joked.
"Will do." House grabbed the remote and the room was suddenly filled with the sound of a drug-crazed dog chasing Ben Stiller around a living room. It effectively halted any further conversation on the topic.