Tiny post-Frozen tidbit that came to me while I was away.
"I need you to do me a favor."
Wilson was cautious at first - those words usually heralded very bad things. "What?"
House limped on over to Wilson's couch and sat down. "Our Ice Princess is back from the Antarctic."
"It must be a hell of a favor if you can't even come out and say it," Wilson observed. "Quit changing the subject."
"I'm not. She is the favor. I need you to talk to her for me."
Wilson had a whole spiel ready to go: oh, you want me to ask if Suzie really LIKES-you likes you or if she's just friends with you because your parents have a pool?
Before he could get it out, though, House plowed on without looking at him: "I'm being serious." In the silence that followed they finally made eye contact. "Okay?"
More silence. Oh my god - he's not kidding. "You really... like her?"
"Don't sound so amazed," House scoffed, then broke the ban on mockery himself with a load of fake sniffling. "I'm just as capable of love as anyone else! I'm going to a real boy, Wilson - Giupetto said so."
"Uh-huh." Wilson tried to sound casual. "So, what do you want me to say - and why can't you tell her yourself?"
"I've tried, it's not working. I keep hanging up before she answers. You need to call her for me, and tell her two things: first, I want to ask her out on a date. For coffee, or lunch, or whatever busy people do for a first meeting. And second... regardless of what she says to the first thing, tell her I-... tell her I want to make an appointment."
"An... a professional appointment?"
"No, a pretend appointment. Obviously."
"House, she's a..."
"Yeah."
Wilson let his breath out slowly. Well. That explained why House was reluctant to make the call himself, at least. "Why? I mean, what's-..." Wilson gave up - all that would get him was a lecture to mind his own business.
"No, I don't want to talk about it," House agreed. "But the fact that I can't even call her by myself is more proof - in case I needed it - that calling her is a good idea."
"No, no, I think it's a great idea," Wilson assured. "I just... you know therapists aren't supposed to date their patients, right?"
"I suck at dating and therapy," House reminded. "The odds are good that at least one of them won't work out beyond the first meeting." He fidgeted a little and then stood up. "So… will you do it?"
Wilson could see that he meant the conversation to be over, which wasn't quite fair. "Would it kill youto tell me something? I'm going to do this for you anyway, House, but I wish you'd trust me with just a little, just a tiny particle of whatever…-"
"-Goes on in the rat maze?" House finished for him. "I'm telling you I'm going to see a shrink. Isn't that enough?"
"It's something," Wilson agreed. "But not much, since you're only telling me because you need me to make the appointment for you." He sighed. "Why her, House? I know she got to you. How? What did she say?"
House thought it over. "If I tell you, will you shut up about this permanently, and just make the damn call?"
Wilson nodded. He held his breath to hear the magic words, the open sesame that let a total stranger bypass in a day the defenses that House's very best friend had spent years trying to chip through. What is it that made House open up? What did he need to hear? "Tell me."
House sounded almost defiant. "She said I don't need to be fixed."
The End.
Leave me love! I'm home, Pain Management updates should be happening soon.