"Your tie isn't straight," said Wilson. "Let me fix it."
"It's just right," House said, looking at himself in the mirror.
"No, it isn't. You're holding your head at an angle. It's listing to one side." Wilson reached from behind and adjusted it. "There, that's better."
"How do I look?"
"Like Sean Connery in Casino Royale," Wilson replied. "Cuddy will melt into a puddle at your feet."
Wilson headed back toward the living room and sat down on the couch. He picked up the newspaper and turned to the crossword puzzle page. House followed him.
"You don't mind?"
"Not as long as it gets us a new plasma t.v. in the doctor's lounge. If you give her a little tongue action under the mistletoe, maybe we'll get cable."
"You expect me to prostitute myself to get you quality electronics!"
"You'd better believe it. You still owe me for erasing the entire season of my telenovela. I've forgotten everything I ever knew about the past perfect tense in Spanish, plus I'll never find out what happened to Father Ramirez's baby."
"If I promise to track down the dvd on the Internet, will you come with me?"
"No," Wilson said. "I served my time last year. First someone wearing high-heeled shoes stepped on my foot, damn near sending me to the emergency room right there, and then Cameron spilled cranberry punch all over my white shirt and dinner jacket. I told Cuddy I'd donate the cost of a ticket to the Clinic as long as I didn't have to go to the fund-raising party."
"So that's how I got stuck being her escort!"
"Come on, House! I know you love making Cuddy drool. Not to mention Cameron and Thirteen and Chase..."
"Chase?"
"Chase. He dreams about you every night. I suggested cold baths and porridge. Works for me."
"You aren't the least bit jealous, are you?" House asked.
"No. Should I be? Do you want me to be?"
"I'd appreciate an appropriate amount of jealousy."
"How about I give Cuddy a dirty look in the elevator on Monday morning? Will that do?"
"I was thinking more of a confrontation in the cafeteria. You can say something like, 'Stay away from my man, you skanky 'ho.' If you feel into it, you could also throw pudding at her."
"I refuse to re-enact scenes from Jerry Springer for you."
House went to the coat closet and pulled out his overcoat.
"You could at least give me a proper farewell, considering that I'm off to sacrifice myself for your selfish t.v.-watching needs."
"And for the Clinic," Wilson reminded him. "Wait a second. I've got something to give you before you leave."
"A blow job?" House asked hopefully.
"A boutonnière," Wilson replied, going into the kitchen and pulling out a plastic container from the refrigerator. He presented it to House. It contained a perfect white rosebud.
"You don't think this is too "senior prom", do you?" House asked, as he put the flower in his buttonhole.
"No, I think it's the final perfect touch," Wilson smiled and kissed House. "Tell Cuddy it's from me, and then it will remind her to keep her hands off. It sends the same message as a food fight, and it has the advantage of letting me keep my job."
------------------------------------------
House looked around the crowded ballroom. Not a single drooling admirer to be seen. Instead of lustfully panting over the vision that was House in a dinner jacket, his date was huddled in a corner somewhere with her cellphone. Cuddy was fostering a baby and she telephoned the babysitter for updates on its well-being every ten or fifteen minutes. House had helpfully pointed out that the babysitter had twenty years' experience as a paediatric nurse, and was far more qualified to look after a baby than Cuddy was. Somehow this had failed to extinguish Cuddy's maternal anxiety. He spotted Chase and Cameron at the other end of the room and headed toward them.
"No cranberry punch this year." House observed, noting the glass of white wine in Cameron's hand.
"Wilson told you!"
"Allison offered to pay his dry cleaning bill," Chase said in his girlfriend's defence.
"I was hoping you would spill some punch on me," House said, "so I'd have a really good excuse to leave early. I promised Cuddy I'd stay until midnight but I don't think I can hold out that long. One more inane conversation about whether or not there will be snow for Christmas, and I will be forced to commit an act of extreme violence with a sprig of holly."
"Have some egg nog," Chase said. "and we both promise not to mention snow or sleigh bells or reindeer."
"Or carollers or Tiny Tim or the Grinch." Cameron added.
"Oh, the Grinch is all right. Greg has always had a soft spot for the Grinch."
House turned around at the sound of that familiar voice.
"Hello, Stacy," he said.
"Merry Christmas, Greg," she said, kissing him lightly and affectionately on the cheek.
Stacy looked even more stunning in person than she did in his memories. She was wearing an amethyst gown in a vaguely Grecian style and a shimmering gold shawl. In House's eyes, she outshone everyone else in the room. Compared to Stacy, Cuddy was frumpy and Cameron was callow. Even Thirteen's strange and perfect beauty seemed hollow and lifeless.
--------------
When the regular pianist went on a break, House took a seat at the piano and started to play a medley of Christmas songs. He went seamlessly from "White Christmas" to "Santa Claus is Coming to Town", a talent that was the legacy of numerous childhood evenings spent entertaining his parents' friends at parties. Stacy stood over him, turning the pages of the sheet music.
"So what brings you and Mark back to Princeton?" House asked, trying to sound casual.
"Just me. Mark and I are over. I don't think I make a very good wife. Mark had expectations about who his wife should be, and I was not that person."
"What sort of expectations?" House asked. "Are you talking about fidelity?"
"You mean, did Mark find out about us?"
House nodded.
"Yes. I told him. And he forgave me," Stacy sighed. "Unfortunately, Mark's a deeply boring man. Also, he's not very good in bed, and he's never been particularly interested in learning how to be better."
"So there was someone else after me."
"Nobody important," she said. "Don't tell me you've been pining for me in celibacy all these years. Anyway, I'm back in Princeton because I decided that Mark was a disastrous detour in my life, and I want to get back on track. I'm renting a condo, and I'm looking to buy my way into a partnership with a small law firm. Go back to my roots in litigation."
"You're going to be an ambulance chaser."
"The Bar Association prefers the term personal injury attorney," Stacy said. "Really, I haven't decided what I'm going to do. I just wanted to get away from Mark and back to somewhere that feels like home. I haven't thought beyond that. I decided that this party would be an excellent way to renew old contacts and get the lay of the land."
"And instead you're spending the evening talking to me."
"I have a very bad habit of putting pleasure before business."
House smiled.
"Let's skip the rest of the party and go somewhere to talk," Stacy suggested.
"You're asking me to ditch my date."
"You didn't mention you were here with a date," Stacy said. "But sure, ditch him."
House noticed the significant pronoun.
"Ditch her. I'm escorting Cuddy this evening. I assume that someone's mentioned Wilson to you, though."
"Bonnie phoned me. She was very upset."
"Bonnie's an idiot."
"So there's nothing going on between you and Wilson."
"No, she's right about that. She's still an idiot though." House stood up. "I'll let Cuddy know I'm leaving. Then we can go and talk."
----------------------
House and Stacy had found a coffee shop a short distance from the hotel where the ball was being held. They were sitting opposite each other at a tiny table for two. Stacy took a sip of hot chocolate she had ordered. There was a smidgeon of whipped cream at the corner of her lip. House had to resist the impulse to reach over and wipe it off.
"So, you and Wilson."
"Wilson loves me."
"Do you love him, though?"
"I'm not very comfortable talking to you about Wilson. I know he'd hate it."
"I bet you talked about me to James all the time when we were together."
"That's different. Wilson and I were just friends then, and besides he was always your biggest defender."
"Wilson always wanted us to be happy."
Stacy reached across the table and took House's hand.
"Our timing is awful, "she said. " I can't figure out whether destiny is for us or against us. If destiny is for us, why put Mark and James in the way? If it's against us, why do we keep coming back to each other?"
"It isn't destiny" House said. "It's you. You keep coming back because you couldn't get enough of me the first time. I'm irresistible."
Stacy laughed, and suddenly House leaned over and kissed away the whipped cream from her lips.
"I shouldn't have done that," he said. He seemed ready to get up and go. Stacy reached for the sleeve of his dinner jacket to stop him from leaving.
"Wait, Greg. We were going to talk. We need to talk."
Stacy looked at him, and House couldn't disappoint her.
She said, "I can't forget how happy we were together. I think about what we had and I want it back. If you don't love me anymore, you're going to have to tell me straight out. Otherwise, I'll keep hoping. I won't be able to let go."
House was silent, considering what to say.
"I still love you," he admitted reluctantly, "but it would be much better for all of us if I didn't."
-------------------------
It was almost three in the morning when House returned to his apartment. Not wanting to wake Wilson, he undressed in the dark as silently as possible and slipped under the covers.
"House," mumbled Wilson. He snuggled up next to House. "Love you," he murmured, and House knew that Wilson was talking in his sleep. Wilson never said "I love you" to House when he was awake; he very carefully avoided those particular words.
"I love you too," House said, and it was safe to say since Wilson was asleep and would never remember.
House closed his eyes and fell asleep almost instantly.