Chapter Text
“He’s kind of a romantic.” Cameron mused out loud. Foreman raised an eyebrow at her.
“What?” she defended.
“I just thought you were over that …thing you had about him.” His voice conveyed how dumb and off-putting he found it, although he wasn't making an effort to hide it.
“Not to me. Definitely not to me. But,” she nodded over to the glass-doored room across from where they were running labs, in which Wilson was recovering after the surgery to donate part of his liver.
House had made himself at home in Wilson’s room, legs propped up against the side of his bed, laptop balanced on his knees. It was where he’d been for the last two days that Wilson had been on bed rest, give or take a couple trips to the vending machine and bathroom. He had stopped short of actually sleeping at the hospital, but he came early and left late–a policy he almost never practiced in his actual job. It was weird, especially considering it’s not like the procedure had been particularly tough on Wilson. Watching House so casually go through the motions of caring with such practiced ease felt alien, and he wondered where this part of his boss went to die whenever he stepped foot in the Diagnostics Office. Still, romantic was a strong word.
“Watching monster truck rallies on his laptop while sitting next to an unconscious guy? Sounds like his typical workday. Although, I guess Coma Guy doesn’t wake up. This is just his way of having an empathetic excuse to skip clinic duty.”
Chase snorted, “Like an unempathetic excuse ever stopped him.”
“You really don’t think it’s kind of nice?” Cameron questioned further.
Foreman looked back at House and Wilson, tilting his head as if trying to see it from Cameron’s angle. Among the eclectic selection of vending machine snacks House was hoarding in the room, there were a few left mostly untouched, ones he vaguely recalled House noting were Wilson’s favourite. House’s attention was off his computer, and he was looking at Wilson with a crinkle in his eyes that one could almost call fond.
He immediately took his face back to neutral as Wilson’s eyes opened. House said something, and they were already laughing. He opened one of the aforementioned favourite snacks, and held it out to Wilson. Wilson reached in to grab a chip, but winced and recoiled, the movement not agreeing with his surgery wound. Foreman started to feel truly terrified as House took a chip from the bag and brought it up to Wilson's lips as if to feed him. His terror was quelled as House pivoted last second and shoved the chip obnoxiously into his own mouth instead. He did end up feeding Wilson one too, but through dropping it into his mouth from a childish height. In honesty, Foreman could admit there was something almost–dare he say–sweet to their interactions. However, he’d found characterizing House as a completely uncaring fiend was most efficient in the workplace, and he wasn’t really looking to change that.
“He’s only over there because he has nothing better to be doing. If this case was actually interesting, he wouldn't be.” Foreman decided.
“Do you think he’s ever gonna get in a relationship again?” Chase wondered aloud.
Camerone looked at him like he was dumb, “Of course he will, eventually.”
“When’s eventually?”
“I don’t know, like, a year?”
“Would you put money on that? I’ll give you a hundred if you’re right.” He asked, eager to make a bet after the look she gave him.
“I’m a doctor, I don't need your money.”
“Okay, then, your time? Loser does the winner’s paperwork for a month.”
Cameron considered it, conflicted. She sighed defeatedly “..No.”
“I’ll take it.” Thirteen declared, not looking up from her microscope. They looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.
“What, you think someone insane enough to fall for House,” Foreman paused and glanced at Cameron, “and misanthropic enough for House to fall back,” he added as he remembered there were people bleeding hearted enough to fall for him, “is just gonna turn up sometime in a year?”
“No.” She responded flatly. “Which is why if you win, I’m only doing your paperwork for two weeks. But if I win, you do mine for four months.” The other fellows weighed their options and unanimously took the bet against her, almost certain it would never happen. “Who knows, maybe the lunatic is already here.” She joked, looking back at Wilson and House.
“Hey guys, come check this out.” Chase said, holding up a lab result. “I guess we can test your theory Foreman, this case just got interesting. House is totally gonna want to watch the MRI.”
——————————
“Absolutely not, Maira is evil!” Wilson exclaimed as they discussed the episode of El Fuego De L'Amor House had playing on his laptop.
“Evil and hot.” House countered, “Marco was an idiot to reject her.”
“You don’t really believe that.” Wilson scoffed in response, having grown accustomed to the outrageous opinions House pretended to have about the shows they watched together for the sole purpose of annoying Wilson.
“Lab results.” Foreman interrupted, handing House the papers.
House paused the video, “Now this is what I’m talking about.” He grinned at the page, “Do the MRI, start her on antibiotics, and get the camera.” He handed the file back to Foreman.
Foreman arched his eyebrow curiously, “Don’t want to watch? Make sure we don’t mess anything up?” He said, trying to goad some reaction out of him.
“Of course I want to watch, that’s what the camera’s for. Can’t you do an MRI by yourself, or do you need Cuddy there to hold your hand too?” House realized Cameron was about to think something about how nice it was that he was so committed to staying with Wilson. “My leg hurts.” He covered.
Foreman shrugged, and they left to take the MRI. Thirteen elbowed him in the side teasingly, “Nice theory.”
————A Week Later————
“How would you like to make one hundred dollars?” House suggested, catching up with Wilson in the hallway.
He instinctively slowed his pace to match House’s limp, “I would. Which is why I have a job. Sorry House, my days of selling myself to strange, scheming old men are behind me.”
“Well as dashing young man with good intentions, I guess I’m in luck. So you’ll do it for free? Thanks Jimmy, you’re just the friend a guy needs!” House said, exaggeratedly throwing his arm around Wilson.
“What is ‘it’, anyway?” Wilson questioned.
House looked to the ceiling innocently, trying to pretend what he was about to propose wasn't completely absurd. “I need you to pretend to date me.” He said as if it was a normal request.
Wilson laughed, “As every well intentioned man says. I don’t even want to know what scheme this is, absolutely not.”
“I am well intentioned! My underlings are betting on personal life, they need to be horrified into submission. Call it a lesson in workplace boundaries.”
“Which you practice so diligently. Betting would imply someone naïve enough to bet on you maintaining a relationship. Oh God, I hope Cameron didn’t put too much on this.”
“Thirteen.” House corrected.
Wilson gave him a concerned look. “Is she.. feeling okay?”
“Only in it for the math of the matter. If they win, she does their paperwork for two weeks, if she wins, they do hers for four months. Actually, I cut a deal. When she wins, they’ll do hers for two months, yours for one, and my clinic duty for one.”
Wilson did not stop to consider the new offer. “Can’t you get one of your hookers for this?”
House rolled his eyes like that was more ridiculous than what he was offering, “That’s too easy, they’d see right through it. Plus, for them to believe it, they’d have to witness the romance first hand. That means it’d have to take place in the hospital, in which you are my only option. I’d never bring the woman I love to this place, that’s just unbelievable.”
“But it’s more believable that you’d be dating the man,” Wilson paused for emphasis on the gender of the noun, “who is also your go to for all in-hospital schemes?”
“Now you're getting it! You’re the only one who puts up with, and even likes, my antics—how could I not fall in love with you? And you’re right here in the hospital, it's perfect! Frankly, I think some already suspect it.”
Wilson stared at him, looking just short of bewildered, but didn’t say anything. “You could take a page out of my book, or what you think my book is, and fall in love with a patient. That should be sufficiently mortifying.”
“I don't even talk to patients. And you’re ten extra minutes in your morning routine away from losing your Y chromosome anyways.”
Wilson taunted him, “Y’know, if you wanted to hold my hand, you could just ask.” They turned the corner to enter Wilson’s office.
“Okay, let’s hold hands. Preferably at around lunchtime in front of Chase, Thirteen, Cameron, and Foreman, when they think we think they’re not looking.”
Wilson sat down at his desk, “How romantic. No, House.”
“Okay, have it your way.” House sulked, turning to leave. Before going, he stopped at the door frame, “By the way, I think someone mismatched a bunch of dates in your system. It’s not a big deal, but you’ll have to fix it by month’s end.” He looked up unassumingly at the ceiling, “I hear it’s a lot of paperwork. If only there was some way to avoid that.”
Wilson put his head in his hands, pinching his nose bridge, “Fine.” He sighed exhaustedly. House grinned and made his way over to the side of Wilson’s desk to talk shop, “I knew I could count on you.”
He pointed at House accusingly, “If this doesn’t work, you’re still doing that paperwork. So what, do I have to kiss you? And how obvious does it have to be? I have a reputation to uphold!”
“A reputation of being a serial adulterer? Don’t worry, all the nurses already think you’re a sissy and they do you anyway. And no need to sound so disgusted, many would jump at the chance!”
“Actually, her name is pronounced Cameron. And I think the ‘would’ is in the past tense now.”
“We could play to your strengths, say you cheated on me. If our relationship is in the tragic, dying, and loveless stage we won’t have to kiss. And I’m sure you know that stage well.”
“Enticing, but Cameron may actually kill me if she thinks I managed to lure out the last bit of humanity left in you just to slaughter it.”
House winked at him “Nice cover. But still no kissing needed. Just ignore personal physical boundaries.” House reached out a hand and brushed a tuft of hair from Wilson’s face, slight hesitancy making it uncharacteristically gentle. “Like this.” His voice was much less confident than he’d initially planned, having just realized the unintended softness of the action. They looked at each other silently for a second, and Wilson scrambled to say something and break the moment.
“Why, you’re already so good at that, I wouldn’t want to step on your toes.” They both ignored the way he sputtered at the start of his sentence, attempting to find his footing.
“Aw honey, you know me so well.” House said dryly, reaching over to grab Wilson’s ass. Wilson expected it and moved to the side, dodging his attack. Missing his target, House stumbled forward. Wilson smirked. “Falling for me already?” He asked, making no attempt to help House up from the floor.
As they left the building to go home to their shared apartment, where they would eat dinner together and laugh over Wilson’s telenovelas he pretended to hate, House realized this would be one of the most believable lies he’s ever had to sell.
——————————
As usual, they were sitting together on the couch, watching TV and eating takeout for dinner. It was about fifteen minutes into the telenovela when House got the idea. Unassumingly, he slinked an arm over the top of the couch and around Wilson. At first, Wilson questioned if he should mention it. He’d learned the quantum mechanics of House’s rare moments of affection; if he observed it, it would die. After House’s hand had remained squarely on him for another ten minutes, he began tapping absentminded piano into his shoulder. Wilson raised him an eyebrow.
“Just preparing you. So you don’t get all closet-casey for our big show, sweetcheeks.” House added the nickname with a pat to Wilson's shoulder. Wilson made an offended look at the accusation that he’d come off “closet-casey”. He concentrated intently at the TV in thought, and then took on a look of resolve. Arms still crossed stiff and uncomfortable across his stomach, he determinedly shoved his head against House's shoulder. It had none of the smooth grace of House’s movement, all diffident and awkward, but House couldn’t help but smile. He was always a fan of when Wilson partook in his games instead of just acting like he didn't enjoy them.
House decided to egg him on a bit, “I was gay chicken champion in college y'know.”
“I’ve never lost a game,” Wilson retorted, then he paused. After a beat, he finished off his sentence. “babe.”
Now House was actually surprised, turning to give Wilson a look. “Well, you’ve never played with me.”
“I’ve never played a game.” He admitted. “Everyone just thought I was actually gay. But you know what they say about beginner’s luck!”
“Now I know what all those wives and girlfriends were overcompensating for.” House shook a fist in solidarity, “You sure showed them.” He gestured his head back over to the telenovela, where Carlos was taking Isabella on a date. “Now take notes, this is gonna be us tomorrow!”
Wilson’s shoulders relaxed against House’s side. They went the rest of the night completely eye-contactless, making conversation without moving their heads or eyes away from the TV. Neither of them changed their position until House got up to go to bed.