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“So, this time, it just happened to be lupus?”
“Karma must love bending me over and screwing me, right?”
House, dramatic as always, found a patient with an ‘easy’ diagnosis. As a result, a long rant, screaming ‘woe is me’. Wilson sighed and chugged his third morning coffee.
Even after being married 3 years, sharing a bed, sharing a toilet, and even travelling to work together, House couldn’t get enough of his company. Or somehow be late to work, which confused Wilson to this day.
About House never leaving him alone, even at work, Wilson’s raw sex appeal must be more than he thought. Either that, or House got off on giving headaches. The latter was very likely.
“Cameron’s not going to shut up now. Well, I’m off to find out how many Vicodin I need to take to go night-night forever. Ta-ta.”
Limping more aggressively than usual, House exited his husband’s office. Not before blowing a kiss sarcastically, of course, with a rather crude gesture performed with his cane. It seemed the oncology department received more diagnostic incidents than actual cancer patients.
Smiling to himself, Wilson turned his head towards the stack of files corrupting his desk, and instantly frowned. Maybe House’s distraction was welcomed, because doing paperwork rather than practical work was exhausting. To prepare, Wilson quicky trudged down to the cafeteria. If he flirted with the cashier, he usually got a hefty discount. It was risky, yet worth it. He was given his doe eyes for a reason, and the chocolate cake price was daylight robbery, even to his salary.
Returning to his office, however, was a sight he did not expect. It was extremely rare that one of House’s sheep-disciple-children showed up to speak to him. Practically unlikely that two of them bugged him. Yet, here he was, entering to find all three of his husband’s employees standing in front of his desk, twitching oddly and frowning.
“Oh God, did House actually OD?”
A pregnant pause.
“No please, come in. It’s not like the door was locked.” Wilson was pretty sure he did lock the door, but it’s not like this trio has no experience in breaking and entering. He should invest in a Ring doorbell.
More silence.
“We need to talk to you.” Foreman finally stated, guiding Wilson away from the doorway, into his chair. It was way too early for this.
“Did you guys kill someone this time? If you need to hide a body, Cuddy has better experience at that.” That quip earned him an odd look, curiosity etched into their features. That’s a story for another time, however.
“No, no, we wanted to speak to you, Wilson. Directly, its personal. Ish.” Chase explained, still awkwardly standing, similar to penguins. This whole experience felt like an uncanny dream.
It was a well-known fact at Princeton-Plainsboro that Wilson’s displays of empathy were impressive. Being in touch with your emotions was necessary to deal with terminal cases, and sensitivity was key.
Despite this, Wilson sucked at anything personal regarding himself. Telling someone else they had a malignant presence invading their body, that was easy. Happened every Tuesday. On the other hand, discussing his life with the three little musketeers seemed like a torture device. One that didn’t have to occur on a Monday.
Wilson reluctantly gestured for them to sit down, usual protocol when informing relatives of their loved one’s fate, but they remained standing. Now, Wilson was honestly too tired to treat this as a lovely Mother’s Meeting, but his attention was now caught. It was amusing, the three soldiers standing guard, shoulder to shoulder, as if presenting a united front. Maybe they were there to end him once and for all. With how behind Wilson was on schedule, it would’ve been a favour.
“You and House are… close, of course.” Cameron broke the silence with her astute observation.
“One would say that, yes.”
“Very close, correct?” Foreman quipped. Wilson was this close to making an innuendo about how close they really got, but he restricted himself. He didn’t have the energy to giggle.
“I would say that, at least.”
“Would you say, perhaps, maybe, sometimes, a bit, I don’t know, too close?” Chase asked, leaning towards Wilson’s desk ominously. Now he was awake, and very lost.
“Sorry, I’m confused. Do you guys… want him, or something?” At that, Chase flinched, Cameron cringed, and Foreman rubbed his head into his hands. A collective no, then.
“I’d rather shit in my hands and clap, but thanks. No. We don’t want him. Do you?” Foreman, straight to the point, as always. Wilson leaned back now, still confused, but willing to entertain. Did House even inform his team that they were married?
“I wouldn’t mind Mr Gregory at all. Very fine man. The way he scowls and brings overall disappointment to the room. What a catch! And you’d be able to catch him quickly. Not a very fast runner, that one, if you couldn’t tell.” House seemed to be rubbing off on him in more ways than one, because his sarcasm was at an all-time high today.
Sensing a long next couple of minutes, Wilson downed his coffee in one go. Very smart. Definitely won’t have a migraine in half an hour.
Because he couldn’t catch a break, because of course not, the tweedle-dee triplets of the same level of dumbness sat down synchronised, like Olympic swimmers, fast and straight to the point. Wilson wondered that, if they treated their cases with this much ferocity, the hospital would run out of patients.
“House is not a common whore.” Chase stated matter of fact-ly. His facial expression screamed ‘all business’ but his words screamed ‘failing comedian’. Wilson had to laugh, which slowly transitioned to slow sobbing.
“Please, for the love of anything, what are you talking about?”
“We want to know your intentions, Wilson, with House. Whether they are honourable, or simply unbridled, arrogant lust ignited through moments of engulfing passion.” Cameron, sounding straight out of a trashy romance novel House would love to read, stared directly into Wilson’s eyes, and possibly his soul. Foreman, with his face still in his hands, looked up to side-eye Cameron in confusion. She shrugged, “I couldn’t see any other way to put it!”
“Any other way would’ve been much better, but anyway, why do you think me and House-”
“House and I.”
Three looks directed at Cameron.
“Sorry, force of habit.”
“Anyway, before I was interrupted, why do you think we have anything going on? You know I am married, right?” He purposefully didn’t specify to whom.
“Hah, as if that has ever stopped you before. Don’t think we don’t see your wandering eyes… um… wander! The nurses, the pharmacists, even the lunch lady? Despicable…” There was no way that Chase, of all people, cares this much about Wilson’s supposed affairs. They acted like he was a serial womaniser… was he?
“Well, that’s harmless! Mostly harmless, anyway. Don’t judge me, I needed those coupons! Why do you care? I didn’t wake up this morning to be interrogated.” He got that enough from House asking where all the clean dishes are. They were all dirty, House cannot do chores for shit. Ironic, considering his name. You would think he would be just a little domestic. The thought of House instantly triggered him. Gosh, did all of his predicaments originate from him?
“Ugh, I’ve had it!” Foreman stood up, not before sending his companions exasperated looks. Judging by his face, this conversation did not have to be this theatrical. Could’ve probably just been an email. This confrontation had to not have been his idea.
“Don’t hurt House, or we will hurt you. There, see? Wasn’t difficult.” He was facing Cameron and Chase now, his stance similar to that of a mother hen, seemingly ignoring Wilson, whose jaw had opened in gaping disbelief. This can’t be happening.
The five second silence was interrupted with Wilson’s manic laugh. A wheezing sound, as if he had the air winded out of him. His eyes crinkled, like he was in pain. He folded in his seat, feet on the chair, and spun a few times. He appeared insane. Maybe he was.
The other three turned to him, waiting for his giggling episode to finish. Their faces transformed into frowns, so they were either annoyed he wasn’t taking this seriously, or very constipated.
“Are you - HAH – are you giving me the Shovel Talk? Me? This- I can’t believe this – this is horrific.”
“This isn’t a joke, Wilson! Stop laughing!” Wilson continues laughing. “We are being serious!” Cameron shrieked. “If you break his heart, he will break us in return. He’ll – he will make us rob an orphanage and call the cops on us! Or – or put us on all the night shifts with the bladder control patients!
“Or worse, put us on clinic duty.” Chase added, accompanied with a terrified nod from Foreman, eyes wide like he just saw everyone naked.
“So, the only reason you care, is because you don’t want your job to suck? If so, why the hell did you go into healthcare, first of all.” Wilson said, having calmed down. A nap had never looked more appealing.
“Second of all, I’m not House’s boy-toy. Why do you think I have so much influence on the Hippocratic Oath Devil himself?” Technically, not a lie, since he wasn’t House’s boy-toy, he was his husband. Very big difference. One had a ring.
Also, he would never admit this, but he was curious as to how the three musketeers deduced that they were a thing. They kept PDA to a minimum, and constantly bickered. If anything, he would’ve expected them to gift him a voucher for marriage counselling instead. He really did love discounts.
“Are you serious? It’s so obvious, its overwhelming.” Foreman said.
“Oh, please, pray tell.”
“For starters, when he talks to you, he listens. Like actively. He even has eye contact and doesn’t make you feel like an idiot. Your opinion means something to him.”
True. Cameron was right. Sometimes, in moments of vulnerability, whether about his leg or his life, House would whisper to him, that he was the only thing he valued more than himself. He mattered a lot to the weirdo.
“Do go on…”
“He’s always searching for you! Do you even know how many appointments he has skipped out on to gossip with you? It’s like he wants you on GPS at all times. Too freaky to not be love.”
Foreman had a point. Hell, even this morning, he probably missed out on 3 patients already, just to bother him about mindless chatter. Just to make him laugh.
House had made, on many occasions, jokes about buying him a leash. Wilson ignored it due to the obvious connotations, but perhaps it was because he didn’t want him to leave. Huh.
Wilson hummed in response.
“Ugh, don’t even get me started. It’s like even thinking about you causes him to zone out and just… think. Think about it! You have the power to silence him. The sound of him shutting the hell up is like an ear-gasm.”
Wilson had no choice to agree. Looking down, he immersed himself in thought, ignoring the adults staring at him in unison like neglected children. At home, when they would watch TV, get prepared for bed, or even just sit and do nothing, he was quiet. Wilson, on many occasions, had risked looking up at him, and usually caught him staring back, with an odd look in his dilated pupil. Almost content.
House was content. With Wilson, the only thing that mattered to him. No wonder it was so obvious.
“What would you do?” Wilson whispered, almost as if he didn’t say anything at all. The question spilled out of him uncontrollably.
“What?”
“If I hurt him, what would you do?”
“Oh…” Cameron said. “We didn’t think that far…”
“That doesn’t matter. Are you planning on?” Foreman asked.
“No!” Wilson exclaimed, looking up as if it was obvious what his answer was going to be. He didn’t expect the three munchkins of terror to almost be out of his office, standing in his doorway, visibly more serene.
“Then that’s all we needed to know. Come on, let’s go. The lovey-dovey sweetness in the air is going to make me barf.” With Chase’s final word, they made to leave, with cheeky smiles and exchanged glances. They were the most dangerous gossipers in New Jersey.
“Wait, I think I failed to mention something.”
They turned back. He walked up to the door, hand on the knob.
“Our wedding anniversary is next week. Nothing big, just ordering pizza at our place. 221B Baker Street. 7pm, don’t be late.” And with a smile, he slammed the door in their faces, making sure to lock this time.
A sudden commotion. Exclamations, and then footsteps running down the hall. Ah, making fools of the young. Never gets old.
Now having a time for himself to collect his thoughts, Wilson smiled. A genuine smile. Approximately, the 5th time this morning he had smiled regarding House. It seemed, as insane that whole interaction was, it was necessary. A reminder of sorts. House and Wilson were so interested with each other, they never thought of how they look to outsiders. House had even forgotten to tell them he was in a relationship, let alone married. Or maybe he did that to mess with them.
Wilson sat down at his desk. His coffee had gone cold. His paperwork had made no progress. Yet, he was happier. The shenanigans House brought him always seemed to either stress him out or make him laugh.
Mind made up; Wilson paged his spouse. Not even five minutes later, his doorknob shook ferociously, followed with a shout.
“Hey, I thought I broke this lock.”
“Well, there is something called a repair team. They do miracles, such as repairing things. Crazy, right?” Head shaking, Wilson unlocked the door, arriving at the sarcastic expression of his partner.
“Har, har, clown. What’s up?”
“You didn’t tell your team we were married?”
“What, it’s not their business. Should I give them a timetable of our sex life next?”
“House…”
“Me and Wilson, yeah, we’ve been trying soooo hard for a baby. We only do the nasty when Wilson ovulates to up our chances, you know? Don’t worry, I make sure to aim north, just to make sure it’s a boy.”
“Actually, they probably think you are the ovulating one, honey.”
“Excuse me?”
“Considering they just told me, and I quote, ahem, ‘Break our precious baby House-y’s heart or else’, they definitely think you would bear our child. See you in 9 months!”
“What.”
Wilson laughed. His Monday mornings have never been better.