FIC: "Getting to It", Greg House/Eric Foreman, James Wilson
Title: Getting to It
Authors: amazonqueenkate and hawkeyecat
Fandom: House, M.D.
Claimed Characters: Dr. Gregory House, Dr. James Wilson
Community: slash_me_twice
Pairing: Dr. Greg House/Dr. Eric Foreman, one-sided Dr. Greg House/Dr. James Wilson
Prompt: 003. Truth
Word Count: 3,554
Rating: PG-13 for language
Disclaimer: Rights? What rights?
Authors' Notes: Thanks to sarcasticsra for the beta.
House couldn’t keep secrets. At least, not from Wilson. He could bluff his way past Cuddy, lie outright to his fellows, completely avoid his parents, but Wilson could read him when he tried any of that. And when it came to House having an actual relationship with someone, he was even easier to interpret. Because House got happy. Well, not happy by the traditional definition of the word, because this was House and House's definition of happy was nothing like a normal person's definition, but he got happy for House. Less belligerent. More sarcastic. Less obnoxious. More cooperative. Granted, the changes were only by degrees-the difference between, say, the temperatures between Nome and Juneau, Alaska (still damn cold either way)-but Wilson knew House. He could tell.
House tried bluffing him when he brought it up, of course. If it involved House and House didn't want to talk about it, he'd avoid a subject all he could. And the avoidance also told Wilson a few things.
It was somebody Wilson knew, for instance. House tried to claim there was no relationship at all; if it had been someone Wilson didn't know, House would have just exaggerated the mystery person's attributes, trying to make Wilson jealous.
And it wasn't Stacy again, because House was as petulant as ever when Wilson tried to casually mention Stacy in conversation. Not that Wilson really expected that Stacy was back in the picture, but if she had been, House wouldn't have reacted with venom and skulking anger. And, given the comparison he made between Stacy and Cameron (he was the only man who could compare Stacy and Cameron and be convincing, as far as Wilson was concerned), Wilson ruled her out, as well.
There was no way it was Cuddy. Wilson briefly considered her, until she and House had one of their typical run-ins over a patient bitching about him-conveniently omitting the part where House discovered and cured whatever the mystery illness was-and Cuddy was neither lenient nor more pissed off than usual. The complete lack of change convinced Wilson it wasn't her, which left the dubious chance of House actually knowing someone else who could tolerate him.
So Wilson kicked back, relaxed (well, tried to) and took to watching House's every interaction. He'd considered head nurse Brenda until she threw a pen at him and called him a loud-mouthed asshole in the hallway; the poker player he picked up at the bus stop seemed almost possible until Wilson caught him putting Ex-Lax in House's Jack and Coke; and Wilson was almost curious enough to give a pairing of House and Chase credence until House said something so rude that it made Chase's big eyes fill up with tears. No, no, and no.
Wilson began to wonder if House had made the whole thing up.
Given House's complete and total avoidance of even the possibility of a relationship, though, Wilson decided he hadn't. Which left a few, fairly disturbing options: House was the one Julie had been sleeping with, but Wilson was fairly sure House wasn't that much of a bastard; House had managed to get serious with a hooker, which Wilson wouldn't put past him; or House had gotten involved with one of his own patients and didn't want to admit it after the Grace affair.
But then Wilson saw Julie at the supermarket with some blond surfer wannabe; a call into House's favorite "escort agency" said he hadn't ordered a hooker for weeks and hadn't picked a favorite before then; and a quick retrospective through all the patients House'd had in the last year revealed that, no, House hated most of them. Except the kids, but House was an asshole, not a sicko.
And Wilson himself wasn't sleeping with him. The saddest part was, Wilson did spend three days wondering if he'd somehow gotten himself into a relationship with House and hadn't realized it.
Wilson had very nearly given up on ever finding out who House was, if not in love with, screwing on a regular basis when Cameron came to retrieve him to rule out cancer on some patient who was vomiting and had a low white count, something like that. He noted her expression, tight-lipped instead of relaxed, and her taut shoulders, but passed it off as being worried about the patient.
Still, there was something peculiar about her mannerisms, and she seemed...uncomfortable. That was the best word he could come up with. Uncomfortable enough that he started keeping a closer eye on House and the fellows. It was only right, after all; if House was being particularly cruel to any of them, even Cameron, it'd be partially his moral obligation as best friend and coworker to point out the flaws in this logic. Or, alternately, help.
He couldn't ask Cameron, of course. She might talk to him about almost sleeping with her dead husband's best friend, but she wouldn't rat on House if he was either being more of an ass than usual or seeing someone; her devotion was too complete.
Chase, on the other hand, just might tell him what was going on.
Wilson wanted to be subtle, though, so rather than walk right up to him and demand to know what was going on, he grabbed Chase right before he left the diagnostics conference room one day and flashed a harmless smile.
"Coffee?" he asked by way of a friendly invitation.
Chase gave him a wary look, which was less than surprising since they both knew Wilson wasn't exactly a fan of Chase's. After a moment, though, he nodded, probably deciding Wilson wouldn't poison his cup-that'd be a very House move, albeit an unsubtle one.
"The cafeteria, or somewhere else?"
"Cafeteria works. I'll buy." Wilson gave a jerk of his head and led the way. As he went, he debated how to ask the obvious question: Do you know who my best friend is screwing? Because he won't tell me lacked the finesse he was so proud of, but he'd been near-stalking House for three weeks. It was getting exhausting.
Chase kept glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, through the awkwardly silent elevator ride and purchase of the coffee, until Wilson led him to a small corner table.
"Not that I don't appreciate it," Chase started, "but I've worked here more than three years and you've hardly spoken to me, never mind asked to get a cup of coffee."
"Maybe it's time things changed." When he looked at Wilson like he'd just grown an extra head and decided to wear a bra and panties, Wilson sighed. "I need your help with something."
"If it's a case, you could just ask House," Chase pointed out. Wilson couldn't blame him for assuming that; the whole "talking about something personal" thing was beyond the expected range of questions.
"It's about a different kind of case, so to speak." Wilson took a long sip of his coffee. "How's House been, lately?" There was no easy way to discuss this, now was there?
Chase gave him a skeptical look. "He's your best friend. I just work for him."
"He's being...difficult." That was the understatement of the year. "I thought you might have some other insight into the situation."
"So I was the logical one to ask." Chase sounded almost amused at that. "What's he doing?"
"It's not so much what as it is who." And if Chase didn't get Wilson's meaning, he didn't deserve his fellowship.
Apparently, Wilson had great timing (if he was trying to kill Chase) or horrible (if he actually wanted an answer). Chase choked on his coffee, and once he could breathe again, shook his head as he answered. "You don't know who your best friend is sleeping with," he said flatly. "That explains why you're not a diagnostician."
"Should I assume it's you, then?" Wilson wasn't particularly impressed.
Chase rolled his eyes. "Other than the fact that I'm not insane, I'm not suicidal."
"Any ideas, then?"
He leaned back in his chair. "Did you know Foreman is bisexual?" he asked conversationally. "Because I didn't have a clue."
Wilson blinked. Hard. And despite his best efforts to come up with words, he failed. At least, for a moment. "That's news to me," he replied as casually as he could. He really hoped Chase was just trying to be funny, even if it'd be a first.
"Hope you knew House is." Wilson decided Chase was enjoying this. If the positions were switched, he would. "Even Cameron wasn't surprised by that."
"I think the greater population of New Jersey knows that." House was obvious enough about it.
"She was probably about as surprised as you when House announced he'd, quote, 'fucked Foreman through the mattress,' while he was pouring coffee, though." Chase smirked, an expression that didn't suit him in the least. "Foreman was pissed."
Wilson gripped his paper coffee cup hard enough that it bent. The plastic lid fell off and hit the table top with a light tap. "He did." It wasn't really a question.
Chase nodded, studying him. "About a month ago," he confirmed. "Then he had a couple of days where Foreman was all but ignoring him. Since then, though..." He shrugged.
"Interesting." Wilson couldn't believe it. Well, he partially could, at least the part with the outburst about fucking through the mattress. But House in a relationship with Foreman? It seemed fairly inconceivable.
"Thanks for the coffee," he told Chase after the right length of awkward silence, and stood.
"You paid," Chase pointed out, and suddenly gave him a sharp look. "Don't let House know I told you. Let him think you finally figured it out."
"You assume I'll tell him," Wilson replied.
He rolled his eyes again. "Yeah, because you wanted to know just for your health."
"You'd be surprised."
Wilson didn't continue the conversation. He'd said enough. But he did continue watching House and his fellows, noticing the subtlety of their dynamics, and the quiet way House did (or did not) treat Foreman.
He'd cut back on the personal jibes, for one. Cameron and Chase were subject to the same as always, but House had taken on something remotely bordering respect when it came to Foreman. Which wasn't to say there was any actual favoritism; Foreman had the same late-night stays and long lab hours as the other two.
There was eye contact, a different kind from the sneers and half-glares between them. And Foreman seemed appropriately less hostile when it came to dealing with House, but then again, Foreman had never really been hostile unless provoked.
When it came to dealing with Wilson, House had to notice the sudden dearth of questions on his relationship or lack thereof. But he didn't mention that until lunch a week and a half later, when Wilson had, once again, paid for his lunch.
"Finally realized there's nothing to find out?" House asked casually.
"You could say that," Wilson replied with a half-shrug, and opened his bag of chips.
And now he had House studying him. Perfect. In the way that it completely was not. "Or you cornered someone else, and got them to talk."
"Can't believe that I finally let you get in the last word? Shocking, I know, but stranger things have happened." Wilson hoped he’d be able to put House off easily and get to his meal.
House ignored that. "You don't give up. You change tactics."
"You make me sound so underhanded and nefarious. So much like...you."
"Because you're so different." House was smirking at him. Oh, this was going to be fun.
Wilson rolled his eyes. "I'm improving myself. You should try it sometime."
"Yeah, by going around me and talking to someone else. Most people would consider that an improvement."
"What makes you so sure that I talked to anyone about your make-believe significant other?" If Chase had ratted him out, Wilson would break into his apartment and water down all his hair products.
"The whole suddenly deciding not to touch the subject was a clue," House said dryly.
"I couldn't just abandon my attempts with grade and dignity?"
"Not until you yelled at me over it for five minutes, about how I'd be so much happier in a relationship." House snorted. "Because they've done you so much good."
Wilson resisted his urge to throw his balled-up straw wrapper at House's smirk. "When did this start being about me?"
"It's always been about you. You're the one who stopped asking because you talked to someone." He enjoyed this kind of thing far more than any actual human did. Wilson wondered if Foreman knew he was dating an alien.
"I didn't talk to anyone, House! Eat your damn Reuben."
Probably just to be difficult, House sipped his soda. "So what'd this not-anyone tell you?"
"That's the funny thing about non-existent people, actually. They can't tell you things. Funny how that works."
"You expect me to believe you figured something out on your own? That's about as likely as the next Mrs. Wilson lasting." Cute, House.
"Insulting my marital record isn't really the best way to goad me into a teenage-girl tell-all, thank you."
"And claiming you don't care isn't going to make me believe you just gave up," House returned.
"What do you want me to say, then?" He was getting really sick of House's stupid cat-and-mouse game. "That I cornered Cameron, promised her sex and caring, and she told me that you and Cuddy were breaking Cuddy's bed on a nightly basis?" Hopefully, that'd get House to shut up.
"Mm, no. More like conned Chase into spilling." He really had to stop giving House anything whatsoever to go on.
"But not Foreman?"
"Foreman and Cameron are disgustingly loyal. Chase likes to tattle."
"I don't even like Chase. Why would I talk to him?"
"Because he, unlike the others, might actually tell you something." House made it sound incredibly obvious.
Wilson hated House's logic. How come it didn't hurt his mind to think like that all the time? "All right, then. Let's say I did talk to Chase. Care to tell me what I heard from him? As long as you're telling me what I did and know, that is."
"Considering you already talked to him and he told you, it'd be pointless." His caginess was really getting irritating.
"I'm not obligated to tell you what he told me, if he told me anything. Now if you'll excuse me, I would like to eat my lunch. I prefer my meals conjecture free, you know."
"Then you're eating with the wrong person." Wilson realized where Chase had learned the arrogant-lounge that he'd used when they talked when House did the same thing. "Chase told you, and you don't like it."
"Funny how I never asked you to eat with me." Wilson took a big bite out of his sandwich. Like that would prove anything. "And even if I knew, why would you think I have a problem with it? Should I have a problem with it?"
"Whether you should or shouldn't doesn't change the fact that you do." House did an excellent job of analyzing without giving a thing away. Wilson hated it.
"Why would I? Who you sleep with isn't my problem. Unless you lock me out of the house to sleep with an invisible hooker and I live there."
House's mouth quirked. Bad sign. "Unless you're interested in who I sleep with-which you can't deny, since you were obsessive for three straight weeks."
"Obsession and curiosity are different. Of course, hard for you to tell the difference. And I don't care who you sleep with. You could sleep with all three of your fellows and Cuddy in an orgy and I wouldn't care." He hoped he meant it, or at least came across convincingly.
"Curiosity lasting that long that doesn't involve life or death is an obsession," House pointed out. "If you didn't care who I sleep with, you wouldn't have been wondering that long."
"You're calling me obsessed? That's rich. Is it opposite day?"
"Yeah, you apparently forgot the rule that says you can't intrude on my obsessive nature." House finally took interest in his sandwich.
"I'll leave the obsessing about other people's lives to you, and stick with my old standby of living my life. Like a normal person."
"Normal for a week and a half after three weeks of obsessing. Yeah, I'm buying you didn't ask anyone else."
Wilson'd had enough of the caginess, sarcasm, and general amusement at his annoyance or obsession or whatever House wanted to call it. "You know what? Fine. I talked to Chase. He told me all about your relationship with Foreman. Congratulations, be sure to register for the wedding. Now let me eat." He took another enormous bite of his sandwich.
"Which still leaves the question of why you cared so much." Could the man not let a subject die?
"Wondering about my best friend's love life isn't a good enough reason?"
"No." House sounded definite on that one.
"Then you're going to be so disappointed."
"Yeah, because you care for no reason other than wondering who I was with." House sounded completely disbelieving. "If that was it, you would've waited for me to tell you instead of getting Chase to do it."
"What other reasons are there? Oh, is this the part where you tell me I'm secretly in love with Foreman? I love the taste of chocolate and I'm jealous of your gangster love with him?" Wilson snorted. "Please"
He really, really, really had to learn to give House nothing. At least, judging by House's expression, he had to. "Interesting that you said Foreman."
"Sorry, was I supposed to draw a comparison to your other boyfriend?"
"It'd be more fitting if you had picked the one you've known for ten years," and now House was studying him.
"And imply I want to sleep with you? I'll pass."
House let it drop then, moving onto the current patient, but Wilson didn't like how House studied him the rest of lunch. It didn't bode well.
House kept studying him after lunch, too, into the afternoon and early evening at the hospital. He gave diagnostics a wide berth, but Cameron's could-be-cancer case brought him back, not once, but twice. Lucky him. And every time, House stared at him like a little kid stared at a difficult puzzle.
Wilson deliberately stayed late, taking care of paperwork, in the hopes that House would leave well before he even ventured out of his office. No such luck, since House-being House-barged into his office just after eight and took a seat across from him.
Wilson made it a point to not look up. "Busy."
"Bullshit," House said plainly.
"Yes. You're right. I am actually filling this all out for fun."
"Didn't need to be done now," House pointed out. "You're trying to avoid me."
"If I wanted to avoid you, I'd go home and lock myself in my apartment." At the very least.
"Nope. I'd break in." Did he always have to have a counter-point?
"In the mood to be arrested?" It was an empty threat, and they both knew it.
"Because you'd actually call the cops on the one who's witnessed you rolling joints." So was that.
Wilson rolled his eyes and set down the pen. "What do you want, House?"
"Why did you care who I'm seeing?" Directness. That was refreshing.
"Because you were being so difficult."
"Difficult is what I do. You don't fixate on the cause."
"How do you know?" It was a valid question.
"I've known you for ten years," House pointed out. "If I haven't figured that out by now, I need to give up my department."
"Fine. I was curious. I wanted to know who was making you happy." House should have known that already. "I know now. Case closed."
House gave him a disbelieving look. "That's it? You harass me for three weeks just to find out who's making me less miserable?"
"Is that so wrong? Would you rather I say I harassed you for three weeks just for my own posterity?"
"Why'd you want to know who was making me happy?" House asked abruptly. "Not just for the sake of curiosity. You had to have another reason."
"Because you're my friend. I like to see you happy." He rubbed the back of his neck before slackening all the way back in his chair. "Ever think you read too much into things?"
House gave him an unimpressed look. "I'd believe that if I didn't know you better."
He sighed. "House, you're giving me a headache. No answer is good enough for you."
"An honest one might be." He was impossible. Wilson thanked God Cuddy was dean, and not him.
"You got my honest answer."
"Then no answer is good enough," House agreed.
"Such a shame." Wilson picked up his pen and started writing again.
House studied him a few minutes longer, then shook his head and stood. "If you wanted something, you could have just said so." He left before Wilson had a chance to reply.
Wilson stared after him for a long moment and then sighed. "Nice to know this now," he muttered to himself, and went back to his paperwork.
Authors: amazonqueenkate and hawkeyecat
Fandom: House, M.D.
Claimed Characters: Dr. Gregory House, Dr. James Wilson
Community: slash_me_twice
Pairing: Dr. Greg House/Dr. Eric Foreman, one-sided Dr. Greg House/Dr. James Wilson
Prompt: 003. Truth
Word Count: 3,554
Rating: PG-13 for language
Disclaimer: Rights? What rights?
Authors' Notes: Thanks to sarcasticsra for the beta.
House couldn’t keep secrets. At least, not from Wilson. He could bluff his way past Cuddy, lie outright to his fellows, completely avoid his parents, but Wilson could read him when he tried any of that. And when it came to House having an actual relationship with someone, he was even easier to interpret. Because House got happy. Well, not happy by the traditional definition of the word, because this was House and House's definition of happy was nothing like a normal person's definition, but he got happy for House. Less belligerent. More sarcastic. Less obnoxious. More cooperative. Granted, the changes were only by degrees-the difference between, say, the temperatures between Nome and Juneau, Alaska (still damn cold either way)-but Wilson knew House. He could tell.
House tried bluffing him when he brought it up, of course. If it involved House and House didn't want to talk about it, he'd avoid a subject all he could. And the avoidance also told Wilson a few things.
It was somebody Wilson knew, for instance. House tried to claim there was no relationship at all; if it had been someone Wilson didn't know, House would have just exaggerated the mystery person's attributes, trying to make Wilson jealous.
And it wasn't Stacy again, because House was as petulant as ever when Wilson tried to casually mention Stacy in conversation. Not that Wilson really expected that Stacy was back in the picture, but if she had been, House wouldn't have reacted with venom and skulking anger. And, given the comparison he made between Stacy and Cameron (he was the only man who could compare Stacy and Cameron and be convincing, as far as Wilson was concerned), Wilson ruled her out, as well.
There was no way it was Cuddy. Wilson briefly considered her, until she and House had one of their typical run-ins over a patient bitching about him-conveniently omitting the part where House discovered and cured whatever the mystery illness was-and Cuddy was neither lenient nor more pissed off than usual. The complete lack of change convinced Wilson it wasn't her, which left the dubious chance of House actually knowing someone else who could tolerate him.
So Wilson kicked back, relaxed (well, tried to) and took to watching House's every interaction. He'd considered head nurse Brenda until she threw a pen at him and called him a loud-mouthed asshole in the hallway; the poker player he picked up at the bus stop seemed almost possible until Wilson caught him putting Ex-Lax in House's Jack and Coke; and Wilson was almost curious enough to give a pairing of House and Chase credence until House said something so rude that it made Chase's big eyes fill up with tears. No, no, and no.
Wilson began to wonder if House had made the whole thing up.
Given House's complete and total avoidance of even the possibility of a relationship, though, Wilson decided he hadn't. Which left a few, fairly disturbing options: House was the one Julie had been sleeping with, but Wilson was fairly sure House wasn't that much of a bastard; House had managed to get serious with a hooker, which Wilson wouldn't put past him; or House had gotten involved with one of his own patients and didn't want to admit it after the Grace affair.
But then Wilson saw Julie at the supermarket with some blond surfer wannabe; a call into House's favorite "escort agency" said he hadn't ordered a hooker for weeks and hadn't picked a favorite before then; and a quick retrospective through all the patients House'd had in the last year revealed that, no, House hated most of them. Except the kids, but House was an asshole, not a sicko.
And Wilson himself wasn't sleeping with him. The saddest part was, Wilson did spend three days wondering if he'd somehow gotten himself into a relationship with House and hadn't realized it.
Wilson had very nearly given up on ever finding out who House was, if not in love with, screwing on a regular basis when Cameron came to retrieve him to rule out cancer on some patient who was vomiting and had a low white count, something like that. He noted her expression, tight-lipped instead of relaxed, and her taut shoulders, but passed it off as being worried about the patient.
Still, there was something peculiar about her mannerisms, and she seemed...uncomfortable. That was the best word he could come up with. Uncomfortable enough that he started keeping a closer eye on House and the fellows. It was only right, after all; if House was being particularly cruel to any of them, even Cameron, it'd be partially his moral obligation as best friend and coworker to point out the flaws in this logic. Or, alternately, help.
He couldn't ask Cameron, of course. She might talk to him about almost sleeping with her dead husband's best friend, but she wouldn't rat on House if he was either being more of an ass than usual or seeing someone; her devotion was too complete.
Chase, on the other hand, just might tell him what was going on.
Wilson wanted to be subtle, though, so rather than walk right up to him and demand to know what was going on, he grabbed Chase right before he left the diagnostics conference room one day and flashed a harmless smile.
"Coffee?" he asked by way of a friendly invitation.
Chase gave him a wary look, which was less than surprising since they both knew Wilson wasn't exactly a fan of Chase's. After a moment, though, he nodded, probably deciding Wilson wouldn't poison his cup-that'd be a very House move, albeit an unsubtle one.
"The cafeteria, or somewhere else?"
"Cafeteria works. I'll buy." Wilson gave a jerk of his head and led the way. As he went, he debated how to ask the obvious question: Do you know who my best friend is screwing? Because he won't tell me lacked the finesse he was so proud of, but he'd been near-stalking House for three weeks. It was getting exhausting.
Chase kept glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, through the awkwardly silent elevator ride and purchase of the coffee, until Wilson led him to a small corner table.
"Not that I don't appreciate it," Chase started, "but I've worked here more than three years and you've hardly spoken to me, never mind asked to get a cup of coffee."
"Maybe it's time things changed." When he looked at Wilson like he'd just grown an extra head and decided to wear a bra and panties, Wilson sighed. "I need your help with something."
"If it's a case, you could just ask House," Chase pointed out. Wilson couldn't blame him for assuming that; the whole "talking about something personal" thing was beyond the expected range of questions.
"It's about a different kind of case, so to speak." Wilson took a long sip of his coffee. "How's House been, lately?" There was no easy way to discuss this, now was there?
Chase gave him a skeptical look. "He's your best friend. I just work for him."
"He's being...difficult." That was the understatement of the year. "I thought you might have some other insight into the situation."
"So I was the logical one to ask." Chase sounded almost amused at that. "What's he doing?"
"It's not so much what as it is who." And if Chase didn't get Wilson's meaning, he didn't deserve his fellowship.
Apparently, Wilson had great timing (if he was trying to kill Chase) or horrible (if he actually wanted an answer). Chase choked on his coffee, and once he could breathe again, shook his head as he answered. "You don't know who your best friend is sleeping with," he said flatly. "That explains why you're not a diagnostician."
"Should I assume it's you, then?" Wilson wasn't particularly impressed.
Chase rolled his eyes. "Other than the fact that I'm not insane, I'm not suicidal."
"Any ideas, then?"
He leaned back in his chair. "Did you know Foreman is bisexual?" he asked conversationally. "Because I didn't have a clue."
Wilson blinked. Hard. And despite his best efforts to come up with words, he failed. At least, for a moment. "That's news to me," he replied as casually as he could. He really hoped Chase was just trying to be funny, even if it'd be a first.
"Hope you knew House is." Wilson decided Chase was enjoying this. If the positions were switched, he would. "Even Cameron wasn't surprised by that."
"I think the greater population of New Jersey knows that." House was obvious enough about it.
"She was probably about as surprised as you when House announced he'd, quote, 'fucked Foreman through the mattress,' while he was pouring coffee, though." Chase smirked, an expression that didn't suit him in the least. "Foreman was pissed."
Wilson gripped his paper coffee cup hard enough that it bent. The plastic lid fell off and hit the table top with a light tap. "He did." It wasn't really a question.
Chase nodded, studying him. "About a month ago," he confirmed. "Then he had a couple of days where Foreman was all but ignoring him. Since then, though..." He shrugged.
"Interesting." Wilson couldn't believe it. Well, he partially could, at least the part with the outburst about fucking through the mattress. But House in a relationship with Foreman? It seemed fairly inconceivable.
"Thanks for the coffee," he told Chase after the right length of awkward silence, and stood.
"You paid," Chase pointed out, and suddenly gave him a sharp look. "Don't let House know I told you. Let him think you finally figured it out."
"You assume I'll tell him," Wilson replied.
He rolled his eyes again. "Yeah, because you wanted to know just for your health."
"You'd be surprised."
Wilson didn't continue the conversation. He'd said enough. But he did continue watching House and his fellows, noticing the subtlety of their dynamics, and the quiet way House did (or did not) treat Foreman.
He'd cut back on the personal jibes, for one. Cameron and Chase were subject to the same as always, but House had taken on something remotely bordering respect when it came to Foreman. Which wasn't to say there was any actual favoritism; Foreman had the same late-night stays and long lab hours as the other two.
There was eye contact, a different kind from the sneers and half-glares between them. And Foreman seemed appropriately less hostile when it came to dealing with House, but then again, Foreman had never really been hostile unless provoked.
When it came to dealing with Wilson, House had to notice the sudden dearth of questions on his relationship or lack thereof. But he didn't mention that until lunch a week and a half later, when Wilson had, once again, paid for his lunch.
"Finally realized there's nothing to find out?" House asked casually.
"You could say that," Wilson replied with a half-shrug, and opened his bag of chips.
And now he had House studying him. Perfect. In the way that it completely was not. "Or you cornered someone else, and got them to talk."
"Can't believe that I finally let you get in the last word? Shocking, I know, but stranger things have happened." Wilson hoped he’d be able to put House off easily and get to his meal.
House ignored that. "You don't give up. You change tactics."
"You make me sound so underhanded and nefarious. So much like...you."
"Because you're so different." House was smirking at him. Oh, this was going to be fun.
Wilson rolled his eyes. "I'm improving myself. You should try it sometime."
"Yeah, by going around me and talking to someone else. Most people would consider that an improvement."
"What makes you so sure that I talked to anyone about your make-believe significant other?" If Chase had ratted him out, Wilson would break into his apartment and water down all his hair products.
"The whole suddenly deciding not to touch the subject was a clue," House said dryly.
"I couldn't just abandon my attempts with grade and dignity?"
"Not until you yelled at me over it for five minutes, about how I'd be so much happier in a relationship." House snorted. "Because they've done you so much good."
Wilson resisted his urge to throw his balled-up straw wrapper at House's smirk. "When did this start being about me?"
"It's always been about you. You're the one who stopped asking because you talked to someone." He enjoyed this kind of thing far more than any actual human did. Wilson wondered if Foreman knew he was dating an alien.
"I didn't talk to anyone, House! Eat your damn Reuben."
Probably just to be difficult, House sipped his soda. "So what'd this not-anyone tell you?"
"That's the funny thing about non-existent people, actually. They can't tell you things. Funny how that works."
"You expect me to believe you figured something out on your own? That's about as likely as the next Mrs. Wilson lasting." Cute, House.
"Insulting my marital record isn't really the best way to goad me into a teenage-girl tell-all, thank you."
"And claiming you don't care isn't going to make me believe you just gave up," House returned.
"What do you want me to say, then?" He was getting really sick of House's stupid cat-and-mouse game. "That I cornered Cameron, promised her sex and caring, and she told me that you and Cuddy were breaking Cuddy's bed on a nightly basis?" Hopefully, that'd get House to shut up.
"Mm, no. More like conned Chase into spilling." He really had to stop giving House anything whatsoever to go on.
"But not Foreman?"
"Foreman and Cameron are disgustingly loyal. Chase likes to tattle."
"I don't even like Chase. Why would I talk to him?"
"Because he, unlike the others, might actually tell you something." House made it sound incredibly obvious.
Wilson hated House's logic. How come it didn't hurt his mind to think like that all the time? "All right, then. Let's say I did talk to Chase. Care to tell me what I heard from him? As long as you're telling me what I did and know, that is."
"Considering you already talked to him and he told you, it'd be pointless." His caginess was really getting irritating.
"I'm not obligated to tell you what he told me, if he told me anything. Now if you'll excuse me, I would like to eat my lunch. I prefer my meals conjecture free, you know."
"Then you're eating with the wrong person." Wilson realized where Chase had learned the arrogant-lounge that he'd used when they talked when House did the same thing. "Chase told you, and you don't like it."
"Funny how I never asked you to eat with me." Wilson took a big bite out of his sandwich. Like that would prove anything. "And even if I knew, why would you think I have a problem with it? Should I have a problem with it?"
"Whether you should or shouldn't doesn't change the fact that you do." House did an excellent job of analyzing without giving a thing away. Wilson hated it.
"Why would I? Who you sleep with isn't my problem. Unless you lock me out of the house to sleep with an invisible hooker and I live there."
House's mouth quirked. Bad sign. "Unless you're interested in who I sleep with-which you can't deny, since you were obsessive for three straight weeks."
"Obsession and curiosity are different. Of course, hard for you to tell the difference. And I don't care who you sleep with. You could sleep with all three of your fellows and Cuddy in an orgy and I wouldn't care." He hoped he meant it, or at least came across convincingly.
"Curiosity lasting that long that doesn't involve life or death is an obsession," House pointed out. "If you didn't care who I sleep with, you wouldn't have been wondering that long."
"You're calling me obsessed? That's rich. Is it opposite day?"
"Yeah, you apparently forgot the rule that says you can't intrude on my obsessive nature." House finally took interest in his sandwich.
"I'll leave the obsessing about other people's lives to you, and stick with my old standby of living my life. Like a normal person."
"Normal for a week and a half after three weeks of obsessing. Yeah, I'm buying you didn't ask anyone else."
Wilson'd had enough of the caginess, sarcasm, and general amusement at his annoyance or obsession or whatever House wanted to call it. "You know what? Fine. I talked to Chase. He told me all about your relationship with Foreman. Congratulations, be sure to register for the wedding. Now let me eat." He took another enormous bite of his sandwich.
"Which still leaves the question of why you cared so much." Could the man not let a subject die?
"Wondering about my best friend's love life isn't a good enough reason?"
"No." House sounded definite on that one.
"Then you're going to be so disappointed."
"Yeah, because you care for no reason other than wondering who I was with." House sounded completely disbelieving. "If that was it, you would've waited for me to tell you instead of getting Chase to do it."
"What other reasons are there? Oh, is this the part where you tell me I'm secretly in love with Foreman? I love the taste of chocolate and I'm jealous of your gangster love with him?" Wilson snorted. "Please"
He really, really, really had to learn to give House nothing. At least, judging by House's expression, he had to. "Interesting that you said Foreman."
"Sorry, was I supposed to draw a comparison to your other boyfriend?"
"It'd be more fitting if you had picked the one you've known for ten years," and now House was studying him.
"And imply I want to sleep with you? I'll pass."
House let it drop then, moving onto the current patient, but Wilson didn't like how House studied him the rest of lunch. It didn't bode well.
House kept studying him after lunch, too, into the afternoon and early evening at the hospital. He gave diagnostics a wide berth, but Cameron's could-be-cancer case brought him back, not once, but twice. Lucky him. And every time, House stared at him like a little kid stared at a difficult puzzle.
Wilson deliberately stayed late, taking care of paperwork, in the hopes that House would leave well before he even ventured out of his office. No such luck, since House-being House-barged into his office just after eight and took a seat across from him.
Wilson made it a point to not look up. "Busy."
"Bullshit," House said plainly.
"Yes. You're right. I am actually filling this all out for fun."
"Didn't need to be done now," House pointed out. "You're trying to avoid me."
"If I wanted to avoid you, I'd go home and lock myself in my apartment." At the very least.
"Nope. I'd break in." Did he always have to have a counter-point?
"In the mood to be arrested?" It was an empty threat, and they both knew it.
"Because you'd actually call the cops on the one who's witnessed you rolling joints." So was that.
Wilson rolled his eyes and set down the pen. "What do you want, House?"
"Why did you care who I'm seeing?" Directness. That was refreshing.
"Because you were being so difficult."
"Difficult is what I do. You don't fixate on the cause."
"How do you know?" It was a valid question.
"I've known you for ten years," House pointed out. "If I haven't figured that out by now, I need to give up my department."
"Fine. I was curious. I wanted to know who was making you happy." House should have known that already. "I know now. Case closed."
House gave him a disbelieving look. "That's it? You harass me for three weeks just to find out who's making me less miserable?"
"Is that so wrong? Would you rather I say I harassed you for three weeks just for my own posterity?"
"Why'd you want to know who was making me happy?" House asked abruptly. "Not just for the sake of curiosity. You had to have another reason."
"Because you're my friend. I like to see you happy." He rubbed the back of his neck before slackening all the way back in his chair. "Ever think you read too much into things?"
House gave him an unimpressed look. "I'd believe that if I didn't know you better."
He sighed. "House, you're giving me a headache. No answer is good enough for you."
"An honest one might be." He was impossible. Wilson thanked God Cuddy was dean, and not him.
"You got my honest answer."
"Then no answer is good enough," House agreed.
"Such a shame." Wilson picked up his pen and started writing again.
House studied him a few minutes longer, then shook his head and stood. "If you wanted something, you could have just said so." He left before Wilson had a chance to reply.
Wilson stared after him for a long moment and then sighed. "Nice to know this now," he muttered to himself, and went back to his paperwork.