Archive of Our Own

House stormed out of Cuddy's office, a sulky look on his face. He tapped his cane against the floor rhythmically, the sound ringing through the hallways- a signal to any interns who might cross his path to run, to flee like bugs before he turned his wrath on them.

He limped all the way to his office in that same mood, casting withering glares upon any nurses who hadn't managed to get out of the way in time. 

Fine. He thought to himself, dramatically slamming his door. The team wouldn't care, they were all busy with the latest case anyway. (They were wrong. They thought it was lupus, which didn't match all the symptoms, which only contributed to his shitty mood.) 

"Damn Cuddy." He mumbled to himself, grabbing a rubber ball off his desk and bouncing it against the ceiling.

All he wanted was for her to sleep with Wilson! How hard was that??

...

He paused mid-throw, grabbing the ball before it could hit him.

It wouldn't be that hard to sleep with Wilson. 

House knew him better than anyone. Getting in his pants should be a piece of cake! Especially seeing as how he was seeing someone who was basically just female House.  

He had ten times the allure of Cutthroat Bitch! He could get Wilson to sleep with him any day of the week!

Then Wilson would have to break up with her, because he was too good to cheat like that and not come clean, and he wouldn't lose his best friend.

It was the perfect plan.

--

...okay, maybe it was a little bit harder than he'd thought.

To be fair, it wasn't his fault Wilson was oblivious! For hell’s sake, he'd bought the man lunch twice this week! That was practically a marriage proposal!

He tapped his marker against the whiteboard, thinking.

"If you were going to try and sleep with someone, how would you make it so obvious even an idiot would notice it? Cameron, what's your opinion?"

That earned him an exasperated look from both Cameron and Chase (who were only in this room because Kutner had convinced them that their input was necessary for the patient.)

"I don't have to take this anymore." Chase said, running his fingers through his hair. "And I'm not an idiot."

"Right, my mistake. You're a genius- by Australian standards. Maybe they do IQs backwards over there."

"House."

"Chase." 

"Thirteen." Interjected Thirteen, unhelpfully. "Can we get back to the patient now?"

"Not until Cameron explains how she got Chase to figure out she wanted to have sex with him."

"For your information, I asked her out." 

"It- okay, it wasn't exactly an asking out, it wasn't quite- I mean, I was the one who got back together with you-"

"Well, yeah, but it's more complicated than you make it sound. You act like it was something that just happened naturally, not an active decision."

"Maybe it was! I mean, we were friends for so long that it just- we didn't even talk about it that much, it just sort of happened."

House opened his mouth to throw in a sarcastic remark, but before he could speak,the team's pagers went off.

(Damn. And it had been a good one, too.)

--

Two hours later, after the patient had been stabilized and the team was running tests for every infection they could find (like he'd told them to do before all this, which would've saved them all a lot of time), House was back at his desk.

No, not his desk.

Wilson's desk.

Chase and Cameron’s advice had been mostly unhelpful, except for one thing. 

‘It just sort of happened.’

So, what was he supposed to do? Start making out with Wilson in his office?

No, of course not! That wasn't his style at all.

But he could just start acting like they were a couple already.

(The problem was, however, when he was in his office going through a list of couple-related activities and milestones, he'd realized that they'd already done most of them. Move in together? Check. Have a kid? They'd had a dog for a while, which was fairly close, so check. Sleep together? In an extremely literal sense, but a check it was.)

So he'd decided to take things to the next level. 

Sit in Wilson's office (with lunch for both of them, mind you. Couldn't have him saying he was a stingy boyfriend.) and wait for him to come in, then slowly up the ante by using pet names and flirting obviously.

(He'd looked up a "wikihow to flirt with morons", just to practice. Perhaps Wilson would be a fan of pickup lines.)

He bounced his rubber ball off the door, back and forth, as he waited for Wilson.

And, a few moments later, the door opened, the ball perfectly hitting Wilson right in the chest. 

"Ooh, ten points." House said sarcastically. "I brought us lunch. Babe."

The word felt weird in his mouth. He'd never called anyone that before- he associated it more with giggling teenage girls talking to their boyfriends, but he was sure Wilson would eat it up. He seemed the type. 

Wilson frowned at him, a confused look gracing his features.

"...I'm... sorry?"

"Oh, don't be sorry, honey."

Wilson slowly sat down in the chair across from him, not even kicking up a fuss about House taking his usual spot- damn, he should do this more often.

"...House, are you... alright?"

The concern would almost be touching, if it wasn't so annoying. Why wasn't Wilson getting it?? If he was a straight woman, he'd already be unbuttoning House's shirt!

"I'm fine, sweetheart. I even brought you lunch."

He slid a paper wrapped sandwich across the desk to Wilson, who stared at it in confusion before looking back up at him.

"Is this poisoned?"

House couldn't help but snort at that. 

"If I was going to poison you, there's better ways. Now eat up."

Wilson stared at him, looking equal parts concerned and confused. 

"House, tilt your head forward and look at me." He said, pulling out a pen light from his front pocket. "Follow the light without moving your head."

...well, now it was House's turn to stare in confusion. 

"What?"

"I want to check if you have a concussion. Now lean forward."

"I don't have a concussion. Am I not just allowed to be nice?"

"...not like this, no. Did you get into an accident on your bike, or-?"

"I said I don't have a concussion."

"Then lean forward and let me check."

They had a staring contest for a few seconds, blue eyes meeting brown, before House sighed and leaned forward, rolling his eyes.

"I told you, I don't have a concussion. I'm just being nice to you. Is that so hard to believe?"

"Depends. Are you trying to get another loan?"

House scoffed as Wilson flicked the light on. He watched him watch his pupils contract.

...in a certain light, Wilson was actually very pretty. He could see what Cutthroat Bitch saw in him. 

He followed the light with his eyes, watching as Wilson relaxed when he seemed fine.

"What's really going on, House? Why did you bring me lunch, and why are you calling me..."

He trailed off, shaking his head. House helpfully filled in the blank he'd left.

"Sweetheart? Babe? Darling?"

"That."

"Trying something new. Cameron suggested it."

Wilson's brow furrowed in confusion once again. 

"Cameron suggested you... call me pet names?"

"Well, not in so many words, but essentially."

Wilson just sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in the way he always did when House exasperated him.

"...I'm not even going to ask."

He unwrapped his sandwich, peeking under the bread to make sure there were no pills hidden in there, before taking a bite.

House covered his satisfied grin with a bite of his own sandwich, propping his legs up on Wilson's desk.

Score: Cutthroat Bitch, 1, House, 1.

--

The  game had stalled.

Wilson's girlfriend (he hated calling her that) had kept pulling him away every time House tried to make a move, almost as if she knew what he was trying to do.

It was irritating.

So he sat in Coma Guy's room, eating a bag of chips with his bad leg propped up on the bed.

"It's honestly sad, how whipped Wilson is." He said to Coma Guy, not expecting a response. (Now that would be weird, seeing as he'd been in a coma for ten years.)

"I'm trying to save him, y'know." He took another bite of his sandwich, rolling his eyes. "Oh, don't give me that look. It's for the greater good. Wilson's a terrible doctor when he's in love. He stares at you with those puppy dog eyes and drops his paperwork all over the halls."

House scoffed at an imaginary remark of Coma Guy.

" Please. Of course I know he's in love with me! Why else would I be so annoyed he won't sleep with me?"

He huffed a sigh, leaning further back in his chair. 

"You're terrible at advice, y'know."

Coma Guy, understandably, did not respond.

"I met your kid, you must've gotten freaky with someone. So how'd you do it? It seems like every time I put something down, Wilson turns in the opposite direction."

...

Now that was an idea.

He fumbled for his cane, pushing himself to a standing position.

"Thanks for the help, Coma Guy!"

--

Two weeks later, his plan was ready.

It was a very simple plan. One nobody could ignore, not even Wilson.

He would call Wilson, pretending to be his girlfriend (or, well, having Cameron do it. He’d offered her twenty bucks and she said no, so then he’d followed her around the ER for thirty minutes annoying her. Much more effective.) and telling him to meet him for a romantic dinner. Amber would stand him up, (obviously, considering she didn’t know the date was happening ,) and House would be there to swoop in and save the day.

It would be perfect.

He’d made reservations at Wilson’s favorite restaurant, an Italian place with a wine bar that could rival his mother’s. Dinner after work, on a Sunday evening- Wilson didn’t like to eat out on other days, because the hospital was always busier. (House didn’t care, honestly- leave them to fend for themselves, they were capable- but whatever would get Wilson to show up.)

And so, on Sunday evening, House waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

(He’d shown up two hours early out of nerves.)

Finally, he saw Wilson’s car enter the parking lot. He was late by almost ten minutes. (Rude, but that meant House only had to wait ten more minutes. Twenty minutes was plenty long enough for Wilson to think he’d been stood up.)

Staring at his watch, he tapped his good foot against the floor of the car, watching the seconds tick by. 

One minute. 

Forty five seconds.

Twenty seconds.

Ten.

Four.

One.

Showtime.

He hopped out of the car, confidently entering the restaurant. Step one, done. Now for the follow through. 

Glancing around the restaurant, he spotted Wilson staring despondently at his cell phone- perfect. Time to swoop in and save the night.

“Hi, honey. Miss me?” He said, sliding into the chair across from him. “Sorry I’m late.”

Wilson blinked twice, staring at him for a long moment.

“Wh- House? ”

“I was just here to spy on your date, but this is embarrassing. Cutthroat Bitch stand you up?”

“I- oh. I see what’s going on here.”

“Just helping out a friend in need. Nothing more to it.”

Wilson sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“House, I know you set this up.”

“What? No, that’s insane. Who would do something like that?”

Wilson fixed him with a hard stare. “You.”

…damn. He’d caught on.

“House, what’s going on? Why are you being-” He gestured vaguely towards him. “-you know.”

“I don’t know what you mean. Look, the waiter.”

Wilson sighed again, putting his face in his hands. That was fine. House could order for both of them- which he did. He already knew what Wilson wanted, so it was no issue.

“You’ve been acting weird for weeks, House. Ever since I started dating Amber, you’ve been… I don’t know- off. What’s going on??”

“Nothing. Can’t a man spend time with his best friend in peace?”

“This isn’t normal, House! You act like you’re- trying to steal me from her or something!”

Huh. Wilson was more perceptive than he’d given him credit for. Surprising . He stayed silent.

“...you’re not trying to steal me from her, are you?”

Shit.

“...no.”

“You are! You’re trying to date me so I’ll break up with her!”

“Well- okay, not exactly date you.”

“...what.”

“I’m trying to get you to sleep with me, you moron!” He said, a little too loudly- several people at other tables glanced at them. Whoops.

“You’re what??” Wilson whispered sharply, looking stunned.

“I figured it’d be easier than getting you to date me. Besides, we all know you’re in love with me.”

“I am not!”  

House raised his eyebrows at that statement, giving him a Look. 

”Right. ”

“I’m not! I have a girlfriend!”

“Who is essentially female me!”

“She is not!”  

“Oh, come on. She is and you know it!”

“She isn’t! At least she’s nice to me!”

“I’m nice to you! I’ve been flirting with you for a damn month, but you’re just- too dumb to notice!”

“That was you flirting?? I thought you’d gone insane! I booked you a MRI!”

“I was trying to make it obvious! You just weren’t picking up my signals!”

“You were acting like a crazy person!”

“Would you just shut up and kiss me already??”

Wilson paused for a moment, mouth agape as he stared at House across the table.

“What?”

“I’ve been waiting a month for you to pick up my signals and you thought I was insane. I think I deserve this.”

Wilson rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking as if he wasn’t sure whether to cry or laugh. 

“House, I have a girlfriend.”

“She’s just bootleg me! You could have the real thing!”

“Oh, come on! You don’t even know her!”

“I know enough!”

The waiter was idling by their table, staring nervously at the two of them. House waved him off.

“You don’t know anything! You don’t even bother asking about her!”

“I just want my best friend back! Is that too much to ask??”

His shout hung over the room, seeming to echo for a few moments in the silence that had fallen. (Two patrons quietly called the waiter over to get their check.)

“...House, I…”

“I know. You didn’t know because you’re too damn oblivious to pick up on the fact that I’m in love with you, damn it!”

“...you’re in love with me?”

“Everyone knows that! Except for you, apparently.”

“...so that’s why you were so jealous of Amber.”

“What did you think it was, that I was in love with her??”

Wilson glanced away, looking embarrassed.

“Well…”

“You did??” He snorted, shaking with laughter. “You thought I wanted Cutthroat Bitch??”

“In my defense, that’s the kind of nickname you would give someone you were interested in!”

…okay, that was fair. He didn’t have a defense for that.

“Are you in love with her?”

Wilson stayed silent for a long moment, glancing away.

“...she’s not you, House.”

“That’s not what I asked and you know it.”

“Fine. Fine. You know what? No, I’m not in love with her, because every time I’m with her I pretend she’s you! Because every time I see her do something you wouldn’t do I’m constantly comparing her to you and she always falls short because I’m in love with you, damn it!”

“...huh. Was… not expecting you to admit it.”

“I just-” Wilson sighed again, shaking his head. “...that’s the first time I’ve said it to anyone and that’s how you respond?”

“What did you expect? It’s me.”

“...fair point.”

“Now can we please make out now that you figured yourself out?”

Wilson had a pained look on his face.

“I need to tell Amber.”

“Bo-ring. Just cheat like everybody else.”

“I’m not going to do that. Amber’s… good. She deserves better than that.”

House snorted, rolling his eyes. “Cutthroat Bitch. The woman who purposefully sabotaged her competitors and lied, cheated, and stole to get to the final ten. She’s good.”

“...maybe not good, but still. She deserves a proper breakup.”

“Fine. Then can we make out?”

Wilson sighed again. (He was going to run out of oxygen at this rate.)

“Yes, House, then we can make out.”

He grinned. 

“Well, this worked out perfectly.”

He stood up, grabbing his cane and stretching.

“See you tonight, honey.”

House, 2, Cutthroat Bitch, 1. 

Game over.

--

They did, in fact, make out later. It was just as good as he’d thought it would be.