Retrospectively, Wilson should have seen it coming, but he didn't. At least, not until his Lays magically disappeared off his lunch tray as they tended to do. He tried to grab them, but his reflexes were instants short, and when he paid the cashier, she was smirking.
"You know," he put in conversationally as he moved towards the table, "there's this thing called 'paying for your own food.' You should try it sometime."
House, already ensconced in a chair with the bag open, smirked at Wilson. "The day you provide your own booze at my place is the day I start paying for my own food."
"Oh, right. Forgot that a beer a night bought you the right to leech off me at every meal." Wilson sent him a dirty look before enjoying a bite of his sandwich without the chips.
House rolled his eyes and munched on another chip before answering. "You get beer and a place to sleep without the harpy screeching at you, and I get your chips. Seems like you're getting the better end of the deal."
"Never minding the endless supply of Chinese, Thai, and pizza." He rolled his eyes ever-so-slightly. "Any particular reason for today's chip-snatching, or just keeping up appearances?"
"Is there some reason that needs to be an either-or question?"
"So it's a combination of the two?"
"I didn't say that, did I?"
"Word games now? How middle school."
"You started it," House retorted, going along with the theme.
"You'd better be careful," Wilson warned in return. "If Principal Cuddy catches you passing notes in detention, it'll all be over."
"Nah, Principal Cuddy has a crush on me. Kinda twisted."
The simple statement caused Wilson to blink, his sandwich halfway to his mouth. "What?"
"Of course," House went on blithely, "if this is middle school, that makes her a pedophile."
Wilson forced himself to smirk back. "I always knew you were the type to seduce your teachers," he returned.
"Obviously. How else do you think I made it through med school?"
"I suppose assuming it was talent is asking a bit much."
"You give all-nighters far too little credit." House looked like he was considering stealing Wilson's drink.
Wilson caught him staring at the beverage, and moved to grip it. "Explain the crush statement, I'll consider it."
"She's not the only one." He was obviously evading the question. "There are certain others I can name who have a crush on me. Take—"
"Cameron's a masochist and doesn't count," Wilson cut off. "Not the point."
House smirked at him. "Actually, I was going to say you."
Wilson snorted. "Cute," he replied, and handed House his soda. "From the unlikely into fiction."
House sipped from the soda before replying. "That's reassuring. So when I take her out to dinner, you'll offer the same sage advice about getting in her panties?"
"Ah, but you've already heard that one," he retorted. "I'd go for the sage advice on getting into the bra. Change it up a bit."
House looked heavenward, probably imagining that. "Wonder if they'd live up to the promise they show."
"Promise, no? Potential, possibly." Wilson shrugged, and reached again for his sandwich.
House's eyes narrowed. "She's not on the conquest list, is she?"
Wilson's expression was surprised for a split-second before he replaced it with curiosity, and arched an eyebrow. "Would it matter if she was?"
"It'd be very, very weird, even for us, if I had sex with someone you've already had," House pointed out.
Wilson smirked. "Afraid she'd compare us?"
"Don't want to hurt your ego, Jimmy."
"And here, I was going to say the same to you."
"That still doesn't tell me if you had sex with her or not."
"And I still don't know how you found out about this 'crush’." He shrugged. "Guess we're even."
"Shrinking necklines and extra visits that are not fueled by being pissed off are a pretty good clue."
"Everyone sees the shrinking necklines," Wilson pointed out helpfully. "Doesn't make them exclusive. Could be seducing Chase."
"Yeah, and the first time she told him what to do in bed, he'd come all over himself." House snorted.
Wilson nearly choked on his sandwich. "And you really think a man who wouldn't succumb even to begging is what she wants?"
"Could be. Why else would she keep up the fighting?"
"Actually wanting you to do your job?" He pretended to consider this question. "Nah, couldn't be that."
"Like she's been so successful." House finished off Wilson's chips. "Hasn't even been bitching about the clinic lately."
"Probably because the clinic hasn't been too packed." He shrugged noncommittally.
House took another sip of the soda and handed it back to Wilson. "Last clue was that we're going to dinner on Friday." He pushed his chair back and stood.
"You… are." Wilson paused, staring at him. "House to myself. I'll throw a kegger, I suppose. Maybe invite some of the sorority sisters along." He drummed his fingers along the cardboard of the soda. "And offer you sage advice before, of course."
"You're jealous? That's cute. Don't worry, Wilson. I still love you." He patted Wilson's hand. "She means nothing."
He rolled his eyes. "Yes, House. I want and need you. Desperately. You caught me."
House snapped his fingers. "And you admit it after I'm committed on Friday. Oh, well. There's always Saturday for you. Or for bad movies."
"Isn't every night the night for bad movies?"
"Only if I'm not getting laid."
Wilson snorted. "And you're so sure you're getting laid on Friday? And just when I thought you couldn't get cockier."
"If I'm not, then there'll be time for bad movies after," House pointed out. "And we can bitch about women at the same time."
"Might as well skip the whole date business. Cut out the middle man, as it were."
"Or… I try to get laid. Which is actually the idea I like more."
Wilson nodded, distractedly, still drumming his fingers on the cardboard cup. "I suppose when Cuddy's your best offer… " he replied, shrugging.
House rolled his eyes and sat back down. "I happen to know you like Cuddy, which makes talking badly about her kinda weird."
"And evidently, you like her too."
"What, I'm moving in on what you want? Jealousy over a woman doesn't look good on you, Wilson."
"Whereas, once again, your smugness is your most attractive feature." Wilson leaned back slightly in the chair, watching the straw of the soda with express interest. "If I didn't know better, I'd guess you were going out with Cuddy to get to me."
"Yes, skipping over your head seemed like the best plan instead of, I don't know, asking out your secretary." House rolled his eyes. "Might want to rethink the logic there."
"I've never expressed any sort of fondness for my secretary."
"So I'm using someone who is arguably a mutual friend to get to you? Your wife would be a better option."
"You never were one for the path of least resistance, last I checked."
"And that plan would work better if Julie didn't want to rip my throat out."
"The closest female to either of us who doesn't want you dead is, then, Cuddy." Wilson smirked slightly. "And to think I once thought it took alcohol to unravel your masterful schemes."
"We're back to the assumption that I'm trying to get to you, which is unfounded," House countered.
"You haven't denied it," he pointed out.
House raised his eyebrows. "I needed to? That's news."
"I can never tell with you. Your head games are legendary."
"You still jealous?" House prodded. "Worried that you can't compare?"
"If I was so worried about that," he pressed right back, "I would have lied. Told I you slept with Cuddy just to scare you off."
"Then the problem is… "
Wilson raised an eyebrow. "What? Now you're the only doctor allowed to be curious?"
"You have a problem with me taking Cuddy out, or did that whole jealousy thing have some other cause?"
He sighed. "I don't have a problem with it, House."
"Uh-huh." Clearly disbelieving. "Don't worry if I don't come back until Saturday."
"More time for my party with the sorority sisters," he shrugged. He picked up the soda cup and shook it, jostling the ice cubes. "I'll try to clean up before you come home."
House eyed him for a moment, but his beeper went off before he replied. He glanced down at the display and stood again. "Gotta go. Don't have too much fun with the coeds."
"You can always join us," Wilson offered, eyeing House carefully. "If Cuddy gets boring, or my sage advice fails." He took a long drink from the soda.
"Sounds appealing. I'm almost tempted to go for it." House left the cafeteria toward the elevator.
===
On Friday evening, House was almost sick enough of the only tie he owned and could easily find to raid Wilson's collection. He had to have something decent in that mess. Looking would be too much trouble, though, and he just knotted the one he'd found. Wilson, lounging around on the couch, looked mildly tense. How interesting.
"It's a date with Cuddy," House informed Wilson. "Not like I'm asking her to marry me. Though based on your experiences with marriage, that wouldn't mean anything."
"If you asked her to marry you, I'd eat my ties," Wilson replied, and reached over to the coffee table to pick up the sports page. "Without salt."
"Now that's an interesting way to get rid of them," House remarked. "Maybe I'll buy a goat."
"Of course, that one would have to go with." He nodded towards the tie House had finished fiddling with.
House glanced down at the maroon material. "Stacy gave me this tie." He considered that statement. "Yeah, the goat can have it."
"Why, House? Keeping items for their nostalgic values?" Wilson ruffled the paper as he turned a page, smirking slightly. "Who knew?"
"My other option for ties is to borrow one from you, and that would be a bad move. She'd recognize it."
"And what? Want a threesome?" Wilson smirked again. "Sharing is caring."
"You're obsessed with this sex thing." House folded his collar down around the tie. "You want to come?"
Wilson snorted. "Why ruin your date when you can do it well enough on your own?" He shot House a dirty look. "And you're the one insisting you want to get laid."
"Which I do, and since I might not have to pay for it, I'm all for the date." House leered at him. "If I was getting offers that didn't require leaving my own home, that'd be even better."
"Invite Cuddy over here," he suggested, focusing back on his paper. "I can get lost for a night."
"She was very clear on the terms. I have to buy dinner, out at a restaurant, before she'll let me anywhere near her," House replied.
"And you agreed to it? Getting soft in your old age."
"Or she might be worth it. That's always possible."
"Never said there weren't people worth it." Wilson flipped another page of the newspaper, still not looking up.
House snorted. "What happened to not being jealous?"
Wilson sighed and let the paper fall enough that he could shoot House an exasperated look over the edge. "Now jealousy consists of stating facts? What next—breathing? Using words that start with the letter h?"
"Interesting letter choice," House remarked. "And you're being childish."
"Fine. Words that start with Q." Wilson folded up the paper and stood slowly. "What do you want from me, House? To lie about being jealous?"
House met Wilson's eyes. "Or tell me what it is you're jealous about, or at least what the problem is."
"The problem is that I need a beer," Wilson muttered, and dropped his gaze away as he turned to walk into the kitchen. "And for the last time, I am not jealous."
House followed him into the kitchen. "What, Doctor, is the differential diagnosis for sulking, reliance on alcohol, and refusing to look at someone?"
"I'm not the world-famous diagnostician in the room." Wilson set a beer on the counter and started poking around for the bottle opener. "You tell me."
"I'd say you're pissed at the person, but I don't know the why. Not for sure, anyway."
"Certainly isn't neoplastic." Wilson located the bottle opener and popped the cap on his beer with such force that it went skittering along the countertop. He muttered a curse under his breath and located it before finally looking up to meet House's unwavering gaze. "I'm not pissed."
House deliberately stepped into Wilson's personal space. "No, you always abuse defenseless bottlecaps like that."
"It had it coming. Did you see the way it looked at me?" He didn't step away from House, though his expression did tense slightly. "Just asking for it."
House set his hands on the counter to either side of Wilson. "Like how you've had this coming?" he asked, and kissed him.
The gesture was quick enough that Wilson didn't have time to plan his escape route until after House's lips were against his. He froze at first, eyes wide, before giving into the warm lips on his and reciprocating gingerly, almost cautiously.
House pulled back and smirked at Wilson. "Still going to tell me you're not jealous?"
Wilson blinked and then managed to recover enough to smirk shakily back at him. "Is that what happens every time I don't admit it?"
"If you're still gonna deny it, I'm going on this date."
"Turning down waiting breasts for me? Why House, I'm flattered."
"Turning down waiting breasts in favor of an ensured makeout session," House countered. "And possibly more. Unless, of course, you're not jealous, in which case I'm going with the breasts."
Wilson raised an eyebrow. "Some would call that counting your chickens before they're hatched."
"Some would not have seen your face after I kissed you."
Wilson tried his very hardest to look irked, which was betrayed by the touch of red in his cheeks and the smile touching the edges of his lips. "Too bad you don't have a mirror in the kitchen, then."
"That can be changed." House arched an eyebrow. "So that was a, 'Sure, House, go on the date,' I heard?"
Wilson met his eyes evenly. "Go on that date, and I will never forgive you."
House leaned in and kissed him again briefly, then dropped his hands from the counter and straightened. "Good reason not to go, then."
As much as Wilson was very obviously trying to hide his smile, the gesture failed. "So, what are you going to tell Cuddy?" he questioned, raising his beer bottle to his lips.
"I am going to tell Cuddy she owes me a week free of the clinic, and you are going to verify that." House smirked smugly.
Wilson blinked. "She what?"
House rolled his eyes. "There wasn't a date," he explained patiently. "She didn't think I'd have the balls to do anything about—" he gestured between them, "this, and since I won the bet, I get a week off the clinic."
An expression of pure disbelief crossed Wilson's face. "You lied just to get to me? House, I don't—" He frowned, stopping mid-sentence. "No, never mind. I completely believe it."
"You lied about being jealous," House returned. "I think we're even." He dug in his pocket for his cell phone.
"For once," Wilson murmured, but he was smiling. "Bastard."
"I like you, too." House found Cuddy's number in his address book and hit send, holding the phone to his ear.
Wilson snorted and sipped his beer. "How very middle school. Surprised you didn't pass me a note during class."
"We're back to that?" House half-listened to the ringing.
"You started it." Wilson smiled.
House was about to reply when the ringing stopped.
"Hello?"
"You owe me a week free." House leaned back against the edge of the counter next to Wilson.
"Yes, House. You're right. Let me buy you a Porsche, too." He could practically hear her rolling her eyes.
"Another fast car? I think you want me to get myself killed. Didn't think you'd believe me, though."
"I'm glad you at least know me that well. Only took you since med school."
House rolled his eyes. "I know you a little more than that well. He'll verify that I did something."
Wilson rolled his eyes and took another pull from his beer.
"And how do I know he'd not just lying to me, too?"
"You think he'd tell you I kissed him just to get me off clinic duty?" House snorted.
"Kissed him? No, probably not." She sighed, but her tone was touched by amusement. "Put him on. I have to hear this."
House handed the phone over to Wilson. "She thinks I'm making it up."
Wilson took the phone. "Hey, Cuddy," he said casually. There was a pause, and a tell-tale glance at the floor, before he shrugged. "He's not. I am seriously. He—yeah. Exactly." He flinched, and held the phone a few inches away from his ear. "Is it bad she's laughing?"
House grinned sardonically. "She's going insane imagining us as a couple and having to deal with us."
"Deal with you," Wilson informed him, handing over the phone. "You assume I'm easily swayed by the promise of your… " He gestured to House's cane. "Wood."
House looked Wilson up and down. "Did I say easily? It can be hard, too." He cradled the phone against his ear. "So, about that week… "
Cuddy's laughing died down, but it took a moment. "Tell Wilson he has my condolences," she said, "and take your week. Maybe now, you can drive him crazy instead of me."
"You're delusional." He let a hint of affection creep into his voice. "I told him you'd gone insane imagining dealing with us as a couple, and now you're proving it."
"I think I heard part of that conversation. Something about wood. And I don't expect you can convince Wilson into too many of your ridiculous schemes." She paused. "Well, too many more than normal."
"I haven't had sex at my disposal to sway him with before," House pointed out.
Wilson rolled his eyes. "I'm not that easily swayed," he repeated.
"And now, I no longer want to know. I'll let you boys do whatever it was you were planning to with your evening."
"I'll tell you all about it Monday." He hung up before she had a chance to say she did not want to know and certainly wouldn't listen, and turned to Wilson. "She concedes defeat."
"Guess there really is a first time for everything." He shrugged, but was still smiling slightly. "So, since you don't have a date and breasts waiting for you, what is the plan? Bad movies and beer I don't pay for?"
"That was the backup plan for a sex-free evening," House corrected him. "It can be adjusted as needed."
"Still so confident you're going to get laid?" Wilson retorted.
House leaned in and kissed him again, harder than before. "Did I say that?"
"Suggested it," Wilson replied, grinning at him. "I just wanted confirmation. Make sure we're on the same page."
House picked up Wilson's beer and took a swig. "Put on the bad movie and see what happens from there. At least you don't have to sleep on my ancient guest bed now."
"I haven't not watched a movie since high school," he remarked, grabbing his drink away. "And get your own beer. This one's mine."
"I paid for it," House argued, but opened the refrigerator and found another bottle. "Personal record, by the way."
Wilson, who had already started to move towards the living room, tossed a glance over his shoulder. "Personal record of… what? Driving Cuddy to insanity? Should I call the Guinness Book?"
"Only if you think a personal best for getting a lover to move in merits consideration." House popped the cap of his beer with far less force than Wilson had used. "You beat Stacy."
"If I was here before I earned the title, does it even count?"
"You were planning on moving out before. Somehow, I don't think you are now."
He smirked over his shoulder. "Let's get through tonight first," he suggested, his tone warm and fond. "We can argue about cohabitation in the morning."
House leered at Wilson, thinking that that might have been the best bet he'd made in some time, and followed Wilson out of the kitchen.
