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07 January 2013 @ 10:27 pm
House, M.D., Fiction: "Carpe Caveat" (House/Wilson, PG)  
Title: Carpe Caveat
Fandom: House, M.D.
Author: HalfshellVenus
Characters: House/Wilson (Pre-slash, Humor)
Rating: PG
Summary: Wilson seizes an opportunity before he even realizes what he's doing.
Author's Note: A late Yuletide-related treat for Kass, whose other fandoms were not so familiar to me.

x-x-x-x-x

"Do you know what I like?" House asked. It was the middle of a rainy afternoon, and the doctor's lounge was empty but for House and Wilson, and two stale bagels on a plate.

Wilson's brow furrowed of its own accord. "Besides non-sequiturs?"

"No, you idiot," House said. He searched inside the fridge for other food options.

"Calling people 'idiots'," Wilson suggested.

"No! Actually, yes, but that's not the point."

"What is the point, House?"

"I like people who keep their promises. That's the point."

Wilson sighed. "What's Cuddy done now?" Not that he blamed Cuddy— her actions were usually justified. If there even was anything to blame. But with House, he knew she was the most likely source of resentment.

"What Cuddy? I'm talking about Chase."

"Of course you are."

House's eyes narrowed, and he put down the table knife he was holding. "Don't pretend you don't know."

"Oh, for God's sake, House!" Wilson said. "What in the hell are you even talking about?"

"He promised me a date. And he hasn't mentioned it since."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "You know you don't want to go out with Chase. And he doesn't want to go out with you, either."

"Irrelevant. A promise is a promise."

"You must have misunderstood."

"He used the puppy-dog eyes and that roguish Aussie smile, and he suggested going clubbing."

"Oh." Wilson's stomach suddenly felt uncomfortable. He searched for a distraction. "You mean, clubbing as in dancing? Maybe he realized the idea was offensive, and he was too embarrassed to take it back. Or to follow through..."

"He could have been talking about going to a jazz club," House insisted.

Wilson laughed. "Chase? His generation thinks jazz is for dead people."

"Are you saying it's not?"

Wilson waved him off. "I am not having this conversation."

"Anyway, the real question is, where to go from here?" House said, rifling through the cupboards for hidden snacks. "Hound him until he asks again? Or just because it's fun?"

"If you really want to go out and listen to live jazz, the two of us could go," Wilson suggested. "It'd be a lot easier."

"Well, of course, but—"

"Sonny Rollins is playing in Newark this weekend."

House stopped moving. "Rollins? Huh. I haven't heard him in concert since the 90s. Dude was amazing."

"I'm sure he still is," Wilson said.

House nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah. Let's do it."

"I can get tickets for Friday night..."

"Why not?" House said. He checked his watch—four minutes to get to the ObGyn lounge before his soap opera started . "My minions can supervise themselves. I'll give them a couple hours' warning, because I'm awesome like that."

"Sounds good," Wilson agreed, watching House work his way out the door, cane and all.

He'd surprised himself, asking House out like that, even if House didn't realize the invitation could be taken that way. Wilson wasn't sure what he wanted from this thing with House either, but he considered it the relationship-equivalent of experimental surgery. He'd take a shot at it, see what he learned, and decide what to do after that. At worst, he'd spend an evening at a performance he wanted to hear anyway.

He just hoped Chase's offer had been the result of some misguided bet with Foreman or Cameron. House had an amazing talent for complicating every possible situation, and given Wilson's lack of experience in dating men or House… the last thing he needed was random competition.


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