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sentinelpri · 3 months

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Just A Prank

James Wilson finds himself flustered as he leans against the wall of the diagnostics conference room with two pairs of eyes piercing right through him; one dark blue and one dark brown. Chase sits on the edge of the large table while Foreman sits in House’s spinning chair. Cameron, who would usually put a stop to what is currently going on, is out sick with a stomach bug she caught from a patient, and House is… Well, House. It’s over half past noon but Wilson figures House will show up some time in the next hour

With the rare dynamic of just Chase, Foreman, and Wilson, odd things are bound to happen; such as Chase suggesting that Wilson randomly kiss House as some sort of… Prank. Were it anyone else being asked to do this, Wilson might encourage it. House isn’t used to any displays of affection these days, let alone used to being caught off guard by them, so someone walking up and kissing the guy without any warning would elicit a pretty good reaction. But Chase is insisting that he, James Wilson, be the one to do it- not Cameron or Foreman or Chase himself, because apparently, that would be wrong. No, it just has to be Wilson.

“And I have to be the one to do this because…?”

“Kissing someone without their consent isn’t something that most people take kindly to,” Foreman points out.

“And you think he would take kindly to me doing it?” Wilson asks. “Also, I have to point out that it’s really not fair or correct to lump House into the category of ‘most people’.”

“I don’t think he’d ‘take kindly’ to it, per se, but you two already treat each other like that all the time,” Chase argues with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Weird pranks, crossing boundaries, doing things to each other that would normally be friendship ending… It’d just be a normal Tuesday for the two of you.”

“That… Is still totally inappropriate. I mean, romantic fraternization with other hospital employees. It’s technically against hospital policy. Everyone might’ve encouraged the date with Cameron, but that’s a little different than me just going up to the guy and kissing him,” Wilson continues, his face burning bright red.

On a normal day, he’s not so easy to read or so easy to embarrass, but he’s never been able to help it when it comes to House. The thought of kissing the man he’s been in love with since 1999 makes his head spin. He shouldn’t even entertain the thought, but with the ‘prank’ that Chase is suggesting, he does sort of have an excuse…

“What, like he’s gonna report you to Cuddy? If you don’t wanna do it, that’s fine, but at least make your excuse a believable one,” Foreman scoffs. “You know as well as we do that the man wouldn’t report someone to her unless they stole his Vicodin. Anything else is fair game to House.”

At that, Wilson stumbles over himself and nearly hits the floor. He doesn’t know what to say. With a sharp breath, he sits in the chair across from where Chase is on the tabletop and crosses his arms over his chest.

“That may be true, but-”

“And c’mon, it’ll be priceless!” Chase laughs with a mischievous grin. Part of Wilson wants to laugh along with him. The other half of him wants to reach across the conference room table and smack Chase in the head for coming up with something so stupid (and so tempting). “Don’t you want to see his face?”

“I can’t imagine how pissed he would be, so no, not really,” Wilson crosses his arms. He can feel his own gaze darting around the room, probably to avoid making eye contact with Foreman and Chase. “Where the hell did you two even get this idea?”

Wilson nervously paces the room, running his hands through his wavy brown hair.

“It wasn’t my idea,” Foreman quickly spits out, dark brown eyes shooting to Chase, who offers a shrug in return.

“What can I say? I was thinking of more ways to screw with House and it was something that came to mind. I’d argue it’s one of my best ones yet.”

Wilson wants to do it. He’s been looking for an excuse to cross that line with House for years. He shouldn’t, because once he does it, there’s a chance he’ll never be able to go back. Better yet, there’s a chance Wilson will kiss House only for the older man not to give a shit anyways. That’s arguably the worst case scenario. Wilson knows that, if it were to happen, he wouldn’t be able to look House in the eye afterwards. Then, House would know. It would be a nightmare.

No matter how badly Wilson wants to grasp at this opportunity, he’s well aware it could backfire. He gathers what’s left of his willpower to refuse.

“No,” Wilson says, shaking his head.

He hopes that’ll be the end of it. Chase, however, remains persistent.

“Look, if Foreman and I aren’t enough to convince you, how about this? I’ll cover your clinic hours for a month.”

“I’m not House- I don’t mind working in the clinic and I’m caught up on my hours. It’s actually a nice reprieve from my day to day.”

With a sigh, Chase reaches into his wallet and pulls out two bills. He holds them out to Wilson. Foreman holds his head in his hands with an exasperated expression.

“...If covering your clinic hours isn’t enough to convince you, how about two hundred dollars?”

Wilson is an oncologist who makes hundreds of thousands of dollars a year. His debt from medical school is already paid off and he lives a comfortable life despite the three divorces and subsequent alimony payments he’s wracked up. Yet, with Chase so determined to convince him… No one can say he jumped at the opportunity to do this. House will probably just laugh it off- find it hilarious- love that someone was playing him at his own game by pulling a prank so inappropriate and controversial. It’ll be fine, and if it does go to shit, he can just pin the blame on Chase for coming up with the idea in the first place.

So, against his better judgment, Wilson agrees.

“Fine.”

He reaches out to take the money from Chase’s hand and shoves it into the front pocket of his white coat.

“Where do you think he’s at, anyway? He’s usually late, but not this late,” Foreman stands and gestures to the clock on the wall. It’s already almost one in the afternoon.

Knowing him, he’s probably in the cafeteria. He doesn’t have any cases today, so he showed up late to avoid clinic duty and made sure to time it so he wouldn’t get here until the start of his lunch break. He’s just using it to find out where Cuddy is so he can avoid her for the rest of his shift since she can’t make him work during his scheduled break,” Wilson explains. “If I were you guys, I wouldn’t count on seeing him much today.”

“Oh, I know we don’t have any cases, I didn't want to see him for work purposes. I’ve just gotta be there for the big moment,” Chase says while excitedly gathering his things so he can stand and head towards the door. “Well? What are we standing here for? Let’s go; to the cafeteria!”

“You know if he figures out you’re behind this, he’s going to have you covering his clinic hours and shining his shoes for the next year, right?” Foreman chuckles.

“Wait,” Wilson’s eyes flicker between Foreman and Chase, who are now standing by the door and peering back as if they’re waiting for him to join them. “You- you want me to go do this right now?”

“Yeah, duh,” Chase answers. “Now let’s go!”

Chase and Foreman both leave the conference room. Wilson, too stunned to respond, takes a moment to catch up and follow them to the cafeteria. When they arrive, it’s easy to spot House. The man is six foot two and gorgeous, so Wilson manages to pick him out of the crowd in seconds.

House walks by himself in the middle of the cafeteria with a tray of food lazily held in one hand and his cane in the other. His narrow shoulders are adorned with one of the many t-shirts he’s stolen from Wilson and his favorite leather jacket. Wilson’s heart skips a beat when House smiles. The man is probably thinking about some interaction he’s had today where he’s fucked with someone- just for the fun of it. Wilson hates that he’s so in love with that antagonistic side of House, hates that he’s head over heels for House despite years of the older man meddling in his personal life, pulling shitty pranks on him, teasing him, and generally screwing with him at each and every turn.

Maybe this prank isn’t such a good idea. But, as nervous as Wilson is, even he can admit that House deserves to be the one being messed with for once.

“Oh, do you see him?” Foreman says.

“I do,” Chase pipes up and nudges Wilson’s side with his elbow. “Well, what are you waiting for? That money wasn’t for nothing- go for it!”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. You owe me twice as much if he starts beating me with his cane for pulling this crap while we’re at work,” Wilson grumbles.

He breaks away from Chase and Foreman and goes up to House, who catches his eye and offers a smile. Wilson forces himself to smile back as House meets him in the middle of the cafeteria with his tray still in hand.

“Hey, Wilson,” House greets, a twinkle in his icy blue eyes. Wilson swallows the lump in his throat and stares back at his friend, who shamelessly eyes him up and down. “What, cat got your tongue? Or did you swallow sandpaper? Seriously, the face you’re making right now makes you look like a constipated-!”

Before House can finish, Wilson goes for it. He places his hands on House’s shoulders, screws his eyes shut, and gently presses his lips into House’s. The other man’s mouth tastes like coffee and Vicodin. It’s a bitter and terrible combination, but it’s House, and Wilson realizes that this may be the only chance he gets to experience it. He commits it to memory, savors it, loves it as if it’s the man himself.

Wilson expects House to pull away. It doesn’t happen.

Fine enough- he figures it’s out of shock, and that House will pull away in a few moments. Wilson is proven wrong when he hears House’s lunch tray clatter to the floor. Surely then, House should retract to pick up the mess. Again, it doesn’t happen.

His cane falls right after the tray, and Wilson gets ready to move, but he finds himself frozen in place when House grips him by the collar and drags him in to deepen the kiss. He moves his mouth against Wilson’s, chapped lips consuming the oncologist’s softer ones.

Wilson is snapped out of it when he hears gasps and whispers in the cafeteria. He jerks back so he can look up at House. There’s no mirror around, but if there were, Wilson is sure he would see that his face has paled with horror. He can’t so much as make eye contact with House.

And for a moment, House appears smug; shit-eating grin, raised eyebrows, and that familiar darkness that takes over his gaze when he feels like he’s won something. However, that smugness is quickly washed away when House scans Wilson’s face.

“It-” Wilson stutters, unsure of how to explain what he was doing or why he was doing it. Unsure of how to react to House kissing him. Unsure of why House kissed him back at all, but especially unsure of why House kissed him back so fast. He barely manages to force out the breathless words his brain jumbles together in its panicked state. “It was just a prank. Chase, he- he thought it would be a good way to mess with you, paid me two hundred dollars. I’ll give you the money, if you want…?”

The initial disappointment that laced House’s expression just seconds before transitions into hardened anger; the kind of ice-cold rage that he so brilliantly displays whenever he feels like he’s been betrayed by someone he trusted. It makes sense. Even in his anxious state, Wilson is thinking rationally enough to know he deserves it and should’ve expected it. After all, House has never taken well to any form of embarrassment.

Without saying so much as a word, House retrieves his cane and swiftly turns to exit the cafeteria, leaving Wilson to pick up the mess of his lunch tray while everyone else stares holes into him.

The next day, Wilson is an anxious mess. He went to House’s office multiple times after lunch yesterday and couldn’t find the man. He called and sent multiple texts, and each and every one was ignored whether it was to House’s office phone, flip phone, or pager. He hasn’t been able to find House in any of the clinic rooms, in the conference room that the diagnostics team uses, or in any of the staff offices including his own, but he knows House is there as the team is apparently working on a new case. House has just done a masterful job of avoiding him specifically.

Wilson quickly comes to the conclusion that House is angry; justifiably so. On top of being kissed in a group full of their patients and colleagues, Wilson also accidentally rejected him in front of said people by jerking away from House’s kiss as if it were the plague and loudly announcing that his initiating of the kiss was just a prank. It’s a miracle the man didn’t quit on the spot and move across the country following that kind of humiliation, because Wilson knows he would have if it were him.

Wilson feels awful about it. All he wants to do is get a hold of House so they can talk in person and clear up this misunderstanding. House put himself out there by kissing Wilson back, pretty much confessed his feelings as eloquently as he could without using actual words, and Wilson went and fucked it up with his panicked response.

The brunette is sitting in his office stewing about the kiss; partially wishing he hadn’t done it in the first place, partially praying for it to happen again. He has a thousand things he should be doing instead; writing a speech for an upcoming conference, emailing patients, looking at lab results for said patients, scheduling consults. Sadly, all he can focus on is House and how badly he wants to find the diagnostician and confess his feelings before this situation can get any worse.

Poor Cameron returned to work today and is clearly uncomfortable with the tension, Chase is amused by the whole thing to an annoying degree, and Foreman is so clearly fed up with all of them. Wilson wishes things would go back to normal- or at least not be like this any longer. It’s only been one day and he’s already exhausted by it.

He has a lunch tray sitting in front of him with a bag of chips and a scrambled egg bowl that he’s hardly picked at. In front of him also sits his laptop, which is opened to show his emai inbox. Before Wilson can start sifting through said emails, the glass door to his office is slammed open so hard he’s surprised it doesn’t shatter and break. He looks up to see House, who angrily hobbles in.

If the situation weren’t so tense, he’d find the whole thing comical; House’s evident anger, House’s childish avoidance of him, the fact that they kissed in the middle of the cafeteria.

“So, it was just a prank,” House says, his tone accusatory.

“Uh,” Wilson nods, takes a sip from his water bottle, and clears his throat. “Yeah. Why did you kiss me back?”

“Well,” House scoffs, eyes darting around the room. He stands in front of Wilson’s desk and impatiently taps his cane against the floor; something he does when he’s trying to come up with an excuse for something. As per usual when he’s been rejected or perceives a discussion as a conflict, he goes on the defensive. “Obviously, I was just playing into the bit. That’s all it was, right? A joke?”

“House, you don’t have to lie. The cat’s out of the bag for both of us now so it’s honestly kind of embarrassing for you to-”

“Now give me the chips on your tray,” House huffs and walks behind Wilson’s desk to stand right next to where he’s sitting. He snatches the chip bag off of the lunch tray in front of Wilson but remains standing so close that Wilson can smell the sandalwood laundry detergent he uses wafting off of his outfit. “I’ve got a case to work on, and this one isn’t a cancer patient, so it has nothing to do with you.”

“But I-” Wilson objects in hopes that House will listen to him enough for them to talk this through, only to quickly be interrupted.

“One more thing,” House pauses.

Wilson is optimistic that they’ll finally get to talk like he’s been wanting. Instead, House puts the chips down, grabs Wilson by the tie, and yanks him up for a kiss. Wilson barely has the time to register the taste of toothpaste and breath mints prior to House pulling away and taking the chip bag back from the desk.

“What the hell-”

“Oh, sorry about that! Try not to get your hopes up or anything,” House says in a mocking tone and feigns a pitying expression as he briskly heads towards the glass door with his cane in one hand and Wilson’s stolen chip bag in the other. “After all, it was just a prank.”

And then, House is gone.

Wilson slumps down into his office chair and lets out a long, heavy sigh. As tempting as it is, it’s best not to chase after House in the middle of the hospital- the jackass will embarrass him someway, somehow. His dark brown eyes land on his now half-empty lunch tray, and then on his open laptop.

“Fucking breath mints… He planned to catch me off guard by coming in here and pulling that, didn’t he? …God, I’ve got so much to do.”

Another day passes with no progress. Wilson was hoping the situation would smooth itself out naturally, but it seems as if House is still equally as pissed as he was the afternoon Wilson kissed him in the cafeteria, so he decides he’ll simply have to find House and sort it out himself.

Wilson knows better than to try and do this honestly. House raged and ran out on him at the hospital the other day, and then avoided him and treated him like shit yesterday. Every call and every text from Wilson has been ignored while House’s team says he’s still responding to them as usual.

So, Wilson brings a box with him to House’s apartment complex. He knocks on House’s door, sets the box down, and quickly hides a few feet away to avoid being seen through House’s peephole. The moment House opens the door to retrieve the surprise ‘package’, Wilson approaches. House quickly scoffs and tries to retreat inside to shut the door, but before he can pull it all the way closed, Wilson blocks it with his foot.

“Nice trick, Jimmy. If I weren’t filled with such unbridled rage and disdain for you right now, I might be impressed. Did you forget you have a spare key?”

“Okay, House,” Wilson starts. He doesn’t bother acknowledging House’s quip about the spare key that was, in fact, forgotten on his keychain. “You’ve been avoiding me and I think we’re just a tad overdue for a nice, long talk about this.”

“What’s there to talk about? You kissed me and I kissed you back. You’re not stupid, Wilson,” House rolls his eyes. Realizing that Wilson isn’t going to give up, House swings the door open and stares down at him. Wilson shrinks into himself. While House’s face doesn’t betray his emotions, his hands certainly do. One of them is gripping the doorknob so hard that his knuckles are burning white, while the other is braced against the wall his cane is propped up on. He’s upset; angry, still. “You know how I feel now. There’s no need for an exchange of words.”

“W-Well, I-”

“I can’t even be mad at you, you know. That’s the worst part,” House rambles. Without any indication that he’s going to do so, he storms into his living room, leaving the door wide open. Wilson takes it as an invitation and slinks into the apartment where he shuts the door behind him and takes his shoes off at the entryway. House continues his rant and plops down onto his brown leather couch. “Going and kissing someone as a prank- if I would’ve been in your shoes with Chase telling me to do something like that, I would’ve done it to fuck with you without getting paid. I would’ve jumped at the idea, reveled in it, found it fucking hilarious!”

Wilson blinks, still standing awkwardly in the middle of House’s entryway.

“Then why are you so mad?”

“Because I loved it! I stood there and made out with you like a teenager in the middle of the cafeteria,” House pauses, shakes his head, and pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger. “...And I loved it. You know I haven’t been able to solve the case we got yesterday morning because of you? Chase solved it before I did! All because I’ve been letting my brain rot by using it to replay that moment over and over again, thinking of what I could’ve done differently to save myself that kind of embarrassment. I kissed you back, only for the whole thing to be a fucked up joke. Do you know how that feels?”

“You’re saying all of this as if I didn’t also enjoy it,” Wilson spits. To his utter dismay and frustration, House’s icy blue eyes narrow in suspicion. The damn idiot doesn’t believe a word he’s saying; the kiss, the prank, it’s broken the trust that they so blindly had in each other before it happened. It’s turned their entire world upside down. “Seriously, House, you think I would’ve kissed you for enough money even if I really didn’t want to do it?”

“I don’t know what to think,” House whispers, low, almost as if he’s talking to himself. He crosses his arms over his chest and stares down at the ground. His cane is haphazardly dropped on the floor in front of his bare feet. “I never thought you’d kiss someone at your job like that, much less me, and yet…”

“I’d kiss you in front of just about anyone if you’d let me. Maybe I just like you that much,” Wilson offers. He manages to muster up a smile along with the courage to look House in the eye again. As House stops to process what he’s just said, Wilson slowly walks over and sits next to him on the couch. “And… Maybe the prank was an excuse to kiss you, just to see what it’d be like. I never imagined you’d reciprocate. I panicked and didn’t know what to do because I was caught off guard. Before I did it, I mulled it over and came to the conclusion you’d find the whole thing hilariously disgusting, assume it was just for the money, and we’d never talk about it again. I guess I only got one of those things right.”

“Your deduction skills aren’t the best. They never have been,” House snarks. The anger seems to leave his body as he deeply inhales and exhales. His arms fall into his lap, and much to Wilson’s relief, he smiles back. “At first, I hoped it was a genuine gesture. It’s out of character for you to act out something so dramatic in public, but I’ve felt this way for such a long time that I got my hopes up, so when you panicked… Well, I’m sure you get it.”

“Yeah,” Wilson nods and reaches out to hold one of House’s hands. Surprisingly, it’s the first time they’ve done this, but House intertwines their fingers as if it’s natural for them. Wilson could get used to the warmth that comes from House’s calloused thumb gently stroking the back of his hand. “I think I do, but… It was wrong of me to agree to do that in the middle of the cafeteria for my own selfish reasons. I should’ve manned up and told you how I felt on my own instead of using that stupid prank Chase came up with as an excuse to kiss you and gauge your reaction.”

“I’m not going to deny that. Still, though, are we going to sit here and pretend like I didn’t deserve it to some extent? I know I’ve run you through the wringer for a long time, Wilson,” House laughs and leans back into the couch, eyes now trained on the ceiling above them. “I’m sure the sadistic part of you that you refuse to admit is there got some sort of satisfaction out of making me miserable for a day or two.”

“Not really,” Wilson chuckles. House is staring at him now. It looks like he wants something- maybe like he wants Wilson to say something specific- but Wilson isn’t sure what it is. “I wanted to shock you, maybe, not make you scorch-the-earth pissed for two days. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“Well,” House smirks, icy blue eyes flickering to Wilson’s lips and then back up to meet the brunette’s gaze. “I do have one idea, but I’m afraid you may not be comfortable doing it without an audience; say, a cafeteria full of our patients and coworkers.”

Wilson scoffs and rolls his eyes, a fond smile taking over his face. He scoots closer to House and places his spare hand on the man’s thigh.

“Fortunately for you, I’m afraid you’re wrong- and yes, you are capable of being wrong.”

“Really? Then prove it.”

“Fine.”

With that, Wilson leans in and kisses House once again, the two men struggling not to grin against each other’s lips.

#james wilson #greg house x james wilson #gregory house #james wilson x gregory house #hilson fanfiction #hilson #house fanfiction #house x wilson #housemd #house md #oneshot #oneshots #drabble #drabbles

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barryroyco · 4 months

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what’s your favorite hilson fic you’ve ever read i need more (preferably not an au!)

#house md #james wilson #dr house #dr wilson #greg house #gregory house #hilson #house/wilson #hate crimes md #hilson fic #hilson fanfiction #house x wilson

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zambehnation · 10 days

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spreading love to all the house m.d. fanfiction writers out there. If I haven't followed you yet it's because I haven't found you yet. Drop your links in my inbox or wherever and I will read and leave kudos and comments and spam you here w love.

And for anyone leaving hateful comments on ao3, I wish you a good day, sir (I hope you stub your toe and it hurts like a motherfucker)

#hilson #house md #hate crimes md #hatecrimes md #hilson fanfiction

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housethemd · 2 months

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Good Morning

(Married House/Wilson, kid fic, takes place in the same universe as “Expect the Unexpected.”)

Wilson’s alarm goes off at 5:00am. Groaning, he rolls over to shut it off. He yawns, and runs a hand down his face. They stayed up far too late last night, but with three children age six and under the only time they get to themselves is after the kids are sound asleep.

Last night grown up time lasted until after midnight. Past Wilson hadn’t cared about the late hour as he made love to his husband, and while present Wilson is very tired he can’t quite bring himself to say last night was a bad idea. Gone are the days where they did whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, so it’s always wonderful when they take the opportunity to connect.

He rolls over a presses a kiss to the thinning hair on the top of his sleeping husbands head. House doesn’t stir, and Wilson finally finds the willpower to pull himself out of their warm bed. The hardwood is cold beneath his feet as he shuffles over to the other side of the bed to grab the baby monitor off House’s bedside table.

Over the years they’ve worked out an arrangement that seems to work for them most of the time. House handles the kids during the night - feedings, diaper changes, requests for glasses of water or giving comfort after bad dreams. House is usually up multiple times a night anyway because of his leg and he insists that getting up and moving helps. It was his idea for him to manage the kids at night.

Wilson handles the kids after 5am until their nanny comes at 8:00am. He has always been a morning person, so it’s much easier for him to manage the kids in the early morning while House has a couple hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Making his way into the kitchen he follows the smell of coffee. One of the best investments they ever made was a coffee pot with a timer, so now Wilson has freshly brewed coffee as soon as he wakes up every morning. Placing the baby monitor on the counter he pours himself a cup and takes a big sip, basking in the temporary silence.

Elijah, their nine month old, will be up soon. He is usually up around 5:30am, so Wilson wakes up at 5am to have a few minutes of quiet before the games begin. Shortly after Eli, Leah will wake up and trying to keep a three and half year old quiet so her other father can sleep is a monumental task every morning. Six year old Evan, love his heart, will usually sleep until someone wakes him up. Wilson will go in around 6:30am, or if House gets up around then and sees Evan’s door still closed he’ll go in and wake him.

Wilson looks around the house, the house they bought last year after the confirmation that they’d soon be a family of five. It took a lot of hunting to find a home that would suit their needs. They not only needed space for their family, but anyplace with stairs was an immediate no given House’s disability. In the end they’d found their five bedroom bungalow on the edge of downtown Princeton and now Wilson couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

The clock on the stove reads 5:21 when a cry comes from over the baby monitor, pulling Wilson from his reverie. He makes his way into Eli’s room, turning on the lamp on the dresser by the door when he enters. The cries stop when the baby sees his daddy, replaced by babbling.

“Dadadada!” He squeals happily from his spot sitting up in the crib.

“Hey Buddy.” Wilson coos to his son as he picks him up.

He presses a kiss to his son’s forehead, who grins up at him. His eyes are big and brown, identical to Wilson’s own. He still doesn’t have much for hair, but what he has is fine and brown.

A quick diaper change and it’s back out the kitchen for breakfast. His highchair is on top of a plastic mat that is supposed to be used for painting, but Eli has recently started feeding himself with a small spoon which is excellent for his motor development, less excellent for the cleanliness of the kitchen floor.

Today’s breakfast is oatmeal and mashed banana. The baby chews a teething toy from the freezer as Wilson prepares his breakfast. He babbles intermittently, which results in Wilson babbling back.

Eli is only half way through eating and spilling his breakfast down his bib, the tray, and onto the floor when Leah appears in the kitchen. She is slow to wake up, and always has the most adorable grumpy face in the mornings. She’s wrapped her purple baby blanket around her like a cape, and just stares at her father like he can read her mind. Something he swears she learned from House.

“Good morning Sweetheart.” He says softly.

“Want peanut butter toast.” She demands. Something Wilson also swears she learned from House.

“How do we ask nicely?” He responds gently.

“Want peanut butter toast, please.” She tries again.

He’ll take it.

By 6:30 the dishes from breakfast round one are in the sink, and he’s got Eli dressed and playing in his excersaucer in the living room. He manges to work through the daily outfit drama when dressing Leah (who knew a three and a half year old could be so picky about their clothes) before he hears the sound of Evan’s bedroom door opening.

He sticks his head out from Leah’s room to catch him on his way by while Leah fights with her socks.

“Good morning, I’ll be out in a sec to make something for you for breakfast.” He smiles at his oldest.

“Okay Daddy.” He says with a stretch and a yawn.

A shrill screech sounds from behind him, and Wilson turns rapidly only to see Leah throwing her socks across the room.

“Hey hey, if you are having trouble with something you can ask for help. There is no need to throw things or yell.” Wilson says softly but sternly.

He’d dreaded the terrible two’s when Leah had turned that age, because Evan had been a struggle at that age. However Leah had been more or less a pleasant two year old. He’d thought that meant they were in for relatively smooth sailing but then he’d learned a new term - threenager.

He loves his little girl more than words could say, just as he loves all his kids but mornings are hard with her right now. There is usually at least one tantrum and he has to try and calm her down before she wakes House while still teaching better ways of dealing with big feelings.

The sound of a cane hitting the floor in the hall mean he’s been unsuccessful this morning.

“The socks didn’t feel right.” Leah informs him, looking up with her big brown eyes.

“Okay, well next time how about you let me know right away, and Daddy will get you different socks.” He says, reaching into her sock drawer to pull out a different pair.

He thought he’d selected her current favorite socks, but apparently her favourite had changed. Once the new socks are approved and on her feet Wilson presses a kiss to her head.

“How about you go play in the living room? I’m going to go get Evan his breakfast, okay?”

Leah nods, and grabbing a couple toys from her room heads to living room with Wilson not far behind.

When he makes in to the kitchen House is leaning on the counter with Evan sitting on the countertop next to him. They are both eating pop-tarts.

“Hi Daddy. Papa let me have one of this pop-tarts!” The boy enthused.

“Did he now?” Wilson replies, eyeing his husband.

“Thought I’d give you hand and feed our oldest” House says, taking a large bite out of the corner of his pop tart.

Wilson can’t help but smile. They try not to feed the kids overly surgery breakfasts, on school days at least, but he can’t bring himself to be frustrated. In fact he wishes he had the camera close by. Watching House and his 6 year old doppelgänger smile and laugh over pop tarts is so blissfully domestic and mundane that it melts Wilson’s heart.

Wilson approaches to press kisses to both their foreheads.

“Run and get dressed when you’ve finished eating, okay?” He directs his son.

“And you, give me a bite of your pop tart.” He says to his husband, stepping close to wrap his arms around his middle.

“I’m sorry, this is my pop tart.” House says innocently, holding the sweet monstrosity as far away from Wilson as he can.

“Hmm yes and we are married. That means anything that’s yours is legally half mine, and I want my portion.” Wilson cajoled, reaching to try and snatch the treat from House’s hand.

There is a brief scuffle that ends in Wilson managing to snap a corner off the pop tart and triumphantly popping it into his mouth. House glares at him while he eats it, but once he’s finished House gives him that crooked smile and Wilson can’t help but lean in and press a firm kiss to his lips.

“You guys are weird.”

Evan, who is still seated on the counter after finishing his breakfast, eyes them warily. He wasn’t quite to the age where he was grossed out by his parents affection, but he had started commenting on their more unusual antics.

“Proudly! I hope someday you find a man and/or woman to be this weird with. Now, go get dressed before Wendy gets here.” House directs, moving around Wilson to lift Evan off the counter and safely back down to the floor.

“You know I can jump down, right?” Evan says when House has him under the armpits.

“Yes, I know. But it’s a little to early in the morning to give Daddy a heart attack, okay?” House says, ruffling Evan’s dark curls.

Evan laughed, “Okay Papa.” And scurries off to his bedroom.

“Man and/or woman?” Wilson questions.

“Yeah well, you never know what the kid might grow up to be into. Wouldn’t want to be heteronormative.” House jokes.

Wilson can’t help but laugh.

“Now, where were we?” House purrs.

House leans against the counter and grabs Wilson by his belt loops, pulling him to stand in the space between his legs. Wilson happily lets himself be guided and meets House’s lips with a deeper kiss this time. Wilson was about to introduce his tongue to the equation when a loud noise came from the living room, immediately followed by the piercing cry their nine month old.

Both Wilson and House were in the living room in a second. Leah stood with wooden blocks surrounding her feet, looking slightly guilty, and Elijah was in his excersaucer bawling his head off.

With a glance to one another, they made the silent decision to divide and conquer. Wilson went to Eli, scooping him up and bouncing him while making a litany of soothing sounds.

House went to Leah, pushing blocks out of the way so he could sit on the floor at her level.

“Sorry Papa. I wanted to build a really really really big tower but I knocked it over. I didn’t mean to make Eli cry.” She said, batting her eyelashes in a way Wilson knows House is weak for. Their little girl truly has him wrapped around her finger.

“I know you didn’t mean to, but mornings are for quiet play, right?” House says, attempting to be stern.

“My tower was quiet.” She said.

“Yes, right up until it fell over. That’s why we don’t make big towers in the morning, right? Because they usually fall down. You are lucky none of the blocks hit Eli, but you scared him pretty bad.” House gestured to where Eli was still whimpering in Wilson’s arms.

“I made the tower far enough away so even if it fell it wouldn’t hit him.” She informs House. God, was she ever House’s daughter.

“I’m glad you thought of that, but there is still a rule against big towers in the morning, right?” House says, shooting her a serious look.

“Right. I’m sorry.” She says, looking appropriately contrite.

Wilson smiles at the scene before him. It’s not that he enjoys his daughter getting scolded, but that House does it so gently. When he and House got married he thought he couldn’t possibly love him anymore than he did in that moment. But parenting with House, while at times difficult as parenting always is, has ultimately made him love his husband even more.

Eli had calmed down now, and while House helped Leah pick up all the blocks and put them away Wilson glanced at his watch. 7:45am.

“Shit, House, we are leaving in 15 minutes. Leah, sweetie, you’ll have to pick up your blocks yourself. Papa needs to get ready for work.” Wilson says, and shoos House out of the living room and down the hall to their bedroom.

Wilson manages to hold the baby and help Leah pick up the blocks because it is truly a lot of blocks. How he didn’t notice what she was doing when he went to the kitchen was beyond him.

He puts Eli in his swing and turns it on. Soon he’s going to be to big for it, Wilson laments. He puts on the TV, Blues Clues playing and gets Leah settled on the couch just in time for there to be a knock on the door before it opens and Wendy, their nanny, walks in.

“Hello Wilson-House’s!” She greets, and Leah runs over to her, as does Evan who has reappeared from his room dressed for school.

Wilson leaves her to greet the children and goes in search of his husband. He finds House in the bedroom dressed in faded jeans and a black Motley Cru t-shirt. He’s pulling a navy blue button up over it, his usual work outfit.

“About ready to go?” Wilson asked.

They are driving in together this morning, as this evening is Evan’s parent-teacher night. They make a point to attend these things together, they are already a unique family and they want to show they are every bit as happy and functional as any other.

“Yeah, ready.” House grabs one of his sport coats off the back of the door and picks up his cane from where it was leaning on the wall.

They walk out to the living room where Wendy has Evan and Leah on either side of her on the couch, and Eli is still happily batting at the toys attached to his swing.

They say goodbye to each kid individually, each getting a hug and a kiss and an “I love you, have a good day.” Wilson is endlessly thankful that they can do this without tears for the moment. Nothing prepared him for the heartbreak of having to leave his crying child while he went to work, and he knows House felt the same. He knows they are in for another period of it. There is a good chance when Eli gets to be a toddler he’ll go through a phase of not wanting Daddy and Papa to leave, but they’ll get through it just like they did with Evan and Leah.

They make it to Wilson’s Volvo. They both just breathe for a minute, taking in the silence. Wilson turns to House, placing his hand on House’s thigh.

“Good morning.” He says, for the first time yet this morning.

“Good morning to you too.” House laughs.

#housethemd writes #house md #james wilson #hate crimes md #greg house #hilson #dr house #dr wilson #wilson x house #house/wilson #gregory house #house md fanfiction #hilson fanfiction #hilson kid fic #kid fic

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evesmascarade · 2 years

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how many people would read a chute from Wilson’s pov where he shows up to work with a new tie and House drives himself bonkers trying to find out who got it for him, and he has to keep visiting Wilson claiming that his patient has got cancer (patient is simultaneously deteriorating fast and team #2 is violently disconcerted by house’s lack of interest in any diagnosis’ not involving some form of ontological wonder) when it was actually just a set-up to see how far House’s irritability-masked-jealousy would go, meaning Wilson got the tie just to mess with his head and prove an already widely-accepted confirmation of House’s burning desire for James Wilson. They might be kissing and cuddling by the end idk.

cause i couldn’t sleep last night and wrote three thousand words of medically incorrect excellence and am wondering whether it’s worth it if I finish this for real.

#house md #hilson #house and wilson #fanfiction #house md fic #hilson fanfiction #hilson fic #james wilson #gregory house #hugh laurie #robert sean leonard #why do i do this to me #let me know tho #i literally want to die for them #adorable middle aged gay men in sexuality crisis’ is in fact very much adorable #puppy dog eyes wilson but he’s just cunning #house doesn’t like being fooled but he internally loves that wilson would go to extremities to fool the unfoolable

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weird-an · 1 month

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"What is it?" House asks, almost yelling. "The names of your wives in little hearts? The FIGO classification of your favorite tumor? The ugly white cat? Or Garfield?”

“Nothing like that.” Smugness is, unfortunately, a good look on Wilson.

House takes another fry and points it at the other man like a gun.

“Tell me,” he demands.