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baconpncakes · 1 year

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I thought too hard about the season 8 photoshoot a while ago and wrote this...

---

House looked at his reflection in the fitting room mirror. The suit was fine. It looked like any other suit did on him, albeit with a ridiculously high price tag. Maybe he'd look better when he was standing next to Wilson.

Not sparing himself a second glance, House pulled back the curtain and revealed himself to Thirteen, who sat alone on a wide couch where countless weepy mothers and bored groomsmen had no doubt sat before her. He didn't even bother to step in front of the large mirror beside the fitting room.

"Well," he asked. "What do you think?"

"I think it looks great on you. But I think you look miserable in it."

House shrugged.

"If it was up to me we wouldn't even be having a wedding."

"That's not true."

"It's at least half true."

When House asked Wilson to marry him, he was expecting the two of them to go to the courthouse, sign some paperwork to make their civil partnership legal, and then drag Cuddy to HR with them to make sure they didn't miss anything in making it all above board.

His plans changed when Wilson began lamenting how little say he'd had in his weddings. He and Julie had decided to elope, it being his third marriage and her second, and his weddings with Sam and with Bonnie were about the bride. He got to weigh in on colors and food, but he never got to choose flowers or venues or countless little things that his fiancees assumed he wouldn't care about. He said that if he and House did have a ceremony, it would be something that they could do together.

And how was House supposed to say no to that?

"Okay, yeah. It's probably a little true," Thirteen relented. "Why don't you try something else?"

House sighed and stepped out into the store.

It was an unconventional shop, a combination of bridal and menswear. He and Wilson picked it so that House could get a suit and Thirteen could scope out groomsmaid dresses for herself and Cuddy.

House was looking at the suits with the same lack of enthusiasm he'd started with, when Thirteen's phone rang. It was Chase, she said he was finally on his way and needed help finding the place. She stepped out to give him directions.

House scanned the rows of tuxedos and three-pieces and his gaze landed on the dress display. He'd been stealing glances since he came in, trying and failing to ignore it. But now that Thirteen wasn't here and the attendant was nowhere to be seen, House let himself investigate. He picked up the dress that had caught his attention. It was pure white, with a lacey top and wide lace straps to match. It had folds at the waist and a short train with a spot to gather it in the back.

Oh, what the hell.

House looked through the rack, found the size that seemed most like it would fit, and took it to the changing room. He removed the suit and with a slow carefulness he hardly showed outside of the operating room, he put the dress on.

He knew that typically you were supposed to have someone help you with this kind of thing, but fortunately there was a side zipper and he didn't have to deal with a million little buttons on his back.

Finally daring to face himself. House took a step back and braced for impact. He looked in the mirror and there he was. His cropped, gray-brown hair, scruff that he'd need to shave soon. And a wedding dress.

He exhaled.

The dress showed off his arms and shoulders. Even his chest hair peeking out from the neckline felt... right.

He felt right.

This must be how you're supposed to feel about yourself on your wedding day.

The little bell on the shop door rang.

"Chase will be here any minute now!"

The illusion shattered. Suddenly, House felt sick to his stomach. He wanted to throw up, hyperventilate, or both.

He shouldn't want this. Thirteen shouldn't see him like this, nobody should.

"Ready with the next suit?"

He willed his voice to come out: "I got something else on."

"Great. Let's see it."

He should just tell her it doesn't fit. Put the dress on a hanger and act like it was on the hook when they came in. He should ask her to grab him another suit and put the whole thing behind him. He's lucky the attendant hasn't come back yet, he was rude enough to drive her off for a while but how long have they been here? How long until she gets back or sends someone else in? He needs to get out of this dress.

"House?"

Fuck it.

House squared his shoulders, turned from the mirror, and opened the curtain again.

"What do you think?"

Thirteen just blinked at him.

Oh god, he never should have done this, she's going to think it's a joke, she's going to roll her eyes and that's fine, he can make a comment about being the fourth and final Mrs. Wilson and get on with his life, get back to the blazers and handkerchiefs and ties and all of the dreadful things he refuses to wear on the best of days.

"That cut looks great on you."

"What?"

"The cut of the dress. It's a great shape for you."

"Oh."

House looked down at the gown. He couldn't help but agree.

"Do you want to try on another one?" She asked.

House barely resisted clutching the skirt by where his hands hung.

"No," House said flatly.

"Okay," she said. "Do you want to go back to suits? Or do you want me to grab a veil and see how it looks then?"

There was no laughter in her voice, no humor in her expression.

House looked away from her and nodded stiffly.

House stepped onto the platform in front of the massive mirror. He didn't look into it.

Thirteen came back with a simple white veil.

"It's a comb. Can I put it in your hair?"

House nodded again, leaning down so that she could reach his head.

Thirteen adjusted the veil so that it lay behind him. For the first time since they came in, she smiled at him.

"You look amazing."

House turned back to the mirror and stifled a gasp.

He did look amazing.

He looked beautiful. He looked handsome. He looked exactly how he wanted to look on his wedding day.

He looked long and hard at himself and had to choke back a sob.

Thirteen jumped, her eyes wide.

"Hey!" She guided him to sit on the sofa. "Hey, it's okay."

House swallowed another sob and accepted the tissue she handed him. He dried the tears that had collected around his eyes and heaved a sigh.

"I wish I could wear this to my wedding," he said quietly.

"Why can't you?"

House looked at her like he often did during a differential– as if she was a complete moron.

"Yeah. I'll walk down the aisle like this, so everyone can laugh. Completely humiliate Wilson, ruin his perfect wedding, and make sure everyone thinks that I'm not taking this marriage seriously."

Thirteen laughed humorlessly, a little disbelieving.

"It's your wedding too! And Wilson's not going to want to see you coming down the aisle looking miserable!"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I can wear a suit and not look miserable. Like you said, it will be my wedding after all."

"But it won't be what you want!" She steeled her voice that way she always did when House or Chase or Foreman or Taub is being contrary.

"Who cares what I want?" He matched her, frustration rising.

"Do you even hear yourself?"

House huffed. "What I want is to marry Wilson. I agreed to a small wedding with our friends and his brothers and my mom. We'll break glass, we'll dance, we'll be emotionally vulnerable in front of people we'd normally never let see us like that. We'll be married; that's what I want."

Thirteen nodded slowly, turning something over in her head.

"Chase will be here in a few minutes. Will you at least show him?"

House rolled his eyes.

"Fine. But you can't prep him beforehand. I need to see an honest reaction, not a man who's been threatened into not laughing."

"Deal."

---

When Chase did arrive, bagels and coffee in hand as an apology, House was back in the fitting room with the curtain drawn.

"Found a dress yet?" He asked, taking a seat on the bench and setting down their breakfast.

"Think we might have."

House could hear the smirk in her voice from behind the curtain.

He took a deep fortifying breath and pulled it back.

Chase stared up at him with wide, blinking eyes. The look that Cuddy says reminds her of House and Wilson combined. House didn't dare back down. Slowly, Chase took in the sight before him, from top to bottom. Thirteen sat beside him, acting as impassive as possible.

After a moment, Chase spoke.

"That suits you unfairly well."

Tension broken, House exhaled a laugh, trying to catch the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. He shouldn't be surprised when Chase actually knows how to read a situation, but somehow he usually is.

"You'd probably need it taken in a bit in some areas. I don't think it's off-the-rack ready," Chase continued.

"Would you wear dress shoes or sneakers?" Thirteen asked.

House mulled it over.

"I was going to wear dress shoes if I wore a suit. But if I wear a dress, then it doesn't matter and I can wear something more comfortable."

The pair nodded. This was going too well, there had to be a catch somewhere.

"If you lie to me, you're fired," House started again, this time in his let's-get-down-to-business-a-patient-is-dying voice.

Chase put his hands up in surrender. Thirteen crossed her legs and raised an eyebrow.

"...Do you really think I can get away with this?"

"What is there to get away with?" Chase asked.

"Can I wear a dress to my wedding without people thinking it's a joke?"

"Not to sound insensitive," Chase ventured, "but do you actually care whether or not people think it's a joke? If you like how you look, what does it matter if people think it's just House being House?"

He thought about it. Everyone at their wedding would be a friend. They all know how much he and Wilson mean to each other. And they all know that House is dramatic, that he loves to be the center of attention. So what if they don't entirely get it. As long as Wilson does.

"Okay," House said. "Let's find the nice attendant that I scared away."

---

This was definitely a mistake.

He and Wilson had agreed that they would do a first look before the ceremony, get to see each other without the audience and then take a few pictures with their wedding parties. House paced the empty room where Cuddy would soon be delivering Wilson. If this went poorly, at least he had a backup. He refused to go to the venue without having a formal suit just in case. In case he decided to change for the reception, or walking with a cane and a skirt came to be too much. Or Wilson hated it.

Logically, he knew that Wilson would not hate it. That Wilson wants him to be happy with the ceremony and look and feel good. Logically, there was no reason to assume that Wilson would react poorly, this was the man he was going to marry. Still, House can't help but plan for the worst.

He was ready to call it off altogether, text Foreman to bring him his suit and beg off Wilson for another ten minutes while he changed, when there was a knock on the door.

No turning back now.

Wilson opened the door and looked up at him. His jaw dropped.

House smiled.

"Happy wedding day," he said, fighting back laughter at Wilson's cartoonish expression.

"House, holy shit."

This time he did laugh.

"What do you think? You did say I was going to be a bridezilla, afterall."

"That I did," Wilson laughed a little and shook his head, approaching House and putting a hand on his waist.

"You look incredible."

"You're not so bad yourself," House preened.

And man did he mean it.

Wilson always looked stellar in formalwear, which had made it hell for House to sit through his wedding with Bonnie, standing there next to him as his best man, not realizing that the reason he was so bitter is that he was in love with the groom.

"So you're okay with the dress?" House asked, hardly believing how worried he had been about how Wilson would react.

"Okay with it? Greg, I'm about ready to call off the wedding and elope again just to get out of here sooner."

"I'm game if you are," House whispered conspiratorially.

"No, absolutely not. We are not going to piss everyone off by not showing up to our own wedding."

"But that's half the fun of it," House whined.

Wilson chuckled and took House's hand.

"Thank you for doing this," he said quietly.

House smiled back, equally soft.

"I'd never pass up the chance to see you in a tux. And to show all these losers that you're mine," he said, deciding that the tender moment was over.

But Wilson's expression didn't change.

"You ready to face the hoard?" Wilson asked, jerking his head to the door.

"As I'll ever be," House allowed Wilson to guide him out of the room.

#this is kind of ooc #mostly house crying #but if you look at the pictures #his eye makeup is running #so he had to cry lol #anyway exactly one person asked for this #*blows a kiss* for vade #hilson #hate crimes md #house md #my post #my writing #fanfiction

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