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House sat down in the exam room, he was careful, as usual. Wilson paused at the entrance, noticing the patient he was attending to.
They were in the clinic, and surprisingly, it wasn't empty.
“The play, interested?” The voice is able to reel the oncologist out of his own head, causing him to blink a few times.
“Uh, sure. You want me to pick you up?” His face bears a decent amount of suspicion, as it always does around House.
“I'm not going.”
“You said two tickets.”
House rolls his eyes, exasperated. “You thought this was a date?”
By this point, Wilson's fumbling for words.
Thankfully, the attention's diverted to the patient now. But the next few words spoken by the two men in front of him are converted into senseless background noise as he processes what just happened.
He did want it to be a date.
Of course, reasonably, it was hard to stay with the madman for such a long time without developing any sort of feeling. Fondness, friendship, loyalty.. love.
He snaps out of it, doing the usual and kidding with himself in his head that it's just something not too far from Stockholm syndrome, preparing to leave. Just not without messing around trying to find a suitable position to announce his departure.
“I.. I- I really should..” He's already berating himself already for seeming so awkward, maybe he hasn't snapped out yet, thankfully House cuts in by pulling the tickets from his pocket.
“..You want the tickets or not?”
A sigh falls from his mouth, Wilson does want to insist on going with the other, through all their years together though, he still hasn't found a way to spend some quality time together without being hyperanalyzed and called out on his little habits.
“Why don't you wanna go with me?”
“It's a play.” Commenting as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, “Dudes only go to plays if they're dragged by women they're hoping to see naked.”
He pushes the tickets into Wilson’s hands.
“So– Why are you giving them to me?” He struggles with the tickets, almost like they were soap in his hands.
“Maybe there’s someone you wanna see naked.” He shrugs, before returning to his comfortable position on the chair.
“Um– my stomach–” House's patient attempts to interject, but his words trail off as Wilson takes a more confident stance between the doorframe, a smug expression on his face like he's about to pull off the smoothest line in the world.
“Then,”
He stuffs a ticket back into the older man’s hand.
“Let’s go? I can pick you up after I get off my shift.” A charismatic declaration that finally stumped House's ever-so-stern disposition.
This was.. an unexpected turn of events, to say the least. Even Wilson himself didn't know what he was saying. It was all quite a spur of the moment.
House's gaze was still intent on Wilson, or rather, the ticket in his hand.
“Fine.” He grumbles, taking the ticket, but not sounding too displeased with the proposal.
When the two finally separated, of course, Wilson was left simmering in his head, reflecting on the almost fantastical chain of events that just transpired. Stopping just inches in front of the elevator, peering down at his hands, he didn't even realize how shaky and sweaty they were.
He definitely had it horribly for this man. No matter how standoffish and intrusive he was, he couldn't help but adore just how.. unique, he was. He was a fresh change from his usual dull daily cycle. Sure, he drove him crazy, but he didn't bore him. He gave him the kind of excitement in his life he's too scared to admit he enjoys.
Once the steel doors opened, he stepped off and on his way to his office. Did the handle always feel this cold?
He spent his time signing paperwork, reading, and pacing in his office. On each paper, his signatures began to get messier as he sunk deeper and deeper into his own thoughts.
Eventually, he settled with staring into a small mirror and fixing his tie. It wasn't necessary to risk his quality of work over a silly little date. Nerves really just do that to you. Was it even a date? They never clarified that. Surely it was already heavily implied. House isn't one to miss out on a cue. Especially that this play they were headed to was definitely romantic, he thought to himself as he read the title on the paper.
Romeo and Juliet.
Wilson groans and sticks his face in his hands. Inviting him to a play that he definitely wouldn't even like? What a horrible first impression, romantically, atleast.. A horrible habit the poor doctor had was to ruminate over conversations, replaying every moment and dissecting what he could've done wrong.
He gulped, suddenly, he wasn't all debonair as he was earlier– Now he was a tangled overthinking mess, not unlike a teenage boy asking out his crush to prom.
For better or for worse, the clock in his office struck five. Had he really simply passed by three whole hours just sitting in his chair and thinking about every outcome this could hold for them? Maybe.
—
The warmth of the car seat from sitting out under the sun didn't even bother him, too busy at the prospect of ruining a friendship that he valued so deeply.
Driving down to the familiar building, his knuckles had acquainted themselves with the wood of House's door so well already,
“House?” Calling out, he pauses as he watches the handle turn.
“I'm here. Let's go.” Those words at first didn't even begin to make contact with his ears, from the moment the figure behind the door was revealed, he was starstruck, awestruck, every kind of struck. The taller man actually seemed, well-kempt. His button-up was, for once, buttoned up. The fact he cared enough about this to keep up his appearance just meant a lot to him, and it definitely did provide some reassurance.
“Stare all you want, just make sure you don't do that in the car.” He feels a dull tap on his head from the cane, and the nerves just seem to melt away, Wilson forgets they were even ever there. He smiles sheepishly at the comment, before heading into the car and buckling his seatbelt.
“So. Um, I just wanted to ask..”
“Don't worry, that kid was just getting overdosed on hormones.” House interrupted him, pushing him off of his train of thoughts for just a few seconds.
“No- no, um. Is this.. a date?”
Silence followed, the both of them failing to meet the other's gaze.
“..Yes.” One of the very few times the great and confident Gregory House ever seemed to be flustered. It was a good look on him, gentle and vulnerable, a side of him that he didn't just show off carelessly.
“Oh, good then– so it's a date. Okay, that's what I thought.” He raised his eyebrows briefly and stared off to the side, his excitement wasn't very well hidden. The feeling in his stomach twisted from a second heartbeat in the gut into a soft flutter of butterflies.
Across the driver's seat, House was looking at him fondly, those usually harsh and calculating blue eyes softened, though you couldn't torture the information out of him, it was routine for him to give such glances to the other doctor whenever he was sure he wouldn't be seen.
The engine hummed faintly, a quiet and intimate moment between the both of them. A soft and almost impenetrable silence. The sky ahead was a bright yellow bleeding into a deep scarlet, a sign of the passing time.
“Come on, we'll be late!” House ushers rather loudly as if he hadn't just been wooed by the awkward demeanor of the oncologist, fixing himself back into place
“Okay, okay!” Wilson playfully replies, that big stupid smile on his face. It was a nice smile.