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It started, as it always did, with a phone call. House had long sworn off answering their landline so Wilson was the one to talk with House’s mom and make plans for dinner. He let House know straight away, of course, so House had plenty of time to come up with a plausible excuse.
That was a week ago.
“You are aware that we’re having dinner with your parents tonight, right?” Wilson asks as they sit down for lunch in the cafeteria.
“Yup.” House casually reaches over to take some of Wilson’s fries.
Wilson doesn’t stop him. “And you’re still in the state?”
“Yup.” House says while stuffing his mouth full.
“You’re not, are you?” Wilson sighs. “You’re in the Bahamas right now and you’ve left me here with a terrifyingly accurate humanoid replica of my husband.”
House rolls his eyes. “It’s just dinner.”
“It was also just dinner last year, when you signed us up for that conference in Detroit.” Wilson helpfully points out. “And two years ago, when you got yourself arrested. And the year before that —”
“Alright, you’ve proven your point.” House says around a mouthful of food. “I don’t want to see them.”
“And yet you’re here.”
“I’m willing to suffer through it one last time.”
Wilson raises an eyebrow. “How do you know it’s gonna be the last time?”
House only shrugs.
Wilson starts planning how he’s going to manage the fallout of tonight’s dinner.
Wilson booked a nice restaurant. Italian. Not one of the places that he and House frequent, because he wouldn’t want to taint that. But somewhere he’d gone to on work dinners and found the food to be okay.
Conversation is stilted and awkward, but Wilson supposes that’s to be expected from a family that hasn’t sat down to have a meal together this millennium.
“So besides work, you’ve been up to?” House’s father asks. John, Wilson has to mentally correct himself. The man has a name and, unfortunately, he wants Wilson to use it.
“Not much.” House replies blandly.
What is the point of this? Wilson can’t help but wonder. House clearly doesn’t want to be here, he has no qualms avoiding his parents like their contagious and yet he chose to do this. Why? And, more importantly, why now?
“You always say that,” John pokes, “‘not much’.”
“It’s always the answer.” House says, his tone somewhere between bored and challenging.
“Any new babes you might wanna tell me about?” John asks with the smile of a man who’s trying way too hard.
“Leave him alone, John.” Blythe rolls her eyes with an exasperated smile.
It’s a terrifying glimpse into what House’s childhood must have been like, how obviously uncomfortable he is around his father and yet his mother doesn’t stand up for him in any significant way.
“I wouldn’t say it’s new , no.” House says, his tone suddenly resolute. Wilson feels his own eyes widening as his head snaps towards his husband. So this is why they’re here.
“But there is someone?” John’s smile turns hopeful, but in a way that makes Wilson think John had already given up hope for his son.
“There’s been someone.” House takes Wilson’s hand where it was resting between them on the table. “We just got married last year.”
“What’s her name?” John’s smile grows brighter, clearly not having noticed their joined hands.
At the same time, Blythe smiles proudly and asks “And you didn’t invite us to the wedding?”
That confirms the suspicion Wilson has had for years. Blythe knows about them, probably always has. She’s sharp and she cares about her son, she probably saw this coming from miles away.
John, however, had no idea. When he finally notices House and Wilson’s clasped hands the smile immediately drops off his face and the air around them grows thick.
“To be fair, he didn’t even invite me. ” Wilson says lightly, trying to cut the tension. “He just drove me to Boston one day, didn’t even tell me why until we were at city hall.” He deliberately leaves out the part about House drugging and kidnapping him.
“Your face when you saw the papers.” House gives him a besotted smile. “Priceless.”
“Well, someone had been intercepting my newspapers.” Wilson nudges his husband, smiling fondly at the memories of their wedding. “I didn’t even know it was legal until we were basically at the altar.”
“I don’t follow.” John speaks up, essentially popping the nostalgic bubble House and Wilson had created for themselves.
“You see, Wilson and I got tired of living in sin.” House says in that patronizing tone of his. “So I decided to make an honest man out of him.”
“You.” John blinks. “And Wilson…?”
“Are very happy together.” House’s smile has gone cold as he stares at his father with open defiance.
John shakes his head in disapproval. “Did you even try dating a woman?”
“Never with any success.” House quips.
“You’re still young, you’re good looking.” John looks at House with real (and infuriating) concern. “You don’t have to settle.”
In the silence that follows, Wilson steals a glance at his husband and the expression that he sees in House’s face breaks his heart. It’s clear that despite knowing better, despite having prepared for this, House still held on to some childish hope that maybe, just maybe, his father would be proud of him.
And that hope has just been shattered into a million pieces.
“Where’s the head?” John asks. Having read the room correctly for the first time that evening, he makes himself scarce.
“Good thing we got that cleared up.” House mutters when John’s gone.
Blythe gives her son a compassionate look. “He was just trying –”
“We should leave.” Wilson interrupts her, unwilling to listen to whatever excuses she would make.
“I’m fine.” House turns to glare at him. “I can take it.”
“Well, I can’t.” Wilson argues, but it’s only met with an unimpressed look from his husband. House knows that they’re made of stronger stuff than that. “We don’t have to take it, House.” Wilson says softly.
“I chose this.” House says firmly.
“I know.” Wilson turns to face House like they’re the only people in the room. “You wanted to stop hiding, and I’m so proud of you, House. But it’s done now.” He squeezes his husband's hand. “He’s not going to change his mind, certainly not before he comes back from the bathroom.”
“You should go.” Blythe says from across the table. “I’ll tell him there was an emergency at the hospital.”
Wilson shoots her a grateful look before turning back to his husband. “Please?”
House nods and stands up, walking over to Blythe, who is also standing so they can hug.
Wilson gives them a moment. He gets out his wallet, taking enough money to cover the whole check and placing it on the table.
“Oh, Greg.” She says so quietly that Wilson probably wouldn’t be able to hear if he wasn’t just a foot away. “You’re absolutely perfect just the way you are.”
House actually smiles. “Goodbye, mom.”
“Wil– James.” Blythe turns to him once the embrace is over. “You take good care of my boy.”
Wilson’s not sure if that’s an order or a statement of fact. Either way, he nods. “Yes ma’am.”
They leave the restaurant in a hurry, putting on their coats as they walk towards the door. They get outside before they have time to put on their winter accessories, which are particularly necessary, as it’s still snowing.
“Fucking hate the cold.” House grumbles as they put on their scarves and hats.
And Wilson knows there’s a story there. Something about the way that House has mostly accepted that he lives in New Jersey and the cold is expected, unless something reminds him of his father. Something about the way House refused to shower for 3 days when their water heater broke that one time.
Something that House doesn’t like to talk about, so Wilson doesn’t prod.
“Let's get you home, House.” He says softly, taking House’s hand on his and fitting both of them in his pocket, where it’s warm. “I’ll warm you up.” Wilson winks at his husband before they set off towards their car.
House gives him a half smile. “I never had someone to warm me up when I was a kid.”
“It’s probably for the best.” Wilson says dryly, unwilling to let the heartbreaking truth of House’s comment crush him. “The things I want to do to warm you up would hardly be considered appropriate for a kid.”
House squeezes his hand. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He says easily, but Wilson also hears the unspoken marrying you was not settling.
Wilson takes a deep breath, trying to figure out how to respond. “You know, I don’t like the man,” he decides on, “but in a weird way I kinda have to be grateful to your father.”
House makes a distasteful noise.
“Without him, I wouldn’t have you.” Wilson explains. “And James Wilson without Gregory House…” He shudders dramatically. “I feel sorry for that poor bastard.”
House steps closer to Wilson, their shoulder brushing. “You don’t have to thank him for that, he’s not my biological father.”
Wilson’s head snaps towards him. “Wait, seriously?”
“Yup.” House says, still looking at their path.
“Well.” Wilson says after a moment, looking forwards as well. “In that case, fuck him.” He deadpans.
House’s responding laugh makes Wilson’s chest swell with pride.