Work Text:
WILSON
The first time my first wife left me, House was still single. He owned a little apartment in Crown Tower, close to PPTH. Back there I knew with certainty that his guest room was mine. The next time I was kicked out by my second wife, House was in Melbourn having a surgery to his tight. The third time I was kicked out, House was writing his wedding vows on his crappy couch in his apartment in New Jersey. I still remember him scratching lines and crumpling the paper and asking me over and over again if Chase would be okay with his sarcastic lines and references to jazz songs.
In all of those occasions, I knew I have House's door open for me and a place in his guest bedroom or his couch. Someone to look after me if I ever needed one. This time I am not so sure. I keep thinking if coming out of my car will be a good thing. I keep thinking about being rejected, because now House is not single, like the last time. Now House have a family. He has the same thing I thought I wanted, the thing he said he hated and still... He has been married for three years now with his six years boyfriend and they both are raising a little girl that is almost four.
The knock in my window takes me out of my mussing.
"Are you gonna get out on your own or should I break all the glasses in your car?" House's voice makes me smile softly. "You look like crap."
I open the door and I go out. House is opening the back door and taking my suitcase with him. The only things I could salvage from my wife, maybe ex-wife now, during facing her wrath.
"I wasn't..." I try to argue with him. But, even my voice is meek. Weak.
"Yes, Jimmy. Whatever bullshit you are trying to say, I'm gonna ignore it," he says, placing his hand in my shoulder and nudging me towards his home.
"Why?" I ask him, feeling myself doubt.
"Because is easier for everyone," he growls his answer. "I know about Debbie in accounting. It was just a matter of time until the fourth Mrs. Wilson acknowledge the fact that you smelled of whores or saw the cheep lipstick stains in your collar shirt." He push me harder when he sees I am not following him. "Come on, I am gonna cook today."
I enter the house and the first thing that goes on my head is that this is scary. There's no sound of music around the house, nor soft mumbling or little thumps of Ellie's feet while she is dancing around the house or in the little dance home-studio her fathers built for her a few months ago. The thump sound of House letting my suitcase in the floor makes me halts.
"Where's everyone?" I ask, feeling worse now.
"Robbie left with Ellie a few minutes ago... More like an hour ago, now," House says. "She is gonna stay with her new mom for the night," His voice is emotionless and that scares me more.
"Why?"
"Because Robbie says is important," he frowns slightly and I smell chicken.
"Why?" I poke him again with words.
"Don't you know anyother questioning word?" he sass me. I slump my shoulders. He is impossible.
"Why?"
"Because Robbie says so... Or maybe he wants to get away from me," he ads, absentmindedly.
"Is everything okay between you and Chase?" I ask him, feeling bad for him.
House turns around and he looks at me like if I am some kind of psychiatrist patient.
"Why would it be wrong?" He asks me with a smirk plastered in his face.
I feel a bit lost. Maybe I am projecting on him. I am the one with a broken heart right now... Not House. Or maybe, things aren't as good as he was saying, because if there's one thing House is, that's being a master in manipulating others.
And then, the kitchen door opens and Chase enters the place.
"Hey, love," Chase accent is still noticeable. He leans in and kisses House square on the mouth. They part a few moments later and I can see love in their eyes.
"We have company," House mumbles to him and then, the older leans in to steal a last kiss.
Chase is blushing fiercely now that he has notice me.
"Evening, Wilson," he says, awkwardly.
"Evening, Chase," I greet him back, waving in his direction.
"What said the other lunatic mother?" House asks, moving around the kitchen and passing kitchenware to his blond husband. Kitchenware that he is not going to use anytime soon.
"We are parents too," he says, doing that gesture with his face that's totally cute.
That's what Robert Chase is... A weird, cute man.
"Not for the foreseeable future," House pauses at his own words. "And not crazy enough as her, obviously," he says, stopping his assault against the cabinets under the counter kitchen.
Chaise sighs, leaning on the counter top.
"What are you looking for?" Chase asks him.
"The weird knife that looks like a bone-saw," he keeps rummaging in the cabinets.
"It's up there," Chase points, not bothering to fetch it for House. "Why are you looking for that thing?"
"I need to cut a few bones," he says, pointing his finger towards the oven. "What the lunatic said?"
"That she will look over the girls until tomorrow noon, when we are supposed to pick up our little monster," to my ears they sound normal.
"Wait, wait," I say suddenly and their attention is back on me. "You aren't planning to divorce or leaving House?" I blurt out, like if my own words are vomit instead of that... Words.
Chase looks up at House and House looks at him, both equally confused.
"And why would I want to divorce the little wombat? Or why would he?" House asks me, feigning ignorance.
"You said Chase leaved with Ellie," I say. "You said she will be staying with her new mother and that he needed time away from you. I thought Chase was cheating or leaving you."
"To drop the little monster off to one of her friend's place. They are having a sleepover. God knows why someone would want to have four little girls under they care for a night and beyond." House spat, turning his attention to the veggies he was cutting. He looks at Chase. "Why would an asexual man would like to cheat on his husband?"
Chase just shrugs his shoulders. Mirth dancing in his blue-green eyes.
"No idea," he leans away from the counter and heading to walk out of the room. He pats me in the shoulder before going for the door. "I'm not planning to leave him until dead do us apart," Chase says softly to me and then, he ads: "Beside, there's no need to cheat when your lover is so damn good at making you have earth-shattering orgasms."
Chase leaves us in the kitchen and I can hear his laugh from the other room.
"How many nights have you been sleeping with the dog?" House asks me, his blue, vibrant eyes piercing through my soul. "Or in your car for that matter."
"One too many," I answer him, honestly. I let a sigh out of my mouth, suddenly exhausted.
"No wonder your thoughts are so useful right now," he spat that with sarcasm.
"Shouldn't you be more sympathetic towards me?" I feel a bit lost.
"If you want a shoulder to cry on, go to Robbie, he is the one with enough emotional intelligence in this household," he says, starting to cut all the veggies for a salad, maybe. The only thing that I can hear is the chop chop of the knife against the cutting board for a few seconds. Until... "Thinking better about it. Better go to a hooker. You tend to fall in love with people you had a cry with and I like the way my husband cleans after me."
He says it like if I haven't witnessed a soft moment between him and Chase a few minutes ago or like if he isn't the one prepping dinner. I smile and shake my head.
"Want some help?" I offer.
"Of course. This is not a free-meal restaurant, Jimmy," and then, he is sliding a bowl with little cherries inside it towards me. "Wash those."
I nod and I start doing what House ordered me.
"Your bedroom is ready, Wilson," Chase says, going behind House and walking straight to the freezer. "I changed the bed linen and..."
House interrupted him.
"Who says linen in this era?" he says like if it is some kind of STD.
"Everyone?" Chase asks, pausing in his actions. A very expensive bottle of wine is in his hand, I notice.
I giggle softly at their antics. The display making me feel a little bit better.
"Yes, Robbie. You obviously have never robbed a car..." House shots fast.
"Or a store," I point absent-minded, opening the sink tap to start cleaning the little cherries.
"Where do you ever robbed a store, Wilson?" the blond asks me.
House smirks and I blush hard.
"In my defence, House and me were too drunk back there to know what the heck we were doing," I nearly yell my answer, feeling embarrassed in front of none other then Robert Chase, his grace, Duke of Westminster.
"I put a toy gun in his hand. He left the basement of my teenage home and went running through the street with the thing," House says, trying to keep his laugh. "I took my own gun toy and went after him. We entered a little market in town screaming: everybody freeze. Then, Wilson passed away because he was too drunk and they put us both in jail."
He lower his head and chuckle low.
"You are incorregible," he says, pointing at House. "That was a federal crime. So, you both are law offenders."
"It was fun and they didn't put anything in our record except drinking underage," House adds happily.
"Not helping our case, House," a warn him in a whisper.
"We were kids," my best friend points out. "Kids do stupid things. Didn't you ever did something as funny as that, Dr. Chase?"
Chase blushes. Hard.
"There was this one time when I beheaded my grandfather porcelain bust, while pole-mock fighting with my cousin, Eleanor," he says, walking to the other side of the counter, and leaving the bottle there. "We were young, but I remember our grandmother punishing us by cleaning the stables for a week."
"We were punished too. We had to clean the floors of the little store in Georgia for a month after highschool," I smile remember that. "And we spent a night in jail."
"You don't remember that night," House shot at me. "You were too out of it the sheriff thought you might actually be dead due to alcohol poisoning."
"That bad, Wilson?" Chase asks me, his blue-green eyes shinning still.
I cannot help it but blush. Again. Specially when I remember still House whispering something along the lines of: You sure you want to be a felon? Before entering the little place
"Whatever. Your bedroom is clean and fresh. There are towels in the bathroom adjoining to your suit. Dinner is mandatory and non-negotiable unless it is Friday and I expect you to stop feeling like a burden soon, because even if you don't want to hear it, maybe, we are your family too, Wilson. And therefore is our obligation to tend to you while you are going through challenging periods."
I feel shocked and I stay silent for a few seconds, just watching the couple go about their dinner arrangements like if I am more than welcome in their home. I silently watch House walking around, throwing things at his husband, while Chase just hums to an odd song. The little cherries are clean in my the bowl but, I still cannot process this.
"Do you really...?" I choke on my own question, feeling my eyes growing hot.
"I'm not going to explain that shit to him, Robbie," House says, walking out of the kitchen.
I look up at Robert House, nee Chase. Duke of Westminster. Neurosurgeon. My best friend's husband.
He smiles at me as he comes closer.
"Don't mind him, you know he is allergic to emotions and feelings in general," he offers. His eyes are shinning with compassion. "You are part of this family because I know how you feel about Greg, and how he feels about you. You might not be brothers by blood, but you are brothers by everything that really matters, and that's enough for me. Do keep in your mind that the doors of our home are always open for you when you need a place to stay. And so, the doors of our family are open too for whenever you feel like there's no one else left in world for you." He pat me in the shoulder. "Come on. Help me arrange the table. After all, you are home." He smiles.
I smile, because I am an orphan... Correction, I was an orphan. Maybe I have been adopted by the House-Chase household. I smile, looking to a photo of Ellie being held by Chase in the hall. She was still a baby of few months and Chase is looking down at her like if she hung the stars.
"Just like you, Ellie. I have a family again," and I wander out of my sorrow to join Chase in the dinning area to start our strange evening.