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When Wilson joins Cuddy and House for their weekly Salty Sunday, he looks tired. Everyone feels tired—pre-med tracks are always a nightmare—but Wilson usually makes an effort to hide it. Be it vanity or reflexive masking, it is rare that Cuddy sees Wilson looking rumpled. Tonight, however, Wilson’s clothes are wrinkled, and his usually carefully blown dry hair is a mess, sticking up and falling in his eyes.
House takes one look at Wilson and asks, “So, Jimmy Boy, who died?”
Cuddy elbows them, and they scowl darkly at her.
“Be nice,” she scolds.
“What?” House demands. “I was just asking. People die every day. You should know that. Geez, I thought we were all training to be doctors.”
Wilson folds into a chair, looking like a teddy bear missing half its stuffing.
“Lisa broke up with me,” Wilson says glumly.
“Ah,” says House, “well. It’s not like it was going to last. Bit awkward with Cuddy here, you know?”
“House,” Cuddy says with exasperation. She turns to Wilson, not bothering to see if House looks the least bit guilty. “Are you okay?”
Wilson shrugs listlessly. “I don’t know. She said a lot of things, one of them being that she hated always feeling like she was ‘second place’ to you guys, which is just ridiculous. She knows there’s nothing going on with us.”
House leans forward, interest a little too keen sparking in their eyes. Cuddy kicks them under the table.
“Ow! What the fuck, Lisa, I didn’t even say anything.”
“I’m sorry,” Cuddy says to Wilson, ignoring House’s mutterings as they pull their hoodie over their head and slouch into a ball. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I just want to forget about it,” Wilson says. “Eat some junk food, make fun of shitty movies with you guys, and forget I ever dated her.”
“Doable,” Cuddy says, draping a blanket over Wilson’s shoulders.
“Definitely doable,” House agrees, uncharacteristically gentle as they run a hand through Wilson’s hair.
Wilson closes his eyes and sighs, leaning into House’s touch. House meets Cuddy’s gaze, and she narrows her eyes. House is calculating, and when they calculate, there’s usually some kind of domino effect that ends in several things on fire, unidentifiable scattered remains, and drugs.
“All I ask,” Cuddy whispers into House’s ear, “is that you avoid anything we could get prosecuted for.”
House looks at her with wide-eyed innocence, placing a hand over their heart as if asking, Who, me?
They’re definitely going to commit several crimes in the name of cheering Wilson up.
.
“We should seduce him.”
Cuddy looks up from her essay. House is leaning over the table, hovering their chin over the top of her laptop. They have dark circles under their eyes, and Cuddy suspects they’re on their third energy drink of the day. It’s noon.
“What?” Cuddy asks, her brain still fuzzy with essay fog.
“Jimmy,” House says. “We should seduce him. I mean, he clearly has terrible taste in partners. It’s not like we would be a downgrade.”
“I resent the implication that I’m no better than one of his deadbeat exes,” Cuddy says coolly, taking a sip of her overpriced coffee.
“No, exactly!” House says, seizing her hand. They look a bit feverish, whether from the abundance of caffeine or the lack of sleep or the plan to “seduce Jimmy” is unclear. Their other hand grips their cane tightly, tapping it in short staccato bursts on the floor. “You’re better than any of them. Fuck, I’m better than any of them, and that’s saying something. Wilson deserves someone who will appreciate him when appreciation is due and relentlessly mock him when mockery is due. Also, we’d never have to worry about him crying on your shoulder about transphobic dates ever again because we’re all trans! It’s a perfect plan with zero downfalls, and I know you think he’s hot.”
“Says the one who wouldn’t shut up about his muscles during sex.”
“Says the one who wouldn’t shut up about his neck during the aforementioned sex,” House leers.
“It’s a very nice neck!” Cuddy says defensively. A few other customers at the cafe glance at their table, and she flushes.
House looks smug. This is not a new occurrence. House always looks smug.
“Okay, fine,” Cuddy says, “maybe I think he’s cute. That doesn’t mean he would be willing to date either of us.”
“He got drunk once and told me that he liked the skirt you wore on the first day of orientation and wished you wore it more.”
Cuddy drains her cup of coffee and opens an Excel spreadsheet. She titles it Plan of Attack.
.
House and Cuddy are acting odd.
They always do, at least a little, but Wilson puts it down to House being a former cheerleader and Cuddy being a former member of a sorority. Recently, they’ve been more intentional with their oddities, and said oddities are directed toward him.
Cuddy likes surprising House with flowers. They pretend like they don’t care, but Wilson has seen the tiny, pleased smile that lingers on House’s lips every time. So when a delivery driver leaves a large vase of flowers for him at his dorm’s front desk, Wilson assumes that it’s some kind of—well, some kind of mistake. That Cuddy meant to send them to House but absentmindedly put Wilson’s name and address down instead.
The card is addressed to Wilson with a short note wishing him luck with his makeup history exam. It’s Cuddy’s handwriting. Wilson stares at the note, then at the flowers, then back at the note.
He takes the flowers up to his room and sets them on his desk.
.
Wilson: Cuddy sent me flowers
House: That was fast
Wilson: You knew?
House: ?
House: She’s my fucking girlfriend why wouldnt i know
Wilson: Jeez sorry
[Wilson is typing.]
Wilson: Did she like. Did she say why she sent them
House: What’d the note say
Wilson: “good luck on your makeup history exam -lisa”
Wilson: She dotted the i with a heart
Wilson: Why’d she dot the i with a heart house
House: She always does that
[Wilson is typing.]
Wilson: Okay
House: Ok
Wilson: Okay???
House: OK
.
It’s Wednesday night, and Wilson still doesn’t know why Cuddy sent him flowers. He should be focusing on studying for his organic chemistry exam that’s coming up, but instead he’s watching House search for a movie on Netflix with the grim attitude of a soldier marching to battle.
“We don’t have to,” Wilson says, suddenly feeling silly. “We can just watch sports or something.”
“You said you wanted to watch a pretentious lesbian period drama, so help me, God, we’ll watch a pretentious lesbian period drama.”
Eventually, House ends up bootlegging something. There are costumes and longing glances and drawn-out hand-touching scenes. Wilson has a hard time focusing on it all because somehow House has their arm wrapped around Wilson’s shoulders. Their bodies are curved together, and if Wilson pays attention, he can feel and hear how their breathing has become in sync.
In, out, in, out.
This is all very, very normal.
.
Cuddy: So did u have a nice time
House: We committed several crimes, including but not limited to arson, medical malpractice, identity theft, and murder
House: We also ate the rest of ur popcorn
House: And ur m&ms
House: And possibly ur freeze dried apples
Cuddy: MOTHERFUCKER
Cuddy: Im breaking up w u
House: But cuddy who will i hang out with on suck her dick sunday :(
Cuddy: Cope bitch
House: Omg referring to a nb person as a female dog? Way to misgender and dehumanize 🙄 transphobic queen 🙏
Cuddy: Remind me why wilson and i like u again?
House: I have a hot mouth and a very versatile tongue
Cuddy: Yeah but he doesn’t know that
House: Right
[House is typing.]
House: So wilson and i were best friends in hs. And u know how when ur friends with someone and ur platonic bro love is so strong sometimes things happen and those things dont necessarily exclude eating a man out?
[Cuddy is typing.]
[Cuddy is typing.]
[Cuddy is typing.]
Cuddy: I cant say i do
Cuddy: I think thats just u
House: See this is the problem with america no one knows how to show platonic affection
.
Three weeks into Cuddy and House doing this weird dance around Wilson like they’re a couple of birds competing for another bird’s affection, Wilson has the idea to compile a list of All the Things Greg and Lisa Do With James That Aren’t Technically Illegal but Feel Like They Should Be.
- Flowers
- Movie nights
- Cuddling
- Handholding
- On one occasion kissing (??? possibly an accident though, slightly unclear)
- On other occasions, less accidental kissing
The first time it happened, Wilson thought it was a joke. Cuddy came into the cafe where House had dragged Wilson out to study, the one with the garish orange booths and the overpriced coffee, and gave House a perfunctory peck on the lips. Wilson, before his brain could catch up with his mouth, said, “What, no kiss for me?”
Cuddy turned, looking slightly startled, and smiled sheepishly at him. “Sorry,” she said, pecking him on the lips, “I forgot.”
Wilson’s brain shut off for a few minutes. By the time he returned to the surface, Cuddy and Wilson were nose-deep in organic chem notes.
The second time, Wilson was running late to their weekly Salty Sunday. When he arrived, out of breath with his hair mussed by the wind, House said curtly, “Finally. We were beginning to wonder if you got sick of us and moved on to someone hotter and younger.”
Before Wilson could retort that they were all only sophomores in college, House held him by the neck, their hand surprisingly gentle, and pressed their lips against his.
Wilson didn’t know what he was thinking. Something along the lines of but Cuddy and what if my breath smells like garlic and what the fuck? all ran through his mind at once. Let the record state, however, that Wiilson never verbalized such thoughts. Instead, he just kissed back.
When they pulled apart, Wilson noticed Cuddy leaning against the counter.
“Um,” Wilson stammered. “Er, that is, uh—”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Cuddy said before pulling Wilson into a kiss of her own.
And then Cuddy and House just kept kissing Wilson. Not that he’s complaining. They’re both excellent kissers. Wilson is just too nervous to ever initiate the kissing because what if it’s still all a joke, tracing back to that first peck at the coffee shop? What if they’re just enjoying a punchline they assume Wilson is in on, and the second he tries to kiss them first, they’ll realize he doesn’t get it, and then they just stop kissing him?
Unacceptable outcome. Wilson resolves to keep his mouth shut. He’ll figure out the joke eventually.
.
Cuddy: A toast to us
House: It was my idea
Cuddy: Well it was MY spreadsheet
Cuddy: Anyway
Cuddy: We should take him out to dinner sometime
House: Only if he pays
Cuddy: House.
House: NOT THE ONE WORD TEXT WITH THE PERIOD AT THE END LISA U KNOW I HATE THE ONE WORD TEXT WITH THE PERIOD AT THE END
House: Why cant u pay
Cuddy: This is what my mentor tried to warn me about when she told me there was transmisogyny in trans spaces :(
House: I’ll pay next time
Cuddy: Fine. But i better get the best valentine’s day gift ever
House: A bit presumptuous of u to assume ur getting one
House: Also it’s literally october
Cuddy: Its never too early to plan ahead
.
Wilson adjusts the knot of his tie slightly. He knows he’s fidgeting, but he can’t bring himself to stop. He keeps thinking about Cuddy’s text telling him to wear something nice. The napkin on his lap is nice, probably about the same price as his tie was.
The restaurant makes him feel itchy. It reminds him of the fancy events his parents took him to when he was younger and the dresses with sparkles and lace his mom would have him wear. (He’s not thinking about his parents right now. He’s not thinking about his parents.)
Cuddy and House look nice—Cuddy has a shade of lipstick that Wilson suspects is new, and House is actually clean shaven. For some reason, that detail freaks Wilson out the most.
He feels hyper aware of everything. Like the way House’s top button is left unbuttoned, their clavicle just visible behind the stiff white collar. The way Cuddy’s bodice is tight against her skin but her sleeves look in danger of slipping any moment. The way Cuddy tells the waiter that it’s just one check before Wilson can say two. The way House’s hand fits against the small of Wilson’s back as they leave the restaurant, their favorite cane thump- ing against the pavement.
He thinks (he thinks) he finally understands.
And it’s only confirmed when they both trail after him, like birds in the sky following the leading fowl, to his dorm. Wilson unlocks the door, and then Lisa is cupping his face as he backs into the apartment, kissing him quietly. It somehow feels more tender than the previous times, even as Greg sheds their jacket on the floor. Their hands run along Wilson’s shoulders before looping their arms under his from behind, gripping the lapels of his jacket lightly. Wilson arches into their touch. Lisa pulls back, and Wilson does his best to hold back a sound of disappointment. She picks up his tie, thumb tracing the knot that Wilson couldn’t manage to get right.
“Do you want this?” she asks.
“Yes,” Wilson whispers, not quite trusting his own voice. “Both of you. Yes.”
She pulls the tie loose in her hand, and Greg laughs, stripping Wilson of his jacket.
As Greg pulls him toward the bed, Wilson reflects on how stupid he’s been. Really, Lisa and Greg were being obvious this whole time what they wanted.
They could tell he was feeling a little left out recently. They clearly wanted to make sure he still felt included, that he knew he was their friend—best friend now, he supposes.
Fuck, Wilson loves them.
.
In the morning, Wilson wakes up to a mouthful of hair. Cuddy is curled up against him, House making muttered noises of discontent as they use Wilson’s shitty coffee-maker. Once they have a full mug, they amble over to the bed and nudge Cuddy with their cane.
“Shove over,” House says. Cuddy grumbles something nonsensical but no doubt highly insulting. “Come on, Cuddy, stop hogging the boyfriend.”
Not for the first time recently, Wilson’s brain short circuits. It’s not until Cuddy has pushed herself up into a half-sitting position and House has pressed their way onto the bed, their back against Wilson’s chest, that his mind manages to put its gears back in order.
“Wait,” Wilson says. “Boyfriend?”
House and Cuddy turn in unison to look at him, staring at him blankly.
“Um, yeah?” Cuddy says. “Do you prefer a different term? We could go with partner. Or significant other. Or—”
“Since when are we dating?” Wilson demands, his voice rising almost embarrassingly on the last syllable.
House and Cuddy gape at him, and Wilson runs a hand through his hair, something like panic rising to the surface. This is it. This is the punchline. They’re going to point and laugh at him for having a stupid unrequited crush on them both and then never talk to him again, let alone have sex with him. Fuck, why did he open his mouth?
“Jimmy, we literally had sex on your shitty dorm bed last night,” says House.
“Because we’re friends! Because you feel sorry for me! Because—”
Wilson’s head hurts.
“What, you think we just—just go around kissing and going on dates and having sex with all our friends?” Cuddy sputters.
“No!” Wilson exclaims. “Just—I’m your friend. Your best friend.”
His voice must sound uncertain, because all of a sudden, Cuddy’s squeezing his hands and looking at him far, far too earnestly.
“You are,” she says. “You’ll always be. We just—we thought you were okay with us wanting more.”
“When did you ever say anything about wanting more?” Wilson is not a fan of how close his voice is coming to a yelp.
Cuddy opens her mouth, then closes it. “Shit,” she says.
House groans, burying their face in their hands. “Fuck. I knew we were forgetting something.”
Wilson presses the balls of his hands against his eyes. “Okay, so just to get things straight. You two—you like me. That way. And assumed I knew and thought that this whole time we were dating?”
“When you say it like that, it sounds stupid,” House mutters almost sulkily.
“Yeah,” Cuddy says. “Embarrassingly. I hope this doesn’t make things awkward between us—”
Wilson grabs her by the shoulders and kisses her. She startles slightly, then relaxes into Wilson’s touch, taking hold of his hand. They break apart, and Wilson pulls House closer to him, burying his face into House’s neck. They let out a sound of surprise that they’ll probably deny ever making later.
“Next time,” Wilson mumbles into House’s skin, “just ask. Idiots.”
“Verbal abuse is no way to begin a relationship,” House says with great dignity.
“Shut up, we’ve been dating for, what, a month?”
“Something like that,” Cuddy says and rests her head on Wilson’s shoulder.
It’s all so much nicer than what Wilson thought it was going to be.