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James Wilson wasn’t a prude. He’s been married three times, had sex more times than he can count, and his best friend cracks innuendos like it keeps him alive. He was not averse to sex.
It’s just, he’s never felt it was all people chalk it up to.
Sure, he likes the intimacy of it. Being close with the person you love, making them happy; but he’s never enjoyed it.
Well, that’s a lie. Sort of.
Sex is like doing the dishes for someone. It’s not fun, but it’s not like it’s terrible. You feel happy about doing something nice for someone you love, but it’s not like doing the dishes gets any less boring and mildly gross. Sometimes it’s better with music, but in the end you’re still just doing the dishes. It’s not something you’d choose to do for fun, but it’s worth it in the end when you’re doing it for someone else. For a long time, he held the assumption that this is how everyone feels about it.
That is, until he met House. (That one stands without explanation.)
Of course, he did spend a while wondering if something was wrong with him. He saw his primary and got all sorts of tests done to check if something was off with his hormones. He worried for a short time if maybe it was his medication; loss of libido was a listed side effect of antidepressants. But no, he’d felt this way long before he’d started the zoloft. It had to be something else.
But, nothing seemed to be wrong, and it didn’t bother him. So after House forcing him to get an MRI that, unsurprisingly, came out clean, he let it go. Some people just didn’t like sex. That wasn’t to hard to believe. He’s had that assumption his whole life, why change it now?
During the whole “oh god what if I have a brain tumor?” fiasco, House found out. It was… frustrating, to say the least. House became convinced Wilson had some rare ailment making him unable to orgasm. It was more than a little embarrassing to walk into the diagnostics office to find House’s fellows gathered around a whiteboard with his name on it, above the words “Immune to Cuddy’s enormous breasts.”
He hadn’t thought House would accept it, sure, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. Especially when House had been not-so-subtly trying to perform tests on him for the past week.
Wilson sighs into his salad as he spots House sauntering over from the open door of the cafeteria, a determined look on his face. This can’t be good.
“What do I have now?” he sighs, putting his hand up before House can respond. “No- wait, let me guess. A rare congenital disease that makes me perceive women in a distorted image?”
“You’re gay!”
Wilson blinks at him, suddenly feeling very tired. “How many times do I have to tell you a man can enjoy Mama Mia without being homosexually inclined?”
“It makes perfect sense! The failed marriages, the lack of sexual enjoyment, the seemingly absent physical symptoms! You don’t not like sex, you just don’t like sex with women!” He punctuates each sentence by prodding at Wilson’s chest with his cane, a smug look in his eye. Wilson groans. He had hoped House would avoid this potential explanation. Now it was either let House think he’s gay, or admit something that might very well be objectively worse for his reputation.
“Look- House, that’s not an option. I have never desired to ahem- have intercourse. With a man. Ok? It’s already been crossed off the metaphorical whiteboard. I know you’re always one for revisiting ideas you previously shot down- but this time it’s not going to help. Trust me.”
House looks worryingly undeterred as he smirks and takes a massive bite of Wilson’s reuben before he can protest. “But you haven’t even tried it yet! What was it you always tell me when you find a new cruel and unusual way to cook vegetables?” he feigns puzzlement as Wilson’s heart drops. “Oh yeah! Don’t knock it till you try it.”
“That’s not! That’s- House,” he puts his hands out in front of him, screwing his eyes shut. “No. No.”
“Come on Wilson, how come you didn’t tell me before? I wasted all that time trying to get you laid, and I wasn’t even looking in the right direction. Woulda spared me a lot of hooker money.”
Wilson groans, running his hands through his hair and staring at his plate like it was the salad’s fault. “No. Listen. House. That… avenue has been crossed off the map, ok? No need for further exploration.” His eyes widen and he curses. “Explanation. Explanation, I mean,” he quickly amends.
But the damage is done. House’s eyebrows are nearly touching his hairline as he slowly sits down. “Seriously?”
Wilson doesn’t answer him, electing instead to pick at the slightly wilted lettuce in front of him, sorting by apparent freshness. House lets out a tired breath and slumps, resting his forehead on a curled fist.
“Both ways?”
Wilson doesn’t look up, but nodded shortly, if only to avoid further interrogation.
“Whew. Well. That does certainly throw a wrench in things,” House mutters, and Wilson finally looks up, narrowing his eyes.
“Seriously? No reaction? You find out your best friend has fucked men, and your response is ‘oh well, my diagnosis was wrong. I better keep digging?’ I mean I’m not complaining- but seriously?”
If he's being honest, he’s mildly offended. He’d expected a big reaction, or a barrage of gay jokes, or- or something! This lackluster response would be more fitted to finding out your favorite special was taken off the cafe menu down the street! Though, he supposes, House is anything but predictable. House shrugs, making a small grimace as he rubs his temple.
“What? Did you want a parade? Perhaps a hug and a pat on the back? Good for you, you’ve taken it up the ass. So have almost half the other med students going through their “curious” phase.”
Wilson makes a face at that, earning an eye roll from the other man. “Oh come on. You don’t think I was even a little curious in college? What can I say, the unit on prostate health got me downright frisky,” he retorts, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively with a glib smirk. Wilson frowns in exaggerated disapproval. “Speaking of prostates, you’ll never believe this patient in the clinic-”
And just like that, the conversation was over. At least, for the time being. House wasn’t gonna let it drop that easily.
Sure enough, next time he was pulled in for a diagnostics consult, his name was back on the board, with a whole new list of “theories” crossed out. He sighed and had just started to turn to walk back out the door when a voice piped up behind him.
“I mean, maybe he’s just asexual,” Thirteen remarks absentmindedly, writing something on the paper in front of her. House scoffs, not even justifying it a response, but Wilson turns, raising a curious eyebrow.
“What- Ok, I’m probably going to regret asking this- but what does that mean?” he queries, now fully facing the table of disgruntled fellows. House throws his hands up.
“See what you did! Now he's gonna go off calling himself asexual while there’s obviously something very bad at play here! Hope you’re happy, Thirteen. Wilson’s sexless blood is on your hands when he randomly collapses from the parasite eating holes through the pleasure center of his brain.”
Thirteen ignores him, turning instead to face Wilson with a small shrug. “It just means you aren’t into that kinda thing,” she explains, clicking her pen shut and putting it down. “I mean, some asexuals fuck for one reason or another, but some don’t. Main characteristic is well... a lack of interest.”
Wilson mulls this around for a moment, before turning to House, hands on his hips and eyebrows raised. The man was leaning against the counter pouting like a petulant child. “And why, per say, is this not at least on the board ? You hate boring cases. This is the definition of over complicating something boring!” he snaps. House makes a loud frustrated noise and thumps his cane against the carpet.
“That’s- Asexuality is too simple! Sex is the foundation of life. Having some people who just don’t get their rocks off doesn’t make sense! It's too- It’s to obvious!” he whines, catching Wilson’s eye.
“Occams Razor, House!”
“Occams Ass, Wilson!”
“House.”
“Jimmy.”
Wilson throws his hands out, relenting. “God! Greg! Fine! I give up! Why are you so obsessed with my sex life, or lack thereof, anyway?! I’ve been like this all my life, it’s obviously not killing me. Why does it matter?” he explodes, threading hands through his hair in an attempt to cool his temper. Then, it becomes painfully apparent that the room is now very focused on he and House. Thirteen is sitting back, mildly entertained. Taub looks concerned, and more than a little uncomfortable. Foreman has his brow furrowed slightly, but is attempting to appear neutral. Chase looks like he’s already planning the betting pool.
Worst of all, House is staring at him, eyebrows pinched together in what most people would peg as anger, but Wilson knew well enough to mean acute personal distress. It disappears the instant it’s there, replaced by a sarcastic smirk.
“You see this kids? Daddy doesn’t even think about Mommy’s needs!” he pouts, sticking out his bottom lip. Wilson rolls his eyes, exchanging a look with Thirteen, who looks very close to laughing. Oh, that’s how this is? He can play along.
“What your mother neglects to remember is that your father still happily tends to those needs, he just doesn’t get the ‘funny tingles’ your mother is always calling those nice men over to take care of,” he retorts, hands firmly on his hips as he fixes him with a classic ‘shut the fuck up you moron’ glare. House frowns.
“But that’s sad! Don’t you, you know, wonder? What it’s like?” he asks, the sarcasm slowly, almost imperceptibly, leaving his voice. Wilson’s eyes soften at this, and he gives a little shrug.
“Sometimes, yeah. I mean, hasn’t everyone wondered what it would be like to have a different life? I’m certainly not sad about it. It doesn’t bother me. I don’t mind,” he replies. House considers this for a moment, brow furrowed, tapping his cane lightly against the carpeted floor. Then, he gives a small nod, almost invisible, and Wilson lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. House turns with a pizzazz to the whiteboard, wiping away the pointless DDX and beginning to speak again.
“Well? What cases have you got for me? I know you all want to sit around and gossip about how Wilson is in bed, but I actually want to be a doctor today,” he barks at his fellows. Shocked at the quick change of subject, no one moves, and House rolls his eyes. “Chop chop! We don’t have all day, people!” he adds, shooting Wilson a wink as he makes to leave. When Wilson is all the way out the door, he smiles.
They were gonna be alright.