fic: Proposing to Wilson, House/Wilson, Post-episode fluff

[rosslynnie.livejournal.com]

 Summary: House tells Wilson his method of proposal was too old-school, so Wilson challenges him to do better. 
Warning: The kiss that should have happened, here, happens. Fluff like fluff candy! ~ Post episode 6x11 The Down Low, immediately follows the last scene.
Rating: R? I think?

I own nothing but my wandering mind!

Proposing to Wilson

 

“I expected more of you,” said House suddenly, when Wilson was starting his second round of chorus. “Getting down on one knee is kinda old school, you know.”
Wilson paused his humming on cue. “Beg pardon?” It didn’t sound inquisitive or confused, but rather insulted. House smirked.
“One ring, one restaurant, one knee. At least Hollywood tries to be a bit more innovative with all the romcom they cough up every year.”
Wilson straightened up. His defensive gesture told House that he was definitely insulted now. House watched with mild amusement as Wilson scrunched his eyebrows together, as if making a particularly difficult choice of cake over pudding, and asked:
“OK, what would you have done?”
House made sure he looked taken aback: “Me? I’d demand roses at the very least.”
“No,” Wilson was not letting himself to be sidetracked this time, “how would you propose?”
“Well, that depends which unfortunate soul is on the receiving end. If it was Cuddy, I’d blockade her office and airlift her nothing but chocolates until she consents, or develops severe malnutrition.”
Wilson snorted. “That’s too easy. I’m not nearly impressed.”
“OK,” House ponders, “Let’s say it’s Stacy. I’d order a hitman to go after Mark so he’d be out of the picture by the time I get to her. I would – limp all the way to New York Mercy?”
Wilson made an exasperated face often witnessed when mothers are confronting their teenage daughters. “That would just remind her of why – ” he thought better of it and didn’t finish the sentence, and House didn’t seem to notice the nanosecond flash of guilt.
“Well, who else would I propose to? Nurse in paediatrics? I thought you had a waiting list drawn up at the altar for them already.”
“Oh ha ha ha.” Wilson grabbed a bag of crisps and tore it open loudly. “At least one ring, one restaurant and one knee worked three out of three times for me.”
“Three out of four,” said House.
Wilson shrugged. “Well, tonight doesn’t count.”
“It doesn’t?” House gasped sharply, “Honey! I’m heartbroken.”
Wilson ignored him decidedly and munched as noisily as he can on the crisps. House’s hand were in the bag within seconds. Wilson tried to bat him away, but years of stealing food had given House some very agile fingers (although that sounded wrong in Wilson’s head.)
House held a crisp between his fingers, examined it closely, and “Hmm”ed. Wilson raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
“Well, there is you.” said the other man casually.
“There is me what?”
“The final, insurance, backup, only-if-no-one-else-wants-me choice on my list of potential suitors,” House punctuated each comma with a munch.
Wilson slowly rolled his eyes, trying to digest the information. “Are you saying that I’m the last man you’d marry?”
“Strictly,” said House with a solemn expression. “If there was a nuclear fallout and we were the only ones alive hiding in the Janitor’s closet, then I’d consider marrying you.”
“That… would defeat the whole purpose of trying to sustain the Human race in a nuclear winter, seeing how neither of us could get pregnant.”
“Really?” House sat up straight, “You can’t?”
At that moment Wilson decided letting the sofa recline and lying on his back was a good idea. He let out a heavy sigh. “Still, I’m oddly touched.”
House studied him for a few moments. “You are a wuss,” he said dismissively.
“Hey, I’m not the one who won’t propose until there’s a nuclear winter and we are all locked up in the Janitor’s closet. Unless you think that’s the proper way to propose, of course.” Wilson put up his feet and smiled towards the ceiling. “Do it.”
“Do what?” Now it was House’s turn to sound alarmed.
“Propose to me.”
“Pro-” The crisp fall from House’s fingers and he looked to have sustained a mild concussion. “Have you completely lost your head?”
“No,” Wilson turned and gazed at him, expression unreadable, “you said you can do a better job, so do it. Propose to me.”
A small voice at the back of House’s head said it’d be stupid to rise to the challenge, but then again it’d be stupider not to. House absently scratched his chin.
“OK,” he said finally, “I would do twelve hours of clinic duty.”
Wilson was taken back. “That’s your idea of a perfect proposal?”
“I’m not finished.” House looked at him bemusedly. “I’d do twelve hours of clinic duty, in order to cut a deal with Cuddy, so that she will withhold on your pay until you agree to marry me.”
“Wh-” Wilson made a noise that was halfway between a sputter and a choke, “That’s blackmail, not a proposal!”
“What’s the difference?” said House incredulously, “I’d get you in the end.”
“No, no, no no no.” Wilson made a determined window-wiping no gesture. “That doesn’t count. Try again.”
“There is a simpler way.” House admits. “I can just drug you. When you wake up, I promise you’ll find yourself at the altar, in a pristine white dress, and I’d already have kissed you my bride.”
This time the noise sounded more like strangulation. “Kidnapping. It gets better and better. What’s next? First degree homicide just so I can’t say no?”
“Dear god no,” House was appalled, “Dead Wilson is boring useless Wilson. Besides, one of the perks of marrying you was so I can legitimately steal your food and ask you to pay the bills and make you do the washing up. Why else would I even want to tolerate you blow-drying your hair at six in the morning?”
Wilson tipped his head to the side sarcastically. “Well, you could say that you loved me, like I said I loved you, in front of everyone and the old lady.”
House snortled , an amused, borderline-happy snortle. “Oh, deeds not words, Wilson, deeds not words.”
Halfway across the sofa Wilson made a sudden movement as if to grab his shoulders, but thought better of it, and it turned into a rather twitched grab of the beer. This, however, did not go by unnoticed.
House smiled. “I would kiss you.”
The beer falls from his grip and his hands is sweaty with the condensation on the bottle. Wilson looked up, blank. “You – you would?”
“Yes.” House’s voice had fallen so low, so gentle, and so mesmerising that Wilson thought he had started hallucinating. The beer disappears from his hand, and suddenly House was too close.
“You, Wilson,” said the other man so quietly he could barely hear it over the thumping in his ears, “I don’t need to make a proposal to.”
He does what said he would do and Wilson complies automatically, enthusiastically, having waited too long and being doubtful too often. House pulls back, and smiles again. It was beautiful like the rare English sun.
“You already know what I’d ask for, and I already know your answer.”


FIN


…and they snog some more. Bedroom, you say? Well, that will be a story for another time and another rating! :P Hope you enjoyed it!