deelaundry | Something Old, Something New (PG-13)

Posted to jointcustody, house_wilson, and housefic

Title: Something Old, Something New
Author: Dee Laundry
Pairing: House/Someone, Wilson/Amber
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1133
Summary: It was Wilson’s turn as best man.
Notes: Spoilers through episode 4-13, “No More Mr. Nice Guy.” You can imagine for yourself who House is with, but

queenzulu knows the truth. Thanks to

blackmare_9 and

nightdog_barks for beta.

House woke up in the morning with a headache, 180 pounds of best friend draped across him, and a golden-haired harpy hovering at the foot of his bed.

“All right, bachelor party’s over,” the harpy muttered. She took a breath and shook Wilson’s leg, commanding loudly, “Up and at ’em!”

Wilson’s response was amusingly immediate; he launched himself up to a seated position and wavered there, hair stuck up in every direction, eyebrows matted, boxers askew. “Am-buh,” he said, voice catching on a clear wave of reverse peristalsis.

“Don’t puke on the groom,” Amber warned. “Bathroom’s open; get in there.”

Wilson stumbled off the bed, one hand clutching at his abdomen. “Hon, it’s not –” he began, but stopped to clamp his other hand over his mouth.

“Not what I think, I know, I know.” She shook her head at his miserable, green form and pointed toward the bathroom. “I’m not going to clean vomit off House’s rug, so go.”

House watched Wilson stagger off and slam the door behind himself, then relaxed back into the pillows. He stuck his hands behind his head and regarded Amber with a smug smile. “It’s exactly what you think.”

“Oh, please,” she said as she crossed to the dresser and started rooting through the drawers. “You and I both know Private Wilson doesn’t stand up and salute when he’s had that much to drink.”

“So phallocentric,” House replied with a sigh and shake of his head. “Sex isn’t just about the penis, you know.”

He ducked the balled-up t-shirt, but the Vicodin bottle hit him on the shoulder. Mmm, sweet relief.

“Still not buying it,” Amber said as she sat on the corner of the bed and crossed her legs. “The symbolism’s all wrong. You’ve had years to go after him and haven’t – yes, he would’ve told me if you had – so why now? I can believe you’d seduce him the night before his wedding as a nice big ‘fuck you’ to the bride, be it me or any other woman. But the night before your wedding doesn’t make any sense at all.”

Only halfway through pulling his t-shirt on, House didn’t have time to rebut before Amber continued, “No, I’m betting what happened – after you got back from the strip club, of course – was that he got maudlin and goopy, and your cold, shriveled heart cracked the tiniest bit open, just enough to let him cuddle up on you the way he’s been dying to do ever since he first glimpsed your wounded soul.”

“That was a long-ass monologue. Did you practice it on your way over here? Or did you come up with the rationalization as you watched your boyfriend sleep blissfully in my arms?” House grinned and tapped a foot against Amber’s thigh.

She rolled her eyes. “You didn’t have sex with him.”

“So did,” House insisted.

“So did not.”

“So did. You’re green with envy. Deep emerald green.”

“Envy is wanting something you don’t have, and I have James.” Amber shook her head. “And if it had happened, if you had been self-destructive enough to throw away someone who actually wants to spend their life with you by cheating the night before you get married, well... what’s a little semen between friends?”

What the hell? “You’re authorizing Wilson to cheat on you?” House asked incredulously.

“No!” Amber replied scornfully before schooling her features into an expression that was... peace-making? Friendly, even? House was having a hard time computing it.

“I’m acknowledging,” she continued, “that after everything the two of you have been through over the years, that maybe a single shared moment of intimacy and pleasure between you isn’t an unforgivable breach.”

“Wow.” House sat and listened to himself breathe. That was... weird.

Amber snorted and straightened up haughtily. “That’s my wedding present to you, so suck it up and deal.” She headed over to the bathroom and called through the door, “When you can stand, get up and shower, babe. I brought the tuxes and the rings so we don’t have to go back home, but there’s still not much time to lollygag.”

She was a piece of work. A true piece of work. “OK,” House told her as she moved toward the dresser again. “And consider gonorrhea my present to you.”

Scoffing, Amber pulled a clean undershirt and boxers from the drawer. “Yeah. If there had been bodily fluids exchanged last night, James and I use condoms now anyway, so I’m protected from all your cooties.” She stacked the clothing on the dresser top and opened the next drawer.

“Condoms? You trust Wilson that little?”

“I trust him just fine.” She was comparing two pairs of black socks House hadn’t realized he owned. They looked exactly the same to House, but apparently they were in some miniscule way different. “I was getting a reaction to hormonal birth control, so we switched to a barrier method.” The perfect pair of socks was placed on top of the other clothing; the other was relegated to languish in the sock drawer again.

None of which had anything to do with the deduction House had just made.

“You want to get pregnant,” he accused, and was pleased to see Amber’s face darken into a confirming glare. “But you don’t know whether Wilson wants that or not. You can’t just tell him you want a baby, because then he’ll say he does too to please you. You can’t just ask him what he thinks, because then he’ll say he doesn’t want one to try to please you. So instead you’re putting pinpricks in the condoms and letting nature take its course.”

Rolling her eyes, Amber picked up the pile of clothing and dumped it on the bed at House’s feet. “Leaving things up to fate – yeah, that sounds like me.”

It didn’t, obviously. House had to re-think. “You’re going to get pregnant without Wilson knowing, then spring it on him.”

“No,” she replied with fierce determination. “I couldn’t do that. I don’t want him with me out of obligation, and I don’t want a baby without him.”

“I see,” House said, sitting up, and he did see. “So you’re going to trick him another way. A fake ‘oopsie’ followed by a fake miscarriage, and see how he reacts.”

Direct hit! Amber’s face contorted and she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “My friend’s husband got a vasectomy,” she said quietly. “My cousin’s boyfriend threw out all their contraceptives.”

“You sly, sneaky bitch.” Amber was looking away, so House let himself smile for a fleeting second. “Good luck.”

Amber turned to him, her expression suspicious; he met her eyes with a level gaze. “You’re not going to hug me now, are you?” she asked.

“Hell, no,” House replied. Moment over. He had a wedding to get ready for.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

cherryfeather.livejournal.com

Wow. I've never read any Wilson/Amber (nor called her Amber and not CB, for that matter), but your first line hooked me. This is excellent. She and House are fantastically in-character (and this also touching and hilarious at the same time). I love the concept of Wilson being House's best man. Something I'd never considered.

From:

nutty implies a certain level of pizazz I just don't have

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