![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
FIC: "Ties and Signs", James Wilson/Eric Foreman
Title: Ties and Signs
Fandom: House
Pairing: Wilson/Foreman. Save the looks until after you read, please.
Rating: Everyone
Word Count: 2,020
Author’s Notes: House’s POV. Inspired by this picture. Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sarcasticsra, who, along with leaper182, did an in-progress beta of sorts. This will have two companion pieces, maybe more. Also? I love this piece.
Foreman’s tie looked…familiar. Then again, that could be because it seemed like one straight from The Wilson Collection. Better than The Chase Collection, though. One garish tie—ignoring the blindingly mismatched outfit that usually went along with it—was enough for House’s conference room. Maybe he should put up a sign. “Must Pass Visual Inspection Prior to Entry.” The fine print could read, “Unless you’re the wombat.”
Big surprise, he was right. Foreman’s tie had certainly not come from Foreman’s closet—or at least not the kind used for clothes—as the entry of none other than one James Wilson, wearing the same tie, confirmed that. Well, same other than the color; the stripes on Foreman’s were a light green, Wilson’s a bright blue. Foreman had taste, House had to admit—he’d managed to get the better of the two.
“What’s next, Jimmy, matching track suits?”
Wilson’s expression of utter confusion—not to mention the looks on the kids’ faces—made the frustrating case that had called for his presence completely worthwhile.
“The tie,” House clarified. “Should’ve told me you’re dating Foreman. We could have had one of those ‘talks’.” His tone was light, mocking, and completely not serious.
But maybe it should have been. House hadn’t known just how red Wilson could turn, or how fast. It was even better than when Wilson had found out Summer—Wife Two—was an ex-hooker. And that House really had hired her once.
Almost as important, Foreman was looking everywhere but at House and Wilson.
Cameron and Chase seemed confused, but from the way Cameron eyed Wilson, the light was dawning—and she couldn’t be happy, since this wasn’t the cheerful, sunshine-and-flowers kind of revelation about someone’s character that she preferred. Unsurprisingly, Chase looked totally clueless. Give the kid enough time, though, and he’d not only figure out that Foreman and Wilson were fucking like crazy rabbits—which made for an interesting mental image—but also the precise moment they’d figured out they might have potential for something, and every single night they’d had sex. Chase could be sneaky like that.
But Chase wasn’t the important part. The important part was his incredibly red best friend, who apparently might not be such a good friend after all. Or at least not as open as House had thought.
Ooooh, this divorce was going to be killer. Odds were against Wilson’s attorney having included anything in the prenup about an affair with House’s male underling. Female from any walk of life, expected, especially since the lawyer had been a woman and almost definitely subject to Wilson’s unknowing flirting. A guy, not so much. Hell, even House hadn’t seen it coming, and he should’ve, if anyone would. Even if the prenup included a clause about general infidelity, Julie could claim emotional pain, if she wanted, and then Wilson’s bank accounts would limp for about a month. Not that he’d notice or anything, not with his investments.
He eyed his staff. Yeah, they were gonna talk. Nothing he could do about that. Rather, plenty he could do, but nothing he wanted to do. Petty, sure, but it’d be fun. “Daddy needs to have a talk with Uncle Jimmy,” he informed them—then paused. That sounded positively incestuous. “Go get us a new LP, see if anything’s changed.”
It was either a mark of how stunned they were, or how well trained, that they didn’t object to the possibly unnecessary procedure. House preferred the latter, but he was leaning toward the former. Either that, or their minds had been replaced by those of well-trained dogs. He couldn’t be certain, now could he?
“House—” Wilson began, and it was amazing how a thirty-six-year-old man’s voice could crack during a single-syllable word. House didn’t think he’d ever heard anything quite like it. Wilson cleared his throat, tried again. “House.”
“Of all the people to have an affair with, Wilson.” House’s chiding tone was mocking. “Could’ve done worse, gone with the pretty boy. Though I suspect that much sex appeal in bed together violates some law of physics.”
Wilson was staring as though House had grown a second head. That seemed vaguely insulting; if anyone should be completely shocked, it sure wasn’t Wilson. Actually, it was weird, how inured House had become to Wilson’s affairs. This was no different, in House’s mind, from that brief fling with Brenda, the nurse who had almost every doctor who’d come into contact with her cowed. At this point, Wilson could sleep with Cuddy and—
No. Wilson could not sleep with Cuddy. House figured he should let Wilson know as much. “If you have sex with Cuddy, I’ll have to kill you. It’d probably be a mercy killing at that point.”
Wilson looked like he’d recovered enough to go with the banter until he figured out the train of thought. “And here I was planning on compounding the cheating with another affair.” He sounded better now, too, less thirteen-year-old boy than embarrassed adult.
“At least Cameron’s not an option.”
“Unless she’s high.”
“Nope, that’s what Chase is for,” House reminded him. “And you’ve effectively killed any hint of a crush she had on you with this.”
“And all without the drama of her quitting and having to take her out to dinner. Clearly, you just didn’t plan well enough.” Wilson’s color was normalizing. This was good.
“Obviously. I should’ve just had sex with you…” The blush was back. “That long, huh?”
“Since after the homeless woman with rabies,” Wilson admitted sheepishly.
“The homeless woman. The one Foreman was vehemently against admitting, and you were just as adamantly for treating. The one who bit Foreman. That homeless woman?”
“I wasn’t aware you’ve treated so many homeless women with rabies that you needed more specifics,” Wilson retorted.
That was fair. “Just surprised that a case you two had such differing opinions on got you together.”
“We went for drinks, he told me why he doesn’t like homeless people—”
“Yeah, I’ve wondered about that. Care to share?”
“And have my wife and my lover pissed off? Not a chance. Told him about my brother—”
“Wait, you told him just like that, and it took, what, eight years for you to tell me?” That stung.
“I was drunk.” Wilson shrugged. “He gave me a ride, Julie was out of town…” Another shrug, this one almost helpless. “You know me.”
“Right, sleeping with anything that’ll have you. This doesn’t explain the evolution from drunken fuck to long-term relationship.” House raised an eyebrow, waiting.
“It just…happened.” Wilson folded his arms across his chest. “You remember Amber?”
“The ex-cheerleader who picked you up when you found out about Summer and hooking?” House got a well-deserved glare for that one.
“Thank you so much for reminding me again of my ex-wife’s former career.”
“Every opportunity counts, especially since I had the insider’s perspective and you didn’t believe me.”
Wilson seemed to either be making a concerted effort to not strangle House, or not burst out in a weird combination of laughter and anger. “It’s like how the thing with Amber happened.”
House’s brow knit, trying to see the parallels, and Wilson looked almost triumphant. Silly Wilson. House wouldn’t be trumped. After all, Wilson still hadn’t figured out the Cuddy remark. “Amber picked you up in a bar—and you proceeded to abandon me, if you recall—”
“What can I say? Her breasts were far better than anything you have to offer.”
House ignored the interruption. “And you were drunk.”
“Yes, you’ve got it so far.” Wilson was enjoying this. House wasn’t sure how the mocking had gotten turned around on him, but he didn’t much like it.
“She was Ms. Sympathy-and-Good-Lay, so you kept with her. Well, until you met Julie, anyway. Never figured you’d have a weakness for petite redheads over busty blondes.”
Wilson’s expression sobered slightly, though there was still a hint of mirth around the corners of his mouth. “Probably a mistake. Amber and I were good together.”
“You and Julie started out good together,” House reminded him. “From what I hear, so did you and Karen. Hell, you and Summer started out good.”
“Yeah, but with Amber, it could’ve lasted.” There was a hint of wistfulness to his tone, and House rolled his eyes.
“So Foreman was Dr. Sympathy-and-Good-Lay—”
Wilson gave a wicked grin. “You have no idea.”
House curled his lip. “I could’ve lived without knowing that part.”
“A little late for that.”
“And now you think this could last?”
Wilson shrugged. “No idea, but what we have is good.”
“Vanilla just not good enough any more, Jimmy?” Wilson shot him a dark, warning look. House thoroughly ignored it. “Wanted a taste of chocolate instead?”
“So, that stop being an ass advice, did that completely not take?” Wilson looked pissed, and House—wisely, he thought—backed off the subject.
“You love him?”
Wilson blinked, apparently caught off-guard, and that always worked well. “I…am unsure about that word, now.”
“Took you long enough,” House grumbled. “Never has one man misused that word so much.” He pointed a warning finger at Wilson. “When you screw this one up, it’s going to suck to work around here.”
“Your confidence in me is inspiring,” Wilson replied dryly.
The minions returned before House could reply, and he caught the glance Foreman shot at Wilson. It was distinct for its tinge of concern, and Wilson’s warm look in return made House feel jealous and petty. He turned back to the whiteboard now that all the necessaries were present, even if they didn’t have the most recent CSF test results, and went over the symptoms again. Wilson threw in a few suggestions, none of them cancer-related, and House had to wonder why, exactly, he’d wanted Wilson in for a consult. Though it had turned out interestingly.
House had just issued a blanket dismissal for the evening, some five hours later, and the FCC were collecting their bags and coats. He popped his head through the door and got a wary glance from Chase, who knew by now that random interruptions from the boss tended to be bad things, or at least annoyances.
“Foreman, need you.”
Foreman rolled his eyes, but answered in a polite enough tone. “Can it wait? My ride—”
House interrupted with an imperious wave of his hand. “Your sex life is your business.” Cameron slapped her hand to her mouth, looking absolutely horrified, and House watched her with interest for a moment before continuing. “Except when it’s my business, like now.”
Foreman waited for Cameron and Chase to clear out—which they did remarkably slowly—before he answered. “It’s not your business. I get that he’s your friend, but…”
“No buts,” House interrupted. “Or maybe that’s a bad choice of words. Either way, yeah, he’s my friend, but he also sucks at relationships.”
Foreman looked awesomely off-balance. House really liked that effect. He wondered if he could get it more without bringing up Wilson and Foreman’s sex life, because really, he didn’t want to know about that.
House continued, “When it ends—”
“How do you know it’s gonna end?” Foreman challenged.
“Because it’s Wilson,” House pointed out in a very ‘duh’ tone.
“And I don’t give up,” Foreman retorted.
“When it ends,” House repeated, at a loss as to how to address Foreman’s point, “are you still going to be able to work here?”
“Keep personal and work separate, right?” Foreman arched an eyebrow at him. “You didn’t even know until I had to borrow one of his ties.”
House was about to ask what had happened to Foreman’s tie, but thought better of it. Given the number of cracks he’d made over the years about Wilson and ties…He shuddered inwardly.
“Anything else?” Foreman asked, shrugging on his coat.
House shook his head.
“See you in the morning.” Foreman opened the door. “And for the record, we alternate.”
House caught the look of triumph on Foreman’s face a moment before that processed. When it did, he made a mental note to have Foreman do all the most disgusting procedures until he stopped picturing that.
Fandom: House
Pairing: Wilson/Foreman. Save the looks until after you read, please.
Rating: Everyone
Word Count: 2,020
Author’s Notes: House’s POV. Inspired by this picture. Written for
sarcasticsra, who, along with leaper182, did an in-progress beta of sorts. This will have two companion pieces, maybe more. Also? I love this piece.Foreman’s tie looked…familiar. Then again, that could be because it seemed like one straight from The Wilson Collection. Better than The Chase Collection, though. One garish tie—ignoring the blindingly mismatched outfit that usually went along with it—was enough for House’s conference room. Maybe he should put up a sign. “Must Pass Visual Inspection Prior to Entry.” The fine print could read, “Unless you’re the wombat.”
Big surprise, he was right. Foreman’s tie had certainly not come from Foreman’s closet—or at least not the kind used for clothes—as the entry of none other than one James Wilson, wearing the same tie, confirmed that. Well, same other than the color; the stripes on Foreman’s were a light green, Wilson’s a bright blue. Foreman had taste, House had to admit—he’d managed to get the better of the two.
“What’s next, Jimmy, matching track suits?”
Wilson’s expression of utter confusion—not to mention the looks on the kids’ faces—made the frustrating case that had called for his presence completely worthwhile.
“The tie,” House clarified. “Should’ve told me you’re dating Foreman. We could have had one of those ‘talks’.” His tone was light, mocking, and completely not serious.
But maybe it should have been. House hadn’t known just how red Wilson could turn, or how fast. It was even better than when Wilson had found out Summer—Wife Two—was an ex-hooker. And that House really had hired her once.
Almost as important, Foreman was looking everywhere but at House and Wilson.
Cameron and Chase seemed confused, but from the way Cameron eyed Wilson, the light was dawning—and she couldn’t be happy, since this wasn’t the cheerful, sunshine-and-flowers kind of revelation about someone’s character that she preferred. Unsurprisingly, Chase looked totally clueless. Give the kid enough time, though, and he’d not only figure out that Foreman and Wilson were fucking like crazy rabbits—which made for an interesting mental image—but also the precise moment they’d figured out they might have potential for something, and every single night they’d had sex. Chase could be sneaky like that.
But Chase wasn’t the important part. The important part was his incredibly red best friend, who apparently might not be such a good friend after all. Or at least not as open as House had thought.
Ooooh, this divorce was going to be killer. Odds were against Wilson’s attorney having included anything in the prenup about an affair with House’s male underling. Female from any walk of life, expected, especially since the lawyer had been a woman and almost definitely subject to Wilson’s unknowing flirting. A guy, not so much. Hell, even House hadn’t seen it coming, and he should’ve, if anyone would. Even if the prenup included a clause about general infidelity, Julie could claim emotional pain, if she wanted, and then Wilson’s bank accounts would limp for about a month. Not that he’d notice or anything, not with his investments.
He eyed his staff. Yeah, they were gonna talk. Nothing he could do about that. Rather, plenty he could do, but nothing he wanted to do. Petty, sure, but it’d be fun. “Daddy needs to have a talk with Uncle Jimmy,” he informed them—then paused. That sounded positively incestuous. “Go get us a new LP, see if anything’s changed.”
It was either a mark of how stunned they were, or how well trained, that they didn’t object to the possibly unnecessary procedure. House preferred the latter, but he was leaning toward the former. Either that, or their minds had been replaced by those of well-trained dogs. He couldn’t be certain, now could he?
“House—” Wilson began, and it was amazing how a thirty-six-year-old man’s voice could crack during a single-syllable word. House didn’t think he’d ever heard anything quite like it. Wilson cleared his throat, tried again. “House.”
“Of all the people to have an affair with, Wilson.” House’s chiding tone was mocking. “Could’ve done worse, gone with the pretty boy. Though I suspect that much sex appeal in bed together violates some law of physics.”
Wilson was staring as though House had grown a second head. That seemed vaguely insulting; if anyone should be completely shocked, it sure wasn’t Wilson. Actually, it was weird, how inured House had become to Wilson’s affairs. This was no different, in House’s mind, from that brief fling with Brenda, the nurse who had almost every doctor who’d come into contact with her cowed. At this point, Wilson could sleep with Cuddy and—
No. Wilson could not sleep with Cuddy. House figured he should let Wilson know as much. “If you have sex with Cuddy, I’ll have to kill you. It’d probably be a mercy killing at that point.”
Wilson looked like he’d recovered enough to go with the banter until he figured out the train of thought. “And here I was planning on compounding the cheating with another affair.” He sounded better now, too, less thirteen-year-old boy than embarrassed adult.
“At least Cameron’s not an option.”
“Unless she’s high.”
“Nope, that’s what Chase is for,” House reminded him. “And you’ve effectively killed any hint of a crush she had on you with this.”
“And all without the drama of her quitting and having to take her out to dinner. Clearly, you just didn’t plan well enough.” Wilson’s color was normalizing. This was good.
“Obviously. I should’ve just had sex with you…” The blush was back. “That long, huh?”
“Since after the homeless woman with rabies,” Wilson admitted sheepishly.
“The homeless woman. The one Foreman was vehemently against admitting, and you were just as adamantly for treating. The one who bit Foreman. That homeless woman?”
“I wasn’t aware you’ve treated so many homeless women with rabies that you needed more specifics,” Wilson retorted.
That was fair. “Just surprised that a case you two had such differing opinions on got you together.”
“We went for drinks, he told me why he doesn’t like homeless people—”
“Yeah, I’ve wondered about that. Care to share?”
“And have my wife and my lover pissed off? Not a chance. Told him about my brother—”
“Wait, you told him just like that, and it took, what, eight years for you to tell me?” That stung.
“I was drunk.” Wilson shrugged. “He gave me a ride, Julie was out of town…” Another shrug, this one almost helpless. “You know me.”
“Right, sleeping with anything that’ll have you. This doesn’t explain the evolution from drunken fuck to long-term relationship.” House raised an eyebrow, waiting.
“It just…happened.” Wilson folded his arms across his chest. “You remember Amber?”
“The ex-cheerleader who picked you up when you found out about Summer and hooking?” House got a well-deserved glare for that one.
“Thank you so much for reminding me again of my ex-wife’s former career.”
“Every opportunity counts, especially since I had the insider’s perspective and you didn’t believe me.”
Wilson seemed to either be making a concerted effort to not strangle House, or not burst out in a weird combination of laughter and anger. “It’s like how the thing with Amber happened.”
House’s brow knit, trying to see the parallels, and Wilson looked almost triumphant. Silly Wilson. House wouldn’t be trumped. After all, Wilson still hadn’t figured out the Cuddy remark. “Amber picked you up in a bar—and you proceeded to abandon me, if you recall—”
“What can I say? Her breasts were far better than anything you have to offer.”
House ignored the interruption. “And you were drunk.”
“Yes, you’ve got it so far.” Wilson was enjoying this. House wasn’t sure how the mocking had gotten turned around on him, but he didn’t much like it.
“She was Ms. Sympathy-and-Good-Lay, so you kept with her. Well, until you met Julie, anyway. Never figured you’d have a weakness for petite redheads over busty blondes.”
Wilson’s expression sobered slightly, though there was still a hint of mirth around the corners of his mouth. “Probably a mistake. Amber and I were good together.”
“You and Julie started out good together,” House reminded him. “From what I hear, so did you and Karen. Hell, you and Summer started out good.”
“Yeah, but with Amber, it could’ve lasted.” There was a hint of wistfulness to his tone, and House rolled his eyes.
“So Foreman was Dr. Sympathy-and-Good-Lay—”
Wilson gave a wicked grin. “You have no idea.”
House curled his lip. “I could’ve lived without knowing that part.”
“A little late for that.”
“And now you think this could last?”
Wilson shrugged. “No idea, but what we have is good.”
“Vanilla just not good enough any more, Jimmy?” Wilson shot him a dark, warning look. House thoroughly ignored it. “Wanted a taste of chocolate instead?”
“So, that stop being an ass advice, did that completely not take?” Wilson looked pissed, and House—wisely, he thought—backed off the subject.
“You love him?”
Wilson blinked, apparently caught off-guard, and that always worked well. “I…am unsure about that word, now.”
“Took you long enough,” House grumbled. “Never has one man misused that word so much.” He pointed a warning finger at Wilson. “When you screw this one up, it’s going to suck to work around here.”
“Your confidence in me is inspiring,” Wilson replied dryly.
The minions returned before House could reply, and he caught the glance Foreman shot at Wilson. It was distinct for its tinge of concern, and Wilson’s warm look in return made House feel jealous and petty. He turned back to the whiteboard now that all the necessaries were present, even if they didn’t have the most recent CSF test results, and went over the symptoms again. Wilson threw in a few suggestions, none of them cancer-related, and House had to wonder why, exactly, he’d wanted Wilson in for a consult. Though it had turned out interestingly.
House had just issued a blanket dismissal for the evening, some five hours later, and the FCC were collecting their bags and coats. He popped his head through the door and got a wary glance from Chase, who knew by now that random interruptions from the boss tended to be bad things, or at least annoyances.
“Foreman, need you.”
Foreman rolled his eyes, but answered in a polite enough tone. “Can it wait? My ride—”
House interrupted with an imperious wave of his hand. “Your sex life is your business.” Cameron slapped her hand to her mouth, looking absolutely horrified, and House watched her with interest for a moment before continuing. “Except when it’s my business, like now.”
Foreman waited for Cameron and Chase to clear out—which they did remarkably slowly—before he answered. “It’s not your business. I get that he’s your friend, but…”
“No buts,” House interrupted. “Or maybe that’s a bad choice of words. Either way, yeah, he’s my friend, but he also sucks at relationships.”
Foreman looked awesomely off-balance. House really liked that effect. He wondered if he could get it more without bringing up Wilson and Foreman’s sex life, because really, he didn’t want to know about that.
House continued, “When it ends—”
“How do you know it’s gonna end?” Foreman challenged.
“Because it’s Wilson,” House pointed out in a very ‘duh’ tone.
“And I don’t give up,” Foreman retorted.
“When it ends,” House repeated, at a loss as to how to address Foreman’s point, “are you still going to be able to work here?”
“Keep personal and work separate, right?” Foreman arched an eyebrow at him. “You didn’t even know until I had to borrow one of his ties.”
House was about to ask what had happened to Foreman’s tie, but thought better of it. Given the number of cracks he’d made over the years about Wilson and ties…He shuddered inwardly.
“Anything else?” Foreman asked, shrugging on his coat.
House shook his head.
“See you in the morning.” Foreman opened the door. “And for the record, we alternate.”
House caught the look of triumph on Foreman’s face a moment before that processed. When it did, he made a mental note to have Foreman do all the most disgusting procedures until he stopped picturing that.
Fic: Ties and Signs
I would never have read it, except that I'm going through your fics now (beware of comments) and clicked it accidentally. I trusted your note to read it, too.
Very funny in the biting comments. But still poignant and tense where it was important; House's feeling petty, and Wilson's wistful thoughts about Amber. I loved House's tangential thoughts on Chase. And Foreman holding his own for the relationship against House.
It was even better than when Wilson had found out Summer—Wife Two—was an ex-hooker. And that House really had hired her once.
*big grin* Because it's just the idea of it dropped in there, and all the possibilities are worth thinking on.
Re: Fic: Ties and Signs
I'm pleased that House's emotions came through well; it's a fine line with him.
Thank you for trusting the note to read it; I really do like this piece, and having people read it pleases me to no end.
no subject
Okay, I'm glad that was answered, because I was totally wondering throughout the entire thing.
I love this, I can see the whole House/Wilson conversation, it's written completely in their voices. This is so good.
no subject
Would you believe I was, too, until I wrote that line? It's the main reason it's there--besides that Foreman can, at times, shut House up.
I'm glad you like it, and am so pleased by the reception this got when I first posted it in the communities. Thanks for reading!
no subject
*dies*
Awesome, on so many levels. I've seen the picture before but didn't notice the matching ties until now. Ah yes, my great powers of observation at work yet again.
It's such an odd pairing, but it *works*. Everyone stays in character and now I'm just left with, "Well duh. Of course Wilson and Foreman will get together. Honestly."
*grin* Definitely a convert over here.
no subject
I'm so glad you like it. Thanks for reading!
no subject
“See you in the morning.” Foreman opened the door. “And for the record, we alternate.”
Bwahaha!
no subject
no subject
no subject
Thank you for the entertaining read.