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Birthday Present
by Adrienne S.
Author's note: After rewatching "Socratic Method" and "No
Reason", I contemplated the difference in House's birth dates and
came up with this bit of fluff to explain it.
Birthday Present
"You bastard." House waited until they arrived at their
respective cars before he made the accusation. Wilson did not
look even close to properly chagrined.
"My mother swears I'm not," Wilson replied, unruffled. "Of
course, she always says it in front of my dad, so maybe she's
just covering up. Must have cost a fortune to bribe the Rabbi to
put the wrong date on her marriage certificate, though."
"Ah, but her bastard son is a rich doctor," House reminded him.
"And evil. And stupid."
"Stupid?" Wilson raised his brows, then folded his arms and
leaned against his car. "And which particular manifestation of
my stupidity gave it away this time?"
"Asking me if it was near my birthday." House scowled. "You
know damned well my birthday's in July."
"The eleventh, as I recall."
"So why does Cameron think it was yesterday?"
"I don't know. Why does she?"
"Apparently, she saw it on a form when she was opening my mail,"
House explained. "Now, why would there be a form with a false
birthdate on it be in my mailbox?"
"Aha!" Wilson grinned. "You owe me fifty bucks, mister. I'll
take it now and in cash, if you don't mind." He held out his
hand and House, irritated, slapped it away.
"You set me up."
"Yep."
"You sent that piece of mail to my office knowing Cameron would
read it."
"And win the bet that she processes your mail," Wilson confirmed.
"What? You thought I'd never be able to prove it?"
At this, House lowered his eyes and looked a little chagrined.
"No. I made the bet because you pissed me off with your smug
assumption that I don't run my department as well as you do."
"Well, you don't," Wilson replied. "I have forty doctors in my
department. You have three. My department has a two hundred
plus caseload at any one time. You've got one, at most."
"And more than half your patients die."
"My patients have cancer, which is the second most common cause
of death in the state."
"I thought it was number one."
"Nope. Heart disease. Cancer's number two."
"Whatever. My point is... What was my point again?"
"No idea. You were going to try to distract me from the fifty
you owe me by yelling at me for giving Cameron the impression
that yesterday was your birthday," Wilson reminded him. "So what
did she do? Give you a birthday kiss? A spanking?"
"Oh, you wish." House grimaced. "She gave me a present."
"Really? What did she get you?"
"No idea. I'm not going to open it."
"Why not? It's a birthday present, not a marriage proposal."
"I'm not too sure about that," House admitted. "Besides, what
happens if I like it?"
"You now own something that you like?" Wilson guessed.
"If she got me a present and I like it, it means that she
understands me well enough to get me something I like."
"Which is a problem?"
"Yes, it's a problem. If she finds out that she knows me well
enough to get me something I actually like, she'll never stop
batting her eyelashes at me."
"I've never stopped batting my eyelashes at you and it doesn't
seem to bother you."
"I can't see you doing it. I keep getting distracted by those
caterpillars you call eyebrows."
"Wait until they become butterflies," Wilson advised. "Then I'll
really be able to distract you."
"You're already distracting me," House complained. "You're
trying to confuse me while I am trying to blame you for giving
out false information to my staff."
"I didn't. Technically, you did."
"I did?"
"The form Cameron opened was a copy of that census form that the
AMA sent out. You know, the one where you claimed to be a blind
vascular surgeon with psychic powers."
"Cameron took that seriously? I really have to talk to her about
paying attention to my paperwork."
"I may have edited it a little. I did leave in the part about
you having been born in Borneo."
"That might be true. I've lived all over the world."
"You were born in Pensecola, Florida," Wilson said. "Can we get
back to the point?"
"The one where you set me up and let Cameron think she knows all
about my birthday? God, the way she was looking at me... It was
like... like..."
"A vulture looking at a nice, rotting carcass?" Wilson supplied.
"I thought the point was you owing me fifty bucks since I now
have proof that you do not, in fact, read your own mail."
"You'd make me pay out on a bet on my birthday?"
"It isn't your birthday."
"Tell that to Cameron."
"Sure. Along with all the other stuff I'm sure she'd like to
know, like your shirt size, your favourite colour, which side of
the bed you prefer to sleep on, the size of your penis. Your
hopes, your dreams, your aspirations..."
"Like the aspiration I have for killing you right now?" House
said sourly. "And how do you know the size of my penis, anyway?"
"I don't. However, if you pay up, I'll buy you dinner and then
I'll know."
"You think I'll put out for dinner?"
"You've always said you would, so if you don't, you'll owe me
another fifty."
"How so?"
"Last year, you bet me that I couldn't catch you out in a lie."
"I lie to you all the time."
"Ah, but you always tell me that you lied, so I'm not catching
you. This time I would be."
"So you'd prostitute yourself for fifty bucks?"
"What can I say? I'm easy."
"And cheap." House shook his head. "You'd really sleep with me
if I went out to dinner with you?"
"Well, it is your birthday."
"No, it's not. And, even if it was, what makes you think
sleeping with you is an appropriate birthday present?"
"Since when have you ever liked appropriate?"
"Since when have I ever liked you?"
"Um. Christmas Eve. You played piano for me which you only do
for people you like."
"Fine. I find you... tolerable. Sometimes," House admitted
grudgingly. "That doesn't mean I want to sleep with you."
"Fine. Give me the hundred, then, and we can both go home."
"Fifty."
"Ah, so you agree that you owe me fifty bucks."
House blinked, then smiled a little. A long banter like this was
easily worth fifty bucks. He took out his wallet, then
hesitated.
"You're not taking me out to dinner?"
"Depends. Am I going to get lucky or fifty dollars richer?"
"Neither. It's my pseudo birthday."
"Pseudo food it is, then. McDonalds or KFC?"
"Last of the big time spenders. Do I at least get a cake?"
"I'll throw in a Twinkie on the way to your place."
"My place?"
"I think my wife might object if I take you back to my place."
"Especially if you're planning to coax me into bed."
"No, I think Julie will be upset long before that," Wilson said
thoughtfully. "Since it isn't really your birthday, I don't
think she'll buy that this is just a birthday kiss."
With that, Wilson pushed off the car, took House's face between
his hands and kissed him.
House, surprised, let Wilson kiss him. Even after the surprise
wore off and the kiss didn't, he didn't move away. In fact, he
put his hands on Wilson's shoulders to steady himself, since he
had to shift his center of balance when he thrust his tongue into
Wilson's mouth.
"So." House said, as soon as he could detach himself from
Wilson's lips. "You said something about dinner?"
-------------
As it happened, House did like Cameron's present. The beautiful
grey silk scarf with the fringes looked absolutely magnificent
wrapped around Wilson's wrists. Not as magnificent as Wilson
looked splayed out over House's sheets, but still quite nice. He
made a mental note to thank her for the present, even if she
wouldn't believe he was sincere. After all, she would never see
him wear it.
END
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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