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  Foreplay 
 by Gigi Sinclair  

 "What did you say?" James looked up from the file in his lap. 

Greg leaned back in his chair, propping his feet on the desk. "I said,
marry me." 

"That's what I thought." James glanced back at the unfortunate Mr.
Fernandez's medical records, now that he knew this was just one of Greg's
random teases. "It's not a very romantic proposal."

"Sorry. I should have consulted the expert." Greg brought his feet down
again, leaning forward on the desk to stare more disconcertingly than
usual at James. "Tell me, what would James do?" 

"If I was proposing again?" There was no chance of that happening. "I
don't know. Dinner, flowers, getting down on one knee. Something like
that." Eduardo Fernandez needed radical chemotherapy, starting right away,
James decided. It was his only chance, and even then, it looked pretty
grim. 

"Well, the knee thing is out," Greg went on. Obviously, Greg was dedicated
to this particular "bit" for some reason. "But I think the cafeteria has
macaroni and cheese today. And I'm sure I could rustle up some roses from
the get-well bouquets. Unless you prefer lilies. Then I'll have to head to
the morgue." 

James stood, the Fernandez file in hand. "I have to go." Much as he would
have liked to play along with Greg in their usual casual, semi-flirtatious
style, he had work to do. "I'll see you later, Greg."

"Think about what I said," Greg called after him. "I'll even fork out for
a ring." 

"Three baguettes, no less," James replied as he left, trying not to think
about the fact that he could talk about engagement rings with almost as
much expertise as he could talk about cancer treatments. 

***

Eduardo Fernandez was a married father of four. His wife and his eldest
daughter came with him to the consultation, and James had to look them all
in the eye as he told them Eduardo had very little chance of surviving. He
was trying to put the best possible spin on it, playing up the
chemotherapy option and the slim odds that would work, when there was a
knock on his office door.

Glancing through the window, James caught a glimpse of a nurse with
something in her arms. 

"Excuse me a moment." He inclined his head to the family, who barely
seemed to notice. Mrs. Fernandez was sobbing into a tissue, while the
daughter had her arm protectively around her father's shoulders. Eduardo
himself was looking sadly resigned, something James had seen many times
before. Too many times. "Yes?" James opened the office door, stepping
through and pulling it half-closed behind him. 

The nurse thrust a large bouquet of white roses at him. "These came for
you, Dr. Wilson." He didn't take them.

James frowned. "What?"

"For you," the nurse repeated, shifting the bouquet in her arms and
looking pointedly at the card. James picked it up automatically and read:
"Marry me." No need to wonder who that was from. 

"I'm with a patient," James snapped, shoving the card back into the
flowers. It bent, and James clearly read: "Get well soon Nana" in childish
crayon on the back of the card. No need to wonder where they'd come from,
either. "Put them at the nurse's station." The nurse turned around with a
sigh and, adjusting her grip on the bouquet, went over to the desk. 

As soon as the Fernandez family was gone, James went back downstairs and
barged into House's office. He was alone, which was just as well. At the
moment, James was feeling just annoyed enough to make a scene in front of
the ducklings. Instead, he had to make do with making a scene in front of
Greg's Gameboy and half-eaten Oh Henry bar. "What's the matter with you?"

Greg glanced up from his game. "In general, or were you referring to one
foible in particular?" 

"I'm telling a man he's probably not going to live to see his
grandchildren, and you send me a bunch of flowers you stole from some poor
kid's Nana?" 

"Nana was discharged yesterday. She left the flowers for the nurses." 

"Which is where they ended up." 

Greg clutched his heart with his free hand and fiddled with his controller
with the other. "You re-gifted my engagement present? How callous, James.
You wound me, truly." 

"OK, Greg." He sighed. "Listen, I can take a joke as well as the next guy,
but..."

Greg's eyes came up again, and this time they stayed up, his eyes fixed on
James. "It's not a joke." 

Not one Greg was willing to give up, clearly. "Oh. OK. Well, while you are
a very attractive man and I do care about you as a friend..."

"It's an insurance policy." Greg put the Gameboy on his desk. 

"Against what?"

"Vogler."

James laughed. Greg's expression didn't change. "What, you think if he
sees me wearing your class ring he won't ask me to the senior prom?" 

"He's not stupid, unfortunately. One day he's going to realize that the
best way of getting to me is through you." 

"So if we're married..."

Greg waved a hand. "He can figure out some way to get rid of you if he
wants to. Malpractice, cutbacks, anything, no one'll give a shit."

James blinked. "Thank you. That's very reassuring."

"But if we're together and he gives you the axe, then we call him a
homophobic prick and sue him. Suddenly, we're on 'Larry King Live' and '60
Minutes Two' and anywhere else it takes until they forget about his money
and give him the axe to save the hospital's reputation. We might still go
down, but we'll take him with us." 

It was a paranoid idea, James thought, but not a bad one, in theory. Very
few of Greg's ideas were bad, in theory. "I'm already married, Greg."

"It's not bigamy if one of the marriages isn't legal," Greg replied, with
a certainty that led James to suspect he'd actually looked into this.
"Anyway," Greg went on, "We don't have to really do it. We just have to
disappear to Boston for a weekend, eat some beans, play a little golf, you
come back with a gleam in your eye and I limp a little more than usual,
and we're all set if and when I finally piss him off enough." 

"And are you planning on pissing him off?"

Greg smiled. "Every chance I get." 

James smiled back. This was Greg, and this was just what James loved about
him. The quick mind, the endlessly creative ideas, the willingness to
fight no matter what the cost. If it wasn't for Julie, James thought, he
might actually consider it. It would be fun, in a teenage prank kind of
way, and he hadn't been to Boston for years. 

"It would never work." And James, he decided, wasn't going to feel the
least bit disappointed about that. "So I guess you'll just have to keep
your mouth shut if you want to protect me." 

"I do," Greg replied, his voice more earnest than James had heard it in a
long time. 

The irony of the phrase wasn't lost on James, who raised his eyebrow and
said, jokingly because that was what made it acceptable: "Till death do us
part?" 

"Are you kidding?" Greg opened his drawer and fumbled for something.
Vicodin, James assumed. His smile got bigger when Greg pulled out a
lollipop instead and shoved it into his mouth. "I'll be tossing rocks at
you from gentile hell." 

"If I eat any more ham sandwiches, I'll be right there with you." There
was more James wanted to say, there was always more James wanted to say to
Greg, but there was no way he could say it. So instead, he said: "Dinner
tonight?"

"What about your wife?"

James shrugged. "I'll tell her I'm out saving my job." It was no less
believable than most of the excuses he'd given Julie recently.

When he got back to his office, James opened Eduardo Fernandez's file
again, as if staring at it would make the man's tumours disappear. Then,
after a long pause, James reached for his PalmPilot and looked up his
friend Jerry, the one who worked at Beth Israel and always said how
interested their Board was in James, if he ever became available. 

James knew Greg was serious when he said he wanted to protect him, but he
also knew Greg was serious when he said he was going to piss off Vogler
every chance he got. And, as James had learned, being friends with Greg
meant you had to be prepared for every eventuality.

He couldn't imagine what being married to Greg, legally or not, would
entail, and he was glad he wasn't going to find out.

Mostly glad, anyway. 

  
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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 Fox Television, 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.