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  Mystery 
 by Cinaed  

 Summary: House lived to solve mysteries -- big ones (like saving lives)
and small ones (why Foreman didn't want to treat that homeless woman).
Today, he was going to solve the small mystery of Wilson's tie. 

 Notes: This story idea popped into my head after I read
http://rwryter.livejournal.com/4208.html -- Ties and Signs by rwryter,
which is a James Wilson/Eric Foreman fic. 

"There is much pleasure to be gained from useless knowledge." ~Bertrand
Russell (1872 - 1970) 

Gregory House liked to think that he and the universe had a working
relationship. Whenever she was bored (which was often), she threw some
patient that was bleeding from every orifice at him and watched to see if
he could figure the problem out before the patient died. This kept him on
his toes and relatively boredom-free. There were times when the universe
was busy elsewhere, causing plagues and famines and the like, of course,
and that was when House would get bored -- and he figured everyone who had
met him at least once could say that a bored Gregory House was a Bad
Thing. With the uppercase and everything. It was when he was bored that he
went looking for his own little mysteries, ones that the universe
overlooked (she tended to focus on big things that were life and death),
little tidbits of useless knowledge only he would find interesting.

That was why he was currently staring at Wilson's tie, brow knitted in
concentration. The tie was new, seemingly brand-new actually, and there
were several striking things wrong with that. One, the tie wasn't one that
Julie had bought him, because House had every one of Wilson's ties
catalogued in his head. Two, the tie was too stylish for Wilson to have
bought it himself. For one thing it was a Georgio Armani tie, with
burgundy and gray stripes. And it was silk. When Wilson tried to buy ties
for himself, he usually ended up with some garish color like pink or
violet or...huh, gay colors. How had House never noticed that before? He
filed that one in the 'Ways to Torment Wilson' folder for the next time
Wilson showed up with a gay-looking tie. Oh yeah, there had been another
thing wrong with the tie. Three, Wilson kept smoothing it down and
flushing guiltily whenever House caught him fondling the tie. Definitely a
new girlfriend. So why had House not been informed of this new
development? Wilson had always told him about his rebound girls from his
first two marriages. And actually, Julie had been his rebound girl, who
he'd now found a rebound for. Life was funny like that. But still, House
was not amused at being left out of the loop. Wilson knew he liked knowing
things. Maybe it was Debbie from Accounting, and Wilson just didn't want
to admit that House had been right. 

House watched as Wilson stroked the tie again, and raised an eyebrow when
the oncologist flushed. His voice deliberately causal, as though he hadn't
figured out Wilson was in yet another relationship, he remarked, "Well,
all three of my minions seem to be running late today." Actually, he and
Wilson had somehow managed to get to the hospital a half-hour early, go
figure (he suspected Wilson of messing with the clocks in his house), and
his three little slaves had plenty of time to get there, but maybe he
could fiddle with the clock and make them think they were late. He
couldn't get away with it since Wilson was still loitering in the room
though, and so filed that plan in his 'Nefarious Schemes to Torment the
Minions' folder. 

"They have another fifteen minutes, House," Wilson said, glancing up at
the clock and absently running a finger along the gray stripes of his tie.
The constantly fondling was getting annoying, actually. After all, silk
was nice, but not that nice. 

House (valiantly) resisted the urge to rip the tie off Wilson's neck, and
instead tilted his head and asked, in the same casual voice, "So who is
it? Debbie from Accounting? That new nurse in Radiology?" He watched
Wilson like a hawk for a visible reaction, and wasn't disappointed --
Wilson's hand froze on his tie, and his eyes widened to saucers for a
moment before he began to stammer. 

"How did you...I mean, I don't know what you-- who is what?" Man,
sometimes Wilson was too easy. 

He paused to admire the way Wilson's cheeks almost matched the burgundy
shade of his tie, and then smirked. "This is why I didn't invite you to
Poker Night. You'd lose the shirt off your back." He leaned back in his
chair, twirling his cane in his fingers. "Who're you sleeping with? Debbie
from Accounting? It has to be someone at the hospital, unless you're
running out to see someone during the rare lunch break you're not eating
with me."

"I'm not...." Wilson sighed and rubbed his face. "Okay, okay, I'm seeing
someone. There, you've got your interesting tidbit of the day. Can we
change the subject now?" 

"Now Jimmy," House admonished him, putting the slightest edge of amusement
into his voice, "as if I would change the subject when you haven't given
me her name." Did Wilson really think he could keep a secret from him?
When Wilson just stared at him with a vaguely panicked expression, he
raised an eyebrow and drawled, "So who is this mystery rebound girl that
I've oddly heard nothing about?" He paused, a bit startled at himself, as
the 'nothing' came out sharp and almost irritated. Well, it just wasn't
like Wilson to hide relationships from him, he reminded himself. This
meant either a) it was someone House had guessed he would sleep with and
Wilson didn't want to put up with his 'gloating' or b) someone House would
disapprove of. Both options gave him full rights to be irritated. 

He was going to assume it was b), however, when Wilson sighed, rubbing the
back of his neck, and said, "It's not Debbie. Or Karen from Radiology." 

House shot him a look. "Are we going to have to play the Name Game, or are
you going to tell me who it is?" It would suck if Wilson insisted on the
Name Game, because House didn't remember half of the women's names in the
hospital, and they both knew it. Hell, he barely remembered Cameron and
Cuddy's names half the time. Playing the Name Game would mean research and
waiting a whole couple of hours to figure out who this mystery woman was,
and House really wanted to know now. When Wilson sighed again and looked
away, House poked him in the chest with his cane. "Is it someone you
really shouldn't be with? God, if it's Cuddy, I'm going to kill you for
your own good--" He was slightly gratified to see Wilson roll his eyes at
the suggestion of Cuddy as his rebound girl. 

"It's...complicated, House." And Wilson was back to fondling his tie and
his cheeks were attempting to match the burgundy shade again. "Can we talk
about this later?" 

"No," House said flatly, and started to look up as the door to the
conference room opened -- and then paused, arrested by the
conscience-stricken expression on Wilson's face, the way the other man's
eyes had shot to the door, and most of all how he had swallowed visibly.
House blinked. Now that was...interesting. Cameron? He hadn't thought
Wilson had it in him. 

After a second, though, Wilson visibly slumped in relief, and House
finally looked up to smirk at Eric Foreman as the neurologist pulled off a
damp coat and tried to shake the water off, even as his mind repeated in
astonishment, Cameron? He really hadn't believed Wilson would go after her
when she was still infatuated with House. Then again, maybe Wilson was
trying to kill two birds with one stone; have a rebound and get Cameron
off House's back. Too bad Wilson had forgotten that Cameron was the clingy
type. 

Foreman raised an eyebrow at them both, having obviously noticed Wilson's
guilty reaction. All he said, however, was, "It's pretty slick out there.
I think the hospital's going to be getting a lot of accidents today,"
before he went to pour himself some coffee. Did that man not have a
curiosity bone in his body? 

Allison Cameron came in about five minutes later, raindrops still clinging
to her hair. She wore her familiar earnest smile, but House squinted at
her, certain there had to be an 'after-glow' aspect to the smile. When he
saw nothing out of the ordinary, he frowned. Well, maybe she and Wilson
hadn't slept together yet. Maybe he'd only wined and dined her. He just
nodded when she smiled at him, and glanced at Wilson from the corner of
his eyes (subtly, of course). 

There was only one problem with trying to read the oncologist's
expression; Wilson's face was currently buried in his hands, and he didn't
respond to Cameron's soft, "Are you all right, Doctor Wilson?"

Doctor Wilson, ha. It was Jimmy now, wasn't it? Unless those two had a
kinky thing where she continued to call him Doctor Wilson. Now there was
food for thought. Did she get called Allison or Cameron on their dates? 

Fifteen minutes later, Robert Chase hurried into the conference room,
looking flustered. "Am I late?"

"Yes," Foreman and House said together, and House shot the neurologist a
look. It was his prerogative to harass Robert Chase, not Foreman's.
Foreman could harass...well, wait, it was House's prerogative to harass
everyone, so Foreman really didn't get to have fun. Oh well, Foreman could
deal. 

He waited until all three of his minions were settled into their chairs
before he glanced at Wilson again (the other man's head was still resting
in his hands, as though he was trying to delay the inevitable) and
remarked in a tone positively dripping with innocence, "So, Cameron, what
do you think of Wilson's tie?" 

Cameron's expression was puzzled. "His...tie is nice, I guess," she
offered uncertainly, her guileless eyes meeting his -- wait, it wasn't
Cameron? -- and then they both turned to stare at the sound of someone
choking on their coffee. 

Chase's face was bright red, matching his wine red tie, actually.
His...Armani wine red tie. Coughing fitfully, Chase managed to gasp out,
"Went down the wrong way" before he resumed his coughing. After a moment,
Cameron leaned over and plucked the forgotten red mug from his grasp,
(which was probably a good plan since Chase seemed in imminent danger of
dropping the mug and spilling hot coffee on himself). 

Well, this was...interesting. House knew his expression was probably one
of shock and that his jaw was probably touching the floor, but he couldn't
help gaping at the blonde. Wilson and...Chase? Chase the sycophant? Chase
the...very male intensivist?

"Huh," he said, and belatedly closed his mouth. "Huh, well...that was
interesting." 

"House." The name was almost groaned from between Wilson's hands, and
Wilson looked up, expression beseeching.

House felt some of his shock ebb at the familiar pleading tone. Now this
was familiar territory, Wilson trying to keep from being tormented
mercilessly. After a moment, he gave his best friend a pat on the
shoulder. Then he looked at his three little minions and grinned, making
certain to show off all of his teeth, and was rewarded by Wilson turning
as white as a sheet. Oh yes, this was going to be so much fun. He'd have
to file this under...well, he supposed he needed a new folder. 

'Various Ways to Torment Wilson and Chase.' That had a very nice ring to
it. 

"I happen to think his tie is beautiful. Don't you agree, Chase?" he said
in an ultra-sweet tone, earning a suspicious look from Foreman, a bemused
head-tilt from Cameron, and an expression of dawning horror on Chase's.
Yes, this was going to be very, very fun. 

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 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.