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How (Not) To Tell The Parents
by gena
How(not) to Tell the Parents
"So, they are prepared for me, right?" House asked in an unusual display of insecurity.
"No one is ever really prepared for you," Wilson muttered, most of his attention fixed on getting through traffic. Everyone in Princeton seemed intent on leaving the city at that moment and his beloved Volvo had come close to being dented by impatient weekenders twice so far.
"You didn't tell them," House accused. He turned in his seat to face Wilson, bright blue eyes boring into the younger man's profile.
"It's not the kind of thing you can broach over the phone," Wilson protested, "at least not to my parents. Yours, sure - they wouldn't bat an eye."
"What's that suppose to mean?"
Wilson signaled, finally getting out of the bumper to bumper traffic and onto the highway that would take him to his parent's house. "Just that your mom and dad don't expect you to - conform to any expectations set by our society."
House scrunched up his face, his expression a bizarre mix of irritation, incredulity and interest. "But yours do," he murmured still eyeing Wilson. A moment passed in silence before House said, "You weren't planning on showing up at their house with your lover in tow and just breaking into a chorus of I Feel Pretty were you?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Wilson sighed, "I don't know all the words." He glanced over at House, laying his hand on House's knee. "This is going to be okay. It'll all work out."
"You are either the biggest optimist in the world," House said, "or you're pilfering huge amounts of psychopharmaceuticals from work." He placed his hand over Wilson's rubbing his thumb absently across his knuckles, "This is a mistake, Wilson. This is going to ruin it for us." He caught Wilson's quick glance. "Your parents will freak. You'll get that stupid guilty look and I'll walk out."
"Won't get far."
"Don't -" House took a deep breath, and for a moment Wilson could almost imagine him pleading don't joke about this but House being House didn't say anything else. Still, when Wilson dared to look at him House's expression came as a complete surprise, it was as if for the first time the thought of impending doom actually mattered. They'd been together as a couple for nearly six months and still House managed to astonish him on a daily basis. He'd moved in with the idea of only staying a few days, just long enough to come to terms with his latest failure. House had always been a source of distraction; his problems were so much immediate than Wilson's own. He'd been annoyed and frustrated by House's initial prankish behavior but quickly figured out it was House's way of getting attention and amusing himself, the byproduct that it might draw Wilson out of his depression was just a bonus as far as House was concerned. Once they'd settled down as roommates the practical jokes had stopped and they'd enjoyed an unexpected compatibility. A friendship Wilson had never expected could deepen had, and one night House had haltingly asked him if he wanted to sleep in his bed. Wilson, sure this was another joke, had laughed but the real hurt in House's eyes had convinced him. That night everything changed and each man seemed to realize that the other was the only shot either had at being happy. It had been a rough road, they clashed, they fought, they made mistakes but they both wanted the same thing - to be together the rest of their lives.
Wilson pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. Now he was taking House home to break the news to his parents, something he'd both dreaded and longed for since the beginning. How do you tell your parents you're beginning to question every choice you've made in your life? And then show up with Greg House and announce he's the love of your life - especially after they meet him? Wilson swallowed his panic and tried to imagine House acting normal and polite to his parents and when that failed he imagined every excuse they might believe. They drove on and an hour later, after a heated argument over the radio station, and a pit stop for beef jerky, and to pee Wilson pulled the car off the highway onto a long paved drive. House whistled in appreciation. "I guess Jews deserve their reputation, huh?"
"Like your parents live in the projects."
"Compared to this place," House insisted. "So, should we just prance in flashing our commitment rings or do you want to take daddy aside while I comfort your weeping mommy?"
"House," Wilson warned but he'd already stopped the car in front of the house and knew it was too late to form any plan on how to break the news to his parents that their youngest son, the doctor they were so proud of, was in love with a bitter, angry, annoying bastard like Gregory House. "Just - just let me do the talking, okay?"
"Whatever you say, dear." House batted his eyes and Wilson managed to refrain from slamming his forehead into the dashboard only because the front door opened and his mother waved. Sara Wilson looked younger than her 60 years, her glasses and slightly outdated hair style adding just the right suburban touch to what could have been a socialite clich with her ash blonde hair and pretty floral dress. James carried their bags while House limped along beside him, humming under his breath something that sounded suspiciously like a show tune.
"Mom," Wilson rushed forward and kissed her cheek but could tell her attention had been captured by House. She'd met him once, before the infarction and had often listened when James called home and couldn't stop worrying about his friend's welfare. "You remember Greg, don't you?"
"Of course," his mother's cheeks flushed just a little as she watched House struggle up the steps to the porch. Wilson could feel the heat of her reproachful gaze but had no way to assure her helping House wasn't an option he could take. "It's nice to see you again, Greg," she said pleasantly but her eyes continued to shoot daggers at her son. They'd all been taught to help others but extending a hand to House could result in radical amputation.
"Jimmy," House whined in a pitiful voice, "could you help me?" Wilson nearly dropped the bags, turning to look at his friend. He took a step toward House, slowly sticking his hand out expecting to find this was some kind of joke but House appeared grateful - absurdly grateful. He saw the smirk that spread across that manipulative face and knew he'd been taken in. "You're so strong," House gushed. Wilson glared at House but couldn't shake him off now, he could feel House's weight carefully balanced between his own helping hand and the cane and knew if he did anything the older man would fall. "Mrs. Wilson," House said breathlessly, still leaning on Wilson for support. "It's nice of you to invite me."
Mrs. Wilson appeared startled, shooting a quick look at her son but James managed to find interest in the bags he had dropped when he helped House up the steps. "Uh, yes, well," she stumbled, "James speaks so highly of you."
House turned an adoring gaze on Wilson. "It's mutual." He didn't bat his eyes but it was a close thing.
"Inside!" Wilson yelped. "Uh, let's go inside where it's more comfortable."
He followed his mother and House into the living room, watching his lover for any sign he was about to out them. But House remained mum on the subject of their relationship even when Mrs. Wilson directed James to put their bags in their bedrooms - their separate - on two different floors - bedrooms. House beamed at Wilson's mom, complimenting her amazing ability to make iced tea, her skill with cookies, her choice of dcor, and, her devotion to her family. Wilson felt his head begin to spin and gulped his own tea wishing for bourbon. He chewed on a cookie that could have been cardboard for all he tasted it and waited for the ax to drop. Most people would be waiting for a shoe to drop, but with House it would never be anything so innocuous. And when it dropped it would wreak havoc - leaving great bloody stumps, mangled flesh and shards of bone sticking out. Lost in those gory thoughts it took Wilson a second to realize House and his mother had stopped talking and were staring at him. No, not at him, past him. Wilson squeezed the bridge of his nose until the pain dulled to something akin a railroad spike being driven up his left nostril then turned to face his father's slightly reproachful look. "Hi, dad."
"James." Wilson had never realized his name had been made up of consonants and vowels that when strung together could generate a sound filled with disapproval. "We didn't know you were bringing someone with you."
House's mobile face folded down into a pout but he quickly brightened, turning his electric blue eyes on Sam Wilson and rising awkwardly to his feet. "I'm Greg House your son's longtime - confidant and friend."
Wilson's dad raised eyebrows that looked as if they could have not only spawned James' but maybe sentient life then asked, "So what brings you boys out our way?"
Wilson shot House a quelling look before answering. "Uh, we're - "
"Gay," House supplied. A stark and sterile silence followed broken only by the sound of Wilson choking on his own tongue. "-ity. Yes, gaiety and frivolity brings us here." House cast a look that managed to be both concerned and sickly sweet in Wilson's direction. "Doctor stuff is so stressful, especially for Jimmy. All those lives and internal organs held in our hands," House reached over and snatched up Wilson's hand before he could pull away. "We need a break."
"You haven't held an internal organ since you did an autopsy on that cat," Wilson accused.
"Semantics." He flashed a brilliant smile. "And Jimmy has some good news to share."
"You do?" Mrs. Wilson beamed. James could practically see her mentally picking out the names for her future grandchildren. "Honey?"
"I do?" Wilson raised both eyebrows in House's direction.
"Sure," House said, poking Wilson's ankle with his cane. "Go on, tell them about our living arrangements."
"Guuuu," Wilson tried to speak but between his life flashing before his eyes and his mother's confused expression something had happened to that ability.
"What Jimmy is trying to say," House explained, "is that he's agreed to stay with me." He turned that sappy smirk up a notch and plastered it over every surface. Sara and Sam blinked quietly. House continued to smirk. Wilson slumped down in his chair mentally mulling over the best way to dispose of House's body once he'd smothered him in the middle of the night.
"Uh," Sara began but gave up and turned to her husband.
Sam Wilson nodded. "When you say," he cleared his throat, "stay with you do you mean - as a roommate? Each of you paying part of the rent and having separate bedrooms?"
"Yes, exactly," House said. Sam Wilson unclenched a little, the shell-shocked expression on his face fading and beside him Wilson breathed a sigh of relief. "Except for the separate bedroom part. Having a wall between us tends to take all the fun out of sleeping together."
"I thought you were going to let me tell them," Wilson said, once he stopped hyperventilating.
"Where's the fun in that?" House shook his head, and took Wilson's hand again, this time with a tenderness no one could doubt. The mischievous glint in his eye faded, warming in a way that turned his normally cold blue eyes the same color as a summer sky. When he turned back to Wilson's parents his voice held uncharacteristic seriousness. "This isn't some joke or a passing phase, not for me," he said softly, unable to meet Wilson's gaze. "No one prepared me for this; no one warned me that I could care for another human being more than I do myself. I'm not proud of the fact I've always been a self-centered bastard but I never saw any harm in it. Who would look out for someone like me except - me?" He said it with a smile but his tone made Wilson tighten his grip. "Wilson never gave up on me," House said. "I hope you won't hate me but if you want to blame anyone for what's happened blame me, all Jimmy ever did was love someone no one else could."
"They can't hate you," Wilson said. Smiling at House he promised, "They'll love you as much as I do. Right?" Wilson often appeared to be a pushover, his easy going personality leading people to think he wouldn't stand up for what he wanted or believed, but those who knew him well knew better. He had a strength that ran down the core of his soul like a steel support and it allowed him to prevail in a field that would have broken lesser people. He stared at his parents with an expression House could easily read, a look that said he would not compromise; if they wanted him they would have to accept House.
Sara and Sam exchanged hesitant looks. Wilson could see fear and some sadness in their faces. Like all parents they'd hoped life would be easy for their child but once they realized how happy he was with House they would understand. Neither looked scandalized or shocked, and Wilson wondered if his mother might not have suspected he had "tendencies" long before he hooked up with House though she had never come out and said anything. He'd been shy, bookish, and obsessed with science as a child, and despite numerous girlfriends all the way through high school and college his only meaningful relationships had been with male friends. They knew how much he cared for House and the lengths he would go through to ease the other man's suffering. "Just tell me he's Jewish," Sara said with a wink.
"I played Perchik in Fiddler on the Roof when I was in junior high," House said.
"You're not too upset?" Wilson asked his parents.
"Well, we're a bit disappointed we won't be getting any grandchildren from you."
"Oh, we'll keep trying," House assured them. Every Wilson in the room turned bright red. "What?"
Despite House's mortifying assertions in the future of House-Wilson children, the evening passed in a pleasant enough form. Wilson sat back, and watched, he wasn't entirely convinced his normally irascible lover hadn't been replaced by a pod-person in the men's room of a gas station about twenty miles back but he'd worry about that later. House managed to drop some of his abrasive manner. He was charming and funny, attentive and engaging. He told stories about people Wilson didn't even know House had contact with and although he was the star of every anecdote, he didn't come off as completely arrogant and annoying. Wilson considered the visit a success, House hadn't done anything to humiliate him, and his parents had not only not freaked out but had oddly enough welcomed House into the family. They seemed to take it in stride that after three marriages he planned on spending the rest of his life with his best friend. Life was strange but family accepted that.
"I guess you're going to want to share a room," Sara commented after supper when she and James were doing the dishes. They could hear House and Sam in the living room arguing over basketball teams.
"Yes, the whole wall thing," Wilson said, smiling.
His mother laughed and handed him a plate to dry. "You are happy, aren't you?" she asked.
"Amazingly, I am," Wilson told her. "House is a pain in the rear, he's miserable despite everything I do, he's angry and a little crazy, but," he sighed and shook his head, "I've never loved anyone the way I love him."
Sara Wilson reached up and touched his cheek. "Love is never about reason; it's just about the heart."
When he told House that on the way home the next day, Wilson thought he might have to pull over and perform CPR House laughed so hard.
"Oh my god," House wheezed, "You didn't get all doe eyed and weepy, did you?" Wilson leveled his sternest glare at House but it only caused him to laugh harder. "I can just see you and your mom bonding over your love for difficult men."
"Yes," Wilson agreed, signaling for a turn, "Then we tried on each others sweaters and she braided my hair. For christsake, House, do you have to be an ass all the time?"
"Pretty much," House said, shrugging. He fell silent, watching the passing scenery for a while. "I told them because I didn't want you squirming out of this," he said after a few miles.
"This?"
House gave him his patented "stupid" look. "This," he waved a hand between them. "Us."
"You think I would?" Wilson nearly took out a mailbox, dividing his attention between the road and House.
"Not deliberately," House said softly. "I know it's not easy to disappoint your parents. I'm sure I'm not exactly what they had in mind for a daughter-in-law."
"No, I doubt if you are," Wilson agreed. "However, you're exactly what I had in mind when I imagined a best friend." House reached over, his hand coming to rest on Wilson's thigh. "So when are we going to break the news to your parents?"
"Don't need to," House said. "I already told them."
"What? When?" Wilson demanded, praying there weren't any cops following close behind because his driving skills had suddenly deserted him.
"Last week," House said. "Remember that photo I took of you in the striped apron? I mailed it and a card that said "Wilson and I are shacking up".
"B-b-but I - I wasn't wearing anything under that apron," Wilson pointed out in a strangled voice.
"I know." House grinned at him. "I'm hoping you'll wear the same outfit when I invite them for Christmas dinner!" The sound of sirens drowned out anything else he might have said.
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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.
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