Title: Wilson the Parent Charmer: Five Times Wilson met House's Parents (and one time he didn't)
Author: hwshipper
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Heel and Toe Films, Shore Z Productions and Bad Hat Harry Productions in association with Universal Media Studios.
A/N: Written as a thank-you to daisylily for her very generous donation to the rslbdaydrive.
Beta: Thanks and honours shared between savemoony and bornbeautiful
Summary: As per the title. daisylily's request was for a Five Times fic, with hot H/W sex welcome.

Wilson the Parent Charmer: Five Times Wilson met House's Parents (and one time he didn't)

1 - Parent Charming

Wilson was studying anatomy peacefully in his room one Saturday afternoon when he heard the thump of footsteps coming down the stairs, and recognized the feather-light tread. It was House, on his way down from his attic room. Moving a lot more quickly than he usually did, though. Next moment there was a thunk as the door was flung open and hit a chair nearby.

"Whoa," Wilson said, looking up from his pile of textbooks. House was in the doorway with an expression more panicked than Wilson had seen before. "Roof fallen in? Run out of beer?"

"You've gotta come upstairs," House said in a tone that brooked no argument. "My parents have shown up out of nowhere. Meaningless polite conversation is required. And I just know you're the type to get along with other people's parents. You've gotta come and charm them."

"Your parents?" Wilson said, with interest. He'd known House for more than three months now, and the only thing he knew about House's family situation was that House had parents but no brothers and sisters. House never talked about his family. Mind you, Wilson realized, he'd never talked to House about his own family either.

"Don't they live... a long way away?" Wilson tried to remember.

"Florida. Yeah, they're visiting friends in New York this weekend. They say they didn't think they had time to see me, so they didn't tell me they were coming. And then they did find time after all." House threw up his hands. "It's all crap. They know I wouldn't have been here if they'd told me. Anyway, come on, they're waiting."

This was getting more intriguing by the second. Wilson wasn't about to turn down an opportunity to meet House's parents. Apart from finding out the reasons for House's apparent inability to talk to them, the insight into House and his psyche from meeting Mom and Dad was bound to be fascinating.

On the other hand, there was no point being eager about it. House frequently demanded favors, but rarely with such desperation. The situation had a lot of potential for future leverage.

"Hey, hard working med student here. I'm right in the middle of this assignment," Wilson said in a tone of protest, waving an arm at the piles of books and papers on his desk. "Has to be in on Monday."

"Fuck that." House glanced at the books. "Look at my first year anatomy stuff, you can copy my work." Wilson cast a look of disapproval at House. House looked pleadingly back, and then tilted his head on one side and opened his big blue eyes wide. "I'll make it worth your while."

This was more like it. "Oh?" Wilson arched a bushy eyebrow and stretched in his chair, turning his body towards House. "What did you have in mind?"

House stepped up close, and muttered, "Blowjob. Soon as they walk out the door."

Now that was an offer he couldn't refuse. When it came to blowjobs, House was usually much more eager to receive than to give.

"Well, I suppose I can take a break for a bit," Wilson said magnanimously. He had no idea what to expect, but it was definitely going to be interesting.

"Great. Come on." House grabbed his arm. Wilson stood up, and House unexpectedly kissed him quickly on the mouth before tugging him out of the room and up the stairs. Wilson tasted coffee and felt the rasp of stubble against his cheek.

"Mom, Dad. James Wilson, new guy downstairs," House said gruffly, and stood aside.

Wilson walked past House into the room. "Mr. House, Mrs. House? Delighted to meet you." Big smile, confident stride, firm handshake, eye contact.

House's mom responded immediately in kind. "James? So pleased to meet you. I'm Blythe and this is John."

Pleased by Wilson's grasp of the required social niceties, and possibly also the firm grasp of Wilson's handshake, House's dad echoed and mirrored her. "Pleased to meet you. Our son's told us nothing about you, typical of him. You're at Columbia too?"

"Yes, I'm a med student. I graduated from McGill this summer." Wilson confirmed his academic status. Blythe and John sat down, and Wilson carried on talking, filling in what he knew they would want to know. "My brother went into law; my parents were very keen for me to go into medicine." Establishing his solid respectable middle-class professional family background.

The parents nodded, heads moving almost in unison.

"My fiancée is very supportive too, though it's tough on her as she's still up in Canada," Wilson continued. "She'll be coming to join me here in a few months time." Providing evidence of his lack of designs on their son, should they suspect.

"McGill, eh? How'd you end up there? You speak French?" John House asked.

Wilson laughed and said, "Un peu." He explained about his Canadian grandparents and a little more of his own background.

He then moved the conversation back to them. "So, do you visit New York often? How long are you staying?" He sat forward on his chair. Open body language. Open questions. He looked at House, seeking a harmless way of involving him. "House, why don't we all have some of that great Venezuelan coffee you just bought?"

House was sitting with a strained smile, hunched posture and a marked reluctance to speak or indeed look at his parents for very long. He took the prompt, however, and got up to make coffee. Meanwhile John and Blythe took it in turns to chime in talking to Wilson, explaining where they lived and how they were just on a flying visit.

Wilson soon learned that John House was a marine pilot. "A marine pilot--wow, you must have some fascinating stories to tell about your experiences, Mr. House, or should that be Colonel?"

John House laughed and said, "Well, maybe a few," and the resulting anecdotes went on through coffee until Blythe nudged him and told him to stop. Wilson noticed House gradually relaxing as the conversation went on and Wilson remained the center of attention.

John and Blythe really were only dropping by, and soon announced they had to go. Wilson saw House's fleeting look of relief, and hoped his parents hadn't noticed.

"Well, it was lovely to meet you, James." Blythe kissed him briefly on the cheek at the front door; Wilson smelled powder and lipstick. "It's always so nice to meet one of Greg's friends."

"Doesn't happen often either," John House added, shaking Wilson's hand. "He's never been any good at making friends."

Wilson could feel House, standing a step behind him in the hallway, radiate desperation: get them out of here.

"Lovely to meet you both too," Wilson replied, smiling warmly at Blythe and nodding more formally at John.

"Bye," House called in a tone of finality, not moving from his position behind Wilson, and the parents stepped out of the front door.

Wilson shut the door behind them and turned towards House.

"You cunning son-of-a-bitch," House said instantly, and gave Wilson a big, dramatic kiss on the lips. "They loved you. I knew they would. From now on you shall be known as The Parent Charmer."

"That's definitely an epithet I want on my grave," Wilson said dryly, following House up the stairs.

They ascended the last flight of steps to House's attic room, and as soon as they were inside, House pushed Wilson back against the door with a thump. House pressed the full length of his body up against Wilson's. Wilson shut his eyes as House's mouth met his own. House's lips, urgent, passionate, moved from his mouth to his nose and then his forehead. The kisses dropped lightly across Wilson's skin, each one leaving a tingling sensation behind it. House's hands were on his shoulders, then caressing his neck, stroking his collarbone. Wilson arched his neck under House's touch, which was surprisingly tender.

"You can charm anyone, can't you Jimmy?" House murmured in Wilson's ear.

Wilson shuddered as he felt House's tongue stroking his earlobe, then House's hand trail down his chest and towards his groin. "Uh. Not everyone."

"Don't believe you." House's hand cupped Wilson's crotch. "Who could resist your--charms?" House squeezed ever so gently on the last word.

Wilson let out a small Ahh, and then managed to say with an effort, "House, for fuck's sake stop talking and get on with it."

House's blue eyes sparkled, and he reached to undo Wilson's fly. Then dropped to his knees and took Wilson's hard-on in his mouth as far as he could. Wilson groaned and thrust clumsily into House's mouth as House lapped and sucked at him, rolling back and forth. Wilson reveled in the sheer sensuality of House's tongue, running up and down his shaft; House's lips, delicately mouthing his tip. God, if only this could go on for ever--

House then reached a hand round to stroke Wilson's balls, and Wilson simultaneously shivered and felt himself break out into a sweat. Suddenly hot under his collar, he knew he couldn't make this last much longer. His hands scrabbled and clutched at House's hair, as he struggled to keep control. But then House stuck a finger up his ass, and this was more than enough to take Wilson over the top; he let out an agonized shout and came, spurting fiercely into House's mouth. House swallowed as hard as he could, then spat out the rest. Wilson dropped to his knees next to House, his whole body shaking.

"Fucking irresistible," House muttered, his hand on Wilson's shoulder, his forehead coming to rest against Wilson's forehead.

"You can be pretty damn charming yourself when you want to be." Wilson kissed House on the mouth, and shuddered again as he tasted himself.

2. Cousin Daisy

"So remind me why I'm here?" Wilson asked, as he and House threaded their way down Seventh Avenue. Yellow cabs thundered past and pedestrians thronged the sidewalks. "Your dad's not here this time, right? You can cope with your mom on her own, can't you?"

"Ah, but Mom is bringing my cousin Daisy along," House said darkly. "She's eighteen, never been to New York before, regards that as a sign of child abuse. Mom's taking her off Aunt Sarah's hands for a few days for a trip--show her the sights, do all the touristy things. And Daisy hates my guts. And Mom has clearly figured out that I'm more likely to show for lunch if she invites you along too. Your sense of obligation and guilt being greater than mine."

"Why does cousin Daisy hate your guts?" Wilson asked with interest. "Specifically, I mean."

"We were on a family holiday years ago and I threw her in the pool. Deep end, then I held her under water for a bit. She claims to this day I nearly drowned her. I didn't know she couldn't swim." House rolled his eyes. "And apparently she'd left her gills at home that day. --Ah, there they are."

They were waiting on the pavement outside a deli. Blythe was looking well, if a little tired. The teenage girl standing next to her was wearing far too much black eyeliner and her mouth was set in a downward pout. Blythe saw them, and waved; Daisy looked up, following the line of sight, scowling at the sight of House. Then she spotted Wilson with House, and her eyes opened wide. She reached up and fluffed up her short curly hair a little self-consciously.

"Christ. She likes you," House muttered under his breath as they approached.

"Don't be ridiculous," Wilson hissed back. "I haven't even met her."

"She must go for the baby-faced nerd look." House spoke out of the corner of his mouth, as they joined Blythe and Daisy. "Mom! Great to see you. Daisy, long time no see."

"Hello." Daisy was looking straight at Wilson. "You're a friend of Greg's?"

"James Wilson." Wilson smiled at her without thinking; she smiled back, too broadly. Wilson felt a little apprehensive. He greeted Blythe, who was delighted to see him and so glad they could both make it.

The deli was packed with tourists eager to lunch on hideously overstuffed sandwiches and enormous wedges of cheesecake. They were jammed in so tightly at their table that House managed to keep his thigh tight up against Wilson's thigh the whole meal. Wilson might have moved away a little, but was terrified at the prospect of accidentally brushing up against Daisy's knee. She was sat opposite him and seemed to be sitting rather far forward in her chair.

House spent the next half hour chatting brightly to his mother while Daisy flirted quite shamelessly with Wilson.

"So, you're a doctor like Greg? That's pretty cool," she said, leaning forward and making eye contact.

"Uh, not yet," Wilson said hastily. "I will be eventually. Hopefully. I'm just a med student right now."

"Med students have to work real hard, don't they? You have much free time, to go to the movies and stuff?"

"Not a lot." Wilson didn't want a movie invitation. "They do work us hard."

"You're in New York, you can't possibly spend all your time working. You have time for a girlfriend?" She batted her eyelids. Wilson cast an agonized glance sideways, and saw that neither House nor his mother were going to help him out. Blythe, clearly grateful for a break from her niece, was looking amused, while House obviously couldn't wait to torment Wilson about the whole thing for the next year or so.

"Um, I do have a girlfriend. She's my fiancée actually, we're engaged to be married." Hopefully this would put Daisy off.

"Aw, that's so sweet!" Daisy reached out and touched his hand. "So when's the big day?"

"Not for a while... she's in Canada, you see, taking a course up there," Wilson explained.

"Canada, that's a long way away. You can't possibly see her very often." Daisy's gaze was as direct as her comment.

"Er, no," Wilson admitted, and immediately perceived this as a mistake. "Well, as often I can. She flies down when she can get a free weekend, or I go up there--"

"Must be expensive. Students are poor. You can't possibly be flying back and forth that much. Unless your family are rich, perhaps?"

Asking impertinent questions was clearly a House family trait. Wilson tried to laugh. "No, no."

"She probably comes down for the shopping." Shopping, it transpired, was the most important part of the New York adventure for Daisy. She chatted merrily about all the shoes and make-up she hoped to buy, and Wilson nodded and occasionally made a vaguely encouraging noise.

"Perhaps you'd like to come shopping with me and Aunt Blythe too?" she asked hopefully.

Wilson spotted the gleam of a bright blue eye in his peripheral vision to his left, and had a horrible premonition that House was about to accept on his behalf. Very hastily Wilson said that no, he couldn't possibly come, though he was sure they'd have a great time.

"Oh, please come," Daisy wheedled. "It's gonna be so much fun. Aunt Blythe says we can go to Bloomingdale's, and Macy's--"

"No, I really can't, I've got exams in a couple of weeks, I really need to study this afternoon." In his panic Wilson just couldn't think of a better excuse. He could feel himself going pink and didn't dare look at House.

Finally they finished eating. Daisy, doing the tourist thing, took some photographs of them before they left. She thrust her camera into Blythe's hands to have her photograph taken with Wilson (but not with her cousin, Wilson noted wearily), leaning into his arm with a big smile.

"If you give me your address, I'll send you a copy," she offered.

"Um, not a good idea because I'm moving soon, don't know my new address yet," Wilson seized on a real excuse. "I'll be moving into a new apartment with Cath, my fiancée. You can send it to House."

A few weeks later, during a weekend with Cath, Wilson pulled out his wallet to pay for dinner, reached for a bill and to his surprise, pulled out the photograph instead. He then had to explain to Cath who the girl in the picture with him was, and why he was carrying the picture around with him. Thanks a bundle, House.

3 A House family Christmas

Wilson had no idea what he was doing at House's family home for Christmas. Well, on one level he knew perfectly well: House wanted his usual buffer zone. House had managed to avoid going home for Christmas for the last five years in a row now and his mother had finally backed him into a corner and forced him to come this year. Wilson suspected there was some sort of humorous blackmail involved. House had done his best to mitigate the effect; they'd flown in late on Christmas Eve and were flying out again on the 26th.

But on another level, Wilson had no idea what he was doing there. Somehow he had actually agreed to do this. He'd cut short Hanukkah at home with his wife to fly out to Florida with House. They'd only been married a few months. Cath had been at first disbelieving, then indignant, and finally furious with him. Wilson knew he'd be paying for this one for a long time.

And it wasn't even like he was looking forward to it. He was mildly inquisitive to see House's parents on their own turf, but that was about it.

Wilson's mood softened a little when they walked in the door to find a beautifully decorated home, with tinsel and candles everywhere, and the smell of baking in the air, and a big tree adorned with decorations in the middle of the living room.

It then evaporated in an instant when he saw cousin Daisy sitting in an armchair on the other side of the room. He stopped in his tracks and grabbed House's arm.

"House! You--you bastard! Why didn't you warn me?"

"Because then you might not have come, of course," House retorted. "Oh, relax. She's probably moved on to some other crush by now."

"Maybe." Surely that would be right.

At that moment Daisy looked up and saw them, and her face lit up at the sight of Wilson.

"Or maybe not," House admitted.

"You are paying for this, big time," Wilson stated vindictively.

"Make me," House muttered, and melted away, leaving Wilson to face the approaching Daisy.

The one good thing about Daisy being there was that her parents, House's uncle and aunt, were also there: and three additional people meant the house was overcrowded and the guest rooms full. Wilson was given a camping mat to bed down on House's bedroom floor. It was nice, and unexpected, to be sharing a room with House.

House pointed out that his parents room was right above their heads and it would be just too weird to y'know, do stuff, and anyway it was only a single bed, so Wilson bedded down in the sleeping bag that night. House was restless though, and Wilson woke with a jump in the middle of the night when a pillow fell off the bed and landed on his head. Wilson sat up to put it back and found House asleep, but sweating, tossing and turning. Bad dream, perhaps.

Wilson hesitated for a few seconds, glanced across to see that the chair House had jammed up against the door handle was still in place, then scrambled up to join House in the bed. There wasn't much room, so he angled himself alongside House and pressed up against him. House immediately stilled and relaxed, and the two of them curled up very comfortably together for the rest of the night.

Christmas lunch the following day was surprisingly successful, Wilson thought. Okay, so he was inevitably sat next to Daisy. But he had House opposite, where they occasionally managed to bump knees, and House's father was right down the other end of the table. House was in good form, talking nineteen to the dozen, entertaining his aunt and uncle with medical urban myths.

And Daisy seemed to have grown up a lot in the last six months. The thick black eyeliner and sulky pout had gone, and revealed her to be a lot prettier than Wilson had originally thought. He could see now that she had clear blue eyes, like House's; one of the positive family traits. She was now at college and her conversation had broadened beyond pop music and fashion.

The wine flowed a little too freely and towards the end of the meal Wilson began to feel a little strange. House kept refilling his glass despite his half-hearted protestations. Wilson had a suspicion that he might have started to flirt back at Daisy, which he knew was a seriously bad idea, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what he was doing to encourage her.

After lunch, he emerged from the bathroom to find Daisy hovering in the hall.

"Hey." She smiled and pointed upwards. Inevitably there was mistletoe.

Aware that he had suddenly ended up in the Christmas cliché from hell, Wilson tried to laugh, and suddenly found her standing much too close to him. He turned his head but his reflexes were slow, she was tall (another thing she had in common with House) and she got him right on the mouth. And wouldn't move away.

He eventually managed to jerk his head backwards. "Uh--"

"James," she breathed, then grabbed his arm. "Come on."

"Uh--" He seemed to be going with her. God, no, not upstairs! Wilson had been caught in a compromising position or two in his life before, but ending up in a bedroom at House's family home with House's teenage cousin intent on jumping him would have to top them all. "Daisy, I really don't think this is a good--"

There was someone else on the stairs above. Daisy stopped at the bottom, hesitated for a second, then pulled Wilson sideways through a door he hadn't noticed before. He just caught a glimpse of the surroundings before she pulled it shut behind them; broom cupboard. Great. His dulled thought processes had barely got past broom cupboard has to be better than bedroom before Daisy grabbed him and kissed him again.

She shoved her tongue in his mouth, and he shoved his own tongue in her mouth as a reflex, and because he wasn't thinking fast enough to do anything else. This seemed to go on forever, but probably actually only lasted a few seconds, before there was a voice outside: "What the hell is going on in there?" and then the door was yanked open.

Wilson blinked at the light, and with an effort, pulled back from Daisy. He looked sideways, and inevitably, there was John House, gaping at them; Blythe behind him; and God, of course, House himself lurking behind her.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

"'Scuse me," Wilson mumbled, feeling his face bright red with embarrassment, and practically elbowed his way past House's father. He fled upstairs to House's room.

House followed him in and shut the door. "Wilson, you dog!" He sounded splendidly amused.

Wilson flung himself down on the bed and buried his face in the pillow. "This is all your fault."

"Like hell it is. You shouldn't be around teenage girls with your boy band good looks." House flopped down on the bed next to Wilson and flicked Wilson's hair lightly.

"Fuck off." Wilson spoke through a mouthful of pillow.

"Anyway, overall its a good thing." House pronounced.

"And you say that because?"

"Well, it should have convinced Dad and Uncle Bill that you're straight."

Wilson looked up from the pillow. "What?"

"I overheard a conversation in the kitchen earlier." House rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. "Uncle Bill asked Dad what the hell I was playing at, shouldn't I be bringing along a girlfriend to meet the parents at Christmas, was there a reason I'd showed up with a guy instead? Dad rambled on for a few minutes about you being married, which seemed to reassure them both. Kind of. But seeing you with your tongue stuck down Daisy's throat should be much more helpful."

House paused, and added, "'Course, Uncle Bill might want to kill you for a different reason."

"Greg!" Blythe's voice called from outside the room. House patted Wilson on the shoulder, hopped up and headed out.

Wilson buried his head in the pillow again.

He gained enough courage to emerge later on, but found the remainder of the day excruciatingly embarrassing and was relieved when it was late enough for him to sidle off to bed. He took the bed rather than the camping mat, and House joined him an hour later.

Wilson found House had now overcome some of his inhibitions about having the parents above. In fact, House was intent on the two of them having sex; but without making any sound whatsoever. Kissing and fumbling and thrusting while trying to keep quiet was so difficult, and so funny, that each of them had to stifle laughter at various points. House topped; Wilson came first, House's hand reaching round expertly to pump him, and at the point of climax House clamped his other hand firmly over Wilson's mouth: Wilson gasped and strained and scrabbled, and God that was a good orgasm.

House came a minute later with a final tortured thrust up inside Wilson, and in a supreme effort to avoid making a noise, bit right into the back of Wilson's neck. This promptly interrupted the semi-silence as Wilson couldn't help but let out an ow! and House clasped Wilson's arm so hard in response that he left a bruise.

Wilson was careful to wear a shirt with a collar and long sleeves the following day.

In the long run, Wilson found House was quite right. With time, the incident with Daisy in the broom cupboard passed into House family legend, and Wilson was established as a serial philanderer with an eye for the women forever more. It provided Blythe and John House with something to remember and shake their heads over when they heard of yet another divorce. And it successfully distracted them from any suspicions they might otherwise have harbored about his relationship with their son. Which was highly convenient.

Although it was unfortunate that House chose to believe in the legend too, as Wilson had to endure periodic ribbing about it for a very long time.

4. House's no-show

Wilson peered around the bar. Where the fuck was House? He really should have been here by now.

He was reaching for his cell when it rang. With a sense of foreboding, he flipped it open. "House?"

"Wilson. Can't make it." House's voice was hushed and croaky. "Sore throat. Sorry."

Wilson closed his eyes and counted to ten, then said, "You fucking liar. You just don't want to meet your father. And you've left me here to explain that to him. You absolute bastard."

"I do have a sore throat," House whispered. "Honest."

"I don't believe you. Nor will your dad. I'm not doing it, House." Wilson picked up his coat as he spoke. "I'm going home."

"No!" House's voice suddenly lost its croak and gained a note of alarm. "If neither of us are there he'll call me. He might even try and come and see me. Just hang on and say hello to him, and tell him I'm ill. It doesn't matter if he doesn't believe it, he won't blame you."

Wilson breathed for a minute. "I will so own you after this."

"Body and soul," House agreed. "Take 'em both."

Wilson couldn't help a smile. He dropped his voice and murmured, "I already have the first."

"Wilson!" A loud voice hailed him from the other side of the bar. Wilson turned to see John House striding across the room.

"I heard that," House said in his ear. "Have fun."

House rang off. Wilson flipped the cell shut, took a deep breath, plastered an apologetic smile on his face, and approached House's father.

5 They were on the verge of having sex when the doorbell rang.

Wilson had arrived at House's apartment a couple of hours previously, tired from the long drive, subdued after the argument he'd had with Bonnie (because he had chosen to visit House that weekend instead of attending their residents association meeting). They'd eaten Thai and had a beer, necked on the couch for a bit, then retreated to the bedroom.

They were taking their time, going slow, knew they had the whole weekend ahead of them. They'd just started removing clothing; House was bare-chested and Wilson's shirt was unbuttoned. House's mouth was on Wilson's mouth and his hands were exploring Wilson's chest.

And then the doorbell rang. They ignored it, but it was then followed by a rattling at the door and a voice calling, "Greg! It's your mom."

"Shit!" House pulled back and stared at Wilson. Wilson stared back. It would be no good pretending they weren't there. The lights were on, and the TV in the living room could be heard from outside the front door.

House groaned and sat up. He raised his voice and shouted, "Hang on!" into the hallway, while yanking his T-shirt on over his head. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair, and said to Wilson, "Do I look decent?"

House looked actually pretty indecent. His hair was tousled, his pupils dilated and his cheeks flushed under the stubble. Fuckable would have been a better description.

"Nope." Wilson took a deep breath, rolled onto his back and started doing up his own shirt buttons.

House swung his legs off the bed and stood up, remarking, "Well, it's not like I've got a hard-on any more. Nothing like hearing your mom's voice to get rid of that."

House headed into the hallway. Wilson, realizing he didn't want to be seen coming out of the bedroom, finished buttoning himself up hastily and scrambled quickly to his feet and out of the bedroom. He hurried into the living room and glanced in a mirror: his face was pinker than usual and his hair was thoroughly mussed up. He was trying to flatten his hair with his hand when Blythe came into the room with House. Just Blythe, thank goodness.

"James! How nice to see you again." Blythe came up to him and kissed him on the cheek. "Now, how's your lovely new wife? Bonnie, isn't it?"

"Bonnie's very well, thank-you," Wilson responded on polite autopilot. "Lovely to see you too, Blythe."

"But a bit of a surprise," House said meaningfully, as they sat down. "I could've tidied up a bit if you'd warned me you were coming."

Wilson's eyes flicked round the room; House's apartment was never tidy, of course, but it was true things were even messier than usual at the moment. Wilson spotted his tie draped over the back of the couch, a few inches from Blythe's head. Hopefully she wouldn't notice it, or if she did, surely it would just look like he'd pulled it off earlier to be comfortable and left it there casually. (Rather than the truth, which was that it had landed there after House had unknotted it slowly and then thrown it over his shoulder, before muttering huskily, "Bedroom?")

"I did tell you that your father and I were visiting the area this week, dear," Blythe said. "But I only just decided to come and see you tonight. I left you an answer phone message, did you not get it?"

House and Wilson both glanced towards the phone, on a table nearby. It was invisible under House's jacket where he had chucked it down earlier. Now that Wilson looked, he thought he could see a red light dimly flashing underneath it. Damnit.

"Anyway, I'm not staying long, I've come on my own because there was something I wanted to ask you when your father wasn't around," Blythe carried on. "You know he's about to retire?"

"Um, yeah," House said cautiously.

"Well the Marines are giving him a big farewell retirement party. Next month. All his military buddies over the years will be there. And I thought it would be a really nice surprise for him if you were there too. He wouldn't be expecting it at all, and it would make him so proud to have his son there."

House looked so horrified, Wilson almost laughed.

"Mom--" House struggled to find words. "You know it's not my kind of thing--the military--a party--"

"You wouldn't have to stay long. Just an hour or so," Blythe said brightly. "And you could bring James! Then you can just talk to each other, have a few drinks, it really shouldn't be too much of an ordeal, dear. Please?" She looked at Wilson. "James, you'd come with Greg, wouldn't you? John would be very happy to see you there too, I'm sure."

Fuck! Wilson felt trapped. "Um--well, if House goes--"

"I'm not," House broke in, and he and his mother had a discussion, which ended up with House agreeing to go. At the end of the day House was reluctant to refuse his mother outright, and Blythe was practiced at identifying his attempts to lie. House was obviously not happy about it, but Blythe was delighted. She then said she had to go before John wondered where she was.

As she left, she turned to Wilson and said, "I'm relying on you, James, to make sure Greg shows up. It would be so sad if he found he was too busy on the day. I'm sure you can get him to schedule some time for this. Promise me."

She knew her son only too well. Wilson dipped his eyelids and agreed.

"Why didn't you say no?" House burst out, as soon as his mother had gone. "How was I supposed to refuse, after you said you'd go?"

"This is my fault?" Wilson was most annoyed. "Like hell it is! Why can't you just be happy about spending an hour or so at your father's retirement party?"

"Because it sucks!" House shouted. "An evening celebrating his army career with a roomful of military types, and me popping up? His son who hates the fucking Marines and everything they stand for?"

Wilson didn't know what to say. House turned and walked out of the room, saying over his shoulder, "Your shirt's buttoned up wrong."

Wilson glanced down at his shirt and felt his collar; damnit, House was right. He re-buttoned, wondering if Blythe had noticed.

6. And one time he didn't

Wilson kept his promise to Blythe, and by superhuman efforts managed to get House out on a plane for his father's retirement party. The event was being held at a hall near the military base. They found a hotel not far away and checked in for the night, then drove out towards the hall. As they were on the early side (Wilson had been very organized) they stopped for a drink in a bar on the way.

House welcomed the chance to blunt the coming ordeal with alcohol. He seemed resigned to actually showing up, which was a relief to Wilson.

Rather to Wilson's surprise, after his third shot of tequila, House started to mull about his father.

"Don't know why Mom thinks he'll be glad to see me. He's never been proud of me. He's always been disappointed."

"Surely he's proud of you," Wilson said, thinking this was Housian exaggeration, exacerbated by the alcohol. "Even if he doesn't show it much."

"Naw. He can't boast about me to his Marine buddies. I don't hunt, I don't shoot..."

"You're intelligent, academic, successful, and a doctor--" Wilson protested.

"I was expelled from three schools, got kicked out of med school for cheating, and have been fired from two jobs so far," House said stonily. "I keep giving him ammo. I haven't even had the decency to get married and have kids yet, for Christ's sake, what sort of son am I?" He drained another shot glass.

They sat in the bar for a bit longer. House continued to knock back the tequila. Wilson kept an eye on the time. One more drink, then they'd be on the late side, but not too late.

"Thing is, he's such a goddamn straight arrow he doesn't even have the common decency to pretend he's proud of me," House went on bitterly. "You know what he's like. Can't say a fucking word about me that isn't critical or making fun of me somehow."

Wilson sought a silver lining. "Your mom's proud of you."

"Yeah." House eyed his glass mournfully. "When Mom's around she deflects Dad. Or tries to. But when she's not..."

"Your Mom'll be at this thing this evening."

"Hovering in the background, being the dutiful wife. Focus on him and his fucking military pals." House shook his head. "I went to a Marine bash of Dad's a few years ago. Overheard him talking about me to one of his colleagues, saying I was too much of a smartass for my own good. Blamed himself for not toughening me up enough when I was younger." House laughed, a short humorless bark. "Like he didn't try."

Wilson was silent, not knowing what else to say.

"You know," House carried on, "We've got exactly one interest in common, sport. Not his kind of sport--lacrosse, running and golf is all a bit sissy, really--but better than nothing. And I tell you, if I had to give up all that for some reason, he wouldn't have even one thing to talk to me about." He twisted his fingers round the glass, then glanced at his watch. "I guess we should be going."

"No, let's stay here for a bit longer," Wilson said, feeling suddenly not at all inclined to go and celebrate House's father's retirement.

House shrugged and signaled to the barman.

They never made it to the party. Wilson rang Blythe late that evening and explained they'd been held up in traffic and missed their plane.

She believed him. Wilson was the parent charmer, after all.

END