Chapter Text
Wilson, on a good day, was marginally anxious outside of work. His mother had done a great job of ingraining polite societal norms in his skull - all of which he was about to just throw out the fucking window as he approached Thirteen where she was rifling through her bag. He was going to blame that on House, just like he did every time he did something stupid.
“Hey, you gotta sec,” he asked her, sidling up to her and clutching a medical file to his chest like it was a lifeline or something.
She glanced up at him, a bright smile breaking out over her pretty features. “Sure! What’s up?” Thirteen eyed the folder clasped to his chest. “Do you need help with a case? Or are you looking for House?”
“Uh,” he stammered, his mouth twisting into a grimace of a smile. “No?”
“Are you asking me?”
“No,” Wilson said a bit more definitively. He sucked in a deep breath. “I kinda need your help with a, a thing?”
Something mischievous gleamed in her eyes as her smile sharpened a little more. “What kind of thing,” she drawled, stepping a little closer as her voice sank down into a conspiratorial tone. Wilson only just refrained from rolling his eyes, because she was just as bad as House. Which clearly meant she was the right person for the job.
“Not here,” he bleated, looking around because House would be down like any minute. For a cripple, the older man was infuriatingly quick on his feet. “Over drinks?” Thirteen gave him a suspicious look as her head tipped in thought. Wilson huffed a sigh, his shoulder slumping as his nose scrunched marginally in defeat. “Okay,” he huffed. “I need your help to prank House.”
“Oh,” she drawled, winding her arm around his and pulling Wilson in as she started leading him toward the door. “I am 100% here for that. But drinks are on you.”
“Of course,” Wilson agreed without really thinking about the kind of hit his wallet might be taking.
“How did House get so damn lucky,” she lilted, leaning in against the line of Wilson’s arm as she batted her eyelashes at him playfully. “Getting a gentleman like you.” She squeezed her arm around his.
“He’s convinced I’ve got a cripple kink.”
Thirteen blinked at him and then barked out a laugh, her head knocking against the line of his shoulder as she leaned in. “Well, it definitely helps to have a type. My car’s in the shop, so we’ll just have to ride together, and then, you can grab me an Uber after,” she lilted. Over her shoulder, Wilson caught sight of House hobbling off the elevator. The older man’s forehead furrowed as he noticed them together, and Wilson about called the whole thing off, but Thirteen just tugged him closer, pulling his attention. She offered him a sharp smirk as she glanced over her shoulder at House before hauling Wilson out the door. “After we’re through, he won’t bother thinking about anyone else, ever again.”
“You’re just like him,” Wilson grumbled, letting Thirteen haul him out the door.
“Most definitely,” she chirped as she led him across the parking lot. “And that’s why I’m the best person for the job.”
Wilson just chuckled, but honestly, that was why he’d gone to her in the first place, and it was definitely how he found himself folded down at the bar in a gay bar. The bartender was some bottle-blond twink in cutoff shorts and a mesh tank top, making the whole pulling of beers into something sexual, licking his lips and fisting the tap as he made eye contact with Wilson in a blatant innuendo that choked him as he tried to explain what he wanted to do while Thirteen just looked at him. And when he said it out loud, the plan seemed … a little ridiculous. Wilson swallowed roughly at his beer, practically gulping it down as the young woman looked at him, her fingers curled stupidly around the base of her pint glass.
“So, let me get this right,” Thirteen finally drawled. “You want me to help you prank your boyfriend … with dirty pictures … for Valentine’s Day,” she said quietly, toying with her beer glass. Wilson winced, his nose scrunching mildly because when she said it like that it kind of sounded like a bad idea. He fought the urge to sink down into himself.
“I mean … yes? Unless,” he started, swallowing hard. “You think that’s a bad idea?”
Her smile sharpened as she leaned in, patting him on the cheek softly. “Oh, boo,” she cooed, leaning in. “I gotchu.” Thirteen turned away briefly, waving to the bartender as she hollered, “Two shots of Patrón, please,” before she turned back to him. Her gaze dragged along him in a vaguely assessing way. “I definitely know a guy that’ll make it damn near impossible for House to ever look elsewhere again.”
Wilson groaned, covering his face with his palms as his head dropped forward on his neck. “Oh, God,” he huffed before scrubbing his fingers through his hair and peeking up at her. “How much is this gonna cost,” Wilson murmured as he straightened, offering the bartender a slight smile as the other man thumped down two overly full shot glasses. “Thanks.”
Thirteen flashed the guy a smile before picking up one of the glasses, clinking its rim to the other, and swallowing down the entire shot. She thumped the glass down roughly and gestured to her shot glass. Wilson hurried to swallow down his own shot as the bartender filled first her glass and then his with a wink before he left them alone to their own devices.
“It’s on the house,” she laughed out, then fell into giggles — presumably because of the use of the word house. Thirteen swallowed down half her shot as she swiveled on her stool and knocked their shoulders together. “Give yourself over to my capable hands, and I will make you worthy of worship. Well, more worthy of worship, because I’m fairly certain that House would open a fucking church in your honor, and not just for the tax breaks.”
He snorted before he sipped his shot. “Yeah, sure,” Wilson huffed, setting his shot glass down on the bar as he leaned forward. She gave him a sharp look.
“Hey,” Thirteen said. “You didn’t see House when he saw the babydoll. He looked at it like it was a goddamn revelation, and you one with it. He is beyond obsessed with you, so really , I’ve got my work cut out for me.”
He hummed softly, rocking back in his seat as he sighed hard. “I don’t know,” Wilson started, swallowing hard as he fiddled with his glass.
She leaned over, curling fingers around his forearm and squeezing. “I know, and we’re gonna blow his fucking mind,” Thirteen lilted.
Hours later, pleasantly tipsy, Wilson let himself into the condo with a giggle. His shoulder slid along the wall as he not quite staggered into the apartment. Thirteen was a bit like House when it came to alcohol consumption, namely in the fact that they both partook and inspired way too much of it.
A lamp clicked on in the living room, pulling Wilson’s attention as he hauled up short, blinking rapidly in the sudden burst of light.
“You stepping out already,” House lilted as his head lolled back against the sofa.
“Just drinks with Thirteen,” Wilson quipped, folding his arms against the back of the sofa as he leaned in. “Talking about you, mostly.” Their lips brushed teasingly, his teeth scraping marginally at the swell of House’s bottom lip. “Figured you’d want that of your disciples.”
“Might just have to punish you,” the older man teased as he got to his feet, coming around the couch until his fingers curled along Wilson’s hip and hauled him in. Wilson went easily enough, crowding up against the older man as he grinned at House. The older man reached down and groped his ass roughly, impossibly hauling him closer. “A point to prove and all that.”
“You’re the only one fucking me, daddy,” Wilson chirped, hooking a finger into House’s belt loop and grinding his hips forward into the older man’s. “But if y’wanna take me to bed,” he drawled quietly, making House groan.
After that, it was all moot anyway.