[house fic] on clubhouses, and other feminine wiles, pg

[hihoplastic]

On Clubhouses, and Other Feminine Wiles
- house, md
- housewilson bromance, housecuddy, wilsonamber, cuddyamber
- holiday fics: ijemanja's prompt, cuddy/amber, clubhouse
- housefic50: puzzle (009)
- words: 932
- pg
- thanks to swatkat24 for the beta/read-through/encouragement/poke in the ass ♥


House narrows his eyes at the women across the room.

'What are they doing?'

Wilson looks up from his charting, follows his gaze, then mimics House's frown, lowers his voice. 'It looks as though they may be... talking,' he says lowly. 'Do you think it's serious?'

House glares at him.

'Why are they talking? They don't like each other.'

'Well, I doubt it's hospital business, given that Cuddy's the Dean and Amber's a doctor.'

'Amber doesn't work here anymore.'

'You're right. They're probably forming a super secret clubhouse:' he moves his hands in front of him as if indicating a sign. ' "No obnoxious, scruffy doctors allowed." '

'No whiny, needy oncologists allowed either.'

'Yes, but unlike you, I recognize that even my girlfriend has those annoying things called boundaries, and - shockingly - occasionally likes to see other people.'

'If by 'see' you mean 'sleep with' then I'm totally there with you-'

'By 'see' I mean, 'enjoy the company of',' Wilson says, then instantly regrets it as House continues,

'And if by 'enjoy the company of' you mean 'have hot, raunchy-' '

'House.' Wilson gives him a stern look.

House shrugs, bounces his cane a few more times, continues to study them.

Wilson sighs, looks up at him. 'You could help me, you know. These are your charts.'

House barely spares him a look. 'I'm working on a puzzle.'

'Right. Two women talking to each other is definitely one for the books.'

'Not any two women, these two women,' he says, pointing at them with his cane.

'Because they're our girlfriends?'

House glares at him. 'Cuddy is not my girlfriend.'

'Sure thing, House.'

'She's not.' His voice goes up, too high, and Wilson tries desperately not to grin.

'Okay.'

House glowers at him, then gestures at them again. 'Help me figure this out, and maybe I'll help you with your charting.'

'Your charting,' Wilson reminds him.

'Same thing.'

Wilson sighs, glances over at Amber and Cuddy for a few moments, then shrugs. 'Consult?'

House snorts. 'Why the hell would you consult Cuddy? She sucks.'

'So you've said,' Wilson mutters.

House blinks, momentarily stunned, then gives Wilson an appreciative smirk. 'Nice.' Then: 'I'm so gonna tell her you said that.'

Wilson doesn't even bother to look up, unimpressed. 'In order for you to tell her what I said, you have to tell her what you said - you think she's gonna be too happy knowing you've shared all your... exploits?'

House raises his voice. 'You mean, like the time she went down on me in the-'

'Stop. Right there.' Wilson holds up his hand; a nurse on the other side of the desk shoots them both a disgusted look. 'Sometimes, I wonder why I associate with you.'

House shrugs. 'You like hearing about the exploits. It gets you off.'

Wilson cringes. 'It really doesn't.'

House raises his eyebrows. 'Even the one about the MRI?'

Wilson sputters for a moment. 'You made that up!'

'So? You believed me.'

'Momentarily,' Wilson mutters.

House smirks, then returns his attention to the women accross the lobby. He smacks Wilson in the shin with his cane. 'Look.'

Wilson rolls his eyes but turns to look anyway. They're both smiling, and Cuddy has her hand on Amber's arm.

'My girlfriend... your girlfriend... and a nice gesture... Oh yes,' he says seriously, 'I'm very worried now.'

'She's not my girlfriend,' House snaps. The tone in his voice makes Cuddy look up from her conversation and she frowns slightly, then rolls her eyes, turns back to Amber and leans in close to whisper something in her ear. Amber looks up, grins, and waves.

House scowls, and Wilson surpresses a smile.

'Women bonding is terrifying for you, isn't it?'

'It isn't for you?'

'Unlike you-'

'Yeah, yeah, boundaries or whatever.'

Wilson smirks, closes the chart, then turns his full attention to the conversation, leaning back against the counter in a pose similar to House's.

'So. What do you think they're really talking about?'

House looks over at him. 'Ways to castrate us?'

Wilson pauses to consider this for a moment, then shakes his head. 'No, Cuddy would have done that to you years ago if she planned to.' Wilson thinks for a second. 'Planning a party?'

House gives him an incredulous look, like his idea is the epitome of stupid. 'Together?'

Wilson just shrugs it off. 'Good point,' he concedes. 'Comparing hospitals?'

'Unless Cut Throat is dissing everything about Princeton Gen, not a chance. This is Cuddy's baby. Even The Bitch doesn't have those kinds of balls. That takes a real pro.'

'Like you.'

'Of course.' There's a brief silence, wherein Wilson tries to remember what else is on his schedule for the day and House narrows his eyes, contemplating. 'You think they're-'

'No,' Wilson says quickly.

'You don't even know what I was going to say.'

Wilson shakes his head. 'It's not about sex.'

House gasps. 'Wow! I wasn't even gonna go there, you naughty-'

'Yeah, right,' Wilson mutters, just over House's,

'But now that you mention it-'

Wilson's eyes widen and he tries to stop him. 'House-'

'Hey, Cuddy!'

'Oh, God.'

House makes an obscene gesture, Cuddy rolls her eyes and Amber tries not to laugh, in order to show her solidarity of women power over grotesque, childish men and they both turn away, heading to Cuddy's office to continue their conversation away from prying eyes.

'On the other hand,' Wilson muses, 'Maybe they are forming a clubhouse.'

House turns to him with a smirk. 'Wanna crash the party?'