Ficlet: A Wonderful Institution
Title: A Wonderful Institution
Characters: House/Wilson
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1,000
Summary: Gay marriage is now legal in New Jersey. Wilson wants to get hitched.
A/N: Little sequel to Cold Feet. It's a tad fluffy, because I had a bad day and needed a distraction. I don't think it's nauseating, though.
House wearily dragged himself up the couple steps to the townhouse. It had been an especially long day of seizures, misdiagnoses, mockery, bitching and projectile vomiting, and he was ready to crash.
He did perk up, however, when he entered the building and was instantly enveloped in the warm scents of Indian food.
Wilson had bought a mortar and pestle a few weeks back, and had quickly become enamored of grinding his own spices for various masalas. It had taken House over a week to run out of lewd puns centered on grinding and spices…and what a pestle looked like when it pounded a mortar, over and over again.
Wilson had weathered it all, in his annoyingly indulgent way, and simply fed House soups and stews and other perfectly spiced delicacies, until he was forced to admit that Wilson’s masalas were pretty damn fantastic.
House was very nearly smiling when he put his key in the apartment door. But as he walked through the threshold, he was greeted by the sight of Wilson standing by the piano, hands clasped behind his back, goofy grin in place.
Uh-oh.
“Did you hear the news?” Wilson asked excitedly.
House set his cane aside and began to slip his jacket off. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Gay marriage,” Wilson said, fanning his hands as if to illustrate what gay meant. “It’s legal in New Jersey.”
House tossed his jacket on the couch, earning a fleeting scowl from Wilson. “So?” he replied, rounding the sofa and plopping down.
Hands flew to hips. “So?” Wilson repeated in disbelief. “It’s huge, House.”
“That’s what you said last night.”
Wilson closed his eyes and pressed his lips together-one of House’s favorite poses, partly because it required Wilson to stop talking.
The peace didn’t last long, though. “This is a victory for gay rights,” Wilson said, turning on his Earnest Eyes. “For human rights. It would be nice if you cared, just a little.”
House raised his hands overhead. “Yay, gays!” He let his arms fall and looked at Wilson. “Can I have dinner now?”
Wilson stared for a moment then shook his head. “You’d think, after all these years, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“You’d think,” House agreed.
“Well,” Wilson said, crossing his arms, “I’m not surprised. I’m disappointed.”
Ouch.
House frowned. “What’s with you? We’re already gay-married. What’s the big deal?”
Wilson started pacing. “Oh, I dunno. The human-rights part seemed pretty cool. And by the way”-he turned to face House fully-“we’re not married. We’re in a civil union.”
“Well, the civil is in question, but yeah, we’re in a union. What does the name matter?”
Wilson rolled his eyes and resumed pacing. “It’s not just a name. Marriage comes with rights that civil unions don’t. And it’s-it’s the principle of it.”
He stopped in his tracks and broke out the Pleading Eyes this time. “I wanna get married.”
House sighed and let his head fall back against the sofa. “Oh, for Christ’s sake. Again? Can’t New Jersey just upgrade us?”
Wilson did his head-tilt thing. “Uh, we’re not flying coach.”
“That is so bogus,” House bitched. “We already had a ceremony-one-and-a-half, actually. That should totally count.”
“Yeah,” Wilson said tiredly, moving to flop down next to him. “But it totally doesn’t. I looked into it already.” He angled his head toward House. “I’m sorry to have to ask you this, but will you marry me?”
House chewed on his lip. If there was one thing he hated, it was ceremony. Well, OK, if he could pick just one thing to hate, it would be kale. But ceremony was close behind-particularly when it involved suits and ties, and flowers, and smiling.
He looked at Wilson, who was gazing intently at his own hands. For reasons that weren’t always clear to him, Wilson was on the very short list of things that House did not hate. He was at the top, in fact.
“Fine,” House grumbled. “I’ll marry you. But this is the last time, buddy.”
Wilson met his eyes, looking a bit surprised and a little wary. “That’s…reasonable. Um, are you sure?”
House tried to look as annoyed as possible. “Yes. The tax incentives are too good to pass up.”
Wilson smiled softly. “OK. We can just go to City Hall. It won’t be a big spectacle.”
“Damn right it won’t.” House crossed his arms. “I am not draping myself in a rainbow flag and posing for the front page of the Princeton Register.”
“Duly noted.” Wilson hesitated then and bit his lip-a move that House recognized as a blatant attempt to flaunt his dimples. “But I think it would be nice if we both wore suits. Don’t you?”
House pulled a face. “I’ll wear a suit if you wear a gown.”
Wilson sighed in exasperation. “House, I didn’t say anything when you wore a Ramones t-shirt to our civil union ceremony. Can’t you show a little respect at our wedding? A little respect for the fact that two men can get married in this state-finally.”
House groaned. “Don’t start with the gay rights again. What about my right to don casual wear whenever and wherever I please?”
“Yes. Jefferson’s original draft said, ‘Life, liberty and khakis.’”
“OK,” House raised his voice. “Can we at least save this argument for later? I think you’ve got some masala thingy to feed me, yes?”
Wilson shook his head, but House could see he was losing steam. “I’ve got khichdi on the stove,” he acknowledged. “You set the table,” he added before pushing to his feet.
“Great,” House chirped, rising and following Wilson to the kitchen. “And then maybe later your mortar and my pestle can pound out some spices.”
Wilson stopped short and glanced over his shoulder, and House felt a little shudder run through him at the wicked gleam in his almost-husband’s eyes. “Why do you think I keep using that thing in front of you?”
House didn’t bother masking his smile. He knew, in that instant, he was going to end up in a suit at this wedding. And he decided he could live with that.
-The End
Characters: House/Wilson
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1,000
Summary: Gay marriage is now legal in New Jersey. Wilson wants to get hitched.
A/N: Little sequel to Cold Feet. It's a tad fluffy, because I had a bad day and needed a distraction. I don't think it's nauseating, though.
House wearily dragged himself up the couple steps to the townhouse. It had been an especially long day of seizures, misdiagnoses, mockery, bitching and projectile vomiting, and he was ready to crash.
He did perk up, however, when he entered the building and was instantly enveloped in the warm scents of Indian food.
Wilson had bought a mortar and pestle a few weeks back, and had quickly become enamored of grinding his own spices for various masalas. It had taken House over a week to run out of lewd puns centered on grinding and spices…and what a pestle looked like when it pounded a mortar, over and over again.
Wilson had weathered it all, in his annoyingly indulgent way, and simply fed House soups and stews and other perfectly spiced delicacies, until he was forced to admit that Wilson’s masalas were pretty damn fantastic.
House was very nearly smiling when he put his key in the apartment door. But as he walked through the threshold, he was greeted by the sight of Wilson standing by the piano, hands clasped behind his back, goofy grin in place.
Uh-oh.
“Did you hear the news?” Wilson asked excitedly.
House set his cane aside and began to slip his jacket off. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Gay marriage,” Wilson said, fanning his hands as if to illustrate what gay meant. “It’s legal in New Jersey.”
House tossed his jacket on the couch, earning a fleeting scowl from Wilson. “So?” he replied, rounding the sofa and plopping down.
Hands flew to hips. “So?” Wilson repeated in disbelief. “It’s huge, House.”
“That’s what you said last night.”
Wilson closed his eyes and pressed his lips together-one of House’s favorite poses, partly because it required Wilson to stop talking.
The peace didn’t last long, though. “This is a victory for gay rights,” Wilson said, turning on his Earnest Eyes. “For human rights. It would be nice if you cared, just a little.”
House raised his hands overhead. “Yay, gays!” He let his arms fall and looked at Wilson. “Can I have dinner now?”
Wilson stared for a moment then shook his head. “You’d think, after all these years, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“You’d think,” House agreed.
“Well,” Wilson said, crossing his arms, “I’m not surprised. I’m disappointed.”
Ouch.
House frowned. “What’s with you? We’re already gay-married. What’s the big deal?”
Wilson started pacing. “Oh, I dunno. The human-rights part seemed pretty cool. And by the way”-he turned to face House fully-“we’re not married. We’re in a civil union.”
“Well, the civil is in question, but yeah, we’re in a union. What does the name matter?”
Wilson rolled his eyes and resumed pacing. “It’s not just a name. Marriage comes with rights that civil unions don’t. And it’s-it’s the principle of it.”
He stopped in his tracks and broke out the Pleading Eyes this time. “I wanna get married.”
House sighed and let his head fall back against the sofa. “Oh, for Christ’s sake. Again? Can’t New Jersey just upgrade us?”
Wilson did his head-tilt thing. “Uh, we’re not flying coach.”
“That is so bogus,” House bitched. “We already had a ceremony-one-and-a-half, actually. That should totally count.”
“Yeah,” Wilson said tiredly, moving to flop down next to him. “But it totally doesn’t. I looked into it already.” He angled his head toward House. “I’m sorry to have to ask you this, but will you marry me?”
House chewed on his lip. If there was one thing he hated, it was ceremony. Well, OK, if he could pick just one thing to hate, it would be kale. But ceremony was close behind-particularly when it involved suits and ties, and flowers, and smiling.
He looked at Wilson, who was gazing intently at his own hands. For reasons that weren’t always clear to him, Wilson was on the very short list of things that House did not hate. He was at the top, in fact.
“Fine,” House grumbled. “I’ll marry you. But this is the last time, buddy.”
Wilson met his eyes, looking a bit surprised and a little wary. “That’s…reasonable. Um, are you sure?”
House tried to look as annoyed as possible. “Yes. The tax incentives are too good to pass up.”
Wilson smiled softly. “OK. We can just go to City Hall. It won’t be a big spectacle.”
“Damn right it won’t.” House crossed his arms. “I am not draping myself in a rainbow flag and posing for the front page of the Princeton Register.”
“Duly noted.” Wilson hesitated then and bit his lip-a move that House recognized as a blatant attempt to flaunt his dimples. “But I think it would be nice if we both wore suits. Don’t you?”
House pulled a face. “I’ll wear a suit if you wear a gown.”
Wilson sighed in exasperation. “House, I didn’t say anything when you wore a Ramones t-shirt to our civil union ceremony. Can’t you show a little respect at our wedding? A little respect for the fact that two men can get married in this state-finally.”
House groaned. “Don’t start with the gay rights again. What about my right to don casual wear whenever and wherever I please?”
“Yes. Jefferson’s original draft said, ‘Life, liberty and khakis.’”
“OK,” House raised his voice. “Can we at least save this argument for later? I think you’ve got some masala thingy to feed me, yes?”
Wilson shook his head, but House could see he was losing steam. “I’ve got khichdi on the stove,” he acknowledged. “You set the table,” he added before pushing to his feet.
“Great,” House chirped, rising and following Wilson to the kitchen. “And then maybe later your mortar and my pestle can pound out some spices.”
Wilson stopped short and glanced over his shoulder, and House felt a little shudder run through him at the wicked gleam in his almost-husband’s eyes. “Why do you think I keep using that thing in front of you?”
House didn’t bother masking his smile. He knew, in that instant, he was going to end up in a suit at this wedding. And he decided he could live with that.
-The End