House MD Fanfiction

One

Hilson, smut, 2630 words
By: magie05

“You know,” Wilson said, his words slurring slightly, “things would be a lot less complicated if you were a woman.”

As this revelation came right in the middle of the second six-pack, Wilson couldn't swear to its validity or appropriateness; however, the alcohol combined with the week he'd had combined with that enigmatic gleam in House's eyes had made it seem like an obvious conclusion.

“Oh?” House chortled a little into his beer bottle, still reclined on his side of the god-awful couch. “Why's that, Liberace? You think it'd be okay for you to know all the words to 'Cabaret' if I had a vagina?”

“I don't know all the words,” Wilson lied, too relaxed to put much effort into it. “I'm just saying – if one of us were a woman, this living arrangement would make a lot more sense to outsiders.”

“Yeah,” House snorted, “the hot blond neighbors would just throw themselves at you then.”

“That wasn't the point.” Wilson took another drink and tried to remember what his point actually was. “But you said it yourself – we do kind of make it easy for people to make assumptions. No one would question our motives for moving in together if you were a woman.”

“So?” House settled into his chair, eyes on the TV, toying absentmindedly with a loose thread in the second-hand sofa. “They'd assume we're sleeping together no matter what sex we are. If you're just worried about appearances, then you would have to be the woman. Explain your pressing need to iron your underwear while watching back-to-back episodes of The Golden Girls on the weekends.”

“I told you – there was nothing else on,” Wilson explained yet again. “And it's not like you're the shining standard of masculinity either. Nora bought your 'queen' act a little too easily.”

House shrugged easily. “I just conformed to the image she already had of us. You do it all the time, 's why everyone thinks you're a saint.”

Wilson found this attitude quite interesting. “You don't care if everyone thinks we're gay?”

He watched House take a deep breath and roll his eyes wearily. “What does it matter? It's just a word somebody made up. Has about as much to do with your identity as your social security number.”

Suddenly, inexplicably, Wilson felt a ball of something in his throat, which, if he didn't know better, he might have thought was fear. “Just another meaningless label, huh?”

“Damn right.” He sensed a beer-fueled House Rant ™ coming on. “Trying to squeeze the entire spectrum of human sexuality into two distinct checkboxes, three if you're open-minded. 'S useless. What do you have to do to win the rainbow-colored ribbon? Go to wine tastings? Like opera? 'Cause if this definition hinges purely on anyone who's ever harbored same-sex fantasies even once, we'd have a lot more gay bars and public-access TV shows to contend with.”

Wilson squirmed a little against the orange polyester. “I don't think anyone's implying that it's completely black-and-white. 'Gay,' 'straight,' 'bisexual' – they may be stereotypes, but at least they're a starting point.”

House shook his head somewhat bitterly. “Nah. Labels just confuse the process. It's the same with gender: boys like trucks, girls like dolls, and any variation is abnormal. Like, well - you.”

Wilson smiled wanly. “Thanks, pal.”

“Don't mention it.” He sipped his beer and watched his hockey game, becoming a stereotype even as he condemned them. “Labels assume that everyone fits into neat little social boxes. People spend so much time trying to figure out which category they fit under, they forget to just shut up and have sex.”