The One Where House Has Always Been A Woman

i. love

Despite the hospital gossip, House is not, in fact, a man-hating lesbian, which comes as something of a surprise to Wilson, who was not quite as sure what to expect.

“Um, hi?” he says, knocking on the door to her office. The walls and door are glass, which makes it very easy for him to see the figure slumped over the desk, head resting on her arms.

“What do you want?” the figure yells back. “I’m trying to catch up on invaluable beauty sleep here.”

“I’m Dr. Wilson from Oncology. Just looking for a consult on a weird case I found,” he says, pushing open the door and holding out the folder. As he gets closer, he sees that Dr. House is napping in the middle of the day, is wearing a black t-shirt with blue jeans, and may or may not be drooling on the desk.

“Not interested,” House says. She waves him off without even glancing upward, but Wilson came prepared for this and stands his ground.

“Are you sure?” Wilson asks. “The patient is presenting Leukemia symptoms, but her white blood cells look fine.”

House looks up, and Wilson notices that she’s not pretty in the traditional sense, but there’s something interesting in the way her face moves. When she focuses her attention on Wilson, it’s a little uncomfortable. He’s been the center of female attention before, but this is not the same thing. “Huh,” she says. “You’re just about as attractive as I was led to believe.”

“Huh,” Wilson replies, before he can stop himself. “You’re just as bitchy as I was led to believe.” He winces as he says it, since his mom did teach him better than to say things like that to a girl. Even if it is true.

House smirks, though, and doesn’t look offended at all. “That’s true. Want to go out for dinner?”

That throws Wilson for a loop. This was not expected. “What about the case?”

House shrugs. “I’ll look at it tomorrow. Your patient won’t die between now and then right?” She waits for Wilson to nod before continuing. “Everyone in the hospital knows about your very recent, very messy divorce. You’re interesting, and I figured I would step in when I still have a shot at that much coveted second wife status.” She pulls her hair up into a messy ponytail and grabs her jacket. “Let’s go.”

Wilson, feeling a little like he’d just been run over by a truck, follows.

ii. marriage

Wilson proposed to House one night, six months after they starting dating, taking her out to dinner, smiling, going down on one knee, the whole shebang. House, of course, made a face and said, “You really couldn’t wait until dessert?”

That wasn’t exactly the response Wilson was looking for, so he was about to slink off and possibly lick his wounds, but then House rolled her eyes and said, “Yes, fine. I’ll marry you. Jesus, you didn’t have to get all touchy-feely about it.”

Wilson tried really hard not to be attracted to the bored expression on her face, but it kind of failed.

---

Wilson’s first wife, Sarah, had wanted to do all of the wedding preparations herself, which had worked out pretty well for Wilson because he didn’t really care all that much things like that, and it was easier for him to smile and nod whenever she and his mother decided something. It had all worked out for the best that way. Unfortunately, when it came down to marrying House, it wasn’t that easy.

“If you care so much about the table cloths why don’t you just take care of them yourself? Can’t you see I’m busy here?” House said the fourth time Wilson had asked her to take care of the logistics of the wedding.

“You’re playing Pokemon!” Wilson said. She was leaning back in her chair in her t-shirt and jeans, grinning cheerfully at the tiny music coming from the Gameboy.

“I need to beat this gym leader,” she replied. “Wait a sec.”

Wilson didn’t.

---

“I like her just fine, James,” his mother said, two weeks later. “But I don’t approve of her manners.”

Wilson found himself smiling his fake, it’ll-totally-be-fine-even-if-it-really-won’t-be smile, even though he was pretty sure his mother couldn’t see it. “She’s just really busy, Mom. It’s not that she’s blowing you off or anything like that.” This was a complete and total lie, as House was currently watching bad Lifetime movies on the television and eating popcorn, laughing hysterically whenever there was an overly dramatic scene.

“If I have to, I can take care of the wedding preparations myself,” she said, and she sounded really tired, “but even with Sarah helping out last time, I was exhausted afterwards.” It was a classic guilt maneuver, but even after twenty-some-odd years, Wilson had not been able to develop any sort of defense against it.

And that was how he ended up picking out floral arrangements with his mother two days later.

---

The wedding itself went off without a hitch, except for the part where House looked bored in all the wedding photos, and where she slipped Wilson tongue and smeared her lipstick during the ceremony, and how she somehow managed to get “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” as their first dance, which meant that Wilson was fending off embarrassing questions from his older brother, his father, two of his college roommates, and his former best friend from med school.

Halfway through the dance, House kicked off the high-heeled shoes and slumped backwards in her chair. “Is it the honeymoon yet? I’m bored.” She leered at Wilson and maybe fluttered her eyelashes a bit.

Wilson laughed, and thought about spending the rest of his life with her. It wasn’t as scary as it could have been.

iii. kids

When House gets pregnant, the entire hospital hears about it. Especially Wilson, who actually has to live with her.

“Fuck you,” House says, when Wilson asks her to tone things down a bit. “You’re the one who knocked me up. If I have to deal with morning sickness, your delicate ears will have to listen to me whine about it.”

Wilson winces, and tries not to get himself in deeper shit than he already is.

---

She’s not really showing yet, but Wilson can’t quite keep himself from fussing. He constantly asks her whether or not everything’s okay, whether or not she’s eaten, offering her fruits and vegetables in the morning.

“Will you just stop with this shit?” House says, when Wilson accidentally interrupts her mid-afternoon nap. “I’m pregnant, not a fucking invalid.”

Wilson doesn’t actually stop with the fussing. (Though he does get sneakier about it.)

---

When House starts showing, Wilson can’t stop beaming in pride, because House is pregnant, and she’s somehow even more beautiful than before. He walks around the hospital with a goofy smile, and sometimes, it’s even hard for him to get the appropriately somber expression on his face when talking to his patients.

“It’s just amazing,” he says to House, late at night, hand pressed to the soft curve of her belly, sleepy and still in awe.

“Yes, of course,” House mumbles, turning onto her side. “I can’t wait to start lugging around a watermelon in my stomach. Mystery of life, blah, blah blah.”

Wilson kisses her belly button before falling asleep.

---

“She kicked,” Wilson says, and the simple thought of it fills him with a wonder he’s not sure he can express. House, with her maternity shirt pulled up so Wilson can feel the movement more easily on bare skin, rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, well,” she says. “I figured I’d give you your sappy moment now, so that we can get it out of the way. Yes. I am actually pregnant, not coming off a ho-hos binge. Okay?”

Wilson smiles at her. “Thank you,” he says, because he knows House better than she thinks he does. “For showing me.”

House blushes slightly, but then ruins the effect by grumbling and turning away.

---

“They’re really not giving me enough drugs,” House says to Wilson, sweating and panting and in labor. “I hate you and your stupid fucking penis.”

Wilson lets her grab his hand and hopes that she doesn’t cut off the circulation there permanently. “Breathe,” he says.

“Gee,” House says. “I never would have thought of that.” But her breathing does become more focuses and more regular.

Wilson pats her hair and kisses her cheek.

---

Afterward, House just wants to sleep. “You can name her,” she says. “As long as it’s not something asinine like Greta. And nothing too Jewish either.”

Wilson just smiles and holds their daughter close to his chest. He won’t name her until House wakes up again, because that’s just the polite thing to do.

He’s still planning on fighting for “Miriam” in the morning, though.

FIN.