Chapter Text
Foreman was breaking into House's apartment.
When you put it that way, though, it sounded much worse than it was.
House had sent the fellows home earlier that day. He had decided that they were hindering rather than helping after being severely sleep-deprived for days, having been at the hospital for nearly 50 hours now. Cameron and Chase were practically dead on their feet already, but Foreman knew that he was fine. (He very much was not; he was on the brink of hallucination at this point).
So, why was he committing breaking and entering? Well, House had been guessing rather accurately his duckling's personal lives, and Foreman, in his severely sleep-deprived state, had decided that it was an absolutely great idea to break into his apartment, figure out House's secrets, and use them against him.
Normally, this would be an easy task; Foreman was great at picking locks and could be fairly quiet when necessary, however, as prevoisly mentioned, he had been at work for more than two days straight, so that was not working too well right now.
Thus, at 2:04, when he got to 221B Baker Street, he was not very effective about being quiet.
Surprisingly, the door was unlocked. He carefully opened the door, making sure not to slam it.
He creeped around the hallways and then-
"Holy shit, Foreman, what are you doing here?"
The doctor looked up. Standing over him, wielding a golf club, was Wilson. He looked mildly shell-shocked. The oncologist was wearing a McGill sweatshirt and tracksuit pants, a stark contrast to his usual formal attire. His hair was messy and he looked like he'd just gotten out of bed. Given the time, he probably had.
Foreman raised an eyebrow. "I could ask you the same thing," he mumbled.
"I live here! Why are you in my apartment?"
"Uh. I'm. Trying to find dirt on. House," he said slowly, "I thought. This was his apartment."
Wilson sighed. "Stay here. I need to make a call." And he walked out of the hallway.
Foreman could hear Wilson talking to someone. "I swear to god- He broke in! No, I didn't lock the door, I didn't think YOUR fellow would try to break in!" House, probably. "Alright, I'll drive him home, but you've gotta come get me. Bye."
Wilson walked back in. "I'll drive you home, Foreman. Your car, otherwise you'll be stuck."
"I can drive myself," said Foreman, who was not in a state to drive.
The oncologist looked at him, unimpressed. "You've been at work for more than two days straight with no breaks. You look half-dead and are acting half-drunk. You can't drive." He held out his hand. "Keys."
Reluctantly, Foreman handed them over, muttering something incomprehensible. he then, in such a way that only someone who had to deal with someone who was in a perpetual state of sleep deprivation for over two decades could understand, mumbled, "I'm not THAT tired."
Luckily, since Wilson, for some reason, decided to spend his time with House of all people, he understood. "You are at the point where if you stay up any longer, you're going to start hallucinating. Now follow me." And he began to walk towards the door.
Foreman trudged after him. Wilson slipped on some shoes that were by the door and walked outside and towards the street. He got into the driver's seat, and motioned to Foreman to sit passenger.
Once in the car, the younger of the two realized the absurdity of the situation. "You said- That you live there. But. That was House's apartment, I checked his files."
Wilson nodded.
"Why do you live with House?"
Laughing softly, Wilson replied, "I knew one of you would figure it out eventually, but I'd hoped it would be in a normal way." His eyes flicked over to Foreman. "Honestly, I was betting on Chase to be the first, but I guess I owe House fifty."
"That doesn't answer my question," Foreman pointed out.
"Did you ever wonder how I'm able to put up with House? How I have for- yeesh- two decades?"
Nodding, Foreman responded, "I'd have strangled him by now."
Smiling softly, Wilson said, "I nearly have. Multiple times. I probably would have by now if I didn't decide to marry the man."
Foreman sputtered. "What? Marry, What-"
"Your Apartment, right?" Wilson cut him off.
The younger man nodded. "How did you know where I lived?"
Wilson hummed. "I have my ways," he said before sarcastically adding, "Now, do I need to tuck you in, or can you be trusted not to try to drive in such a sleep-deprived state?"
Foreman stepped out of the car saying, "I'm fine. But what did you mean by-"
Wilson leaned over and shut the door of the car, cutting him off.
Foreman resigned himself to not getting an answer and trudged up to his apartment.
Meanwhile, in his car, Wilson had found a place to park and was on the phone to House.
"You need to stop being a bitch to your employees, Greg. I'm tired, and what if another one of them break in?"
"It'll be fine," his husband replied, "Plus, it's not like he knows, we can just tell him you were crashing on my couch or something."
"Er. Cricket-" Wilson began.
"First off, don't call me that," Said House with a hint of fondness in his voice at the mention of the pet name. Wilson had been calling him that ever since he found out that when House was either extremely tired, cold or drunk, he rubs his feet together instinctually. "And second, What'd you do?"
"I may or may not have. Mentioned. That perhaps. I married you?"
An exasperated laugh met his ears. "What if we gaslight him into thinking he hallucinated the whole thing?"
Wilson snickered. "Or just aggressively avoided the question?"
They were both laughing now. "I'll be there in a minute. Just pulling onto the street now," House said before hanging up.
Headlights filled the road, nearly blinding Wilson. An old car pulled up directly in front of him.
Opening the door and stepping in, Wilson smiled fondly at his husband. "Now that you've finally left the hospital, shall we go to bed?"
House paused, then a small grin filled his face. "You coerced me!"
Wilson, also grinning, held up his hands in a sign of false surrender. "I want to speak with my lawyer!"
"You made it up, didn't you! You manipulative bitch," House accused him fondly.
"I did no such thing!"
House began to drive, snickering. "I'd bet you did! How could you!"
The couple laughed as they drove home. As they pulled into their street, House tiredly nodded, "I'll go to bed. Only because you forced me."
Wilson smiled. "Whatever you say, House."
-----
The next morning, before he went to the diagnostics conference room, Foreman made a beeline to Wilson's office, and barged in.
"Wilson," he said simply, "You didn't answer my question."
The oncologist innocently replied, "What question?"
"You and House. What did you mean by you married him."
Leaning back in his chair, Wilson hummed. He and House had spoken about what to do if and when Foreman inevitably asked. "I never said that," He lied, like a liar.
Foreman scanned his face, squinted, then sighed. "You're fucking with me."
Wilson smiled. "You've been around House too long. You're learning."
"Why. When. How."
"Well, he's quite entertaining and Life wouldn't be as fun without him," Wilson said, "We've been married, I want to say, one and a half decades? and He kidnapped me."
Foreman's eyes shot up. "He what?"
"Anyway, House and I have been betting on how long we could keep it a secret. Mind not telling your coworkers?"
Foreman nodded, slightly shell-shocked. "Um. Ok." He paused. "On one condition."
"Oh," Wilson asked, interested.
A smirk crossed Foreman's face. "I want in."
"It's a deal."