#eric forman

An older teenage boy would not stop making passes at you. It was anything from a wink to a thinly veiled innuendo to a comment about your chest. His poor mother was mortified, attempting to get him to stop, but he was persistent and ignored every threat she threw at him. After checking his vitals, you went to walk away when he pinched your ass. You spun around in pure shock, your jaw dropped, and you were unable to come up with anything to say. All he did was wink, and it took every bit of strength in you not to slap him across his smug face. 

The final straw was a six-year-old girl. She seemed nice at first, but when you attempted to introduce yourself, she started crying and wouldn’t stop. You had to diagnose her while she was wailing uncontrollably. At one point, she finally stopped, giving everyone a moment of peace, but then she sucked in a breath and made the loudest, ear-piercing scream you’d ever heard in your entire career. Usually, you could handle a lot from children, but today, you were over the edge, and her screaming and crying made you run out of the room and sob on the floor of a bathroom stall. When you’d finally pulled yourself together, you made your way out of the bathroom and toward the doctor’s lounge to grab some much-needed caffeine. You could still feel how puffy your eyes were. Your gaze was low to the ground in an attempt to avoid eye contact with anyone. One “Are you ok?” might’ve made you break down all over again. 

Your distractedness led you to run straight into someone. 

You stumbled back, mid-apology, when you finally looked up. 

“Sorry, I–”

Of course, it was House. It just had to be House. 

He rocked back on his cane in fake shock as if you’d done it on purpose. “Wow. If you wanted to throw yourself at me, you could’ve at least bought me dinner first.”

You groaned and attempted to walk past him. “Not today, House, I—”

He stuck his cane out at your hip level, stopping you from passing him and avoiding whatever insane conversation you were about to have. 

“Absolutely yes, today,” House said with a smirk. “What I’m about to ask you is much more enjoyable when you're already emotionally vulnerable.”

“Oh god,” you sigh, already annoyed at what's going to come out of his mouth. “Fine. What?” 

“Fuck, Marry, Kill.” 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said with a smirk, “Me, Cuddy, Wilson.” 

You stare at him, “I don’t have time for this—”

“No one has time for it,” he shrugs, “And yet, here you are. Answer the question.”

“House,” you warned, trying to push past him. He stuck his cane out and whacked you in the knees. 

“I’m not letting you go until you give me an answer.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I once put a patient in a full-body scanner because they annoyed me. I’m always serious.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. Your eyes still burned from crying earlier. You did not have the emotional bandwidth for this.

“Fine!” you burst out. “Wilson, Cuddy, you. Happy?”

House slapped a hand over his heart as if shot. “NO? Kill me? Kill me? After everything we’ve been through? After all the touching moments we’ve shared? I let you take the last cupcake that one time!”

“You asked the question. You can’t complain about the answer.” 

“Fine. Fine, keep your secrets.” He moved his cane out of the way, letting you pass. “Wilson’s gonna LOVE hearing about this!”

You froze mid-step.

“…What do you mean, hearing—House? House!”

He was already limping away, humming, which was how, two hours later, you discovered that yes, everyone knew.

~

You didn’t think that a day could get any worse, but somehow, House proved you wrong, because of course he did. He seemed to have told every single person in the hospital. Everywhere you went, doctors, nurses, and janitorial staff were all whispering and giggling or side-eyeing you. Every nurse's station on every floor either went silent when you walked by or burst out into a fit of giggles. It was humiliating and made you want to curl up and die, and the best part was that House was, of course, nowhere to be seen. 

But you were still a doctor, and your pager didn’t care that your personal life had spontaneously combusted. You forced yourself to straighten your coat, swallow the shame, and head to the next room on your list.

Pediatrics, Room 412.

Easy follow-up. Sweet kid. Zero emotional landmines.

You could do this.

You knocked gently, pushed the door open, and nearly sagged with relief when you saw only the patient, his mom, and a nurse finishing up vitals. The nurse glanced at you, smiled politely, and stepped aside to let you in.

No whispering.

No giggling.

No pointed stares.

Thank god. Finally, someone is acting normal.

You checked on your patient, listened to his lungs, and noted that his temperature was trending down. His mom thanked you. The kid gave you a sleepy thumbs up. Everything felt almost… normal. As the nurse finished logging vitals on her tablet, she headed toward the door. She passed behind you. For one blissful second, you thought you were safe. Then she paused in the doorway.

“Oh, and—” she said lightly, “tell Dr. Wilson congratulations.”

You froze, stethoscope halfway into your pocket. The kid’s mom looked confused. The kid giggled. Your soul practically left your body. The nurse gave you a cheerful little smile—just short of a wink—and walked out. You stared at the empty doorway in utter horror.

Nope. That was it. You were done. This had officially reached Cuddy-level intervention. Someone needed to muzzle House before he started printing wedding invitations.

Fine.

FINE.

If the entire hospital wanted to act like this was a telenovela, you were going straight to the showrunner.

~

You didn’t bother to knock politely. You tapped once, more of a warning than a request, and pushed the door open before Cuddy could answer.

She looked up from a stack of budget reports, eyebrows lifting at the sight of you: frazzled, red-faced, vibrating with righteous fury.

“Wow,” she said dryly. “Either someone coded twice or House did something.”

“House did something,” you snapped, eyes wide with rage. You dragged both hands through your hair. “House did everything. House has ruined my life!”

Cuddy sighed and set down her pen. “That’s a little dramatic.”

“No, it is in fact NOT dramatic,” you said, pacing in front of her desk. “Because now every single person in this stupid hospital thinks I’m—”

You broke off with a yelp of frustration, throwing your hands in the air in helpless mortification.

Cuddy pinched the bridge of her nose, bracing. “All right. Start from the beginning.”

You told her everything. The story and the mortification slipped out of your mouth, only stopping to catch your breath when you completely ran out of air. You paced back and forth, not even looking at her. The only thing that told you she was still there was an occasional hum, scoff, or laugh. Once you finally finished, your face was redder than when you came in, and you were catching your breath as if you’d just run a marathon. 

You finally stopped moving. “But… I guess it didn’t get to you yet,” you said hopefully. “So maybe Wilson hasn’t heard, right?”

Silence.

Cuddy stared at you, guilty, sympathetic, and very much like someone caught with insider knowledge she wished she didn’t have.

Your stomach dropped. “Cuddy?” you asked slowly. “Please tell me you haven’t heard.”

She winced. “Well…” she said, voice going sheepish, “at least I’m getting married.”

You blinked at her.

“What?”

Cuddy lifted both hands in a helpless gesture. “House was… VERY enthusiastic in his retelling. By the time he made it to my office, the story had evolved into a full romantic saga. With vows.” She pointed at her own chest. “Apparently, I’m the lucky bride.”

You stared at her in horror.

“So—you HAVE heard,” you said faintly.

“Oh, I’ve heard,” Cuddy confirmed. “And judging by how red Wilson got when House walked past him humming ‘Here Comes the Bride,’ I’m going to guess he heard too.”

You felt your soul depart your body. Just before you could say anything, the door to Cuddy’s office opens. 

“Cuddy, I need to—” You didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

You turned around to face him, your face still bright red from anger and now pure embarrassment. “It’s fine. I’m done.”

He nodded and turned to leave. 

“Actually,” Cuddy stood from her desk, “I think you two have something to discuss, and I’m late for a meeting.” She grabbed a file from her desk and made her way to the door. 

“Wait, Cuddy—” Wilson said. 

“Have fun.” 

And just like that, she’s gone, and you and Wilson are alone. 

“So…” you looked over to Wilson, “What do you know?”

Wilson paused for a long moment, looking anywhere but you. “What, uh, what do you know?”

“Well, I know what actually happened. I’m not sure what House decided to tell everyone.” You laughed, trying to relieve the tension engulfing the room. 

“Uh, well, all I know is that you said something about killing House, marrying Cuddy, and, well…” He trailed off, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, well, it was a stupid question.” You said quickly, your face getting hot. “I was just trying to get House off my back. He wouldn’t let me go if I didn’t give him an answer.”

Wilson nodded his head. “Yeah, of course. It’s not like it means anything. It's a-a juvenile game.” 

“Yeah. It’s dumb.” By now, both of you were staring at each other. You broke eye contact first, looking down at your feet. 

“Well, uh, I’m gonna get back to work. Busy…busy day,” Wilson said, footsteps moving toward the door. You didn’t want him to leave. Not yet. There was more you wanted to say, but you just couldn’t get yourself to say it. You hear the door open before you finally yell out. 

“WAIT!” Your head snapped up, meeting Wilson’s gaze. “I meant it.” 

His eyebrows shot up, but before he could say anything, you started to ramble.

“Not about killing House or marrying Cuddy, but now I’m considering the latter. I was serious about you. Well, not just, uh, having sex with you. I do want to, god I would love to, but that's not—I mean, I don’t only want to have sex with you, I would want to go out and, uh, get to know—” 

You’re interrupted by Wilson’s hands cupping your face. You looked up at him. His smile was soft, and his eyes were warm and inviting. 

“Hey, breathe for me, yeah?” He asked softly. 

You matched his breathing. Slow and steady, bringing your heart rate back to normal. You hadn’t realized how worked up you’d gotten. You’d been agitated the entire day, and now you were finally getting some reprieve. Wilson’s warm hands and soft voice melted away the stress. 

“God, you’re good at that,” You said, smiling up at him. 

He matched your smile. “Comes with the job.”

You let your head fall against his chest, feeling his heartbeat against your forehead. Wilson’s hand stroked your hair gently while the other rested on your back, his thumb drawing small circles at the base of your neck. You let out a stifled laugh. And then another. And then another, until you descended into a fit of giggles.

“Are you okay?” He asked, confused. 

Your laughter started to calm down as you lifted your head from his chest. “Yeah, I just…It’s been a rough day.” 

“I understand. I’m sorry. House is an ass.”

“He’s a complete ass, but…” You trailed off for a moment, “I’m kind of…grateful for it, I guess.”

“Really? Why would you be grateful? He’s made today hell for you?” Wilson asked, shocked. 

You smile shyly. “If he hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here.” 

“Yeah, I’ll give him that.” A silence fell across the room. It was a comfortable silence, rather than a tense one like before. Wilson’s hand moved from the back of your head to cradle your cheek. Your eyes flitted between his eyes and his lips. 

“I would really like you to kiss me,” you said unabashedly. 

He laughed lightly, “I would really like to kiss you.” 

He leaned in, your eyes fluttering shut. His lips brushed against yours timidly. Your hands moved up his arms, holding softly onto his sleeve-covered biceps. He pulled away slightly, his breath warm on your lips.  

“Why’d you stop?” You asked, your words coming out in a breathless rush. 

“I’ve wanted this, you, for so long,” He smiled, sincerely. “I don’t wanna rush anything and mess it up.” 

“As much as I appreciate the respectfulness,” You gripped his biceps tighter, digging your nails into him, “I need you now. Please don’t make me beg.” 

Wilson’s eyes darken. “Fuck baby.”

Without a second thought, Wilson’s lips crash into yours. You met him with just as much fervor. His hand slipped under your lab coat and drifted down to the small of your back, tugging you into him, your bodies pressed together. He bit your lip, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough that you let out a soft moan, your mouth falling open. He glided his tongue into your mouth, swirling it around yours. Your hands slid down his chest, admiring every inch of him, stopping just above his belt. Your fingers drifted across the waistband of his slacks, tugging at the belt loops. Wilson let out a low moan, making you smile against his lips. He pulled away, letting out a shaky breath.

“You’re killing me,” Wilson murmured against your lips. 

“Yeah?” You purred. He let out a loud groan and pulled you back into a kiss. His hand on your cheek moved to fist your hair at the base of your now messy ponytail. His other hand gripped your ass through your pants, kneading gently. Your knees buckled, and Wilson was the only thing keeping you standing. 

You almost don’t notice the door swing open. 

“House, why are we—WOAH.” A woman’s voice calls out from the doorway. You and Wilson pull apart so suddenly that you almost end up on the floor. You stumbled back, and Wilson turned to find House leading Cameron, Chase, and Forman into Cuddy’s office. House looked smug, both hands resting on top of his cane. Cameron’s jaw was on the floor, Forman was staring intently at his shoes, and Chase’s eyes were wide. 

“See, I told you they’d be here,” House said, gesturing to you and Wilson. 

 “House, get out!” Wilson bellowed. 

“I mean, I’m not the one making out in Cuddy’s office.”

“House out NOW,” You snapped. 

“Fine, fine, let’s leave them to their debauchery,” House says, ushering the other three out. 

“Have fun,” House smirked, shutting the door behind them. 

“God, I’m so sorry. I don’t know how he knew we were here,” Wilson apologized. 

“It’s House. You can’t hide from him,” You sighed. “Well, I should probably get back to my patients.” 

“Yeah, me too,” Wilson’s voice trailed off. Neither of you moved, not wanting to leave the other. You reluctantly took a few steps toward the door before Wilson reached out and grabbed your waist, pulling you into another kiss. It was deep, but ended sooner than you wanted. 

“Sorry, I had to,” He smirked. 

“I know, I’m irresistible,” You laughed. 

“You really are.” He kissed you quickly before finally letting go. 

“Okay, now you can leave.” 

“Thank you.” You took a few steps to the door before looking over your shoulder. 

“Do you want to grab a drink?” You asked. 

“I would love to. Tonight?” 

“I can do tonight,” You smiled. Wilson smiled back at you. There was something about his smile that warmed your entire body. “I’ll stop by your office after my shift. I get done at eight-ish.”