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When he picked him up at the airport (late, after multiple flight delays), the first words House heard out of Wilson's mouth in almost two years were: “Seriously? Two years of radio silence, and you can’t even get out of the car?”

He took them straight from the airport to a bar, and to be fair Wilson did look at Nyx's file before they started getting drinking.

And after House dropped Wilson off at the hotel, things he'd said were just running through House's mind, he always had these stupidly true little jabs.

You’re not your worst moment. You never were.

Honestly I never really thought that your sexuality was limited to people who annoyed you in one specific gender.

You keep insisting it’s casual, but I’ve never seen you this careful.

You’d rather be right than happy. You always have.

God House fucking hated that about him.

He picked him up the next morning and brought him to Nyx's place. How did Wilson always look so fucking put together? "I see you remembered your hair gel," he said as Wilson climbed into his car.

"You must really like this guy, you're wearing a clean shirt," Wilson returned.

It wasn't long before they were standing in front of Nyx's door. When he opened it, House held out a box. "I brought bagels," he said.

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Wilson rested his hands in his lap, glancing between them. "Alright. Here's how we do this."

He ticked the points off on his fingers.

"First, we get updated labs. Blood counts, organ function, full panel. No assumptions off old data."

He looked at House deliberately. "You can either bully his oncologist into ordering them or I can write a very polite, very aggressive letter. Your choice."

House grunted but didn’t argue.

"Second," Wilson continued, turning back to Nyx, "you follow up with your primary oncologist. I’ll draft a recommendation—treatment shouldn’t be delayed unless those labs show a real reason. We go in strong, controlled, not half-measures."

Wilson softened slightly before continuing. "Third, we set you up with some support before chemo starts. Fluids, nutrition, someone on-call to help with the mental health side of things if you need it. Nothing heavy-handed. No hand-holding unless you ask for it."

"And finally," Wilson added, flicking his eyes toward House with faint amusement, "your local support system. Meaning House gets to pretend to be a responsible adult. And he can also keep me looped in from afar on your progress."

This was roughly the sort of thing House had expected, so he only nodded.

It all felt overwhelming, but Nyx nodded. It was fine, he was relatively good at going where he was meant to go and doing what was asked. That's all this was, at its core, going from place to place and doing as he was asked.

He'd be fine. This was... Fine.

"So when's your wedding?" he asked, changing the subject. He was done thinking about cancer. "Greg's mentioned it a few times."

Kind of true. He'd mentioned it twice.

"A little over a month," said Wilson, and glanced at House. "Your date still hasn't RSVPed."

House didn't respond to that.

"It's possible you'll be well enough to attend," Wilson continued to Nyx. "If you start right away, things will be roughest at the beginning, and then it goes in phases, depending on how things progress."

House added quickly, "There are options for writing around this in the show. We can talk through them."

"Yeah, no, I want to keep filming," Nyx insisted. "I don't want to stop working, Greg."

He didn't comment on the date thing, he didn't want to assume House wanted him to come.

"... sure," said Wilson. "Just keep in mind that the first few weeks aren’t a test of how tough you are. It’s biology. You listen to your body or you end up back in a hospital bed faster than anyone wants."

House added, "And like I said, the show can adjust. You get a few dramatic hospital scenes, we call it method acting, everybody wins."

Then he added, too offhand to be casual, "And for the record, RSVP or not, you’re still my date. Unless you’ve got a better offer."

He didn’t look at Nyx when he said it, just sipped his coffee like the conversation was about the weather.

Nyx glanced at Wilson, trying to gauge his reaction.

"It would be nice to go with you," he assured Greg. "I just didn't want to assume."

Wilson didn’t say anything, just gave Nyx a brief, measured nod. But his gaze flicked sideways toward House.

House set his coffee cup on the table and it hit with a soft thud.

"You're not assuming," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're invited."

He looked down, almost muttering. "Didn't fly James across the country to patch up just anybody."

It slipped out too easily, too honest. And the second it was said, House grimaced slightly—already regretting giving that much away.

Wilson's lips twitched. "You really know how to make a guy feel special," he said lightly. There was a mix of exasperation and fondness in his voice.

House shot him a look that was pure irritation—and pure deflection. "You're just jealous he's prettier than you."

Wilson just sat back, sipping his coffee around a smirk.

Nyx laughed awkwardly, pushing his hair back and doing his best not to fidget.

"Well, I'm sorry we're not meeting under better circumstances," he assured him.

He glanced between the pair a little, then wet his lips with a quick flick of his tongue. "Must be nice to get to see one another again, Greg told me it's been a while."

Wilson gave a small, cautious smile that didn’t quite smooth out the tension in his shoulders.

"Yeah," he said, glancing at House. "It’s been... a while."

House gave a short, humorless laugh under his breath. "Guess I'm not a great conversation starter when the last thing you said was under oath."

Wilson winced. Finally he said, "I did what I thought was right." Not defensive. Just tired. "And well, we're here now."

House shrugged—small, stiff. "Water under the burning bridge," he muttered. "And, you know. I didn't exactly have a lot of people I felt like calling." It wasn't exactly forgiveness, but it was something.

Nyx wasn't looking to start a fight between the pair, and let it be for now. Besides, he could tell Greg was trying.

"You should take him out tonight," Nyx suggested to House, nodding at Wilson. "I know a guy who can get you a table at that new seafood place."

"You could come with us," House said. "I mean... if you're feeling up to it. I need someone else to make fun of Wilson's tie."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "I'm not wearing a tie."

"You will be if we go out. You can't have changed that much in two years."

"I don't know, I'm really tired," Nyx admitted. "Besides, I'm sure you'd both like to catch up."

"You sure?" House said, hesitantly. "We could always get take-out instead..."

"You don't have to look after me," he insisted quietly, not wanting House to think he had to start looking after him. He didn't want to be anyone's burden. "It's fine. I'm fine. Haven't even started treatment, right? Let me save up my favours for when I'm falling apart," he joked with an awkward laugh.

After a beat, House let out a small, barely audible sigh.

"Fine," he said. "But if Wilson starts talking about wedding seating charts, I’m faking a stroke."

Wilson gave him a look, but didn’t interrupt. He knew that tone. That was House’s version of letting go.

House rubbed the back of his neck. "Let me know if you change your mind?"

"I will," Nyx promised, getting up and making his way over to House. For a moment he was worried he might be doing something wrong- Exposing things Greg might not want exposed in front of his friend, but he still leaned in and kissed him softly.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Nyx

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