FIC: Taub's Sense of Humor
Title: Taub's Sense of Humor
Author: serotonin_storm
Fandom: House
Rating: PG
Pairing: House/Wilson UST
Word Count: 1000 words
Summary: Taub regains his sense of humor and House tries to convince the fellows that Wilson's gay.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: For tilian3. Edited 12/9/08.

Taub had seen a lot of things in his lifetime. In the reconstructive surgery business, becoming skilled at acting collected in all sorts of strange situations was key for hooking and maintaining clients. But most of all, you had to learn never, ever to laugh at anything, not even when you thought there was a joke being told – because nine times out of ten, you'd be wrong.

Taub was very good at this. So good that sometimes, he wondered if his sense of humor had up and moved to Canada while he'd been working. But, as things had the tendency to do in Dr. House's office, that began to change.

It all started out with Kutner's big mouth, which seemed to be a developing trend. The boy waltzed into the office, hands clasped behind his neck, and announced, “Hey, did you see the hot nurse Dr. Wilson's chatting up? She was stacked.” Then at Thirteen's dirty glance, he added, “What? She was!”

House smirked at them from behind his red mug. “It's about time Wilson went fag hag hunting for a new beard,” he said. “Can anyone say 'marriage number four'?”

Thirteen's glare snapped from Kutner's face to her boss's in record time. Taub had to hand it to her; she would have made a terrific lawyer. She had the blunt, accusatory look down pat. “Are you really suggesting,” she demanded, “that Dr. Wilson is gay?”

“Well, obviously,” replied House. He took a sip of his coffee and regarded with pitying expression. “It's a sad, sad day when a woman's gaydar is that weak. No wonder you're still single.”

“Why are you so sure that I'm single?” she asked, tucking a dark curl behind her ear.

House raised an eyebrow. “Well, aren't you?”

Come to think of it, Thirteen's sullen glowers were pretty impressive as well.

“Well, didn't you just say that Dr. Wilson was married? That implies some level of heterosexuality,” Taub put in, folding one hand over the other atop the table.

“He was married three times,” Foreman added without looking up from his crossword puzzle.

Kutner laughed. “There's no way that guy is gay with three marriages under his belt. He's a player.”

“Or a loser,” Thirteen said.

“No, no, no,” House interrupted impatiently. The liquid in his mug sloshed as he set it down hard on the table. “Serial dating – and wooing, and inevitable elopement, in Wilson's pathetic case – is a classic sign. This is textbook overcompensation. He's having trouble coming to terms with the fact that 'General Jimmy' may be looking for another Private to march with instead of a fair maiden.”

Thirteen looked thoroughly galled. Now she definitely wouldn't have made it in Taub's business. “He's your friend! How can you talk about him like that?”

“Oh, dear, sweet Thirteen,” House crooned. “Where has that alluring apathy of yours gone?”

“This is just the way these guys work,” Foreman said, rolling his eyes at the table and scratching an answer onto the paper. “They talk about each other, then they go into their offices and talk about everyone else. It's just what they do, don't let it get to you.”

“He paints his toenails!” House insisted. “Come on, people, he blow-dries his hair. What sort of self-respecting heterosexual primps like a sixteen-year-old girl? He's gay.”

Actually, Taub had blown his hair dry, when he'd still had enough of it left to bother. He intelligently chose not to mention this. “Well, I think you're wrong,” he said instead.

Thirteen nodded, determined. “I agree.”

“I don't know,” said Kutner. “House could be right. We don't know Dr. Wilson that well, and I hear those guys have been friends for years.”

“Oh, there's my faithful ass-kiss,” House sing-songed brightly. He leaned over on his cane to ruffle Kutner's hair, but Kutner ducked away from the contact. House looked back over at Taub and Thirteen. “Open your eyes. Wilson is – ”

The door swung open abruptly, and the man in question rushed in. “Hi,” he said, giving them all a small smile and an awkward wave. “House, I need a consult. You guys aren't too busy, are you?”

Taub couldn't bring himself to speak, and when he glanced around the table, he saw that the others all had their eyes focused steadfastly elsewhere as well.

Wilson's eyebrows knit at the resulting silence. “What were you guys talking about?” he asked, slow and suspicious.

“Don't worry about it,” said House. “We were just discussing the weather, the cosmos. Ancient Roman deities. How gay you are.”

“How gay I am?” Wilson repeated, a finger pointed at his own chest.

“Now, I say you're a flamer. But Kutner here seems to think you're a closet case, and Taub and Thirteen... Well, you know what kind of skeptics they are.”

“Oh.” The lines on Wilson's face smoothed out. Taub felt his gaze weigh heavily upon him before it moved on to Kutner, and then Thirteen. “You guys should listen to him,” he said. “Ninety percent of the time, he does know what he's talking about.”

He strode away from them then, pausing only when his hand was on the knob. “House. Consult,” he repeated as he swept through the entrance.

House stared after his friend for a split second, mouth open, eyes wide, before rushing toward the door. His cane clunked against the floor with each hurried step as he followed Wilson's path out of the office. “Wait, what was that supposed to mean?” Taub heard him call from the hall. “Wilson – get back here! You can't come out of the closet like that!”

And then both the department heads were gone, and the fellows were left to flounder in the aftermath. Foreman just sighed and shook his head, then delved back into his puzzle. Thirteen and Kutner gawked unashamedly at the spot in which House had previously been.

But Taub, even with all his years as a straight-faced plastic surgeon, just had to laugh.