Disclaimer: [H]ouse is not mine and never will be.

A/N: House said something to Chase in last night's episode that was worth exploring.

Hope you enjoy!

A paper missile shoots past Wilson's left ear as he places his food tray on the table. "Did you teach Rachel how to blow wrappers off straws too?"

"No need to teach rocket science to the little liar. The preschool turned Rachel down."

"About that." Wilson deftly smacks House's hand with his fork as the long fingers reach for the cherry tomato on his Cobb salad. "Cuddy explained there were too many sibs."

"Blocks aren't Rachel's strong suit anyway."

"But lying is?" Wilson eyes House suspiciously. "She spent a lot of time in your company."

"You saw us. The little schnauzer was engrossed with feeding the monkey."

"Dogs are known for their keen sense of hearing, House. Could it be that she overheard you talking on the phone with the head of the school about a donation?" Wilson drops his fork on the table and folds his arms across his chest. "Confess. How many snacks did you ply her with to stop her from telling Cuddy?"

House sucks down a third of his drink before answering. "I didn't give her anything. The school needed cooler games if I were ever to attend parent-teacher night with Cuddy."

"Uh-huh. Twenty-five hundred dollars worth. Charged to my credit card. Sounds more like a bribe to keep Rachel out. What were you thinking?"

"Aha! You admit I was thinking."

"Don't look so smug. You're the Frankenstein's monster of role models. And what possessed you to tell Chase, 'Cancel your credit card, find that girl, and marry her'? Who takes that kind of advice?"

"Chase for one. He asked the woman out on a date." Before rising from his chair, House triumphantly snags a prime piece of chicken from Wilson's salad and tosses it into his mouth. "Gotta go. Chase is waiting for the $2500 'carrot' I promised him if he would repeat my advice to you."

Wilson squints. He's knows he's being played, but he can't figure out why.

"Think, Wilson."

"You mean?" Wilson discreetly points his finger at House and then at himself.

"This was never about Rachel or Cuddy. I was waiting for you to get over Sam." As House leaves the cafeteria, he looks over his shoulder and cocks an eyebrow. "I miss running my hands over your organ."

Wilson sits at the table, stunned, then scrambles from his chair as if a firecracker went off in his pants. "House! Wait up! Are you free tonight for dinner?"

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