"I need you."
The three words were out of House's mouth before the door had even clicked shut. He said them in such a tone and with such a meaning that the man who had just locked them into the exam room suddenly wanted out again. There was a glint of something that James couldn't quite put his finger on in Greg's eyes, and he swallowed, mouth left open afterwards as his brain struggled for a couple of words.
What had happened to the consult?
"I need you so much, James. It hurts me. It burns inside every time I see you with somebody else and I have to wonder why you don't just come to me. You always get hurt, but I'd..." House limped a couple of steps forwards, and Wilson backed up until he was pressing against the door. "I'd never hurt you. Not unless you wanted me to."
A pointed glance was stolen down at the Oncologist's midriff, and – when House had taken his fill of admiring – there was a wolfish smile on the lips of the beholder. A pleading noise fell from James' own lips as he struggled to do a David Copperfield and step through a solid wall. Confusion was so evident in his eyes. Confusion, and the emotion that could only be described as 'Oh-Em-Effing-Gee'.
"C'mon, Wilson. You've seen me looking. I'm always looking. Even when you're in the shower--" That drew a sharp, abrupt movement from James, who careered sideways into a small tray of medical equipment and almost tripped over his own feet. He struggled away from the tools and backed up once more, only to be pinned against the side of the examination bed.
"Just how I want you." Dropping his cane, the man limped unaided over to the squirming Wilson, pressing both arms around his hips and grasping the edge of the leather padding. He was pretty much nose-to-nose with his friend. A few seconds were spent solely looking at each other before Greg ducked his head a little lower, able to feel Wilson's rapid breathing close against his cheek. He heard one such breath snatch in Jame's throat, and felt the slight movement as Wilson drew himself slightly closer, lips so close to brushing...
"Gay!"
The cat-call startled Wilson into almost letting his knees buckle. He blinked rapidly, only to see House still there. House was there, but with the biggest grin since the elephant plan had worked for Hannibal on his face.
"Did you really think I'd kiss you? Please, I have my pride. Not to mention standards." He managed to spit all of that out before leaning against one of the worktops and putting a leash on his sniggering. If he didn't control himself, he was going to pass out from forgetting to breathe.
"Y--" James struggled to speak, his cheeks having flushed an interesting shade of red. "You called me down here to play Gay Chicken?"
"Aw, the little closet case is all mad." Greg pulled a face that was the dramatic picture of sadness. Lips turned downwards, he limped back over to his cane and straightened out his shirt. Highlight of his day? Most probably, unless all the patients who had recently undergone throat surgery gave him a rendition of Jailhouse Rock.
"You bastard!" James yelled, hands raised ever so slightly, making him look like he wanted to wrap them around House's neck and squeeze until the click satisfied him. "Absolute bastard!"
House sidled out of the door, tipping an imaginary hat to his completest humiliated friend and leaving him to stew. Wilson took a few quick steps, on the verge of running after him, before just aiming a well-landed kick at the goddamn door.
Bastard!