Paperwork had to get more boring by every second, Wilson thought. His eyes were blurring under the influence of bad lighting and too many hours spent awake. Yet he kept reading because being here meant he wasn't alone, and being alone was something he was never very good at. So instead of letting his thoughts carry him away on a flood of memories he focused on the paperwork. Wilson knew he wasn't the first person to do this, and surely would not be the last.

As he heard the sound of his door being swung open he put the papers down. He couldn't really be sure who would still be here at this hour. When tired brown eyes met a pair of brilliant blue it was hard not to act completely shocked.

"House? What are you doing here at this hour? Isn't there a bad television program and cold beer with your name on it?"

"Of course. There was also a puzzle in the form of a patient that needed my brilliant expertise," House's voice was filled with that dry wit that only he could infuse.

"Ah, well that would explain it."

Wilson offered a tired, but still mischievous half smile. House smirked back and Wilson couldn't help but notice how attractive he looked rumpled and smug. At that thought he furiously had to back peddle. Had he just thought House, his best friend, his male best friend was attractive? It was nothing. He was just tired, that was all, he had only had a bag of chips for lunch and it was all going to his head.

"What are you still doing here? I'm assuming your patients will still be dying in the morning."

"Or dead."

"Wilson... did you just... make a funny about dying people?" It was House's turn to be the one unable to hide his shock.

"What? No, I -" Wilson sputtered, gesticulating wildly.

"Yes! You did! You made a joke about your dying patients. Man, it was good too. You shouldn't be ashamed. Be proud. Hey! I know. Maybe we could make you a shirt with that printed on it! It would definitely lighten the mood when you break the news to them."

Wilson rolled his eyes, looked back down to his paperwork hoping House and all of his distractions would usher themselves out of his office. Of course, House was House and that meant he wouldn't leave until he was good and ready.

"House, what do you want?" Wilson kept his eyes focused on the papers as he asked this question. He was afraid of looking at House's face and thinking... no, that didn't happen. If you don't think about it then it never happened.

"I want you to go home. Or better yet, come to my place. I have beer. I might share if you make me some food. Or better yet still, you can cook all bare foot in my kitchen and I'll sit in the living room and you can bring me beer. Except you don't have breasts or a vag-"

"Whoa. Okay. Get my coat?" He said as he organized the papers and left them on his desk.

"I'm the crippled. You should be doing things for me. Hey Wilson, buy me a loft with lots of windows and naked models?"

But while House was giving this speech he had moved towards the chair where Wilson's jacket was slouched bonelessly over the back. His hand gripped the material and Wilson's eyes followed the movements of House's body, an unfamiliar ache filling him.

No, not completely unfamiliar. It was yearning, it was just unfamiliar to be directed towards someone without breasts and a vag-

"Come on, little buddy! We're burning... well, not daylight, that's for sure," House said as he made a show of squinting out the window. Wilson laughed and shook his head as his steps fell into perfect harmony with House's.

Wilson shoved these weird thoughts away at the back of his mind, unwilling to think about what they meant, if they meant anything at all.