"Wilson," House called as he walked into the sleeping man's bedroom. "Wilson, wake up."

"Wha-? House? Whaswrong?"

"Where do you keep your porn?"

"Wha-?"

"Porn, Wilson. Where is it?"

"P-porn?" Wilson tried to make sense of what House was saying, but it was too difficult with a brain full of cotton.

"Porn. I need some porn. Now."

"Go to bed, House," and with that, Wilson rolled over and closed his eyes again.

"I'm all for that, but Little Greg says 'Porn now' and he's rather insistent."

"Go watch your own porn," Wilson mumbled into his pillow.

"I can't. It was all on my computer. How silly of me not to buy a rain coat for my home computer, but there you have it. I know you have some DVDs – gimme."

Wilson jerked upright with a mortified look on his face. "House! That's just wrong. I am not letting you watch my porn. I can't even begin to count the ways that is wrong. Go away and let me sleep."

"Despite the cute tousled look and your charm, you're not doing it for me tonight. Porn, Wilson."

"Well, if Little Greg is in the mood, something must be doing it for you. Go think about that. And let me sleep."

"Never mind. Just hearing you say his name killed him."

"How were you going to watch porn, anyways? The TV and DVD player both died the same death the computers did."

"I have a portable DVD player that escaped. By the way, let's hope nothing in my closet ever catches fire because the sprinklers can't reach that far."

"Can I borrow it?"

"Now?"

"No, tomorrow. I've run out of journals and need something to do until the new entertainment system gets delivered on Monday."

"Then what the hell am I supposed to do all day?"

"Read my journals."

"No way am I settling for your sloppy seconds."

"And yet, you wanted to watch my porn."

"Little Greg did; there's a difference," House responded. He thought a moment and then continued. "Ok, here's the deal. You let me have the porn tonight, and tomorrow I will let you watch whatever I feel like watching with me."

"I thought I killed Little Greg," replied a smug Wilson.

"Wilson, I'm a 50-year old drug addict; almost anything can kill Little Greg. But if there is any chance of reviving him, I've learned to take it."

"…"

"Well, where's the porn?"

Wilson pointed to his dresser. "Third drawer. Brown box. Key's in my secretary."

"I don't know what's worse, that you have a jewelry box or that you insist on feminizing it more by calling it your secretary." House took the box from the drawer and located the key. After carefully mixing up all the items in Wilson's carefully organized secretary, he opened the lock box.

Rifling through some of the DVDs, House gave a derisive snort. "You seriously feel the need to lock this crap up?"

"House, I don't want to hear it. There's my porn collection and you can take it or leave it. Now go away and let me sleep."


After careful examination of the entire contents of Wilson's lock box, House began sorting the DVD cases according to subject into stacks on his bed. The box wasn't very large and only contained maybe 20 DVDs. So far, he had Wimp Porn, Normal Porn, Lesbian Porn, Scary Porn, and I'm Never Going to Piss Wilson Off Again Porn. He couldn't come up with a name to top that last category and making another pile would mean stretching further across his bed than he felt like, so he left off sorting and grabbed the top case from the Normal Porn pile.

Fifteen minutes later, he switched to the top offering of Lesbian Porn. Two Lesbian Porn and one Normal Porn later, Little Greg was feeling adventurous, so he randomly selected a Scary Porn from the middle of the stack.

During the second scene, House admitted to himself he should have paid better attention to the case when sorting; this was definitely in the wrong pile. In fact, this belonged in the non-existent pile of Worse Than I'm Never Going to Piss Wilson Off Again.

Little Greg had hidden himself in the folds of House's sleep pants, and House wasn't sure he'd ever see him again. He swept the piles into the lock box and set the open box on his nightstand. He stared at it contemplatively for a while and began analyzing his friend.

He'd long since known that there was more to Wilson than most people thought. For all his charm and smiles and panty-peeling ways, there were pranks and affairs and divorces. He could manipulate House into just about anything, and they both knew it. When the world saw the happy-go-lucky wonder boy veneer, House saw a calculating and conniving genius. His emotions ran as deep as the casual observer would assume, they just weren't always the expected emotions. If House ever forgot how deep still waters ran, he had only to remember the anti-depressants.

For all his contemplation, the only new conclusion he could come up with was that Wilson was one scary guy. With that, House finally drifted off to sleep.


"House, wake up." Wilson's voice sounded deep and demanding, but too far off to be concerned about.

"House, I want to watch a movie now."

House groaned and rolled over. "Go do your laundry or something," he said from under his pillow.

"I already did my laundry. And cleaned the refrigerator out. And organized your shoes in the hall closet. Now I want to watch a movie."

"Deal's off," House mumbled.

"What? Oh, no you don't. You're not breaking this deal. Get up."

Finally emerging from his cocoon of bedding, House looked Wilson in the eye. "Are you going to tie me up, attach nipple clamps to my balls, and pour hot wax on me if I don't?"

Wilson reddened a little but stood his ground. "Maybe," he replied evenly.

House shuddered and looked at the DVDs in their box. "Do you even speak German? Do you have any idea what they were saying?"

"Yes."

"…"

He turned and began heading out of the room. "Now get up and bring the DVD player into the living room. I want to watch movies today." Pausing at the door, he casually turned and added, "Oh, and I'll be picking the lineup today."