Hey. Thanks once again for the comments. Blushes. You've all been so darn helpful and supportive lol. Hope you enjoy chapter four!

Heterosexual bags and Homosexual cats

"You Brought James. How nice to see you sweetheart."

House's mother pleasantly welcomed them both into her home, clasping her reluctant and petulant looking child in her arms and giving him a warm kiss on the forehead.

Wilson smiled as he watched his crimson faced friend wipe the red remnants of affection from his head, before it sunk in and perhaps caused any emotional substance to circulate his system. He looked like a boy trying to look cool in front of his friends and Wilson could almost here the, 'quit it mom', Speech coming from his silent lips.

"What are you looking at? Your next", House said with glee, and his mother carried out the same procedure on a startled Wilson.

"I thought you would have brought a lady friend with you, but it's nice to see you again of course James."

Wilson merely nodded his head as House whispered in his ear, "Maybe I should have brought Cameron after all, eh?"

The words startled him. So he hadn't forgotten his comment the day before. Of course he hadn't. This was House, he was like a dog with a bone, and he'd keep digging it up the whole weekend. He knew this subject wasn't closed yet.

Wilson realized he was now the only one standing in the sitting room and made his way quickly to the kitchen to join the others.

"Your fathers out buying some groceries, he'll be home in about an hour."

Was the response, no doubt, to House's uninterested enquiries as to where the man was, whose sperm linked with his mother's egg causing the biological reaction that formed him. That's how he referred to the person who happened to live with his mother.

Wilson pulled the chair out next to his friend and sat down just in time to hear his response to that man's time of coming home.

"Oh joy."

As if sensing the storm about to hit Wilson busied him self straightening out his tie, doing this whilst looking at the floor with more than common interest.

Mrs. House spoke icily and with authority:

"Look Gregory I know you and your father don't see eye to eye. It hurts though I've accepted it, but you are my son and I love you, and oddly enough I like to see you once in a while, so please for my sake just get along with him this weekend and use the little social grace you have to hold it together, for me if nothing else."

Looking down at the table House felt like the five year old Gregory again, sitting in the same spot being made to feel horrible by the women who gave him life. A life he ironically despised. However 'Gregory' was powerless to deny her anything.

As if to shift the topic of conversation onto more maternal matters, his mother did what mothers do when their sons come home with their best friends. She offered to feed them and they accepted.

As they ate and Mrs. H (as Wilson threatened to start calling her to the abhorrence of his friend), busied herself fixing their rooms, the Cameron question came up again.

"So why did you ask me that?"

With a mouth full of food, James Wilson motioned to House that he would have to wait for a response, all the while the wheels turning violently in his head as to what he would actually say. Eventually his esophagus was clear and he could form an answer, or at least hold one off for as long as humanly possible.

"I didn't ask you anything."

"About Cameron."

His heart pounded and every word he was about to form would feel like it was being pushed out in childbirth, but he had to say this coolly, calmly and most of all collectively. He had to get this right.

"I dun no, I guess I just was thinking like Mrs. H."

House gave him a look that said he would beat him up if he continued to use that term of phrase. Wilson laughed and then calmly took a sip of his water. He was doing well but he had to keep it up.

"I just found it funny that you would bring her into the conversation. You know that theirs nothing... I mean you know I don't like her, so I just didn't get the question."

The oncologist looked at him. Now would be the perfect opportunity to get some of the worry off his chest. To ask House if he really meant that and deep down in that dark void in his soul there wasn't something aching for Alison Cameron just a little. To ask him if she had made anymore clear cut advances, and most importantly to check none of those advances had been actually met. Instead he would take the safe option. He was treading on dangerous territory enough already.

"Okay."

House looked angry at this word. One little word, that's all he had to theoretically say to end this discussion, yet that word somehow managed to piss the listener off.

"What do you mean okay."

Again, calmly taking a sip of water he formed his last sentence on the subject, and hopefully that would be an end to it. Hopefully he wouldn't end up spitting out anything resembling jealousy of allergy doctors, like he had done with his coffee.

"I thought you had a thing for her but your saying you don't so okay, it's closed, that's why you brought me."

The minute the words were out he realized what it sounded like and prayed that House didn't make the usual awkward joke when one or both of them stupidly let the homosexual cat out of the heterosexual bag.

How House wanted to say, 'because I have a thing for you?', but the plane incident had been a good lesson to learn and one that couldn't have came quick enough. So instead they looked at one another, but what they were looking for they didn't know.

Mrs. House came bounding into the kitchen all smiles and grace, causing the tete a tete to end abruptly.

"Thank you MRS HOUSE," Wilson said looking at the man at the table and trying to allay his fears over the new nickname situation, "that was lovely."

"Thank you James, it's nice to know someone appreciates my cooking."

"Thanks," came the required reply followed by the, 'your a suck up' look directed at Wilson.

As she busied herself with the washing up and before Wilson could gallantry offer to assist, just to wind 'Gregory' up some more, she broke into voice.

"Oh I almost forgot to tell you boys, but then again you'd have found out soon enough, you have to share one of the guest bedrooms."

House hadn't been listening to a word, but when he heard share and bedroom in the same speech his head shot up violently and he almost shouted the words, 'Why the hell is that?' Instead though there came a more controlled but visibly startled reply.

"You have two guest rooms, who's getting the other one?"

"Aunt Meredith. She's coming all the way from Australia for the wedding."

House couldn't let this happen but at the same time could he? No he couldn't.

"Good for her, Wilson technically came all the way from Israel, so do you think that maybe he can get the room and she can say good day mate to the Hilton manager?"

"Gregory call him James, and really sometimes I don't know were that attitude came from. She's your Aunt and like I said before it's not like you brought a female friend. Now that would be awkward, but it's James, you can share for two nights."

House turned to Wilson and saw the last drop of blood drain from his chalky, almost grey face. Oh if she only knew exactly how awkward this was, or what was going through their minds these last couple of months, she would have gladly packed the boomerang throwing barmy English prison colony Aunt back down under.

As if things couldn't get any worse she swayed her head in Wilson's direction and began to unknowingly turn the screw even more.

"James, you don't mind sleeping with my son for a couple of nights do you."

What the hell could he say to that? What possible answer to that question would not sound like he was inviting House to jump his bones? The only answer he could give was a humorous one and so it followed.

"Well I'm sure a few nights won't kill us House, and what doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

How he was able to say that without sliding against the table top and landing on the floor he didn't know, but he managed it. Now all he had to worry about was not doing something so stupid that House would indeed end up chasing him with a knife, threatening to surgically remove certain parts of his anatomy.

Mrs. H. spoke once more.

"Exactly dear, though I do apologize, I know how people like their own space and I also know what a handful my son can be."

House's only thought was that no one would be getting a handful of anything that was attached to him.