"You're playing step-daddy."

Wilson turns his head, seeing House roll up beside him in the lunch line.

"It's an off broadway production. Thought I'd stretch my wings."

"Why?"

"All the obvious reasons. Fame, wealth, the--."

"Why are you trying to be Cameron's babydaddy. Reuben, no pickles."

"She needed a friend."

"Of course she did."

"There was, is no ulterior motive, House. And I am in no way shape or form, the babystepdaddy."

"Maybe not now, but once the kid's popped out, you'll be over when she's tired and needs some time to take a shower. You'll be there when the kid's sick because you care. You guys will share a laugh when it poops for the first time, think of a punishment when it doesn't eat all the brocolli. It's all leading up to sex."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"The only reason to be the stepbabydaddy is to get some later on!"

Wilson throws his fork down before beginning the staring game with House.

"What?" House asks.

"I am right." He waits.

"You can't not talk to me." Still nothing.

"Fine, but what are you going to do if someone," he shrugs one shoulder, "calls up retarded TB guy?"

The silence from the other side of the table is broken finally.

"Why would you call the TB guy?"

"To find out why dying people in Africa are more important that his kid?"

"Oh...," Wilson blinks lightly before picking up his discarded fork. "You can't do that!"

House frowns and leans back in his wheelchair. "Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"You hesitated. What were you surprised about?"

"What? No, I just, just, d-didn't know that you knew. I mean, Cameron was pretty adamant about no one finding out about the," his hands motion, "uh, uh, you know. And don't tell anyone, House. For once, just shut up about it."

"Did you just threaten me?"

"Bone pain suggests osteomyelitis!"

Closing his eyes, he shakes his head, taking a deep breath before shouting back, "He's an overweight 72 year old osteoporosis man! Of course he's got bone pain!"

"The steroids didn't help with his pain!?"

"Nope! Also had truncal rigidity associated with his spine after temporary paralysis!"

"What'd Foreman say?!"

"He loves me!"

"House!"

"Not neurological!" Impatient, he picks up the banana, gently beginning to peel it. "MRI showed soft tissue swelling, cystic lesions, of four long bones!"

"Sarcoidosis!"

"Didn't respond to treatment!"

"How long did you let him to not respond to it?!"

He can hear the smirk in her voice even from the living room.

"Granulo-!"

"Nope!"

"You don't even know--!"

"You've got," he sticks the banana in his mouth to lift up his shirt to read his watch. "Two minutes and one more clue! CT scan showed white drops of Heaven in his lungs!"

"TB wouldnt' show so late!"

Hearing her walk out of her bathroom, he throws the peel into the trashcan.

"And lung cancer wouldn't present as ostealgia!"

"Duh!"

"House!"

"What?! I'm starving and you're taking forever!"

"It's got to be a connective tissue disorder, so...House. House? House!"

The light pinch on his arm finally breaks him free from his stare. Her blonde hair is curled just as he likes, covering her bare shoulders. The deep blue dress hugs her body from her chest, small waist, small hips, lean thighs, and ends at her knees, though the slit is high enough that he wonders what she was thinking as she'd bought it.

"What was that?" he asks.

"Lupus," she replies, hands on her hips knowing full well what he's looking at.

"I"m sorry, what?"

The smile she displays makes him take a step forward, but her suddenly outstretched hand halts him.

"Not until you tell me what he had."

He grasps her hand on his chest, slowly letting his thumb travel in circles on the softness.

"How about we stay in tonight?"

"I specifically chose this restaurant because no one would see us and because it's all you can eat night."

"I won't tell you then."

"Oh," she laughs. "Fine, no sex. Let's play this 'I still work for you' game."

"Fine, melioidosis. Happy? Let's do it."

Smelling the mellow scent of oranges and grapefruit, he lets his hands caress her hips.

The next thing he hears is her voice in his ear.

"Whitmore's disease? Unbelievable."

He wakes from his position on the comfortable chair in the corner of his office. Rubbing a hand over his face, he sighs frustratedly. Dreaming about Cameron was the last thing he should be doing, especially when she was pregnant with TB guy's lovechild.

Standing with a groan, he notices the three disciples walking into the conference room, each with a determined look on their face with a matching file in hand. Settling into the wheelchair, the dream already fading into nothingness, a thought crosses his mind before he immediately rejects it.

After all, in order to have a recovered memory, one had to have had experienced it before. And there was no way he had experienced Cameron like in the dream.

A/N: Ah, so...very colorful interesting comments from the last chap. Everyone hates TB guy? LOL. I getcha, I really do. Did she lie? Did she tell the truth? I guess you'll find out in the coming chaps, huh? Many awesome thanks to y'all!

Oh, yeah, just a side note my friend reminded me of yesterday. This whole thing is happening as a 5th season bit. I know, it's kinda weird, but that's the only way it worked. So, House went into his coma around July, woke up around mid October.