Author's note: Goyim is Yiddish for 'gentile' or 'non-Jew'.
-

"I'm sick of being cooped up in here. I wanna go somewhere."

"Like where, fraggle rock? That flower garden in Alice in Wonderland? I hear the museum of miniatures is very interesting."

"Ha ha. You're a freaking riot. No wonder the cancer kids thank you for devastating news."

"We can't go out, House. Not yet."

"Oh, you're worried about getting outed? Too late. You should have thought of that before you told me you blow-dried your hair."

"You know very well that it's not that, and what do you mean 'too late'?"

"Weelllll, someone might have started a vicious rumor that the two of us were an item before we actually were an item."

"That would have been you."

"A guy can dream, can't he?" House grinned. "Besides, now it's true."

"I think my family suspected after I brought you to passover. For five years in a row." Wilson replied.

"Wow, you Jews really are a perceptive bunch. Except when it comes to directions in the desert."

The younger man sighed. "I'm not only gay, I'm in love with a goyim. Thank God my parents are liberal."

"Your parents love me."

"Despite all logic."

"Doesn't matter. If Jews really were that perceptive, you would have noticed that you were gay. Or possibly bi-sexual."

"Seems to have slipped by you to, Sherlock."

"Touché."

After a few minutes of silence House sighed discontentedly. Normally Wilson would have ignored it, but House was all of a quarter inch from his ear, and disproportionatly loud.

"What?"

"I still wanna go out."

"Tough."

"Well, we could do something fun without leaving the house. I know you've got talented hands. Seems like a waste not to use them." House tried.

"Let's see, how can I put this…no."

"Look, you're not going to hurt me. You spent ten years learning how to be gentle with patients, and that's on top of your natural caring tendencies." House reasoned.

"House, no. You're too little."

"Am not. You're just a wuss."

"Well, sure, if you're going to be mature about it." Wilson said dryly.

"I'll prove it."

"Oh?" Wilson was intrigued. "Fine. I'd like to see this."

He gently removed House from his shoulder and placed him on the coffee table.

'Damn, he called my bluff.' House eyed the various items on the table warily. There wasn't much to work with. There was a Stephen King novel Wilson was reading, a glass of water, and a bowl with some semi-atrophied popcorn in it.

Well, it was one of King's shorter books at any rate.

House grabbed the top of the book and dragged it slowly towards the bowl. Wilson cocked his head, slightly confused, but didn't say anything. He really did want to see how House intended to use a book to prove his size wasn't a barrier from naughty acts.

After a minute of struggling with the paperback House succeeded in dragging it most of the way across the table. He shot a triumphant look at Wilson, who was looking rather amused.

"Okay, I'll admit that was a pretty impressive display. But it doesn't really help to prove your point."

"My rippling muscles aren't turning you on?" House panted a little. Since when were books so freaking heavy?

"Well, I didn't say that." Wilson ran a finger lightly down House's back. House flapped a hand at him, waving him off.

"I'm fine."

"Of course you are." Wilson continued to stroke his back. House leaned into the palm of his hand after a few moments.

"Maybe I'm a little tired."

"Poor thing."

House concealed a grin as Jimmy picked him up in one hand and stroked him with the other.

'Ironic that the only way to get him to play into my hands was to get into his.'

-

"They don't appear to be coming out, sir, and it's already noon."

"He's still got his team working on the problem for him."

"We knew that was a possibility, sir. Do we use the contingency plan or just wait for Dr. House's team to proceed?"

"It's no good, they won't figure it out without his help. And that completely destroys the point of the whole thing. We'll have to go to Beta right away."

"Yes sir." There was the soft snick of military-issue boots snapping together and starting away.

"Private? Make sure that Dr. Wilson accompanies Dr. House. We're going to need him."

"Right sir."

-

House swallowed softly, trying to get rid of the nausea. He was once again on Wilson's shoulder, resting. He rubbed at his temple with one hand, a migraine setting in on top of his unstable stomach.

'If I'm getting sick on top of everything else, the universe really does have it in for me.'

It was then that he began to feel off-balance.

Wilson didn't notice anything was wrong until House tumbled off his shoulder. Only his quick reflexes saved the tiny doctor from smashing onto the hardwood floor.

"House!" The Oncologist cried out as he neatly caught him. House lay sprawled across his hands.

"I don't feel so good…" He muttered, eyes only half open. The apartment was going all swimmy. House closed his eyes. The motion was giving him a headache.

"Oh shit." Wilson sounded panicked. He stood up quickly, but fell back onto the couch at the same speed. "I can't..."

Even with his mind rapidly fogging over House recognized the symptoms. "Drugged. Damnit."

It only took a few moments for House to succomb and pass out. Wilson followed soon after.

-

It took a few minutes for the disorientation to subside after House woke up. The doctor groaned, trying to piece together what had happened. He and Jimmy had been drugged, somehow. Probably a toxin in the air. House had felt the effects first, obviously due to his size, but Wilson seemed to have succumbed to them rather quickly as well.

House cracked one eye open. He was no longer in his apartment. The room he was in now was distinctly medical, with all the hominess and charm of an operating room. Actually, it seemed to be an operating room. There was a large mirror on one wall, as well as several blinking video cameras and a speaker. Someone was watching him. Wilson was nowhere to be seen.

He sat up slowly, nausea forming in the pit of his stomach. "I didn't think the government was this organized."

"Very perceptive Dr. House." A voice said from behind him. A tall silver-haired man was sitting on a stool in the corner, a lit cigarette between his fingers.

"Not really. I had most of this figured out yesterday." House said levelly. "Where's Wilson?"

"Dr. Wilson is safe." The man avoided answering the question. "For the moment."

This wasn't nearly good enough, but House knew perusing the issue wasn't going to help. "What do you want?"

"We want to see if the best diagnostician in America can figure out a cure for our little innovation." This answer comes far to easily. "Without letting your team do all the legwork."

'Ah.'

"So what, you kidnapped me so I could work it out on my own? That seems like a huge waste of taxpayer money."

"Perhaps." The man blew a smoke cloud at the table, engulfing House.

"You're not going to let me go even if I solve it." House replied after the smoke cleared. He didn't want to give the bastard the satisfaction of coughing.

"We don't need to keep you." The man shrugged. "You are merely a baseline. The length of time it takes you to devise a cure will give us an idea of how other diagnosticians employed in the service of hostile nationalities will proceed."

"And if I refuse to go along with this you'll go Abu-Grave on Wilson." House growled. This was turning into a pattern. Volger and Tritter had also used Wilson as a way to get to him.

"Something like that." The man nodded at the mirror. The door next to it opened and two burly MPs drug a bound and gagged Wilson into the room. There wasn't a gun anywhere in sight, but House got the idea.

Wilson was obvious scared, but not terrified. He blinked rapidly at House and gave a brief shake of his head. So far he seemed to be unscathed.

So far didn't last very long.

The guard on the right administered a swift blow to Wilson's ribs, dropping the doctor to his knees. The other kicked him, sending him sprawling onto the concrete floor.

"Wilson!" House hollered. He turned back to the Smoking man. "Damnit I didn't even refuse yet!"

"You would have, and it would have wasted valuable time." The man replied nonchalantly. He waved the guards off. One of them untied the gag and partway undid Wilson's bonds. He would be able to free himself, once he got his breath back.

"Everything you need is already in this room, as well as the results of all the tests you've previously run." The man nodded at a file folder on the countertop. "If you begin working on anything besides a cure there will be worse consequences for your friend."

"If you lay another finger on Wilson-"

"You'll do what, exactly?"

House glared at him. "I'll find a way."

"Of course you will." The Smoking man exited the room, followed by the MPs.

"Shit. Wilson?" House leaned over the edge of the table to assess the damage.

Wilson was already wriggling out of his bonds. "I'm alright. They just knocked the wind out of me."

A moment later he stood up and hobbled over to the stool.

"You're not alright. How are your ribs?"

"Might be a fracture." Wilson winced as he gingerly touched his ribcage. "I heard what he said to you. We should start working."

"They're going to kill us either way." House muttered.

Wilson didn't say anything.

"Get the sphygmomanometer."

"It's not going to fit." Wilson reminded him.

"It's not for me, idiot, it's for you. I want to make sure you're okay."

"Sweet, but unnecessary." Wilson closed his eyes and leaned against the wall. "Got anything else?"

"Unless you're prepared to start administering the radiation treatment, no." House admitted.

Wilson opened one eye. "I thought you didn't want the treatment since it only works halfway."

"I don't but there doesn't seem to be a better option. Unless you want wingus and dingus to come back and beat you some more."

"I don't." Wilson shuddered. Waking up bound and gagged with those men had been terrifying, but it had only been made worse when he saw House was alone with the government agent. If that man had decided to do something to House, Wilson would have been powerless to save him. He knew House hated his overprotective nature, but now it was completly out of their hands.

"The Smoking man said everything you needed for a cure was in here." He reminded House.

"No, he said everything I needed was here." House mulled this over.

"I don't see anything that could irradiate the chemicals properly." Wilson took a glance around the room. "That must not be what you're supposed to do to cure it."

"Great, so no only are those government guys going to kill us, we're back at square one for a cure." House grumbled. He shivered a moment later.

"Don't." He said as Wilson reached toward him. "They'll think we're using some kind of subversive communication. I'll be fine for a while."

Reluctantly, Wilson pulled his hand back. "Alright."

House turned from him and began to survey what the room contained. Perhaps there would be something that stood out from the rest of the equipment. Some minor clue…

'If this were a TV show, I'd spot an obvious sign right now.' House didn't see anything particularly exciting.

'Damnit. Betrayed again by Must See TV.'

-

To Be Continued…