Hello again!

This is another rather long one, because it too wrote itself. Also, sorry for not updating sooner, but real life has been kinda hectic lately. Just FYI, I have a longer one-shot in the works, and I do plan on continuing The List once things settle down.

Reviews are welcome and appreciated. :)

I also wanted to thank you all for not only reading my story, but liking it enough to add it to your Favorites lists. You guys make me feel so happy, so I dedicate this chapter to each and every one of you.

.-AmayaSora

DISCLAIMER: I don't own House, M.D. or any of its characters.

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Freudian Slip

All of a sudden, everything stopped. The debate over the differential diagnosis halted mid-phrase, the coffee pot froze mid-pour, the pen stilled mid-letter, and eight eyes snapped to the figure leaning against the white board.

House was, uncharacteristically, confused. Granted, he had been occupied with other… thoughts, during the entire conversation, but he had absorbed enough to formulate an opinion and voice it. So why did everyone have such shocked expressions?

"Hello? Am I speaking Chinese here?"

That did it. Taub snorted, Foreman raised an eyebrow, Kutner looked supremely uncomfortable, and Thirteen… her expression was bemused. "No, you spoke perfect English."

Why was there an edge of laughter in her words? "Then why the deer-in-headlights look? What is so difficult about 'Stick with Wilson's'?"

"You didn't say 'Stick with Wilson's'." She was definitely amused now. "What you said was 'Sex with Wilson'."

"No I didn't!" House snapped quickly, but his posture slipped ever so slightly into a defensive one.

"You definitely did," Foreman said, enjoying House's discomfort.

"It's a simple Freudian slip, happens to everybody," Taub added, failing at remaining completely serious.

Crap. Crap. Shit. House was becoming slightly panicked. "You must have heard wrong. I'm sure I didn't say that."

"Yes, you did," said a voice from the open doorway. Everyone turned to find Dr. Wilson standing there rather demurely.

"How would you know?" House snapped, eyes widened.

"I was walking past the door and happened to hear it." Wilson's expression, when House frantically searched it, held absolute certainty, and, to his utter relief, not a trace of anger.

The diagnostician realized that this situation had deteriorated far past any semblance of one he could control. "Those of you who still wish to be employed tomorrow," he said slowly, "would do well to leave in the next three seconds."

Four doctors left the room, highly amused.

That left only a rather pissed-off diagnostician and his chuckling friend in the small conference room. House's expression was something between anger and embarrassment as he stared blankly into space. Then, a smile broke through for half a second before his demeanor switched abruptly to "lecherous."

"So, Wilson," he drawled, sliding close to the oncologist. "Since you now know what I was thinking about…"

Wilson smiled. "Maybe tonight, House."