Slash starts in this chapter, but nothing explicit.

Part IV

It had been two weeks since Drs. House and Wilson had had the discussion in House's apartment concerning the future of their relationship. But as important and potentially life altering as that discussion had been, neither had mentioned it since. Not one word. But it wasn't because they hadn't been thinking about it; no, they hadn't discussed it due to unrelated circumstances.

Wilson had returned to work and had been overwhelmed bringing himself up to speed with his old cases, as well as meeting his new patients who had started treatment during his recovery. And House had been involved in two difficult cases of his own, cases that demanded most, if not all, of his time…. doing research, meeting with his staff, getting in his clinic hours and ducking Cuddy. Between the two doctors, neither had had time to socialize with the other. The only contact they managed to squeeze in were professional consults or quick lunches in the cafeteria. Both worked long hours at the hospital, including weekend hours, and each left late in the night, going home to their respective apartments and falling into bed.

It was finally Friday, and for the first time in two weeks House was able to unwind from the whirlwind past two weeks. One of his patients had been discharged that day, however, while the other patient was stable, House and his staff still had not come up with a definitive diagnosis, although House was sure that he knew the answer. The problem was, no one agreed with him. But since the patient was in no immediate danger, House allowed his recommended treatment to be delayed until Monday. He told Foreman, Cameron and Chase that if they didn't come up with another good diagnosis by Monday, he wanted them to start his treatment, risky as it was. As he stretched out in his chair, he put on his headphones, leaned back and closed his eyes, resting his head on the back of the chair.

At that moment Wilson walked in carrying his coat and briefcase, looking as exhausted as House. He dropped his belongings on one chair and sank down into the other, lifting his feet up and laying them on top of his coat. He rested his head on the back of the chair and closed his eyes. They both sat there silently for about five minutes.

"House, what are you doing?" Wilson asked, his eyes still closed.

No response.

"House, I know you're not listening to anything," he said.

House opened one eye and lifted his head, peering at Wilson. He sat upright opening his other eye. "What makes you think I'm not listening to anything?" he asked, annoyed.

"Because I can't hear a sound," Wilson said, stifling a yawn. "I can usually hear that thing all the way down the hall."

"I can't help it if you have x-ray ears," House said. "I have it on low."

"There's no such thing as x-ray ears. I think you mean super human hearing," Wilson said, his eyes still closed. "And you don't have it on low."

"Dr. James Wilson, boy wonder oncologist, who not only has an adorable little ass to die for, but who possesses super human hearing as well."

"I try," Wilson said, still in his resting position.

House threw the headphones down onto his desk. "It usually works with everyone else. They think I'm listening so they leave me alone."

Wilson sat up and looked at House. "Ah, yes," he said nodding with understanding. "Dr. House, the mentor to his staff, always encouraging his underlings to come to him with their problems."

House scowled, turning his chair to face Wilson, wincing in the process.

"What, your leg hurts?" Wilson asked, concern in his voice.

"No, my ass hurts. Of course my leg hurts. Must you always state the obvious?" House barked, downing a vicodin in the process.

"Sounds like Dr. Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," Wilson said, his eyebrows raised.

"No, Dr. Someone has to do an extra hour of clinic duty next week."

"Oh. So you pissed off Cuddy, did you?"

"Actually I pissed off the Mother of a patient who ratted me out to Cuddy who then got pissed off at me," House explained.

"What'd you do now?" Wilson asked, shaking his head.

"Nothing."

"You did nothing."

"That's what I said."

"So how did you piss off the Mother?"

"I just told you. I did nothing. I told her there was nothing wrong with her son."

"And Cuddy gave you an extra hour of clinic duty for that?"

"Well, I may have told the Mother that she was sentencing her son to a lifetime of being a mama's boy, who, when he grows up, won't be able to have sex with any other woman but her."

"Sounds valid to me," Wilson said, as he leaned back in the chair again and rested his head.

"Exactly. That's what I thought," House said, feeling vindicated.

"No, I mean the extra hour of clinic duty sounds valid," Wilson clarified, his eyes closed.

"Traitor."

House thought a moment. "If you were any kind of a friend, you would volunteer to do that extra hour…."

"Don't even go there, House," Wilson warned.

Wilson sat up again and looked at House. "I'm going home," he declared as he stood up, bending down to pick up his coat and briefcase from the chair. But as he did so, House's cane came down on top of his belongings blocking Wilson's access.

"Jesus, House, you almost whacked my hand," Wilson said annoyingly.

"Well, isn't that what happens to naughty little Catholic boys when they do something bad?" House asked, a glint in his eye.

"I'm Jewish."

"Oh, oh yeah. So what do they do to little naughty Jewish boys?" But before Wilson could say anything, House kept talking. "Oh, I forgot, little Jewish boys are punished five minutes after they're born…snip snip," he chuckled.

Wilson looked at House, his hands on his hips. "I know for a fact that you were also circumcised as a baby," he said.

"How the Hell could you know that?"

"Your Mother told me," Wilson replied. "The same time she told me that you liked to pull your diaper off and throw it out the window."

"Keep talking, Wilson," House warned, "and you'll wish you never met me."

"I wish I never met you now."

House clutched his chest as if he had been shot.

"Look, House, I'm tired, move the cane so I can get my things," Wilson said, his voice sounding as exhausted as he looked.

"Why not stay at my place?" House asked as he slowly stood and removed the cane.

Wilson looked at House while retrieving his coat and briefcase. "Uh…well, it's late and I'm tired," he said, somewhat reluctantly.

"So, stay over," House repeated as he, too, began gathering his belongings.

"You mean, sleep over?"

"Yeah, that's it. We'll have a sleepover. We can make s'mores and sit in our baby doll pajamas and talk about boys," House said. "Maybe even play spin the bottle."

Wilson gave him a sideways glance as a small smile slowly spread across his lips. "Sounds like fun," he said, as he put on his coat and waited for House to gather his things.

They left House's office together.

House and Wilson walked into House's apartment, House turning on the lights while Wilson hung his coat in the hall closet, placing his briefcase on the floor.

"I think maybe this was a bad idea," Wilson said sounding annoyed while he closed the closet door.

House barked at him as he tossed his jacket onto a chair. "Too late now, your car's still at the hospital… and you can't use my car." He sneered at Wilson's back.

Wilson turned to look at House, his hands on his hips. "Look, House, I didn't say I didn't agree with you, I just said that maybe you should look at other options."

"I don't need to look at other options, I know I'm right," House shouted in anger.

Wilson put his hands up in exasperation. "There's just no talking to you!" he said, his voice raised.

"I know you're exhausted, maybe you should just get some sleep," House said in a quieter tone.

Wilson took a deep breath. "Yeah, I am…that's a good idea," he said as he headed for the spare bedroom. "Good night."

House watched Wilson as he headed towards the spare bedroom. "No, use my bedroom," he ordered.

Wilson stopped and looked at him questioningly. "Sleep in your bedroom?" He thought for a moment. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because…. it's your bedroom; I'm the guest, I'll sleep in the guest bedroom," Wilson replied, speaking slowly.

"I don't have a guest bedroom…it's a spare bedroom," House said. "And I'm not tired yet anyway; I'm staying out here to watch some television. You can't hear the TV as well from my bedroom; it'll disturb you if you sleep in the other room." He walked over to his chair and sat down slowly, resting his cane next to the chair and picking up the TV remote. "I'll sleep in the spare bedroom."

Wilson shrugged. "Okay, House, whatever you want."

House watched as Wilson retreated to his bedroom and closed the door quietly.

Wilson stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt, went into the bathroom, used the facilities, washed up and brushed his teeth with the toothbrush he kept there. He dragged himself to House's bed, dropped down into it, turned out the light and fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

"God… that… that feels so good," Wilson murmured in his sleep.

"I'm glad you like it."

Wilson's eyes popped open. That was House's voice, Wilson thought to himself. Am I dreaming? He rubbed his eyes with one hand and looked groggily towards the direction he thought he had heard House's voice. He blinked a few times attempting to focus.

House was sitting on the edge of the bed looking down at Wilson, his blue eyes shimmering black in the dimly lit room. He was gently massaging Wilson's back.

"House, what…."

"My Mother always told me never to go to bed angry," House said quietly. Then he leaned down and kissed Wilson softly on the lips.