CHAPTER FIVE

"Absolutely not!"

"Greg, please. He needs someplace."

"Listen, you know that's a bad idea. Their shouldn't be any extra room to sleep in my place now because of you, but there is. If we told someone, what do you think would happen?"

House was sitting in the chair of his office, his feet propped on the desk, staring at Wilson who was standing not 2 feet from the same desk.

"But Greg, he is in danger."

"From what?" House challenged.

"I promised not to tell."

"Then defiantly no."

"You can go beat the answer out of him or something, but I'm not going to tell you. And I know your heart is small, but you could at least do this for him."

House had to admit he loved it when Wilson begged, but that was not the time, nor the kind of begging he loved.

"Wilson, if he needs someplace to stay, send him to a shelter or something. I'm not a house for runaways. You're the first and last in that field."

"House," Wilson turned from begging to stern, almost ordering or daring. "House, he needs someplace where he can't be found. We can make up some excuse to why I'm going to be sleeping in your bed."

"Trade, then."

"What?"

"You take 10 of my clinic hours,"

"Ten?"

"You two can split it up between the two of you, I don't care. But you guys take them, and he can use the couch until you find something to do with him."

"Until I do?"

"Yeah, I'm not taking care of the little wombat."

Wilson closed his eyes. "Fine. Fine, I'll take the hours and I'll take care of him."

House held out a hand and Wilson shook it, sealing the deal. "And if we get caught, you're going down."

Wilson smirked a little. "I know. I know."