The phone rang.

"Wilson." He said as he picked it up, not bothering to look up from his paperwork.

"Hey."

Wilson looked up.

"Where are you?" He asked.

"At home. On my bed. Where are you?"

"Well, I answered my phone, where do you think I am?" A nurse looked at him from the hallway, noticing his stricken face. He immediately adopted a more somber expression.

"What I meant was, is anybody there with you?"

"No."

"Good." And there was all sorts of relief in that good.

"Do you do this to all your friends when you get bored?"

"Just the pretty ones."

Wilson stood and tried to see through his balcony window into House's office without pulling the phone off the table. He couldn't; the angle was impossible.

"Where are you?" He repeated.

"I told you. At home. On my bed."

"I don't believe you."

"Then why'd you ask? What are you wearing?"

Wilson smiled. "I think your neurological problem might be returning."

"No fair. No man is responsible for the things he says in that condition. What are you wearing?"

Wilson slid across the room and kicked the door shut. "Gray pants. Light blue shirt. Tie. Lab coat." He rattled off, circling the desk and sitting back into his chair. "How about you?"

"You're not being any fun." House whined.

"Gosh, I'm sorry. Let me explain it to you again. Most doctors have these things called patients, pesky things and…"

"Are your blinds open?"

Wilson glanced at his wall. A janitor pushed a dust mop down the hallway. "Yes."

"Good." House's voice lowered. "And the door is shut, right? I heard you shut it."

Wilson felt a chill run through his body. "Yes…"

"So everyone can see you, but nobody can hear you? That has potential." He made a little noise in the back of his throat. Wilson heard the sound of House's bedsprings creak and was a little embarrassed to realize he knew their exact pitch and resonance. He took a deep breath.

"Can anybody see you?" He asked, slowly.

"Of course not, I'm all alone. It's the middle of the day. I could scream and scream and nobody would notice."

"What might you be screaming?"

"Oh god. Oh, baby. Yes. Don't stop." He said these things in a perfectly normal tone. Wilson felt his face flush.

"And what else might you be doing."

House laughed. "I might be rubbing my hand over my jeans. I might be pulling open my fly. I might be…oh."

Wilson realized he was panting. He glanced at the hallway; the janitor was pushing his mop around in a circle and pretending not to look at the sweaty, panting oncologist. Wilson gave him a dirty look, then hunched over his desk, picking up a pen.

"You stopped talking." House whined. "You need to talk or this doesn't work."

"Well, I don't know what to say."

"What would you do if you were here?"

Wilson began doodling circles on somebody's lab results. "I'd slap you for trying to do this in the middle of the day."

"Wilson." The voice was rough and demanding.

Wilson dropped the pen. "Well, I'd take off your pants."

"Too late."

Wilson lowered his face in his hand. "I'd lay right next to you, so you could feel my body heat. I would breathe into your ear; kiss your neck, like you like. I'd run my hands through your hair. I like the way your hair feels in my hands." Wilson smiled. "I'd run my hands all over you. Bite your collarbone. When I bite you there you always make this noise."

House groaned.

"Not that noise." Wilson shifted forward. "It's a little higher."

House laughed. "So you're the reason I'm all bruised up."

"Yeah…" Wilson smiled wider. "What are you doing?"

"You know what I'm doing." House's voice came out in a rough rhythm in time with his breath. "I want to know what you'd be doing."

"I'd…" Wilson lost his train of thought. "I'd…um…I'd…"

"I think you were biting my collarbone."

"Right, collarbone." Wilson rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I guess, I'd kiss your chest. Down your chest really, down your stomach. I'd lay between your legs and…"

"You can't lay between my legs. The bed's to short."

"Now, who's being no fun?"

"You can't lay between my legs and you're not tall enough to kneel on the floor, not the way I'm laying. Do something else."

"Like what?" And even through the arguing, the mood didn't lift. Every time Wilson blinked, he could see what House must be doing. The vision sent alternating waves of heat and cold through his body.

"Straddle my legs."

"I can't." Wilson's voice broke. He thought to glance out the hallway and sighed in relief when the janitor proved to be halfway to the elevators.

"Sure you can. Straddle my legs." The voice enticed.

Wilson swallowed hard. "I straddle your legs. I've got all my weight on you but it doesn't matter. I still have my clothes on, remember? You can feel the fabric of my pants against your bare legs."

"Cock…tease."

"Yeah." Wilson breathed. "I lean over you and you rub up against me…"

"And then…" House's voice was tense, barely audible through harsh breath.

"I kiss you." Wilson said matter of factly.

House gave a strangled groan. "Yes, I'm gonna…"

"Hard." Wilson said louder. "I kiss you hard. I stick my tongue in your mouth. I lick the roof. I bite your lips. I've got my hands on either side of your head and my weight on my hips and they're rubbing against your hips and I'm kissing you." Wilson closed his eyes and pressed his hand against his neck. His heartbeat throbbed against his fingertips.

House's breath was returning to normal. The tense feeling of lust was slowly ebbing. Wilson heard the creak of bedsprings. A laugh.

"It certainly doesn't take you very long." He said.

"You're not as young as I used to be." House said, sounding tired.

"Oh, that explains it." Wilson grinned. "What are you up to tonight?"

"I'm going to clean up, and then I'm going to take a nap. That's as far as I've gotten. Why?"

Wilson leaned back in his chair. "My last appointment is at 5:30…" He said invitingly, kicking his feet up on his desk.

"You bring the pizza. I'll provide the porn."

"Yes, or I could take you out to dinner."

Silence.

"In one of the suits?" Wilson added before he could stop himself.

"Look." House said finally. "I don't know if…"

"If this is concerning you neurological condition of temporary lapses in sanity…" Wilson pulled his feet off the desk and placed them firmly on the ground. He glanced out the window and when seeing no one curled his freehand around the mouth piece of the phone and spoke in the lowest tone he had in this entire conversation.

"I love you, too." He said, softly.

Silence.

"Pick me up at six." House sighed.

Dial tone.