The phone rang.

It rang again.

"Aren't you going to get that?" House called through the closed door.

"It's my cell phone. It's just work." Wilson said as he bustled around the bedroom, in the midst of removing his work clothes and getting ready for bed.

House's hand jerked involuntarily. He swallowed hard and pressed the cell phone back to his ear. "It might be important." He called again.

Wilson grumbled, came out of the bedroom and, presumably, snatched his phone off the coffee table.

"Wilson." He answered.

"Hey." House said.

"House? What are you….' Angry footsteps stomped across the apartment. Someone rattled the bathroom door. "What the hell are you doing?"

"We need to talk."

"So? Come out here and let's talk."

"If I look at you I'm not gonna wanna talk. And we need to talk."

"Why?"

"You said home."

"I said what?" The voice was now coming through the speaker at his ear instead of the door.

"You said, 'I'll see you at home.'"

"So?"

"This can't be your home."

"What?!" This was yelled through the door.

"This can not be your home." House said. "Are you even looking for an apartment, anymore?"

"I've got a lead or two, the market's really bad right now…"

"You're lying." House laughed, but there was no humor in the noise. He twirled his cane a few times.

"Okay, no. No. I am not looking for an apartment, okay. Are you happy?"

"No and that's the point. I'm not happy. I'm very rarely happy. You, however are a happiness junkie. If you don't get constant positive reinforcement you go looking for it in RN's panties."

House heard Wilson walked angrily down the hallway. Upon reaching the end he turned and came back. "I didn't cheat on Julie." He said.

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't!"

"Yes, you did." House leaned his cane against his chest and rubbed his forehead. "With me."

Wilson was quiet again.

"You can't live here."

"Why the hell not? I don't have much stuff. I cook. I…we're good together."

"Yeah, but you're not interviewing to be my roommate. You don't want to share my apartment. You want to share my bed. That's different."

"You don't want to…anymore?"

"I didn't say that. I love having sex. I even love being in love and, Jesus, is that something I never thought I'd say. I'm just pointing out what needs to be pointed out. You're an incredibly needing person."

"And you're an ass." This was yelled through the door. House closed his eyes briefly, hearing the door rattle again.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am. Are you hoping I'll change?"

"...No…" Wilson didn't sound sure.

"You're lying."

"…Maybe I had hoped, I'd hoped that one day you could be healthy."

House's eyes snapped open. "Well, what does that mean?" He asked, taking the offensive.

"I…I don't know."

"You don't know? You want me to be something but you don't know what it is? What exactly the hell does that mean?"

"I want you to be healthy. It means I want you to be around for as long as…"

"For as long as you need me?!"

"For as long as it takes for us to be happy!"

House picked up his cane and pushed himself off the rim of the bathtub.

"What does that mean?" House asked.

"I…think…we can be happy, eventually, I think we'll just get everything figured out and we'll be happy. Just you and me."

"Wilson…people don't work like that."

"I know." Wilson said miserably. "I just don't want this to end."

"But it's going to. Someday one of us is going to get sick of the other. One of us is going quit. One of us is going to walkout."

"So your not letting me move in because you don't want me moving out? That's insane."

"Yeah, I'm insane. Neurological condition, remember?" House oscillated across the floor, the rubber tip of his cane skidding on the tile. "I love you, but I don't need you. You love me, or at least you think you love me and you damn well don't need me. But you have this problem of needing to be needed."

"So we're doomed."

"Yes. From the start."

Neither of them spoke for a while. House continued moving back and forth between the door and the sink. He desperately wanted to stretch out, but the floor looked entirely to far away to be a viable option.

"Are you pacing?"

"My leg hurts."

"Okay, what about this." Wilson said. House could tell he had the one finger in the air, that obnoxious optimistic look on his face. "I'll promise to never tell you anything about how I'm feeling. That way I'll be a puzzle. If I'm a puzzle you'll have to figure me out. If you have to figure me out then you have to be around me, you'll need me. If you need me I won't go panty hunting in the nurse's locker room."

House stopped midstep.

"That is remarkably dysfunctional sounding."

"But it would work."

"Maybe…for a while." House tapped the cane against the floor. "There'd be fights."

"Loads."

"I don't apologize well."

"Of course not."

"I tend to publicly humiliate my partners."

"You already do that."

House nodded. "It fits."

"Oh thank god." Wilson said sarcastically. "Will you unlock the door yet?"

"I'll have to get a new doctor."

"What?"

"A doctor. You can't write my prescriptions and be sleeping with me."

"I don't think anybody has to…"

"What part of public humiliation do you not understand?"

"Right, I'll tell Cuddy."

"When?"

"Tomorrow. I'll tell Cuddy tomorrow. First thing in the morning."

House reached for the doorknob.

Dial tone.