The phone rang.

It was dark and warm. Wilson woke.

The phone rang again.

Wilson woke in his own bed, which was heaven, considering the circumstances.

"The phone's ringing." He informed House. House said nothing, merely groaned and burrowed his face into the warm space between Wilson's back and the mattress.

The phone rang a third time.

Wilson reached for it, fumbled at buttons and pressed it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"James?"

"Katie?" He reached for the light and turned the switch. House flinched at the ocular assault, burrowed deeper, his hands clutching at Wilson's sides. Wilson, reluctantly, pulled out of the warmth and sat up. "Katie? It's 4:30 in the morning."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"What's going on? Is everything okay?"

"James. Your mom wants to talk to you."

"Jimmy…"

"Hi, Mom."

House sat up, one hand rubbing furiously at his thigh, the other pushing just as hard against his eyes. Greg House did not wake up all at once, especially at four thirty in the morning.

"Jimmy. Hi. How are you?"

"I'm fine, Mom. What's going on? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Did you get home all right?"

"Yeah Mom, of course."

House shifted across the bed, reaching across Wilson's space for his Vicodin bottle. He shook out a pill and dry swallowed it. He sat up, using his hands to move his leg into place.

"And you're at his house, yes?"

"Well, it's an apartment, but yes."

House's dry, warm hands crept under Wilson's shirt, rubbing his back.

"Mom, why did you call?" Wilson pressed one hand against his temple.

"I've been talking to Katie. She's a very sweet girl."

"I know she's a very sweet girl, Mom, I was married to her."

"I know! That's what I don't understand. She's such a sweet girl and so pretty. And so was Rachael and…well…Julie I never cared for, but she was so very pretty."

Wilson flinched. "It's not about that, Mom. You should know that! I mean you have to have seen it on TV or something."

House chocked down a laugh, but didn't say anything. His hands kept rubbing. He leaned his head against Wilson's shoulder.

"I know. I know. And it doesn't have anything to do with me and it doesn't have anything to do with your father or…anyone else in the family. And nothing happened to you, when you were little, I mean?"

"Oh, Jesus, Mom. No. Nothing."

"Because I've heard that can happen."

"Nothing bad happened. I just…" Wilson looked down into House's face, the big blue eyes cloudy with sleep. "I just fell in love."

"I want to talk to him."

"What? No. I mean, I don't think that's a good idea."

"James. I am your mother. I did not got through god knows how many false labors, plus the actual pain and suffering of giving birth, plus eighteen years of laundry and hot supper every night plus paying for your medical school to be 'I don't think it's a good idea'd' by you at four o'clock in the morning. I have a right to know what's going on in your life. Now…I want to talk to him."

Wilson pushed the phone to House.

"Hmm?" House asked.

"She wants to talk to you."

House raised an eyebrow, lifting his head off Wilson's shoulder. Wilson shrugged. House took the phone.

"Hello?"

Wilson took a deep breath. The hand resting on his back tensed.

"Yes…Greg…Greg House… Doctor Greg House." House withdrew his hand from Wilson's shirt and pressed it at the place between his eyes. "John Hopkins … Uhhuh …uhhuh …football injury…no, I'm kidding." House's hand left his face and moved to Wilson's leg, rubbing it as if it were his own. "I got sick, the muscle died. They had to cut it out." There was a longish pause. House smiled. "You know, that never made sense to me either…Uhhuh… No, never…No, not even engaged…No…No, I'm just tired, I was up late waiting for our boy to come home…yeah…" House glanced at Wilson. "Yeah, he is…" His eyes narrowed. "Yes, ma'am…yes, ma'am…I'm sure we can all get together for lunch sometime…yes ma'am." He handed to phone back to Wilson.

Wilson covered the receiver with his hand. "What did she say?"

"She threatened me." House rubbed his eyes and fell back onto the bed, his hand wormed its way back under Wilson's t-shirt, the pads of his fingers brushing skin..

"Mom?" Wilson asked.

"He seems like a very nice man." She said wearily.

"Thanks, Mom."

"I think I'm going to go to bed…oh my…it's nearly five. What must you think of me?"

"Its okay, Mom. Doctors here. Used to odd hours. You call whenever you want."

House groaned. "Don't tell her that."

Wilson pointedly ignored him. "Can I talk to Katie?"

"Of course."

"Hello?"

"Hey. Thank you. Thank you so much."

"Oh, it's okay. I've been through it before, remember my brother?"

"Yeah. But thank you. That can't have been easy."

"Oh, it wasn't that bad. She mostly just needed to talk. Just promise me I get to tell my mother next. She's convinced I ran you off."

"Sure. Anything. How'd Dad take it?"

"Oh, right. He told me to tell you not to make your mother so upset. He went to bed just after you left"

Wilson rolled his eyes. "I don't know if the man is just immeasurably steady or completely senile. Could you see Mom gets to bed okay?"

"Sure, no problem."

"You're wonderful. I'm sending you flowers."

House punched his side. "No way." He said, pointing a finger at Wilson. "No frubbles on my watch."

"Or wine. Or chocolate. Or a date with a doctor. That would get your mother off your back.. I know a couple nice ones."

House swung himself into a sitting position then leaned behind Wilson to snap off the lamp. "Katie," He called over Wilson's shoulder, where he tottered unevenly for a second. "Wilson needs to go to bed now, okay?" Then he crash-landed back onto the pillow.

Katie giggled. "I'll let you go."

"Yeah."

House threaded his hand through Wilson's and tugged until Wilson lay with his stomach pressed flush against House's back.

"Thanks again." He said, fumbling for the off button in the darkness.

Dial tone.