Soft hands are sliding up his back, fingers wrapping in his hair—surgeons hands, surgeons fingers, he reminded himself—searing lips pressed against his own, then pure joy.

Suddenly House snorted awake, glancing around his office. He undraped his leg from the foot rest in front of him and popped a vicodin.

He ran a hand through his hair. Who had he been dreaming about? It wasn't as though it were a rare occurrence for House to have such dreams, but there had been a decided lack of breasts and/or groping involved.

Definitely not Cuddy, then, or Wilson (don't ask…)

In fact he could rule out all the women of his team, past and present. House popped another pill and uncricked his neck.

It had been a surgeon.

He remembered the hands, fine tuned and steady.

So not Kutner, Kutner was an idiot.

The body had been shorter; House recognized the way the other person's nose had pressed against his. A sort of upturned thing that was required for the other body to stretch and reach his lips.

He licked his lips.

Not Foreman, then. Foreman was freakishly tall.

That left the Aussie, and his latest, shortest, addition to his team.

Taub.

The second his brain thought the name he knew that Taub had been the one in his dream.

House snorted because, whoa, those were some weird thoughts to be having about Taub of all people. He was just about to delve deeper into the mystery when the glass door to his office swung open, revealing a harried Wilson.

"Okay, what's going on here?" Wilson placed his hands on his hips and glared sullenly at House.

House did his part and feigned innocence. "I don't know; what?"

With a sigh Wilson whipped one of House's desk chairs around and sat down heavily. "Would you care to tell me why Taub of all people is questioning whether or not you and I are having sex… together?" Wilson made a poking motion with one hand.

House let his head fall back and he sighed. Taub was getting too frisky for his own good. "I don't know."

"Does this have something to do with the twenty question routine this morning?"

"It… might." House crossed his arms petulantly. "He asked me the same question earlier today."

"Why?"

"How should I know?" House quashed a small hopeful voice in his head that said it was because Taub like him, and really did want to run those surgeons fingers through his hair. "He's a weirdo."

"House…" Wilson sighed. "Look, you can't work effectively with someone if you're constantly going to act like they're weird because of their sexual preferences."

House allowed his confusion to show on his face. "What do you mean?"

"Well…" Wilson shifted. "Clearly you aren't comfortable with the fact that everyone you know is… gay. I've never known you to be homophobic, but…"

All the ellipses in this conversation were driving House mad. "Oh, shut up. That isn't why I'm uncomfortable."

Wilson blinked. House blinked back, realizing he had just said something very incriminating.

"Then, why—"

House abruptly stood and left his office, Wilson scrambling after him. He walked efficiently to the elevator and slammed his finger into the "down" button. Wilson came up beside him.

"Seriously, House, if you need to talk about anything I'm here."

"Whatever," House grunted.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. House sighed as he saw who the occupant was.

Taub, of course.

Taub smiled his normal flat smile, but this time House detected something a bit more real beneath it. "House, just who I was looking for," he said.

House crowded into the elevator, casting a pleading look at Wilson, who seemed to catch the hint and followed him.

"What do you want, Taub?"

Taub's smile curled slowly into a predators grin.

"You."