Despite what he'd believed previously, it was almost as much fun driving Jimmy insane with want as it would have been seeing everyone's expressions when they were told, and so he didn't really mind.

Wilson still wanted to keep them a secret, which House could handle. The Vicoden meant it took a little more to get him interested, and while this was usually a cursed side affect, when playing with the younger man in staff hours, it became rather useful.

After mornings full of accidental touches, or saying his name in a certain way, breathing out 'Jimmy' into his ear, or even just giving him a Look filled with possessiveness and love.

He generally had Wilson tapping on his balcony door by lunch, for a little relief in his office (where no one came in if the blinds were closed, a pleasant contrast to the usual barging in nature of everyone who needed him enough to come to his office), while House himself could hold out all day without showing any signs of arousal.

Their trysts were always hurried, Wilson spending as much time returning his appearance to it's former glory as he did on the hand job or blow job House had given him.

That was the second cardinal rule, no sex at work, because apparently (though he liked to disagree) he was incapable of being quiet. Of course, that rule was ignored completely most of the time, but Wilson did occasionally try to get him to stop.

"Jimmy," House whispered possessively, gasping as Wilson bit on his neck, "Love you."

Wilson came with a muffled cry, leaning back against House with a sigh and a quick kiss.

"Best not to get too comfortable. You realise we'll have to get out of the closet eventually?"

Wilson looked at House suspiciously. As they were currently in a supply closet somewhere on the second floor, this comment could have been taken innocently, if it were anyone other than the man before him.

"I'm comfy here. I think I'll stay a little longer."

"Alright," House shrugged, and Wilson could feel his muscles moving through the thin shirt he wore, "I'll stay as long as you want, I'm just telling you people will get suspicious."

That was why they worked so well together. Stacy's way used to be to give a perfunctory 'Love you!' at the end of any conversation, and House could never give the usual reply. Occasionally he said it after he thought Wilson had fallen asleep or in the middle of sex, but mostly it was couched in elaborate metaphors or puns.

That was okay, Wilson got all these little messages, and returned them, either continuing the joke or showing it with a gesture (usually involving pancakes) that signalled to House the depths of his caring.

"Don't worry. I'll be ready for us to leave soon."

House looked down at the man before him, and kissed the top of his head. Yes, he understood.

"Right," Wilson said, "Come on."

He opened the door decisively, to the rather startled gazes of Cuddy and three nurses, who were apparently either being growled about forgetting to give a patient the proper medication (if so, House was disappointed in Cuddy, he'd noticed several days ago, and remedied it), or being told about the wonders of breast implants.

Probably the former, but he could hope.

"Oh. Ah…" Wilson rubbed the back of his neck frantically. There really was no excuse when you were found leaving a supply closet with your male best friend who had a rather huge hickey that hadn't been there when the pair of you entered.

"I don't want to know." Cuddy said, massaging her temples. "I really don't."

As House and Wilson left, both limping, House turned to Wilson.

"Do you think we should have waited a little longer before leaving that closet?" House asked, eyes sympathetic.

"No," Wilson said finally, after thinking a moment, "I think we left at the perfect time."

A grin spread across House's face, and he groped Wilson affectionately, before heading to surprise the ducklings before the gossip reached them. After all, Cuddy's face had been priceless, and Cameron's could only be better.