Wilson took a long sip of coffee and turned to face House.
"All right?"
"Yeah." House shrugged as if nothing was on his mind.
"House." Wilson sounded slightly exasperated.
"Wilson." House sounded slightly amused.
"House, we have to talk about . . . this."
"Talk about what? About what you're buying me for dinner?
Chinese sounds good."
"House!"
Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose, getting more irritated.
"Seriously. Chinese. I'm starving."
"Fine, but only if we can talk about this."
"Talk. About. What?" House was talking as much amusement as he could get from this as he could get.
"About today, you in the cold at the cemetery, about . . ."
"Wilson . . ."
"No! We, you, I mean what about . . . ." Wilson sputtered to get his words out, increasingly frustrated with House. And then the most extraordinary thing happened.
As Wilson was struggling to get his words out, House leaned over, and kissed him.