A couple of hours later, after dealing with the fact that his Alzheimer's patient had managed to wander out of the hospital unnoticed by the nursing staff, House was in the clinic with Asexual Girl's asexual husband, explaining the battery of tests that he wanted to run. The man was understandably confused, having been led to believe that he was there for a free flu shot. When the knock on the Exam Room door came, as he knew it would, House was ready.
"Excuse me," House said to Asexual Girl's husband. "I have to deal with someone who's having a panic attack."
Opening the door revealed a very annoyed Wilson. House came out into the hall, closing the door behind him.
"I specifically said the bet was off if you contacted the patient."
"Exactly. You never said anything about the patient's husband."
"The deal was a medical reason why she doesn't have sex."
Wilson was almost beside himself. House had managed to conjure up one of those microscopic loopholes from somewhere in that brain of his, and Wilson could practically see any chance of winning the bet slipping away. They argued briefly over the all-too familiar subject of House's twisted logic and lack of ethics.
"You're not doing this out of the kindness of your heart," Wilson railed. "You're not even doing this out of medical curiosity."
House all but shrugged. "I thought I made it clear I'm doing it for the cash."
"Two people are happy and your natural impulse is to destroy it."
House scoffed. "How do you know she's happy? Did she tell you?"
Wilson shot back sarcastically, "No, chirping birds flew out of her butt carrying a banner."
After House had finished with Asexual Guy, Wilson caught up with him as he left the clinic.
"House, we need to talk."
"No we don"t," House said, quickly deflecting.
"House - "
"There's nothing to talk about." House cut Wilson off, effectively ending the conversation as he limped toward the elevator. Using the rubber tip of his cane to push the elevator's call button, House could feel Wilson next to him, staring holes into his brain. Yeah, he's not acting weird at all.
The elevator door slid open and House got on, turning to push the button for the 4th floor. Wilson got in alongside him and made to start the conversation again.
"House. Seriously. We need to talk."
"Does it have anything to do with my patient?"
"No."
"Does it have anything to do with the bet?"
"No."
"Then we don't have anything to talk about."
They stood next to each other in stony silence as the elevator continued its journey to the 4th floor. Not another word was said when the door opened and House veered off down the corridor leading to his office.
House was mildly surprised to find that Foreman had commandeered his whiteboard, listing the patient's current symptoms and about to conduct his own differential with the team. Chase and Adams had found their missing patient hypothermic and without a heartbeat at a nearby sports field. House and Foreman spent several minutes debating whether symptoms the patient exhibited since his admission warranted being added to the list before House finally decided to start the patient on Interferon. He walked into his office as the team left, fully intending to spend a few minutes going over the lab results for Asexual Guy while he tried to work the angles on how to get Foreman to approve the early removal of his ankle monitor.
House's brain had other ideas, drifting back to Wilson, the previous night's events, and whether he would be able to get Wilson to understand that there really was no greater meaning to be read into what had happened between them. He leaned back in his chair, sighing. He knew that Wilson was not about to let this go until he'd had a chance to get his feelings out and to gauge House's reaction to those feelings.
Taking another look through Asexual Guy's lab results, House grinned to himself. Victory was within his grasp. He grabbed his cane and the file and headed off to Wilson's office. Opening the door, House stuck his head inside. Wilson was sitting at his desk, making notes in a patient's chart.
"You lose." House strolled into Wilson's office, tossing the chart at his best friend while explaining the results of the lab tests and coming to the conclusion that Asexual Guy had a tumor near his pituitary gland. Reviewing the chart, Wilson couldn't help but agree with House's diagnosis.
"I prefer to be paid in a single 100 dollar bill. Always wanted to use one to light a cigar."
Wilson was not nearly so jubilant. Not only had he just lost the bet again, but it was like pulling teeth to get House to stay in one place long enough to have any sort of conversation about where their friendship stood.
"You always do this. You...meddle, and force me into impossible situations." Wilson could feel himself getting more annoyed by the second.
House rolled his eyes. "You knew the second you told me about this case that I'd get involved. You wanted me involved. Because no matter how much you wanted to believe in this chaste romance, you didn't buy it either."
Wilson had no response to that. He hated that House knew him as well as he did sometimes. It drove him to distraction how often House was right, even when he was just pulling something insane out of his ass. And then Wilson's mind drifted to the previous night, reminding him that they still hadn't talked about what it meant. He looked over at House, who had planted himself on the sofa and was absently playing with his cane. Wilson watched him for a long moment from behind his desk, could practically feel the waves of discomfort beginning to emanate from his friend as the silence began to feel awkward.
"House, we really need to talk about this."
House shot a glare towards Wilson. "No. We really don't," he snapped. "Yes. It happened. We had sex. No, it doesn't change anything between us. There really is no deeper meaning than that, so stop trying to find one."
Wilson hadn't expected House to get so defensive so quickly and was taken aback by his response. He'd expected House to make a joke or some sarcastic remark like he always did. He couldn't help but wonder what else was going on, whether it was his patient or the ankle monitor or Foreman or any number of other things that seemed to be churning around his best friend's mind at any given time. House's brain was never truly calm unless he was at the piano, something Wilson had rarely seen since House's release from prison.
House defiantly held his glare, daring Wilson to push back. Wilson held his own gaze steady for several long seconds before he'd had enough. House was going to be an ass about this, and that was enough to convince Wilson that nothing really had changed between them.
"Fine. Are we done?" Wilson said with an edge to his voice, turning his attention back to the notes in his patient's chart and ignoring House completely, effectively dismissing him. He knew that that was the best way to shut down House's attitude, and it worked. House stared at Wilson for a few more seconds, then limped his way out of Wilson's office.