A/N: Thanks for the adds and reviews. Special thanks to George Stark II for the fabulous beta-ing.

Two hours later House was suddenly awakened by the sound of laughter from downstairs, in the side yard, floating up through the open balcony doors. Sunlight streamed in, so it was presumably the same day, he guessed around seven or so in the evening. He continued to lie there in the silence until a voice from downstairs caught his attention.

"And at first everyone was saying that it wasn't the same disease that Ester had from before. But then the kid got worse, and even though House had predicted this all along they still doubted him when he told them it was Erdheim-Chester Disease. So what if the first test was negative? It's House." Whoever he'd been speaking to responded too low for House to hear. He stretched, then got to his feet, reflecting on his friend's words. Had he been bragging about him? It seemed that way. Well, to be fair, it had been a special sort of revelation. Truly, he was an inspiration to all.

He changed and went to find his friend.

It didn't take long. He exited the house through the side door and discovered an in-ground pool, in which his best friend was doing laps. He took the seat next to Carly and watched Wilson in silence. The long body moved with deceptive speed and he realized that he'd never seen his friend swim before. It wasn't exactly something they could do together since the infarction, and before that they had just never gotten around to it. He vaguely recalled Wilson telling him once that he was on the swim team in high school, but the only thing he'd taken away from that conversation at the time was that Wilson had grown up shaving his legs.

But now as he watched through narrowed eyes he was hit by legitimate surprise. His friend looked completely at ease in the water, like a… person-shaped seahorse or something. The fact that the water was clear meant that he could fully appreciate the small definition in Wilson's back as he moved his muscles to swim, the smattering of freckles dotting the oncologist's back. He'd seen his friend shirtless numerous times throughout the years, but he'd never had a hard time tearing his gaze away before. When Wilson came up for air and saw his friend watching him, he gave an embarrassed grin.

"Sleep good?" he asked from the water.

House gave a half-hearted shrug. "Well, I dreamed that the hospital was seized by a midget army and they refused to leave until we created a poison to slip to all their colic babies."

"Were we successful?"

"They killed Chase. What does that tell you?"

"Dear God. Were you at least able to get the name of his conditioner beforehand?"

"Dream-Chase refused to give it up. Something about you not having enough hair for it to be worth it."

"Like you have so much room to talk." Wilson turned and dove back into the water.

"You guys have been friends a long time," Carly commented.

He'd kind of forgotten she was sitting there. He cleared his throat. "Yeah. Many years. Many ex-wives." Struck by inspiration, he asked, "Do you know why he and Sam split up? This time?"

Carly didn't take her eyes off the pool, which he took to mean that she was about to lie. "I'm not sure."

Bingo! Now just how to get the story. "It's just," he pulled his sad, caring face, "that if I'm going to help him through this, it would be much easier if I knew why she kicked him to the curb."

Wilson's cousin was silent as she took in this information. "If he's not saying then there's probably a reason. He'll talk about it when he's ready."

House sighed and tried not to reach out and throttle her. Why was this such a secret? If he'd cheated, big deal. He cheated all the time. If she'd cheated, then that was fantastic news—it would finally give House the excuse to slash the tires on her car, which he'd been fantasizing about for weeks now anyway. So why the code of silence? What could have happened that he would think House would care? Yes, there would be the obligatory period of harassment but it would pass.

His thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of the other lesbian, Danielle, holding a cordless landline in her hand. "It's for you," she told the diagnostician with an unfriendly frown. She dropped it on his lap, and took the seat on the other side of her girlfriend.

"Hello," he said into the speaker piece, knowing who it was, imagining her sitting in her office chair twiddling with one of her curls.

"Greg," came Cuddy's warm voice. "You got there alive?"

"Seems that way," he returned. He glanced back to the water just in time to catch Wilson get out of the pool, and was taken aback. Drops of water covered every inch of the oncologist's body and as he ran a finger through his thick brown locks, House felt his stomach fall ten stories. He blinked and tried to tune back in to his conversation with his girlfriend. "How's everything there?" Was it his imagination or did his voice sound half an octave too high?

Cuddy didn't seem to notice anything. She simply laughed and replied, "Let's just say your team is feeling your absence. Nobody's dead yet, but it's early."

"I've only been gone a day." He tried to think of something to say, some tidbit to tell her that would make her feel like he wasn't quite so far away, but the good boyfriend thing was the last thing on his mind at that moment. Wilson pulled his chair around so that they were shaped more like a triangle than a straight line and in the process brushed House's arm with his own. The older man swallowed hard.

"I miss you," Cuddy said, a gentle reminder of the conversation on earth, and he knew he had to say something.

"I'll be expecting proof of that when I get home." In his mind's eye he saw her smile.

They said goodbyes, and he hung up and passed the phone back to Danielle, who was speaking to her fiancée. "Derek called while you were out. Said he's going to be able to make it after all." The expression on her face definitely gave the impression that this was not pleasant news to her.

However, Carly grinned and leaned back against her chair. "Good! We went to his wedding, it's only fair."

"He's divorced now," Danielle muttered.

Wilson had been watching the exchange as well, and asked, "Derek …Mitchell? As in, your ex fiancé, Derek Mitchell? You invited him to the wedding?"

"He's a friend."

But House was still hung up on the tale end of Wilson's questioning. "You were engaged to someone named Derek? You're bi?"

"Nope," Carly answered. House glanced at the other two, neither of whom looked surprised at her reaction.

"Closeted?"

"Nope."

"I'm running out of options here."

"Straight."

House eyed Danielle suspiciously. "Drop your pants."

"Danielle is a girl, it's true," Wilson's cousin said. "She's my exception."

Okay, what the hell? He needed clarification. "And by exception, you of course mean…?"

"She's the only girl I've ever loved. We met two years ago right after Derek and I had ended our engagement and something just clicked." Her eyes slid to Danielle's, then back to House. "Sometimes two people just find each other."

Was it his imagination or was Wilson watching him, gauging his reaction? "I don't believe that," he snapped. Then he got to his feet and went inside.

"You're a little high strung about their relationship." He shouldn't have been surprised that Wilson chose to follow him. "What do you care about what she feels? If she loves Danielle-"

"She doesn't," he argued. "Carly is your family. Why aren't you more invested in this than you are? Someone lives life as straight for twenty some-odd years and continues to say she's straight, yet she chooses one girl that is her supposed "exception"? She's setting herself up for a lifetime of misery and you don't even care!"

"I believe her," Wilson responded lowly. "And you have every right to not believe her. But what I find so confusing is why you look like you're ready to take a swing at me."

House looked down and realized that one hand was curled up into a fist, and the other was gripping his cane so tightly his knuckles were turning white. Yes, he was prone to overreaction, but even he couldn't explain his sudden fury with the situation. He took a deep breath to cool his temper and then faked as genuine a smile as possible. "Probably just sleep deprivation," he told his friend. Wilson seemed to believe him. "I'm going to go lie down. Just call me before dinner." And as he trudged back up the stairs, he determinedly ignored the way the hair on the back of his neck was still standing up from his friend's touch several minutes earlier. —