INT. WAKE ROOM - DAY

A room laid out with food and drink all over its tables. A body is there, too, but it is not JOHN HOUSE’s.

WILSON:

(clearly a bit infuriated)

How can I still feel surprise? You would take, even this, a moment of real human grief, and turn it into a farce.

HOUSE rolls his eyes.

HOUSE:

Oh, cut the crap. You enjoy what I do. I never had to force you. You like coming along for the ride.

WILSON:

(sarcastically)

Yes, that's why I'm cheering you on now.

HOUSE:

This is about you needing to be prepared for the worst. So you become an oncologist. No surprises there. Worst happens all the time. But Amber, she was young and healthy. Her death came out of nowhere.

WILSON:

(quieter, clearly disturbed by the mention of his dead girlfriend)

Don't bring Amber into this.

HOUSE:

And you weren't ready. That makes you angry. The world sucks, and you didn't have time to brace yourself.

WILSON:

What happened out there is your show!

HOUSE:

You're scared to death of losing anyone that matters. So you dump the person who matters the most to you!

WILSON:

I'm not scared to death. I'm moving forward!

HOUSE:

Because no one can take away from you what you no longer have.

WILSON:

(furious)

Oh, ho, ho, ho, ho. Your father's death is about you. Amber's death is about you.

(beat)

I can't imagine why someone wouldn't want to be your friend!

WILSON is leaning closer to the tables full of drinks and food. His hands are balled up.

HOUSE:

Admit it, you’re angry and you’re scared of losing me.

(With that, he moves forward, closer to Wilson.)

WILSON:

I’m not angry. I’m not scared.

HOUSE:

Admit it.

WILSON:

I'm not afraid.

HOUSE

Admit it.

As HOUSE speaks, he gets closer to Wilson, a wide grin to him.

WILSON:

I've lost people. It happens.

HOUSE:

Admit it. Admit it!

WILSON:

What are you, five? Stop repeating —

HOUSE:

Admit it. Admit it. Admit it. Admit it. Admit it. Admit it.

(He gets up on Wilson’s face, still chanting.)

Admit it. Come on, admit it. Admit it!

WILSON’s face sours and the camera zooms on him before he pulls himself closer to HOUSE, grabbing him by the back of his neck and kissing him as hard as he can. HOUSE’s eyes widen before he closes them and kisses back, a hand on WILSON’s cheek that is facing the camera. After a few seconds, WILSON pulls away. HOUSE is smirking and tilting his head.

HOUSE:

Still not boring.

INT. DINER - STILL DAY

WILSON:

Did you know I was gonna do that? Because I didn’t know I was gonna do that.

HOUSE:

(laughing a little)

It was about time, I think.

WILSON:

What do you mean —

HOUSE rolls his eyes and sighs.

HOUSE:

If I know one thing is why you have gotten divorced thrice, and it is not because of your addiction to neediness.

WILSON:

I’m not —

HOUSE:

(shamelessly, a hand on his cheek as he looks at WILSON intently)

You’re at least bisexual. You kissed me harder than any hooker I’ve hired.

WILSON blushes and sputters, stuttering as he tries to find out the right words.

WILSON:

The only thing that’s working out for me is my job and this screwed-up…

WILSON doubts. He makes circles on the table booth with his hand, avoiding HOUSE’s burning gaze as he tries to put a name to what’s going on in between him and HOUSE. He doesn’t seem too comfortable with any label.

HOUSE:

(smiling a little)

Well, what do you want to call it? Is it a marriage already, Dr. Serial Monogamy?

WILSON:

(groaning)

Oh, shut up.

HOUSE keeps looking at him intently, lips quirked upward in a question and a smile at the same time.

WILSON:

(finally)

This screwed-up relationship.

HOUSE raises a brow. WILSON clears his throat, looks away again.

WILSON:

(a bit quietly, nervously, like he’s afraid it’s incorrect)

This screwed-up romantic relationship.

HOUSE looks pleased with himself and his BOYFRIEND, pulling him into a quick kiss. WILSON smiles into it, his visible hand on HOUSE’s shoulder.

WILSON:

We owe your mom an apology.

HOUSE:

At least I didn’t make out with you in front of her.

WILSON rolls his eyes.

WILSON:

You got late to your father’s funeral.

HOUSE:

Because you kidnapped me.

WILSON moves his hand a bit, making a small bowing motion.

WILSON:

If I hadn’t you wouldn’t have infuriated me, and I wouldn’t have kissed you, and—

HOUSE:

What a great butterfly effect.

WILSON:

At least it’s not like in the movies.

HOUSE shrugs.

HOUSE:

When something crazy happens because of your kidnapping I’ll remind you that you said that.

WILSON laughs and rolls his eyes.

---

INT. HOUSE’S OFFICE - NIGHT

HOUSE is sitting on the edge of his desk, a few papers in his hands. There is a half-full glass of bourbon next to him. WILSON walks in.

WILSON:

I hear your patient's gonna be all right.

HOUSE doesn’t look up from the papers.

HOUSE:

Is that why you’re here? Congratulating me?

WILSON blinks and closes the door behind himself before stepping closer to him. HOUSE takes a sip from the glass of bourbon, gaze still on the papers.

WILSON:

Something going on?

HOUSE:

I’m celebrating.

HOUSE hands him the papers, and WILSON looks down to read them. After a few moments, he looks back up in shock.

HOUSE:

My mom hated him too.

WILSON:

(surprised)

Your DNA test showed no match? That’s incredible. At the age of 12, you actually figured out your father wasn’t your birth father?

WILSON’s gaze falls on HOUSE’s grip on his glass of bourbon.

WILSON:

That’s what you wanted, right? Why should it depress you?

HOUSE:

It doesn’t depress me. Doesn’t make any difference at all. That’s what depresses me.

WILSON is stunned into silence for a few seconds, a sad smile on his lips.

WILSON:

Well… I guess nobody gets to choose who their parents are. Or who’s the best candidate for next significant other.

HOUSE takes another sip of his bourbon and smiles a little.

WILSON:

I spoke with Cuddy. She hasn’t filled my position yet.

HOUSE:

(still managing a weak smile)

Are you coming back because you’re attracted to the shine of my neediness?

(beat)

Because I’d be okay with that.

WILSON smiles wide.

WILSON:

I am coming back because of the shine of your neediness.

HOUSE:

Are we going to tell them?

WILSON blinks a little, stumbles, caught off guard at the question.

WILSON:

Are we?

HOUSE shrugs.

HOUSE:

There’s no point in keeping it secret, is there?

WILSON:

I’m sure Thirteen has figured out this much.

HOUSE pulls him into a kiss.

HOUSE:

You hungry?

WILSON nods. They both stand up and head for the door. HOUSE stops in his tracks, a slight frown forming in his face.

HOUSE:

Wilson?

WILSON:

(slightly worried)

Yeah?

HOUSE:

My father’s dead.

WILSON kisses HOUSE’s forehead gently, at which he scowls, but doesn’t quite protest.

WILSON:

Yeah, I know. My sympathies, love.

HOUSE makes a face again, but doesn’t protest.

They leave the room together. Fade to credits.