Cameron knocked twice before opening the door. "Dr. Wilson, I need your help with these... what's wrong?"

Wilson sat behind his desk, muttering to himself over a half-eaten sandwich. Exactly half. He actually looked dejected that it was still sitting there.

"I have no idea," he finally responded to her question.

"Oh god," Cameron sighed and slipped into the chair across the desk. "Wilson..."

He raised a hand to wave her off. "No. I mean, it's something..." He dropped his head to the desk.

Cameron was beginning to realize what was going on. Half of Wilson's lunch was still on his desk, which meant House hadn't been in to steal it. That was enough to get the wheels turning in her head. "When's the last time you had sex?"

Wilson's head snapped up, a look of utter shock on his face. "Um -"

"That long, huh?" She shook her head. "This is bad."

"Tell me about it."

"Oh, I meant for me. Grouchy House is bad House."

Wilson frowned. "He's always grouchy."

"Yeah, but grouchy House who's not getting any is so much worse."

"My head hurts, I've been sneezing..." the patient on the table continued to ramble off symptoms.

House rubbed his head, annoyed. After the sixth or seventh symptom, he snapped, "It's a cold!" The patient jumped, House was mildly comforted by this. He tried to hide the grin on his face. A task made easier by the interruption at the exam room door. "What?"

"If you're busy, I can come back later..." Cameron indicated the waiting room, brimming with sick people.

"Not busy. He's just going to go to the local drug store and pick up some cold meds, right?" His head turned back to the sniveling patient on the table.

"Uh, right. Yeah. Thanks, doc."

Cameron stepped aside to let the man pass, half-smirked to herself at the familiar scene. Closing the door created a perfect anti-patient barricade.

"We have a patient?" he asked.

"I wish." She rolled her eyes. "You have celibacy."

House's brow furrowed into a very deep frown. "Get out."

"You disagree with my diagnosis?" Cameron asked boldly.

"I disagree with your need to stomp in here and tell me about it." The wheels on the stool squeaked as he rolled himself closer to her, intimidating stare locked in place.

She put out her hand to stop him. "House, I'm going to help."

"Really don't need it."

"You haven't stolen Wilson's lunch in three days. Either you're breaking up or there's something missing." This, she realized, was a bold move, but it could also be a hell of a lot of fun.

House gave her a skeptical look.

"A challenge."

House's ears perked up. "I'm listening..."

Wilson found himself sandwiched between the balcony door in his office and the full height of one Gregory House. "House, this isn't helping."

"It would be if you were reciprocating," House growled into Wilson's shoulder.

"Maybe. Or, your keys are digging into my crotch and cock-and-ball torture wasn't on today's specials." Though, if House had something other than sharp keys to torture him with, he might put it on the specials board.

House grumbled something impolite, pinched the skin of Wilson's neck between his teeth, then limped out of the office.

As the door clicked closed, Wilson sank to the floor when his knees suddenly decided they weren't cut out for this standing thing anymore. Idly, he reached his hand to his groin and rubbed gently. Dammit, House...

The guys were moving far too slowly with this challenge, so, Cameron took it upon herself to give the challenge a little kick in the pants...

... by using a little conspiracy.

"You know, it's bad enough that House never knocks before he comes in here, but now he's got his team doing it too..." Wilson complained as she slipped into his office and sat across the desk from him. "...so what do you want?"

She smiled softly, "Sorry. Got a little over-excited I guess."

"About what?" Wilson asked, skeptical.

"Do you want to win this challenge?"

Wilson frowned. "What do you mean?"

Cameron frowned right back, but said nothing.

"You're going to help me?"

"Yes." Cameron smiled again.

"How?" Wilson continued his one-sided game of twenty questions.

She leaned forward, resting her arms on his desk. "You are going to send me to do something. Anything," she suggested.

Another frown from Wilson. "Why are you helping me?"

Cameron rolled her eyes. "Because you two suck at this game."

Wilson actually looked hurt by that. It made her feel a little bad.

"Okay, maybe you don't suck, but I figured you'd be much farther along than this by now."

Wilson's head fell forward, heels of his hands rubbed at his eyes. "You're right. I - I can't get into this. It's - it's just not working."

"Oh crap."

"What?"

"Forget it. I'll come up with something, get him going, say you sent me and - oh, I hope this works." She rose from the chair, headed toward the door, but turned over her shoulder to him, "You owe me for this, Wilson."

House looked up from the test results that had been blurring together for the last half hour to find Cameron drawing the blinds and... locking the door? Curious, he lifted an eyebrow and watched her without saying a word. More closing of blinds and locking of doors. Curiouser and curiouser.

Still, he said nothing as she moved. He's not interested in what she's doing there, except that she'd interrupted his pouring over lab results for a patient who might be dying... and then her lab coat hit the floor. This revealed the sexiest outfit he'd seen on Cameron at work since that hot red dress... He swallowed the Vicodin he'd popped into his mouth moments before and suddenly wishes he hadn't done that quite yet. Having all of his faculties alert and focused suddenly seemed to be far more important than ever.

Cameron, wearing stiletto heels of nearly five inches, stalked her way toward him, bent forward and thrust some heavily pushed-up cleavage toward his nose. She whispered something at him that his ears didn't quite pick up and his brain surely didn't process since all he could think was 'breasts'. His hands twitched, wanted to grab, to touch, to play, but he was a good boy and kept his hands to himself in favor of what might be coming up.

The dance continued, apparently to some music in Cameron's head, since there was none playing in House's office, with Cameron shaking her pushed-up cleavage a bit, then turning to press her ass against his lap. As she rubbed and ground against him, House's lap decided to stand up and take notice. His fingers gripped the arms of his desk chair and he tried to control his breathing, but Cameron's skirt was far shorter than he'd thought and her all-but-bare ass was grinding against his jeans and it was all he could do not to throw her down onto the desk.

"Cameron-" the word came out as a strangled croak from his throat.

"Something wrong, honey?" she purred back at him.

He shook his head. "Ungh uh-" It wasn't a lie. There was nothing wrong at all, as long as it was okay for him to need to change his pants in about two minutes.

She tipped her head back and blew her next phrase into his ear, "You are allowed to touch."

His eyes rolled back and his eyelids fluttered closed as he suddenly lost all control. "Oh god -" he muttered as his head dropped back.

Cameron dragged her teeth across his jawline. "Mmmmm - am I that good?"

House panted heavy draughts of air into her ear as he replied in the affirmative.

"I win," Wilson all but crowed from the balcony door. He looked so smug standing there, arms crossed over his chest, healthy smirk on his lips.

"You cheated," House grumbled squeezing Cameron's hips between his fingers.

Wilson snorted. "No I didn't. I used any means necessary. She was obviously a consenting party. It's hard to force someone to give your lover a lap dance." He waved a hand at the lap dancer in question.

"Fine. What do you win?"

"That threesome you promised me you'd already set up."

House arched an eyebrow. "Which one?" he asked with a smirk. There'd been so many.

Wilson nodded toward House's lap dancer. "The one with Cameron."

Cameron turned an almost-angry, but definitely shocked face on House. "You bastard."

House smiled that trademark grin and let the wheels in his head begin to turn.

End