Cameron smirks at him and comes into the room. "I bet you say that to all the girls."

"Usually only the hot ones, but I sometimes make an exception." He watches her as she checks his chart. "You'd better not look at how much I weigh. I don't want it to get out that I'm not a size two."

"Cuddy tells me they're letting you out at the end of this week."

"There's a bet going around that I'll get kicked out sooner by the nursing staff. Dumped on the front step, gown flapping over my bare ass." He looks tired and she checks his chart again, iron levels and medications. "Of course, it's hard to believe anyone would get sick of me."

"Yeah. A real mystery." She snaps the metal cover closed and then sits on the edge of his bed. "Have you talked to Wilson?"

"Given that I'm laid up in here, I think the real question would be if Wilson's talked to me." He lives on the edge of semantics and she nods slightly to acknowledge his point.

"So has he?"

"If you have to ask, you know the answer. In fact, I would imagine that's why you're here. Let me guess, you and Cuddy huddled together like two teenage girls on a sleepover and…actually, hang on. I want to think about that for a while. What were you wearing? Was there lace? And touching? And a video camera?"

"How are you so smart and yet such a twelve-year old boy?"

"They actually sort of go together." He grins at her, wolfishly, and she feels that familiar heat that she's gotten good at pretending doesn't exist. She's pretty good at fooling herself all around where he's concerned. "Balance the ego with the id. Freud would be proud, huh?"

"Freud would also think you wanted to have sex with your mother."

"I could call you Mommy, Cameron. What d'you say? Try a little breastfeeding?" He waggles his eyebrows suggestively until she shakes her head. "All right. Your loss. I'll have you know I was a champion breastfeeder."

"I'll take your word for it." She rests her hand on his knee, the sheet thin enough that she can feel the heat of his skin. "You really need to talk to Wilson."

"Well, then someone else really needs to get him to come in here. I start getting out of bed; the nurses get all weird and call a code. I think they're afraid I'm going to start terrorizing patients. Which would actually be more fun than this." He looks down at her hand. "How much to get you to slide that higher?"

"You're disgusting." She reminds him, though her hand doesn't move. "Besides, you can't afford me."

"I can afford anybody." He winces slightly and settles back against his pillows, closing his eyes. "You're barking up the wrong tree, Cameron. He's the one you have to sweet talk."

"I don't know, House. You have a way of making people do what you want." She rubs his knee then slides her hand higher, her thumb stroking along the outside of his thigh. "I haven't figured out if it's sheer bullying or hitting our overwhelming desire to please or…"

"I make you feel like an idiot if you don't." His lips part a little and he winces again as her hand slides higher still, massaging his thigh in earnest. She can see his body react and watches, feeling the heat and power that his erection brings as well as the strange distance of science that he invokes in her. "It's a gift I have."

"You could talk to him if you wanted."

"It isn't about want, Cameron." He reaches down and grabs her wrist, stilling her hand. "It's about getting what I deserve. And this is it."

"You don't believe that."

"No. But he does." He's lying. She can see it in his eyes. He believes he deserves this just as much as Wilson does, maybe more. "And that's all that matters."

"Do you believe that?"