Alternate ending to and spoilers for season 5 episode The Itch. House isn't actually interested in Cuddy, and he decides to go talk to Wilson about it. A smutty piece of fluff, probably the only chapter. Warnings for slash, male on male sex, and my usual stuff.

"You must remember this
A kiss is just a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh.
The fundamental things apply
As time goes by, Herman Hupfeld

When House knocked on my door in the middle of the night for the second time in 48 hours, I almost didn't let him in. I almost yelled at him, almost made the man go away, and I almost went back to sleep, but almost doesn't mean shit.

"Did you talk to Cuddy yet?" I asked, trying to sound more annoyed than I actually was. My heart was screaming at me to tell him how I felt, but my brain was keeping me sane, repeating over and over how he and I could never be together, and that even if he wasn't horrible disgusted by when I professed my love for him, we wouldn't be friends for much longer and I would lose the love of my life.

"Nope, I don't have to," he announced, cheerfully. Oh great, he's been rationalizing again. Now I have to listen to him rant and 'explain' for two hours, I thought. "I went over there looked in her window, watched for about a minute, and figured something out."

"Okay," I said, gently, and patting him on the shoulder. "You can talk, and I will listen, but you will not sleep here tonight, because you're just trying to avoid your feelings." And I'll probably try to jump you in your sleep.

"Cuddy is not the mosquito bite. Kissing her made me realize that I don't really like the woman, at least not in that way. You almost had it though. Every time you stopped by my office, or I came here, and you made me talk about it, the itching got worse. We both assumed it had to do with her, because she's the one we were talking about, but really, it was you." Oh God, he's figured me out, and this all just some elaborate prank to get me to admit to it, and humiliate me. Still, I was determined to stay calm under pressure.

"I think you're lying because you don't want to talk about you and Cuddy, and what happened between the two of you, or at this point what didn't happen. I can't be the mosquito bite, because you and I have never done anything. We never kissed, which means that I couldn't have bitten you, and you can't be reacting to what I did, because I didn't do anything." Not for lack of wanting, I thought desperately. That's when it happened.

House kissed me! He grabbed my face between both of is palms, leaned in, turning his head to the side, and pressed his lips to mine. His mouth opened, and he pushed his tongue forward, sliding it into my mouth. The whole thing was so quick and shocking that I had no idea what was happening or how to respond. I started to kiss back, but almost as quickly as it had begun, the kiss was over. "That. I. We." I was at a loss for words. He smiled, lay down on the sofa and streaked out, yawning.

"So, you believe me now?" he asked, tiredly. I nodded, but couldn't think about anything except his warm, sweet taste, the gentle tickle of his facial hair, and the feel of his body pressed up against mine. "So can I stay here until my apartment gets fumigated?"

"We discussed this. There is no bug," I insisted. I was tired, and horny, and wanted him so badly that I couldn't think straight…ha!

"Actually there is. Damn thing landed on my other hand, came this close to biting me again. I hafta call someone to kill the things. For every insect you see, there are five more you cant." I sighed, sitting on the armrest, and reaching down to touch his hair.

"You wanna sleep in the bedroom? It's gotta be more comfortable, and better for your legs." Plus I'll be in there. He opened his eyes, stared straight up at me, and chuckled a little.

"You just invited me into your bed," he taunted, "and all we've done is kiss. Not that I'm not flattered. I mean, you're sort of pretty, and sort of feminine, but—uh—I dunno. Also seem like the type to get all weird and clingy."

"Me clingy? I'm not the one who hired private investigator to stalk someone who didn't want to see me. I'm not the one who knocked on the door of my apartment, and begged me to come back." I reached down to tickle him, under the armpits, but he batted my arm away.

"Stop that. I'm not ticklish. You're just saying that stuff to get into my pants. Guess it was only a matter of time. I mean, I'm a world renowned lover, with a 12 inch pianist." Greg spent several minutes laughing so hard he wouldn't have heard anything I said; so I waited.

"Are you finished? I think you messed that joke up," I said, standing, and holding my arm out, to help him up. "Unless you would rather sleep out here, by yourself…" Greg got onto his feet, unassisted, and unbuttoned his pants. "You gonna take those off in the den?"

"Well, I'm definitely considering the possibility. If we can do it right here, I don't hafta walk all the way to the bedroom, which would be—as you said—better for my leg." All the way? It's ten feet from here!

"Sure, whatever you want," I told him. This was a dream. It had to be. Gregory House would never like me the way I liked him, and the sooner we got past this, the sooner the dream would end, the sooner I'd wake up, and forget it.

"Hey," he said, touching my cheek in an almost gentle fashion. "Are you okay? If you're not—that is, uh, if you aren't ready, for—whatever, then we don't have to do anything."

"Now I know you're not the real House." He gave me a strange look, and I sort of shrugged. "This is just a dream. I'm gonna feel good, and maybe we'll sleep together, maybe we won't, but then—I wake up alone, and hating myself for believing that you actually gave a crap."

"If this is a dream, then shouldn't both of us take advantage of the opportunities we've been presented with?" he suggested. At least that sounds like you. "I wanna sleep with you. You wanna sleep with me. Other than deciding who gets to be on top, I don't see any problems." Good point. "Okay?" He started to head for the bedroom, and I followed. The two of us started kissing some more, ripping at each other's clothes, puling everything off. "I lied to you," he confessed, between kissing my mouth and neck. I was about to tell them man I was in no mood when he added, "Bonnie didn't say you were bad in bed. The second ex-Mrs. Wilson told me you work harder to please—whoever you're with—than anyone she ever slept with, and I just wondered how come you never, why I never got to experience it for myself."

"I never thought I'd get the—I never thought you'd let me make love to you. I guess that was pretty stupid of me, wasn't it?" I asked, slowly pushed him down on the bed, and started to kiss his neck, shoulders, arms, and back. "Are you okay to…because I don't want to make you—hurt …:" House cut me off.

"I'm fine, and so is my leg." He got on his hands and knees, his head turned to the side, those soulful blue eyes watching me. He looked like he was about to say something, when I kissed his mouth, slipping a lubricated finger inside of him. "Whoa, I know you're new at this, but it is customary to warn a guy before you do that." I had one hand on his hip, and was using the other to stretch him out.

"You know, it's funny. All the times I've fantasized about this, all the nights I spent dreaming of you, watching you, needing you; this is not at all how I pictured it happening," I explained, leaning in to kiss him again. "I'm—about to," he kissed back, as I slid my penis inside him. Greg moaned, and smiled. I wrapped my hand around his cock, rubbing it, rolling my hand over the head, watching as his eyelids flutter rolled back in his head, breathing heavily, spasming in my hand. House came first, but not by much, and then he collapsed onto the mattress. I lay down beside him.

"Yeah, okay. I can see why people might think you are good at—I. Not bad," he panted. High praise, considering the source. Twenty minutes—and two Vicodin—later he lay beside me, mostly asleep. "Did you say it wasn't what you were expecting?"

"Well, the truth is. I um, I always figured you would be the one who made love to me," I admitted, kissing his salty, sweat slicked forehead. "But this is pretty nice too. Maybe next time we can switch." He was exhausted, and sleep deprived. All he did was shrug. "House, I love you."

"Oh shut up. Don't go and ruin a fun time by acting like a chick." He closed his eyes, and rolled onto his back, hands and chest turned to the side, like he had been sleeping in his office. "You love everybody." Greg closed his eyes and fell asleep.

"Maybe so, but you're still special," I whispered to his unconscious body. I smiled, feeling truly happy for the first time in months. I finally had what I always wanted, and all it took was House accidentally killing my girlfriend, my almost leaving him forever, House making out with Cuddy, and my trying to push the two of them together, so I could live vicariously through his relationship with her. But we were together now, and it was the only thing that mattered. "Thank you," I said in the darkness. "This is exactly what I needed. Greg would thank you for bringing us together to, if he wasn't such a—thanks from him too." I drifted off to dreamland, happy satisfied, and thinking not about Amber—another first in months—but of House, only House and our happily ever after.