Title: "The Princeton-Plainsboro House Saw Massacre"

Author: rancidbitch

Rating: MA, I guess

Disclaimer: Is Cameron still on House? If so, then I obviously don't own the show.

Summary: Saw parody, born from a comment my best friend made.

Warnings: cursing, violence, gore, rape, excessive Wilson mocking (which I feel really bad about), Chase stupidity

Spoilers: Possible tiny spoilers for "Babies and Bathwater," "Autopsy," and "Merry Little Christmas."

Author's Note: I wrote this a long time ago, but I'm only now getting around to posting it. This is the first piece I've had the metaphorical balls to post. I wanted to post something "humorous" before I put up anything serious, because I'm a pussy. Be kind, I'm sensitive.

The Princeton-Plainsboro House Saw Massacre

INT. STORAGE CLOSET – NIGHT

House wakes up in the dark, confused. He doesn't know where he is, and he reaches out to try to get a sense of his surroundings. That is when he realizes there is something soft and heavy on top of him. So he feels around on the something, squeezes a sweet, plump ass. House knows that ass, and he knows it very well.

HOUSE: Wilson!

Startled awake, Wilson jerks his head up, knocking House in the chin.

HOUSE: Ow, dammit!

WILSON: (panicked) What is it, what's wrong?

HOUSE: Where are we?

Wilson moves into a sitting position on top of House's stomach. House grunts.

WILSON: Um… (yawns, stretching)

HOUSE: Fuck, Wilson, mo—

House puts his hand to Wilson's bare stomach in an attempt to push him off, when he feels something warm and wet all over Wilson's stomach and chest.

HOUSE: Oh, my God, Wilson! You're bleeding! What kind of sick, twisted, fucked-up son-of-a-bitch has locked us up in wherever the hell we are and done this to you?

WILSON: House! House!

HOUSE: Shut up, we've gotta stop the bleeding! You could—

WILSON: It's not blood, House!

HOUSE: Then what is it?

WILSON: It's come, House. Don't you remember?

House lies silent and thinks for a while. After a moment, he finally recalls what happened earlier.

HOUSE: Ohhhhh, yeah. We had sex.

WILSON: (sighs in relief) Yes.

HOUSE: Sorry. I was disoriented. Couldn't remember. All the Vicodin probably didn't help, either.

WILSON: That's okay.

HOUSE: I still can't remember where we are.

WILSON: We're in the closet.

HOUSE: Not technically. I mean, Cuddy knows about us. I think Chase might know, too. Pretty sure he was watching us on the balcony that day…

WILSON: House.

HOUSE: I know, I know. Storage closet.(pauses) But I do think Chase might know. I've noticed that every time we're around him now, he has to leave the room.

WILSON: Huh.

The two are in silence for a while, House lying on the floor, Wilson sitting on House's stomach. After a moment, House starts shoving at Wilson again.

HOUSE: Jimmy, get off me. You're liquefying my internal organs.

WILSON: Well, sorrrrry! (moves off House) Are you ready to go back to your office now or do you wanna… you know… again?

House mulls it over, then sits up.

HOUSE: I'm kinda hungry. Let's go get something to eat. Then we can come back here.

WILSON: Okay.

After getting up and putting their clothes back on, House and Wilson exit the storage closet. They are confused when they walk out into a darkened hallway. House makes a face and looks around.

WILSON: Why are all the lights off?

HOUSE: (shrugs) Beats the hell outta me.

WILSON: Where is everybody?

HOUSE: Goddammit, if I don't know why the lights aren't on, what makes you think I know where the idiotic hospital staff frolicked off to?

WILSON: But I thought you knew everything, House. (waves his hands in the air exaggeratedly) You're the great, world-famous diagnostician, Dr. Gregory House! Everyone must bow down in fear of your intelligence and all-knowingness!

HOUSE: I know you need to shut the fuck up.

WILSON: Ooh, touchy! I didn't hit a nerve there, did I, sweetheart?

HOUSE: Can we please go eat now?

WILSON: I think we should see what's up.

HOUSE: And I think we shouldn't. If everyone's gone, we can get free food. Free food, Wilson. Anything we want! Pizza and stake and ice cream—oh, my! You don't have to pay one single penny.

WILSON: (considers for a moment) Fine.

House and Wilson head off to the cafeteria. Once they get there, they see that, just as with the halls, the cafeteria is dark and empty. The two of them grab trays and begin putting food on them.

WILSON: Just how long were we in that closet, House?

HOUSE: Eh… About twenty years, give or take. Although, we haven't had an official "coming out" party yet. Think they make banners that say, "Congratulations, You're a Big Homo!"?

WILSON: (sighs exasperatedly) The storage closet.

HOUSE: Oh. Not more than an hour or five.

WILSON: Then where the hell is everyone? The halls should be filled with people! It's starting to creep me out.

HOUSE: You don't think we were in longer than we thought and there's been some sort of zombie plague or something and we missed out on the fun, do you?

WILSON: No. I think someone would've paged us if that happened. You know Cameron would have paged you. (in annoyingly sweet, girly voice) "Let me know when you're dead, okay, House? Then I'll finally have my chance!"

HOUSE: Nothin' sexier than rotting zombie flesh!

WILSON: (puts his hands on his chest and uses "Cameron" voice again) "Oh, Zombie House! Now you're even more damaged and beautiful! Not only are you crippled, but now all of you're body parts are falling off and you're decaying! It takes my breath away! I'm positively creaming my frilly, pink panties!"

HOUSE: Of course, being a zombie, I would have to eat her. You could help.

WILSON: I don't know. She probably wouldn't taste very good. Or last long. (reaches to grab fries, muttering) Anorexic bitch.

HOUSE: Yeah. I prefer some meat on the bones. (pats Wilson affectionately on the stomach)

WILSON: (blushes) Thanks.

HOUSE: I like 'em pleasantly plump!

WILSON: Mm-hmm.

HOUSE: I like big butts and I cannot lie!

WILSON: Okay, House, I get it.

HOUSE: Give me that dunkie butt and them big ol' legs!

WILSON: House…

HOUSE: The bigger the cushion, the sweeter the pushin'!

WILSON: (slams tray down, agitated) House!

HOUSE: (grins) Yes, Jimmy, my big chunky love machine?

WILSON: Can you please stop that?

HOUSE: Stop what?

WILSON: Calling me fat.

HOUSE: (frowns) I wasn't calling you fat.

WILSON: Yes, you were.

HOUSE: No, I wasn't! I was complimenting you. To quote the exceedingly profound words of Beyoncé, you're bootylicious.

WILSON: Well, if you really were being complimentary, then thank you. But still… it makes me feel self-conscious. Like I'm a… It makes me feel ugly.

HOUSE: (empathetically) I'm sorry. I think you look good. You're sexah.

WILSON: You're just saying that to make me feel better.

HOUSE: (rolls his eyes) Oh, I am not! I never lie. And I certainly never say anything to make people feel better.

WILSON: (laughs bitterly) You sure as hell don't.

HOUSE: Do you honestly think I would have sex with you if you were ugly?

WILSON: (continues on getting food, grumbling) You had sex with Stacy.

House bursts out in raucous laughter. When he finally settles down a bit, he slaps his hand down on Wilson's shoulder.

HOUSE: I had sex with Stacy! Oh, my God, Wilson, that was a good one!

WILSON: Seriously, though, why are bitches always attracted to you? Cameron, Stacy, Cuddy, that seventeen-year-old that was stalking you…

HOUSE: I guess they see part of themselves in me.

WILSON: (smugly) But I'm the only one who gets to put part of himself in you.

HOUSE: (smirks, raising an eyebrow) Ooh, Jimmy, I love it when you talk dirty.

WILSON: I'm the only one who gets to have part of you in me.

HOUSE: You keep talking and you're gonna get part of me in you sooner than you think.

WILSON: (clearly turned on) I am gonna suck your dick so hard.

HOUSE: You know exactly how to woo this girl.

WILSON: I wish you'd tell Cameron to just leave you alone.

HOUSE: (grimaces)Well, my erection's gone.

WILSON: Why won't you just tell her?

HOUSE: I have! Countless times!

WILSON: No, you've told her you didn't like her. You've never told her to leave you alone.

HOUSE: But her sexual harassment makes me feel important.

WILSON: Someone constantly hitting on my partner and him not stopping it makes me feel hurt. And angry. Anyway, I thought I made you feel important.

HOUSE: You do. But her leaving me alone wouldn't stop her from being a self-righteous bitch towards you.

WILSON: No, it wouldn't. Did I tell you she actually had the nerve to insinuate that I didn't care about you? It took every ounce of self-restraint in me to keep myself from killing that little cunt!

As if on cue, as the two of them are heading to their table, they find Cameron's mutilated corpse lying in the floor. A chair leg is impaling her through the forehead. House and Wilson set their trays down and stare at her for a moment.

HOUSE: That… is… awesome!

WILSON: (tears welling in his eyes) Oh, my God, I never thought this day would come. It's just so… so beautiful! (grabs House's shirt collar) House, there really is a God!

HOUSE: This certainly is proof.

WILSON: (begins dancing and singing around Cameron's body) Ding-dong, the bitch is dead! The skinny bitch, the skanky bitch! Woo-hoo!

House sits on a table and watches Wilson's joyful song and dance in amusement. Wilson unzips his pants and pulls his dick out.

HOUSE: Whoa, whoa! Hey!

WILSON: (pauses and glances up) What?

HOUSE: What, may I ask, the hell are you doing?

WILSON: (rolls his eyes) House, I know you remember that talk we had about what I'd do if Cameron died.

HOUSE: Oh. Piss on her. Okay, go ahead. (glances down) Wait! What is that?

WILSON: Uh… My penis?

HOUSE: (points) No, that silver thing that's jabbed into Cameron's ribcage.

Wilson looks down and frowns. He puts his dick back in his pants and zips them up, then squats down to inspect said silver thing. Sticking out of Cameron's ribcage is—

WILSON: It's a tape recorder.

HOUSE: Ooh, swipe it! We can make a bunch of fart noises on it and hide it somewhere in Cuddy's office on repeat.

WILSON: Funny idea, but I think something's already on it.

Wilson rewinds the cassette in the player, then presses the 'play' button. "Don't Stop Me Now" by Queen starts playing. House's mouth drops open and his eyes widen and light up.

HOUSE: Hell yeah!

House sits and sways back and forth, singing the intro of the song with feeling. Then, when the song gets fast and upbeat, House jumps off the table and starts dancing (albeit awkwardly, thanks to his leg), still singing along.

HOUSE: I'm a superstar, leapin' through the skyyyyy like a tiger/ Defyin' the laws of gravityyyyy/ I'm a racin' car, passin' byyyyy like Lady Godiva!/ I'm gonna go, go, go, there's no stoppin' meeeee!

Wilson is watching House in amazement, mouth gaping. Soon, though, the rhythm wins Wilson over and he begins dancing and singing as well. For the rest of the song, the two men put on a spectacular show worthy of Broadway: their voices blend together in perfect harmony, and their dance routine is so marvelous and in synch it's as if they had rehearsed it. When "Don't Stop Me Now" ends, House falls over.

WILSON: (looks down) House? House, honey, you okay?

INT. CAFETERIA – SEVENTEEN MINUTES LATER

House finally regains consciousness from dropping over after his and Wilson's song-and-dance routine. He stands up and takes four Vicodin, then he and Wilson sit down at a table with their food and the tape recorder.

WILSON: I didn't know you could dance like that.

HOUSE: I can't. Hence the passing out afterwards.

WILSON: We should do something for the hospital talent show.

HOUSE: The hospital doesn't have a talent show.

WILSON: We could get Cuddy to organize one.

HOUSE: No.

WILSON: But it would be f—

HOUSE: No!

Wilson frowns, then begins eating his meal. After a few minutes, he remembers something and holds the cassette recorder up to House.

WILSON: Hey, I think there's something on the other side of the tape, too.

HOUSE: (his mouth full of food)Well, play it, then.

Wilson takes the cassette out and flips it over, then sticks it back in the recorder and hits the 'play' button.

CREEPY VOICE: Hello, gentlemen. If you are listening to this, it means you have found your colleague, Dr. Cameron.

WILSON: (giggles) Yeah.

CREEPY VOICE: It also means you have now set into motion a game which may decide your fate, whether you live or die. The two of you have been hiding your relationship from everyone you know: your family, friends, co-workers. Love is something one mustn't take lightly, something one shouldn't be ashamed of.

HOUSE: I'm not ashamed of anything.

WILSON: Not even your collection of Justin Timberlake CDs?

HOUSE: (defensively) Hey, he brought sexy back.

CREEPY VOICE: But does the denial of love mean that the love is not really true? Are the two of you willing to go through whatever it takes to prove your love? Even if it means risking death in the process?

HOUSE: Um…

CREEPY VOICE: The rules of the game are simple. I have set up a series of tests for the two of you to go through. If you pass them, it will be proof of your devotion to one another. If you fail, your future together will be nonexistent.

WILSON: I don't believe this! Cameron's dead, and the woman is still trying to break us up!

CREEPY VOICE: When you finish your meals, head to the nurses' station. There you will find instructions for your first test.

Silence then comes from the speaker. House and Wilson stare at one another for a while. When Wilson finally goes to hit the 'stop' button, the voice emerges from the tape player again.

CREEPY VOICE: Oh, and don't try the tuna sandwich. Seriously.

That warning signals the end of the tape. House takes the tape recorder and sticks it in his jacket pocket.

WILSON: Huh.

HOUSE: I was hoping there would be more Queen.

WILSON: You think they're serious?

HOUSE: (raises his brow) Wasn't Cameron's dead body enough of a sign that they were serious?

WILSON: Well, yeah, but come on. It's Cameron. I don't know anyone who likes her. Except Chase, of course.

HOUSE: He only wants her 'cause she looks like a little girl.

Wilson snickers.

HOUSE: (laughing) He's such a child molester.

WILSON: That pervert.

HOUSE: Michael Jackson has nothing on Chase.

The two finish eating, then head to the nurses' station. Behind the desk, they discover Nurse Brenda's dead body. She has been skinned completely except for her face, and her tongue has been ripped out and stuck into one of her eye sockets. House is absolutely giddy at the sight, while Wilson is too busy searching for their instructions to care.

WILSON: Where are the damn—

HOUSE: Right there.

WILSON: Right where?

HOUSE: There. (points at Brenda's head)

WILSON: Where is it? I don't see it.

HOUSE: (annoyed) Right there.

WILSON: (frustrated) Where?

HOUSE: (rolls his eyes)Oh, good God! (shoves his cane in Brenda's mouth) There, you idiot.

WILSON: There's nothing— (spots card in Brenda's mouth)Oh. I didn't see it.

HOUSE: You blind retard.

Wilson bends down and takes the white card out of Brenda's mouth. He stares at the card for a moment, brow furrowed.

HOUSE: (impatiently) Well, what the fuck does it say?

WILSON: (reads from card) "Part one of your test is sacrifice. The things we do in our life, whether right or wrong, can shape our being. As doctors, the two of you have affected many people—some you forget as soon as they are gone, others you remember forever. Your past has come back to haunt you. Go to exam room three; your first test awaits."

HOUSE: (irritably) Ah, dammit! You mean we have to go to the fucking clinic? That is bullshit!

Wilson and House walk out of the cafeteria and over to the elevators. With the lights being out, the two mistakenly think that the power is completely out.

WILSON: (sighs) Guess we have to take the stairs.

HOUSE: Oh, fuck me in the ear! I am not walking all the way down to that goddamn clinic!

WILSON: We have to go. That man said—

HOUSE: Fuck that man! I'm not walking that far! Maybe if we go hide on the balcony for a while, he'll give up.

WILSON: Or, he could find us and skin us alive like he did to Nurse Brenda.

HOUSE: (screws face up)Hmm. Good point. But I'm not walking down three flights of fucking stairs.

WILSON: (shakes his head) You are one annoying son-of-a-bitch.

House is caught off-guard as Wilson lifts him up in his arms and starts for the stairwell.

HOUSE: You drop me and I'll kick your ass.

WILSON: (sarcastically) Oh, don't worry! If I fall with you and break my neck, I'll be sure to land so that you don't get hurt.

HOUSE: Thanks, Jimmy. You're a true friend. (wraps his arms around Wilson's neck and kisses him) I wuv woo, honeybunch.

WILSON: If you keep talking like that, I will drop you on purpose.

HOUSE: But I thought you wanted me to be more sensitive and affectionate.

WILSON: Yes, but I don't want you to talk like a three-year-old, either. Chase is the one with the child fetish, not me.

HOUSE: Sorry, you two look so much alike. Except he has prettier hair. And he's in much better shape.

Wilson stops on the stairs and turns his head to glare at House.

HOUSE: Hey, didn't I already tell you I liked your body?

Wilson stares at House a bit longer, then continues down the stairs. House hums "Booty Man" for a while, then begins speaking again.

HOUSE: You know, this is kinda fun, being toted around by you. I think we should go places like this all the time. You could carry me to the store to get groceries, and out to my bike after work… Better yet, you could just carry me home after work! Then I wouldn't have to worry abo—

WILSON: After this is over, I'm only carrying you if you're close to death and can't walk on your own.

Wilson makes House get to his feet so he can rest for a moment. He then bends over slightly, placing his hands on his knees and breathing deeply, while House takes the opportunity to ogle Wilson's ass.

HOUSE: (nonchalantly)You know, that could happen. An accidental slip on an icy sidewalk; a head-on collision with a semi-truck; another gun-toting angry relative of a patient with better aim; a run-in with a big homophobic redneck who takes it upon himself to "help the good Lord rid the world of fag—"

Wilson jerks up abruptly and stares at House, a horrified expression on his face.

WILSON: House!

HOUSE: (innocently)What?

WILSON: (voice cracking) Please don't ever talk like that!

HOUSE: (shrugs) I'm just saying, Wilson, I'm going to die one day. Might as well get used to the idea now.

WILSON: I know you'll die one day—I will, too—but I just want it to be a long time from now, from… from… (throws his arms up in frustration) From old age! (ardently) House, I love you!

HOUSE: (disgustedly) You're not gonna cry, are you?

House looks at Wilson and sees that there are indeed tears welling in Wilson's eyes and his bottom lip is quivering.

HOUSE: (groans, rolling his eyes) Oh, fuck, here we go.

Wilson bursts out in tears.

INT. FIRST FLOOR LOBBY – NINETY-FOUR MINUTES LATER

Wilson and House finally emerge from the stairs, Wilson breathing heavy and sweating, House looking quite chipper. House jumps down, landing on his left leg, and starts to limp off. He holds his cane up in the air, using it to point ahead of them.

HOUSE: (enthusiastically) To the exam room, James!

WILSON: (panting)I just… need a… minute…

HOUSE: Oh, quit your bitching and come on.

WILSON: (panting) It's hard to… walk… when you… can't… breathe…

HOUSE: It's always about you, isn't it? Fine.

House sits down and waits for Wilson to catch his breath. When Wilson finally recovers, the two of them head towards exam room three. As they get closer, they can hear music playing.

HOUSE: That bastard had better not have stolen my iPod.

WILSON: (incredulously) We're being threatened with possible death and you're worried about your iPod?

HOUSE: It took a long time to get all those songs on there.

Wilson shakes his head, and they continue on. When they arrive at exam room three, they can make out what the music that's playing is.

MUSIC: I'm a slaaaaave for you/ I cannot hold it/ I cannot control it…

WILSON: Ooh, hey, Britney Spears.

HOUSE: Remember when we had sex to her video DVD?

WILSON: That was really nice.

HOUSE: (nods enthusiastically) Hell yes!

MUSIC: I won't deny it/ I'm not tryin' to hide it, baby…

House turns the handle on the door and pushes it open. There, in all his naked glory, stands Vogler, rubbing baby oil all over himself and dancing to the music.

HOUSE: (screams and covers his eyes) Holy Mary Mother of God! I'm blind!

WILSON: (wide-eyed) I think my balls just crawled up inside me.

VOGLER: (pleasantly) Dr. Wilson, Dr. House. Long time, no see, gentlemen.

HOUSE: (rubbing at his eyes) It's going to be a long time before I see anything again, that's for sure. Oh, my God…

VOGLER: After I got thrown out of this hospital with my hundred million dollars, I had a lot of time to think. Lotta time to plan my future. And I made many interesting points to myself, had lots of revelations that I might've not had otherwise.

HOUSE: What, like you were gay? Sorry, me and Wilson already did that, so you're not going to impress us.

VOGLER: Well, not exactly, Dr. House. Good guess, though. No, my revelation was much less complicated.

WILSON: You're investing in a timeshare?

VOGLER: Once again, no. Anyway, at least my revelation became less complicated once I met this fellow. (turns his head slightly) Detective?

Suddenly, Tritter emerges from behind a large, metal contraption that is covered with a white sheet.

TRITTER: Good evening, boys.

HOUSE: I have a bad feeling I know where this is going.

WILSON: Um, I don't mean to sound impatient, but what was your revelation?

VOGLER: (smiles) Maybe you would like to answer that, Detective Tritter.

TRITTER: Yes, well. (turns to House) We're gonna rape you, Dr. House. In your sweet, tight ass.

HOUSE: Oh, my God, I was right.

WILSON: (aghast) What?

VOGLER: We're going to rape him, Dr. Wilson. Hope you don't mind. After all, word on the grapevine is that you two are a couple now. Although I figured you were a big homo when you gave up your job for him.

TRITTER: You know, Dr. Wilson volunteered to go to prison for him, too.

VOGLER: (laughs) Really? That is so gay. (to Wilson) You're such a pussy. (laughs a bit longer, then clears his throat) Anyway, yes, as I was saying, we're going to rape your boyfriend.

WILSON: Why would you want to do this? (stammers) It, it, it, it's… wrong! On so many levels!

VOGLER: Because House got me thrown out of this hospital! He made people say bad things about me! I'm not as confident as I look, you know! It really hurt!

TRITTER: Don't forget, he also shoved that thermometer in my rectum and left it there. Do you know what it's like to have a broken thermometer inside your ass, Dr. Wilson?

WILSON: No.

TRITTER: It isn't a pleasant experience. But also, Dr. Wilson, you yourself should know better than anyone that House is quite the attractive man. That gruff exterior, those piercing blue eyes, those big strong arms… Who wouldn't want to rape him?

HOUSE: He does have a point. I am hot.

WILSON: (looks at House) You're absolutely gorgeous, but… No! (stares hard at Vogler and Tritter) I won't let you rape the love of my life. I won't.

HOUSE: God, Wilson, do you have to make everything sound so gay?

WILSON: (ignores House) You aren't touching him.

VOGLER: Just what are you going to do to keep us from it? Tell Dr. Cuddy? Call your mommy?

WILSON: I… (looks off in his patented anguished way, then back) Rape me instead.

TRITTER: (cheerfully) Okay!

VOGLER: (thoughtfully) You know, I have always wondered what your big puppy dog eyes would look like as I assaulted you with my massive cock… (shrugs) Sounds like real fun. Let's do it.

Wilson sighs in resignation and starts to walk over to Vogler and Tritter. House grabs him by the arm.

HOUSE: Wilson, you can't do this. Think it through first!

WILSON: I have thought it through, House. And I know that you'd never survive the two of them raping you. You're too fragile.

HOUSE: (scoffs) I'm too fragile? This coming from the same man who cries watching Bambi.

WILSON: No, I mean you're too fragile physically. I'm better built for something like this. And I know you pride yourself on your sexual experience, but I've had a lot more, and you know it.

HOUSE: (sarcastically) Oh, and you've been raped before, I'm sure.

Wilson doesn't say anything, just looks down at the floor. House's mouth drops open a little.

HOUSE: You mean…

Wilson bites his lip and nods, still looking down.

HOUSE: (quietly) God, Wilson, I… I didn't know. Who… who was it?

WILSON: Cuddy.

HOUSE: (eyes bulge) Cuddy?

WILSON: And Brown from Oncology.

House stares at Wilson, mouth agape, for several moments.

HOUSE: Why?

WILSON: How do you think I got the position as Head of Oncology? Brown was going to get it, and when my wife found out, she was angry and threatened to leave me if I didn't do something about it, so…

HOUSE: (incredulously) So you let them rape you?

WILSON: (shrugs) They told me that if I wanted the position, that's what I had to do. (shudders) Cuddy rapes like a man.

TRITTER: Excuse me, Dr. Wilson, but I believe you have a job to do.

WILSON: (looks down, then back at House) Greg, if… if I don't make it through this alive, I just want you to know that I love you. And I got some of those sexy boudoir photos taken of me last week; I was going to give them to you for your birthday. They're in the bottom dresser drawer underneath my pajamas.

HOUSE: (raises his eyebrows) Did you wear that slutty pink-and-black teddy I bought you in any of them?

WILSON: Yeah, I did, actually.

HOUSE: The fishnets, too?

WILSON: (nods) And I'm in full S and M gear in two of them. Whips, leather, chains, the whole nine yards. I'm naked in the rest.

HOUSE: (lustfully) Gah-ohhhhh, yeaaahhh…

TRITTER: We don't have all day, cancer boy.

WILSON: (quietly to House) He's an insistent bastard, isn't he?

HOUSE: I told you.

WILSON: Yeah, I guess you did. (wraps his arms around House) I love you.

House and Wilson share a passionate kiss—as passionate a kiss two could have while scary, antagonistic men threatening rape watch, at least. They hug tightly, and when they pull apart, Wilson rests his forehead against House's.

WILSON: (whispers)Never forget the Poconos, House.

HOUSE: I won't, Jimmy. Ever.

Wilson gives House another kiss. Then he sighs and turns around, walking to his fate. Vogler and Tritter smile.

VOGLER: Okay, now, Dr. Wilson—is it all right if I call you James?

WILSON: No.

VOGLER: Whatever. If you could just go ahead and take your clothes off while Detective Tritter prepares the restraints.

WILSON: Restraints? What kind of re—

Suddenly, Tritter yanks the sheet off the big contraption in the room. It is a sinister-looking metal machine, with two bending arms on the sides; at the end of each arm are large, claw-like clamps with tiny hooks running up and down them. A bar with two steel cuffs sits out several feet in front of the machine, and another runs out from the bottom.

HOUSE: What the hell is that?

TRITTER: (grins) Say hello to the Tritter Titty Terrorizer 5000. Designed to intensify the rape experience for the victim tenfold. (pats side of machine) I built this baby myself.

WILSON: What… what does it do, exactly?

TRITTER: Your wrists and ankles go into those cuffs. The "hands" of the machine—which have these wonderful little sharp hooks on them—latch onto your deliciously supple man-breasts. If you try to escape while the raping takes place, these mechanical arms will jerk back, painfully and gruesomely tearing off your voluptuous rack.

WILSON: (winces, his hands automatically going to his chest) Eek.

TRITTER: Dr. Wilson, would you strip down and step over here, please?

When Wilson doesn't move, Tritter grabs his arm and pulls him to the machine. He rips Wilson's clothes off, then bends him over, locking the steel cuffs around his ankles and wrists. Then he takes the claw-clamps, latching them onto Wilson's chest and inserting the tiny hooks into his flesh. Wilson yelps out in pain.

HOUSE: Be careful, you asshole! Wilson's boobs are extremely sensitive!

TRITTER: (smirks) Well. My apologies, Dr. Wilson. I'll try to be more sensitive. (fastens clamps tighter)

WILSON: (screams) Oh, dear God, my nipples!

HOUSE: (lets out a strangled cry) Wilson!

House takes a step toward Wilson, but Vogler grabs him by the shoulders and pushes him back. Tritter finishes attaching the machine to Wilson, then proceeds to off take his clothes. Once nude, he turns to Vogler.

TRITTER: Ed, would you like to rape his plump, juicy ass, or do you want to face-fuck his full, sensual mouth?

VOGLER: (ponders) Hmm… I think I'll take him from behind. The way you said "plump" and "juicy," it made me think of a delicious butterball turkey on Thanksgiving Day. (glances off in a daze) Cranberry sauce, sweet potato casserole, pumpkin pie… (drools)

TRITTER: Ed!

VOGLER: (snaps out of trance) Oh, uh… Yes, I'll rape his ass.

TRITTER: (nods) Good call.

Vogler gets behind Wilson, while Tritter stands in front of him. Tritter motions to House.

TRITTER: Dr. House, put it on track six on the CD player over there, please.

HOUSE: No.

TRITTER: I don't believe that was a question.

HOUSE: Fuck off.

WILSON: House, please, just hit the damn button.

HOUSE: (sighs) Fine.

House pops a Vicodin, then reaches over to the counter and skips ahead to song six on the CD player. The beginning beats of "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails fill the room.

HOUSE: Hey, I love this song!

Without warning—or lube—Vogler slams his cock into Wilson's ass. Wilson lets out an agonized, ear-piercing scream.

HOUSE: (horrified) Wilson! Oh, my God! (starts towards them) Vogler, you sick, cruel bastard!

TRITTER: I advise you to stay where you are, Dr. House, or there will be consequences.

House is about to protest, but thinks better of it. He stops in his tracks, sighing dejectedly. Tritter smirks, then turns back to Wilson, who is still screaming in pain as Vogler fucks him without any lubricated assistance. Casting one last amused glance at House, Tritter then muffles Wilson's cries by shoving his erection into Wilson's mouth.

TRITTER: Oh, yeah, you fruity bitch, suck my big cock. (moans) Yeah, that's right…

As Tritter pounds into Wilson's mouth and Vogler his ass, there isn't anything Wilson can do but whimper and cry. So he does just that. House, disgusted and horrified by the entire act, covers his eyes with his hands. Occasionally, he peeks out through his fingers, but for the most part, he doesn't watch.

INT. EXAM ROOM THREE – TWENTY MINUTES LATER

The last notes of "Wake Up" by Hilary Duff plays while Vogler slams into Wilson one, two, three more times, and then—

VOGLER: (moans) Oh, yes! Mmm, yeah, Sara Lee!

Tritter only holds out a moment longer, thrusting into Wilson's mouth and emptying his load with a drawn-out groan of satisfaction. He thrusts once more, then pulls his dick out of Wilson's mouth. Vogler finally pulls out a few seconds later.

TRITTER: You're good at oral sex, Dr. Wilson. Really good. (looks at House) As I've said before, Dr. House, you're lucky to have a friend as good as Dr. Wilson. Damned lucky, as a matter of fact.

VOGLER: (slaps Wilson's ass) Didn't think you'd be so tight, Dr. Wilson. I like that, I really do. Sweet as a Little Debbie strawberry shortcake roll.

Wilson whimpers in reply, spitting come out of his mouth. Vogler and Tritter begin putting their clothes back on, while House checks on Wilson. He kneels down in front of him with some difficulty, then wipes off Wilson's mouth and starts petting his hair.

HOUSE: (gently) Are you okay, Jimmy? You all right?

WILSON: (whimpers) I wanna go home.

HOUSE: I know, Jimmy, I know.

Tritter and Vogler, now fully clothed, are about to leave the room. Vogler stops and turns around, reaching into his pocket.

VOGLER: I almost forgot. Here, Dr. House, I was supposed to give you this.

As Vogler retracts his hand from his pocket, Wilson's eyes go wide and he screams.

WILSON: No! Don't shoot him!

VOGLER: I'm not going to shoot him, you pansy. I was going to give him this.

Vogler tosses a cassette tape; it lands at House's feet.

TRITTER: Oh, and here are the keys to the Titty Terrorizer. (tosses keys to House)

House picks up the tape and keys. Tritter and Vogler start out the door. Before he walks out, Vogler once again turns back towards House.

VOGLER: You might wanna check your boy's ass, Dr. House. I'm pretty sure I saw some blood back there. (exits, closing door behind him)

House unlocks the cuffs around Wilson's ankles and wrists, then begins carefully removing the hooked clamps from Wilson's chest. He helps him walk over to the exam table, gets him lying down on his side, and starts cleaning and dressing Wilson's wounds.

INT. EXAM ROOM THREE – A WHILE LATER

As Wilson is attempting to find a comfortable sitting position (i.e., one that doesn't make him scream out in pain), House remembers the cassette tape. He pulls it and the tape recorder from his jacket pocket, sticks the tape in, and presses 'play.'

CREEPY VOICE: Hello again, boys. If you're listening to this, it means you have passed the first part of the test. Congratulations. The second part of your test is bravery. Every day, the two of you take countless risks, especially you, Dr. House. But are you prepared to face the greatest danger of all? Go to the emergency room.

HOUSE: You heard him, Jimmy.

WILSON: Yeah, yeah.

Wilson gets up and they limp—House because of his leg, Wilson because of his ass—off to the ER. When they arrive, they see a young girl, around the age of six or seven, standing alone near a couple of gurneys.

GIRL: Hi, Dr. Wilson!

Wilson smiles and goes toward the girl, even though he has no idea who she is.

WILSON: Hello, there, sweetie. What's your name?

GIRL: Kara.

WILSON: That's a pretty name. So what are you doing here all alone, Kara? Are you lost?

GIRL: No.

WILSON: Well, why are you here, then?

GIRL: I'm playing a game. You wanna play, Dr. Wilson?

WILSON: (smiles) Sure. How do I play?

GIRL: You're supposed to stand right here. (points to a spot in front of her) And you don't move.

Wilson moves to the spot. House rolls his eyes and sits down on a stretcher by the doorway, annoyed by Wilson's apparent need to make all children happy.

GIRL: Okay, now you close your eyes and put your hands behind your back.

WILSON: Um… Okay… (closes his eyes and puts his hands behind his back) So what game are we playing, again?

Instead of answering, the little girl starts binding Wilson's hands together with duct tape. Once done, she leans down and tapes his ankles together as well. House is now watching with interest.

GIRL: Okay, Dr. Wilson, you can open your eyes now.

WILSON: (opens his eyes) What do we do now?

GIRL: We wait.

WILSON: For what?

GIRL: The pretty.

WILSON: (confused) The… pretty? What's that?

GIRL: (puts a finger to her mouth) Shhh!

HOUSE: (annoyed) Hey, here's an idea! Let's get the fuck out of here, Wilson!

WILSON: We can't leave her alone, House. She's too young to be by herself.

HOUSE: We have to complete the next part of the test, if you do recall. Can't just sit and wait for you to play some stupid game with a creepy little girl.

From somewhere inside the hospital, they hear a crash and a voice.

VOICE: (faint) Little girls?

The sound of dress shoes running on tile is heard from the floor above them, as someone rushes down the hall.

WILSON: Who the hell is that?

HOUSE: There's only one person it could be.

Wilson and House glance out and see Chase running through the clinic, slamming into things and knocking them over in his hurry to get to the emergency room.

HOUSE: (urgently) Wilson, get out of the way.

WILSON: I can't, I'm tied up!

HOUSE: Then hop away! Chase is getting closer; you know he'll do anything to get a little girl!

Wilson tries to hop away, but discovers that his feet are glued to the floor. He begins to panic.

WILSON: House! I can't move! I'm stuck!

Chase bursts into the ER, a wild expression on his face.

HOUSE: Fuck!

CHASE: Where are the little girls?

WILSON: House, help me!

Chase turns his head towards Wilson's voice. When he does, he spots the girl, and his eyes grow large and his pupils dilate.

CHASE: Little girl!

WILSON: (crying) House!

Chase takes off for the girl, unfazed by the fact that Wilson is blocking his way. House jumps up and runs to intercept Chase, knowing the young doctor will stop at nothing in his quest for little girls, even if that includes killing Wilson in the process. House leaps in front of Chase in an attempt to stop him, but instead, he gets knocked to the floor. Though he's in incredible pain, he manages to stick his leg out before Chase goes through Wilson to get the girl. Chase trips over House's leg and falls to the floor, landing on his face; there's a loud crack and blood splatters across the floor.

WILSON: House? House! Oh, my God, House, are you okay? (looks at girl) Untie me, you little brat!

The little girl giggles and scampers off, dropping a card on a stretcher as she goes.

WILSON: Bitch!

House is grimacing as he slowly gets to his feet. He takes three Vicodin, limps over to Wilson, grabs Wilson's arms and pulls them up, then tears the duct tape off Wilson's hands with his teeth.

HOUSE: You do your damn ankles. I'm not bending down.

Wilson bends over and tears the duct tape off his ankles. When he then attempts to move again, he still can't.

WILSON: House, I can't move. There's something sticking me to the floor.

HOUSE: Gee, I bet it's this newfangled invention called glue. Just step out of your shoes, you jackass. You can walk without them, you know.

WILSON: But these shoes cost me three hundred dollars!

HOUSE: Just another example of companies screwing over the consumer. My shoes only cost forty bucks and they aren't stuck to the floor.

WILSON: (puts his hands on his hips, glaring) House.

HOUSE: Just take the fucking shoes off!

Wilson grumbles something, then bends over again and unties his shoes. He steps out of them, making sure to step back far enough so he doesn't get into whatever had him stuck to the floor.

HOUSE: See, that wasn't hard, now, was it?

WILSON: You're a dick. (glances at stretcher) Do you want to read the card or do you want me to?

HOUSE: Oh, don't thank me for saving your life or anything.

WILSON: (sighs) Thank you for saving me from a terrible fate at Chase's child-molesting hands, House. I am forever grateful.

HOUSE: You're very welcome.

WILSON: Although, you didn't thank me for getting raped for you, if I remember correctly.

HOUSE: (solemnly) Thank you, Wilson. Your loyalty and courage in my time of despair shall never be forgotten.

WILSON: Not by me, at least. My ass is going to be sore for a month.

HOUSE: (pouts) Awww, poor baby. I'll make it all better when we get home, I promise.

WILSON: (warningly) Don't you even think of bringing Little Greg anywhere near my ass.

HOUSE: I wasn't. I meant that I'll treat it, take care of it. You know, like one of those big-time, professional doctors do.

WILSON: (nods) Okay. That's better.

HOUSE: I'll even buy you a doughnut cushion.

WILSON: (dryly) Oh, be still, my beating heart. He really loves me.

HOUSE: Hey, I don't buy those for just anyone. You see me buying doughnut cushions for Cuddy?

WILSON: No, but I can only imagine how she'd react.

House thinks about this for a second, then grins.

HOUSE: Ha. I need to do that someday.

WILSON: (sarcastically) Yes, I'm sure she'd love it. (picks up card) Now, do you want me to read this or do you want to?

HOUSE: (snatches card from Wilson's hand) Give me the damn thing. (reads from card) "The final part of your test will be one of confessions. Do you love each other enough to let people know of your relationship? Go to Dr. Cuddy's office; she has further instructions."

WILSON: That it?

HOUSE: Yeah. Why the hell do we have to tell Cuddy? She already knows we're together.

WILSON: I don't think we have to tell her. I think she's just supposed to tell us the rest of what we have to do.

HOUSE: Whatever. I'm getting tired of this shit.

The two of them are leaving when Chase suddenly jumps up from the floor.

CHASE: Where's the little girl?

WILSON: She left. That bitch. I hope she gets lupus. Or vasculitis. Or both.

CHASE: (disconcerted) Oh, bloody hell!

Chase seems as if he's just going to sit and mope, and then he realizes he's covered in blood. Confused, he looks around and sees at least six of his teeth scattered on the floor.

CHASE: (distraught) My beautiful teeth! Oh, God, I'm hideous now! (starts sobbing)

HOUSE: (snorts) Sucks to be you.

Wilson and House walk back through the clinic to Cuddy's office. As they enter, Cuddy looks up from her desk and glances around nervously.

CUDDY: Oh, thank God. I didn't know if you two were dead or what.

HOUSE: (waves a hand dismissively) Yeah, yeah, nice to see you, blah, blah, blah, big tits, yada, yada, blah, blah. What're the damn instructions?

CUDDY: (hesitantly) Well, I was supposed to tell you… to…

WILSON: Tell us to what?

HOUSE: (irritably) We don't have all fucking day, woman.

CUDDY: (sighs) I was supposed to tell the two of you to have sex.

House and Wilson just stare at Cuddy blankly.

CUDDY: In here.

HOUSE: (makes a face) That's it? That's our final death-defying task? Sex?

CUDDY: I guess so. But you have to do it in my office; those were the instructions.

HOUSE: Hell, we can do that. It's not like we haven't screwed in here before, huh, Jimmy? (nudges Wilson)

CUDDY: (bewildered) What?

HOUSE: Remember the last hospital Christmas party?

CUDDY: Wha… You two… Why didn't you just ask me? I would've let you, you know!

HOUSE: (shrugs) Wilson thought it'd be more exciting not telling you. When he's drunk, he gets bold.

CUDDY: Oh, you mean like at the Halloween party? When he got drunk and was so afraid that a witch was stalking him and putting curses on him that he peed his pants?

WILSON: (defensively) Hey! I only wet myself because Chase jumped out at me from behind the desk. It scared me, okay?

HOUSE: But you did keep saying there was a witch stalking you and putting curses on you.

WILSON: Actually, I think what I said was, "That bitch keeps following me and cursing at me."

HOUSE: The bitch being Cameron?

WILSON: Yeah.

HOUSE: Oh! You're talking about when she kept coming up to you and calling you a fat-assed, butt-fucking pussy.

WILSON: (sarcastically) Wow, I didn't think you'd remember her exact words.

HOUSE: Hey, when someone insults you, I make sure to remember it.

WILSON: Only so you can use it later.

HOUSE: No, I remember it because I care. No one insults you but me.

WILSON: (dryly) How very loving of you.

CUDDY: Can we get back on subject, please?

HOUSE: You're the one who veered off in the first place.

CUDDY: Shut up. (shakes her head) Look, boys, all I know is that the two of you are supposed to have sex in here. So… get to it, I guess.

WILSON: My ass is sore!

CUDDY: Hooray for you.

WILSON: (adamantly) There is no way in hell I'm taking it. No way. I'll die.

HOUSE: (groans) Fine, Wilson, stop whining. I'll be catcher this time if you just shut up.

WILSON: (excitedly) Really? You really mean it, Greg?

HOUSE: (rolls his eyes) Yes, James, I mean it. You get to fuck me.

CUDDY: (excitedly) Ooh!

House and Wilson look at her oddly. She gets up and runs to the door.

CUDDY: I mean, uh, see you guys later, hopefully. (starts to leave)

HOUSE: What do you mean, "hopefully"?

CUDDY: (turns at door) Oh, you know, if the person doing all this doesn't kill you first.

HOUSE: Oh. Right.

Cuddy walks out, and "Love Shack" starts playing over the PA system. Wilson and House stare at one another for a while. House glances down and notices that Wilson is already hard.

HOUSE: Are you really that excited about doing me?

WILSON: Hell yeah! I hardly ever get to be pitcher. This is great!

HOUSE: Well, let's get on with it, then.

WILSON: We need lube.

HOUSE: Check Cuddy's desk. She's gotta have some in there.

Wilson walks over to the desk and rummages through it. Finally, he finds a bottle of KY in the bottom-left drawer. He holds it up proudly, and then he and House go to the couch.

HOUSE: I really hate doing it on the couch.

WILSON: We do it on the couch at home all the time.

HOUSE: Yeah, but this couch is smaller. And uncomfortable.

WILSON: (waves a hand dismissively) Well, take some Vicodin.

HOUSE: You're encouraging my drug use? Wow. You must really wanna be on top.

WILSON: While it is exciting, it isn't the reason. My need for us to complete this test and not be, you know, murdered sort of surpasses that.

HOUSE: Ah. (takes a Vicodin, then pulls his pants off) Okay. Now ravish me.

After Wilson takes off his own pants, he and House get into a fairly comfortable position on Cuddy's couch. House is on his stomach, ass in the air, his right leg resting on a throw pillow. Wilson is sitting atop House's hips.

WILSON: Okay, are you ready?

HOUSE: Duh. If you hit my leg, though, I'll kick you in the nuts.

Wilson squeezes a generous amount of lube into his palm.

WILSON: Do you want me to prepare you first?

HOUSE: No. Just pop it in and fuck me silly.

WILSON: You sure?

HOUSE: Yes! Fucking do it already!

WILSON: Okay, calm down.

Wilson coats his penis with the lube on his hand, then squeezes a bit more out of the bottle and applies it to House's ass. He positions his erection at House's entrance, but he doesn't do anything.

HOUSE: (annoyed)What the hell are you waiting for, Gwen Stefani? Jesus Christ, do I have to sing the fucking song?

WILSON: Are you absolutely positive you're ready?

HOUSE: Goddammit, yes, yes, yes! Sheesh! Now I know why all your wives got tired of fucking you! You take too da—

House's rambling ends with a sharp gasp as Wilson shoves into him abruptly. Wilson quickly builds up a rhythm, one where he manages to hit House's prostate with nearly every thrust, and he reaches around House to start jerking him off. The room fills with moans, groans, and Wilson's declarations of undying love.

INT. CUDDY'S OFFICE – A WHILE LATER

House and Wilson are too caught up in the moment to notice people entering the room. When House finally comes, Wilson follows shortly after, then collapses on top of House. They are basking in post-coital glow, trying to get their breathing back, when one of their "audience" speaks up. It's House's dad, John.

JOHN: (outraged) What in the goddamn name of hell was that bullshit?

House and Wilson snap their heads around and stare in shock at the doorway, finally seeing John, Foreman, and another man who is too hidden by the shadows to make out. John is wearing a beige police officer's uniform, complete with badge, holster, handcuffs, and gun.

WILSON: (shrilly) Mr. House!

JOHN: That's Sheriff Hoyt to you, boy!

HOUSE: "Sheriff Hoyt"? What the fuck are you talking about?

JOHN: I think I asked you a goddamn question first! You explain what in the goddamn hell you and Wilson are doing, and then we might fuckin' talk about me!

HOUSE: (shakes his head exasperatedly and turns to Wilson)Put your pants back on, Jimmy. I guess this is "confession" time.

Wilson pulls out of House, and the two of them reach for their pants. Once they are completely dressed again, House and Wilson sit back down on the couch.

JOHN: Well, goddammit?

WILSON: Sir, we were going to te—

JOHN: (jabs finger at Wilson) You speak when I say so, you goddamn Jew boy!

WILSON: Yes, sir.

JOHN: Now, Greg, what kinda goddamn heathen bullshit were you just doing? You a goddamn faggot now, boy? Is that it?

HOUSE: (shrugs and nods) Pretty much, yeah. Yeah, that is exactly it, actually. But see, the real kicker is, Wilson and I have been together on and off since about the time we met. You hear that, Dad? Your son's been a cocksucker for years and you never even knew it!

JOHN: That can't be true, goddammit! You were with that bitch Stacy 'til she got you all fuckin' crippled, and Wilson was married, what, five goddamn times?

HOUSE: Three times, and it is true! (sarcastically) Oh, wait, I forgot! When you're in a relationship, you can't sleep with someone else! It just isn't possible!

JOHN: Goddammit, don't you fuckin' back-sass me, boy!

HOUSE: Or what? You'll beat me? I'm not a kid anymore, Dad; it won't work. I may be a cripple, but I can still kick your ass.

JOHN: (smirks)But you can't kick your brother's goddamn ass.

HOUSE: What kind of crack have you been smoking? I don't have a brother, you old kook.

JOHN: Oh, yeah, you do, goddammit. (glances behind him) Get your goddamn ass out here, boy; let Greg see your goddamn ugly face.

House and Wilson stare on as the mystery person steps forward, while Foreman just looks bored. When House's "brother" is finally revealed, both House and Wilson's mouths drop open and they stare in stupefaction.

HOUSE: (incredulously) Leatherface? Leatherface is my brother?

JOHN: (shrugs) I usually call him Goddamn Ugly Piece of Shit, but yeah, he's your goddamn brother.

HOUSE: What the fuck, man?

JOHN: Back when I was younger, years before your goddamn mother and I met, I lived in Texas with your grandma and uncle. One day we found a goddamn baby out in a dumpster. And I'll be fuckin' goddamned if I didn't find out 'til after you were born that I was the baby's goddamn father; turns out, his goddamn mama was this ol' girl I had dated and ended up gettin' fuckin' pregnant. Shit. Well, anyway, every once in a while, I go down and spend time with my goddamn family. We kill people, eat 'em… you know, good ol' goddamn family shit.

HOUSE: I told Mom you were an evil old bastard! I just didn't know how evil!

JOHN: Well, look at the goddamn pot callin' the goddamn kettle black! Least I ain't out sleepin' with goddamn men, like you do! You and your sick, ungodly homosexual acts! I figured Wilson was a goddamn fairy, but I tried to raise you better than that, Greg!

HOUSE: I can't believe you! You slaughter people and eat them, and then you have the fucking nerve to call me sick?

JOHN: It is disgusting and immoral, goddammit! You've fuckin' sinned in almost every other goddamn way, boy, but I'll be goddamned if you sin in this way!

John pulls his gun out of the holster, while Leatherface revs up his chainsaw. John points the gun at House as he and Leatherface approach the couch.

JOHN: Believe me, Greg, this is for your own goddamn good. Since you're my son, we'll make it quick. Would do the same for your goddamn boyfriend, but it'll probably take longer with him because he's so goddamn fat.

Suddenly, Wilson jumps up screaming like a maniac. He grabs a metal floor lamp and uses it to whack the gun out of John's hand, then rams it through John and Leatherface's chests. Leatherface, startled, drops his chainsaw and tries to pull the pole out. But Wilson, still screaming and yelling like a banshee, picks up the chainsaw and cuts off Leatherface's arms. Then Wilson goes completely apeshit and begins butchering John and Leatherface both.

INT. CUDDY'S OFFICE – FIVE MINUTES LATER

Blood, gore, and body parts are strewn across the room, decorating Cuddy's office in a most festive shade of red. House and Foreman are watching with amusement and awe as Wilson—big, pussy, sensitive Wilson—slices and dices up what's left of Leatherface and House's dad. When the chainsaw finally runs out of gas, Wilson comes to a stop and shuts up, then tosses the chainsaw to the floor, where it lands atop a pile of intestines. Wilson goes back to the couch and sits down, breathing heavily. There is a long pause before anyone speaks.

HOUSE: (cheerfully) Well, that's something you don't see every day.

WILSON: (glances at House and shrugs) He called me fat.

There is an awkward silence, and then Foreman finally says something.

FOREMAN: (smiling) Congratulations, gentlemen. You've passed the test.

WILSON: Excuse me, what?

HOUSE: You mean you're the fucking genius behind all this shit?

WILSON: You made me get raped?

FOREMAN: Actually, that was Cuddy's idea.

On cue, Cuddy steps back into the office, smiling.

CUDDY: You two having sex in here was my idea also. As was recording it.

HOUSE: You recorded us fucking?

WILSON: I prefer the term "making love."

CUDDY: (makes a "duh" face) Uh, yeah! (points to wall) You never noticed that red light over there, Mr. Pays Attention to Every Single Detail?

HOUSE: (shrugs) What can I say? Our sex is just that good.

WILSON: (nods enthusiastically) I got to be on top for once! Woot, woot! Who da man?

HOUSE: I da man.

WILSON: Fuck you! (pauses dramatically) Oh, wait! I already did! (triumphantly) Ha-ha! Stick that in your… apples, and… smoke… (looks down) Never mind.

HOUSE: Shut up, butt burglar.

WILSON: (frowns, then laughs) Butt burglar. Ha. Does that mean I just go around breaking into people's butts? (chuckles)

HOUSE: From the looks of yours, buddy, it's more like you steal people's butts and just keep stickin' 'em onto yours.

Wilson scowls, Foreman laughs, Cuddy snickers, and Chase suddenly shows up.

CHASE: (pointing at Wilson and laughing) Fatty, fatty, two-by-four, can't fit through the clinic doors! Ha-ha! Whenever you fall down, no one laughs, but the ground sure does crack up! Oh, my God, seriously, Dr. Wilson, one time I was going to run some tests on a patient, and you were standing in the hallway, and when I tried to walk around you, I got lost!

WILSON: (unsteadily) That's probably because you're an idiot.

CHASE: (laughing) No, it's because you're so fat! And all the, all the restaurants in New Jersey have signs on the front window that say, "Seats two hundred people, or Dr. James Wilson."

HOUSE: Chase, shut the fuck up or I'm firing you.

CHASE: (looks at House and shrugs) Cameron's dead, so I was gonna quit anyway. (turns back to Wilson) Hey, Dr. Wilson, you know why all your relationships fail? It's because every time you fall in love, it breaks! (begins laughing again) You're so fat, Dr. Wilson, that whenever House gets on top of you for sex, his ears pop! And then, when it's over, he has to roll over twice just to get off you!

House snorts out a laugh, then conceals it with a cough when Wilson glares at him. It's obvious Wilson is crying.

WILSON: (angrily) Yeah, well, at least I'm getting some! Are you, Chase?

CHASE: (frowns) No. (starts laughing yet again) You know, Dr. Wilson, if you were on Grey's Anatomy, you'd be… (thinks for a minute, then laughs more) Dr. McFatty! Oh, my God, I'm brilliant! I should have my own Comedy Central show! (clears his throat) Hey, Dr. McFatty—I mean, Dr. Wilson?

WILSON: (sniffling) What?

CHASE: (leans close to Wilson in "confidentiality") Do you know the difference between you and me?

WILSON: (gritting teeth) You're a shit-for-brains pedophile?

CHASE: (starts laughing hysterically) About a zillion pounds!

Wilson twitches, clenching his hands at his sides. He's still crying quietly and grinding his teeth together, and a red flush is making its way up his neck. House, Cuddy, and Foreman all back away a bit, glancing nervously between Wilson and Chase. Chase is just laughing and laughing.

FOREMAN: I'd shut up now if I were you. Seriously, Chase.

CHASE: Well, of course you'd shut up. You're not white, so no one cares what you have to say. I'm white and young and pretty and funny and pretty and was born with a silver spoon up my bum; everyone cares what I have to say.

HOUSE: Oh, this is gonna be so cool.

CHASE: Dr. Wilson?

WILSON: What, you dick?

CHASE: I'm sorry, Dr. Wilson, really, I am. I didn't mean to offend you with anything I said. I was just trying to be funny, and I'm sorry if it hurt you. This joke's not about you, I promise.

WILSON: (calms a bit) All right, thank you. (wipes tears away, then sighs) What's the joke?

CHASE: Okay, what's the difference between lawyers and vampires?

WILSON: I don't know; what?

CHASE: (uproariously) You're a big fatass! (starts cackling)

WILSON: (furiously)You little Aussie bitch!

In the split-second after Wilson saying that, he picks House's dad's gun up off the floor. Then, while Chase continues to cackle as if he's the funniest person ever, Wilson fires half an ammunition clip into Chase's torso, then the rest into Chase's face. Chase stops laughing. Obviously.

FOREMAN: This is turning out to be a really great day.

Wilson sniffles a bit, then tosses the gun down and turns to face House, hands on his hips.

WILSON: You see, House? Those jokes really hurt. I'm getting sick of them, I really am.

HOUSE: Oh, suck it up, crybaby.

WILSON: No, I mean it! Quit with the fat jokes or I'll never have sex with you again.

HOUSE: (eyes widen) Okay, now, let's not get too hasty here…

WILSON: (glaring) I'm serious.

HOUSE: Fine, all right, I'll stop.

WILSON: (nods) Good.

HOUSE: (anxiously) We can still do it, right?

WILSON: (smiles) Yes.

HOUSE: (sighs in relief) Thank God.

CUDDY: Are you boys done bickering?

HOUSE: For now. So anyway, what exactly was the point of all this? Besides your desperate need to see Wilson and me have sex, Cuddy?

FOREMAN: The point was to get you and Wilson to come out. The way I see it, the way Cuddy sees it, if you guys really do love one another, you wouldn't hide it. You two sneak around like a couple of damn spies, and it's just… stupid. Go public.

HOUSE: We'd love to, Foreman, really. But see, you're forgetting that a lot of people are homophobic. I have to deal with enough idiotic remarks as it is.

FOREMAN: (scoffs) Since when do you care what people think? And besides, this is New Jersey. Last time I checked, this was one of the most liberal states in America as far as gays are concerned.

CUDDY: Gay marriage is allowed here. Don't you remember barging into my office the day the bill was passed and gloating about it, House?

WILSON: (shakes his head) He gloats so much, he can't remember specific incidents.

HOUSE: Well, I've got a lot to brag about.

FOREMAN: Look, all we're saying is that you should stop hiding. Sure, you'll have homophobes everywhere you go, but not as much here. You shouldn't be afraid to touch one another in public, or kiss each other…

CUDDY: Or have hot, sweaty sex on the Diagnostics conference table with the blinds open.

FOREMAN: I think that might break public indecency laws, Dr. Cuddy.

CUDDY: (irately) Hey! I run this fucking hospital, and I'll allow as much gay sex as I want!

HOUSE: Well, now we can definitely add "watching gay sex" to your never-ending list of kinks.

CUDDY: I haven't had sex in years. Might as well get off watching you guys.

FOREMAN: Am I the only one working in this place who doesn't have some sort of sexual eccentricity?

HOUSE: If I recall, Dr. Foreman, you like the white meat. That's not easily accepted nowadays, either.

FOREMAN: I don't choose my sexual partners based on race.

WILSON: Well, we didn't choose each other based on gender.

HOUSE: (nods) I certainly didn't. I'm a big believer in the free lovin'.

CUDDY: (sarcastically) Oh, yes, because you have so very much love to give. You're just a big ray of sunshine.

HOUSE: (smiles and sighs) I am such a wonderful person. (pats Wilson on the shoulder) You're lucky to have me, Jimmy.

WILSON: (dryly) Yes. Extremely lucky.

FOREMAN: Whatever. Did the test work, House? Will you and Wilson stop being such pussies and come out?

HOUSE: I don't think Wilson can ever stop being a pussy. It's all he knows.

WILSON: I am not a pussy! (places his hands on his hips and tilts his head up) I'm a man, dammit.

HOUSE: The way you're standing now doesn't do anything to back up that claim.

WILSON: No sex, House. Just remember that.

HOUSE: (quickly) Sorry.

CUDDY: So are you coming out or not? Some of us have things to do while you bitch at each other.

HOUSE: Fine. Tomorrow, Wilson and I will suck face in every damn room in this hospital if you'll just shut up.

CUDDY: Even the clinic?

HOUSE: (grudgingly) Even the clinic.

CUDDY: Good. Now, Foreman and I are going to turn the power back on. You boys go home and get some sleep; you have a long day ahead of you.

WILSON: But we can't leave until we get our things.

FOREMAN: (points to corner) Cuddy had me bring your stuff down here before we shut off the electricity.

House and Wilson get their belongings from the corner. They pull their coats on and start to leave.

CUDDY: Goodnight, House. Goodnight, Wilson.

WILSON: (waves) Goodnight.

HOUSE: Yeah, later.

FOREMAN: See you tomorrow, Wilson.

House waits for Foreman to tell him bye. When Foreman doesn't, House scowls.

HOUSE: Well, fuck you, too!

FOREMAN: See you tomorrow, asshole.

House's scowl deepens and he flips Foreman off. The group parts ways, Cuddy and Foreman heading back into the clinic, Wilson and House going out into the parking lot.

HOUSE: I told you they were conniving spawns of Satan.

WILSON: I don't know; they do have a point. Maybe we should have let everyone know about us from the start. Cuddy and Foreman could've gone about telling us to in a different way, though.

HOUSE: They just wanted to torture me.

WILSON: Torture you? You didn't get raped!

HOUSE: Hey, I had to watch, didn't I? And I had to be bottom when we had sex.

WILSON: Oh, cry me a fucking river! I'm a good lover. You should be honored to have me do you.

HOUSE: It's not happening again.

WILSON: Then I guess we just won't have sex anymore.

HOUSE: (annoyed) Will you stop shoving that in my face?

WILSON: Sex is between two or more people, House. If I don't agree with the type of sex, you aren't getting laid at all. Nobody else would have you. (pauses) Except Cameron, and she's dead. (beams)

HOUSE: Let's just go home. I'm hungry.

WILSON: I assume I'm cooking?

HOUSE: Of course you are. You're the wife.

WILSON: (sighs and shakes his head) I don't know why I put up with it.

HOUSE: 'Cause you love me.

WILSON: (smiles affectionately) We all have our mental problems, I guess. (rubs a hand up and down House's arm)

House grins, and the two turn towards each other and kiss; it starts out as something soft and sweet, then grows deeper and more passionate. House's hand trails down Wilson's back and squeezes his ass. Wilson yelps.

HOUSE: Sorry! Sorry, I forgot.

WILSON: (sighs) That's all right.

They resume walking and shortly arrive at Wilson's Volvo. Wilson unlocks the doors, and he and House get in the car. Wilson sticks the key into the ignition and turns it. The radio switches on, blasting "The Safety Dance" by Men Without Hats, but nothing else happens.

WILSON: What the…

HOUSE: Rev it.

WILSON: (glances over) I am revving it.

HOUSE: (shrugs) Don't know what to tell ya, then. (starts singing along to radio at the top of his lungs) We can dance if we want to!/ We can leave your friends behind!/ 'Cause your friends don't dance and if they don't dance, well, they're no friends of mine!/ I say hey, we can dance, we can dance!/ Everything's outta control!/ We can da—

Wilson, still attempting to start the car and annoyed that it won't, reaches over and cuts off the radio. House glares at him petulantly.

WILSON: It isn't going to start.

HOUSE: Well, looks like you'll have to carry me home, then.

WILSON: The hell I am! Dammit, the car was fine this morning! What's wrong with it?

VOICE: (from backseat)Perhaps some of the wires have been cut.

House and Wilson freeze. Slowly, they turn their heads to look behind them. There, smiling his creepy smile, sits Tritter.

WILSON: Oh, God.

TRITTER: Hello again, gentlemen.

HOUSE: What the fuck are you doing in here?

TRITTER: Visiting. (pulls out ball gags and rope) After all, the rapin's are bountiful tonight. (chuckles sinisterly)

House and Wilson begin screaming.

THE END