Title: Porridge and Bedtime Tales
Fandom: House, MD
Characters: Lisa Cuddy, Greg House, James Wilson
Prompt: 021. Friends
Word Count: 2,443
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Cuddy and House are being just a little overprotective of Wilson. Well, Cuddy is anyway. House is merely trying to corrupt his mind.
Author's Notes: As requested by Fan, who came up with the idea. Kudos to you! I highly recommend reading the first part (He's Our Baby Bear) before reading this one--some things you may not 'get'. But overall, uh--enjoy? Lots of crack. And OOCness. Yes, my apologies, but it comes with the crack. And the music. BTW: I'm not continuing it after this. THIS IS THE END. PERIOD.
Random: Music of the moment is Falcon Paaawn (Iyaaaaahhh Mix), aka ファルコン☆パーン（イ゛ェアアアアアMIX）Tee hee, so cute.

The ride to House's apartment was comfortable, surprisingly enough. Sure, they did their usual banter ("Some pizza, porn, and beer will put you in the right in no time!" "House, unless you want to die an early death, don't even try. I wouldn't mind, but Cuddy will skin you alive." "You know, that would hurt." "I know. "That's precisely why she'd do it, and plus she'd think it would be fun."), but the banter was familiar, calm, and not as tense as it had been back in the office. Whatever tension, anger, or whatnot that had been eating at Wilson appeared to have been drained from him.

It was great to have the other witty Wilson back, despite the other Wilson being as tired as the other. The witty Wilson who'd snerk (that's right, snerk) at everything and throw in his two pennies just to embarrass the hell out of House, which he seldom did, but when he did, he was fierce about it.

Pulling up to the parking space, House threw on the parking brake and turned off the engine. He looked over to Wilson, who was smiling at him. House's eyebrow twitched. "What are you so damn happy about?"

The oncologist's voice came out a little happy and in a singsong tone. "Nothing."

House must've made a face of disbelief because Wilson threw his hands up and made a face. "Honest, nothing."

"Uh huh, and I'm Frank Sinatra."

"You must have known that I was lonely, because you came to my rescue, and I know that this must be heaven, how could so much love be inside of you?"

House stared at Wilson, who made a sheepish face and rubbed the back of his neck while his face began to turn a light shade of pink.

"Get out of the car."

"Yes, sir."

House hopped out of the car, grabbing his cane in the process, and hobbled to the door. Wilson, being Wilson, had already unlocked the door and had made himself comfortable on the couch. House scowled at the man as he tossed his jacket onto a chair. "Comfy?"

"Quite," Wilson agreed and relaxed.

"Hungry?"

"A little."

"Order takeout."

"Cuddy will have your hide."

"It'll be yours when she learns it was your idea," the diagnostician disappeared into the kitchen and began to shuffle through his cupboards. What did he have that was edible?

Opening another cupboard answered his question. "Hey Wilson, is porridge kosher?"

"Why do you ask?"

That would be a yes. House took out a pot and dumped the entire box of porridge mix into the pan with a shrug. "Just curious."

Wilson was at his side in a heartbeat. "With you, you're never 'just curious'." He stared at the pan. "You're not seriously making porridge, are you?"

"At least if you die now, you'll die eating what Cuddy said to eat. She can't yell at me for not feeding you that damn porridge. Hey, hand me that spoon."

The oncologist reached around and grabbed the requested item, handing to House quickly. "Have you actually ever made porridge in your life?"

"I made it once."

"And--?" Wilson made a motion with his hands for more details and House merely shrugged.

"It's why the box was practically full still. I don't like porridge."

Wilson didn't appear to be reassured. "Okay, I can take that two ways. The first being a miracle in which you actually made porridge correctly and you didn't like the taste, or you screwed up miserably."

"Porridge isn't supposed to turn black, is it?"

The other man narrowed his eyes and instantly lept at the pan. "What? You're burning it already?!"

"No, but the last batch was black."

"You know, I don't think I'm that hungry. I think I can wait a bit--"

"Nonsense," House turned him and shoved him towards the living room. "Relax, watch some porn. You're going to eat your damn porridge, Baby bear, because Papa bear said so."

Wilson snorted and walked towards the couch. "Papa bear isn't a very good role model if he's telling his son to watch porn."

"It builds character, now shut up and change the channel. We do not need to see teenage angst and he was so totally cheating on Laurie, despite being engaged with Tammie, and also did I mention that he knocked up that Cheryl chick on there?"

Wilson stared and House shrugged. "It's amazing what you remember when channel surfing."

The other man didn't look convinced but changed the channel nonetheless.

It wasn't that much longer when House deemed the porridge ready and spooned it into a bowl. Grabbing the milk, he poured it in with it. At the last minute, he grabbed the tin of sugar and tucked it under his arm and hobbled into the living room.

That was when he shoved the bowl under Wilson's nose, who made an alarmed noise in the back of his throat.

"Porridge, for the Baby bear. I hope it's not too hot, or too cold, but just right. After all, Baby's stuff was always perfect, the little prude." House flopped onto the cushion next to Wilson, startling the man into a balancing act with the bowl and sugar.

"With the way you talk, you sound as if you're jealous of Baby bear," Wilson grinned as he began to pour in gracious amounts of sugar into the slop.

"Psh, why shouldn't I? He had the most comfortable bed, the most comfortable chair, the best tasting food, lucky shit."

"In the end, his chair broke, his food was eaten, and he was caught in bed." Wilson raised a brow.

"Leaving that last part unfinished leaves him wide open for all sorts of torment," House would've cackled had it been part of his character at the moment. "Like, 'he was caught in bed with a hooker, that naughty little fairy tale fiend. Mama bear was pissed off and gave him lots of clinic duty, and Papa bear congratulated Baby bear and asked where the hell he found that lady with the legs that end on next Tuesday'."

"Didn't we already have this discussion? Papa bear is a bad role model." Wilson snapped the lid shut on the sugar and dropped it onto House's lap. "That's why later on Mama bear filed for a divorce and forbid Papa bear from ever seeing the baby again because should he go anywhere near the kid, she threatened to do things to certain structures of his anatomy with a pair of scissors. Remember the tie?"

House faked a sniffled. "Poor tie. Too bad it wasn't one of yours."

Wilson glared and blew across the spoon to cool the food. Slowly, he brought the spoon into his mouth and hesitated.

"Relax, it's not poisoned."

"No, but it's surprisingly good." Wilson stared into the bowl with surprise and House stared at him.

"Are you serious?" He grabbed the spoon and took in a mouthful as well. "Oh no way, I can really cook?"

The oncologist laughed. "Amazing! The Gregory House can cook something that isn't soup and peanut butter. World, fear him and his almighty culinary skills."

House smirked, looking away with the smug expression. "Damn straight."

"Can I have the spoon back?" Wilson held out a hand for said item impatiently. "I'm hungry."

The man looked to the spoon, then back to his friend with a smirk. "Want me to spoon feed you?"

"Wha--House, what are you--" Wilson made a muffled noise when the spoon was instantly stuffed into his mouth and removed instantaneously. He worked his jaw for a moment, then his Adam's apple bobbed with he swallowed. "You're not seriously going to spoon feed me, are you?"

A twirling spoon was all that he got for a response before it took a nosedive into his mouth again.

Once again, he swallowed and glared. "House, I'm capable of feeding myself." He reached for the spoon but it was swiped from his grasp. He pouted.

"What are you complaining for?" House scooped up more porridge and held it out. "Call it--service. You'll be paying me back in no time."

"Oh?"

House threw a thumb back into the kitchen. "That's going to be one hell of a job cleaning out that pan." Wilson made a pained face while the man grinned. "Now open the tunnel, here comes the choo-choo!"

"I'm telling."

"The only thing that will happen is Mama bear will piss her pants laughing."

Although Mama bear didn't piss her pants, she did get a good laugh when Papa bear decided to take it into his hands and present to her Baby bear and the choo-choo.

She did have a bit more pity for Wilson than she did for House. "My, House, you make a better Mama bear than a Papa bear! Is there something you wish to tell me?" She smirked at him, leveled her chin onto a fine hand that rested lazily on the back of the couch.

House scowled at her. "Who is the idiot who came up with the Mama bear, Papa bear, and Baby thing?"

"Ah, that would be you."

"You know what, shut up, Wilson."

"Be nice to Wilson." Cuddy narrowed her eyes at him. "At least you had the decency to feed Wilson. I'll give you that much. But I want you feeling better fast. Now go to bed."

"But--"

"Bed." Her voice suddenly became sinister, and my, did the room suddenly darken?

Even House looked slightly unnerved by the fact that maybe, just maybe, a swirling vortex would open up in his living room and millions of Cuddy's would fly out, and--

--all right, no more television and ecstasy for the rest of the night.

Wilson gave a sheepish smile. "I tend to sleep on the couch, so it would be just a little difficult to--"

"On the couch?!" She whirled around and snapped at House. "You make him sleep on the couch?!"

He shrugged. "It's what he wanted."

"Unacceptable! Wilson, go sleep in House's bed."

The poor man's eyes nearly rocketed out of his head at her demands, and House nearly had a stroke. Cuddy merely looked pleased with herself. "If that bed is big enough for you and Stacey, I'm pretty sure that Wilson can have half of it until this is righted out, no?"

"I'm fine on the couch, really--"

She swooped in, giving him a look. "Don't argue with me."

He clamped him mouth shut and nodded hesitantly. A strong hand grabbed his arm and yanked him off the couch.

"Good! Let's get you ready for bed then!"

"Okay, this is a little bit ridiculous, I'm old enough to take care of myself and--"

Cuddy twirled around and glared. "I'm Mama bear, remember? You're Baby bear. Don't argue."

Wilson sighed. "This is all your fault, House."

House looked off to the side. "Shut up. It's your fault for being all whiney and pathetic and caring."

"You--" Cuddy appeared out of nowhere - how does that woman do that? - and was chastising House. "--be nice to Wilson. He needs us."

"No I don't."

"He's not well."

"I'm feeling great."

"He's probably feeling dreadful."

"I'm feeling fantastic."

She turned and glared. "Not helping."

He shrugged. "I know. It's because I don't want to be in here, really, I don't. And I don't need this. Honestly."

"You do, you should, you will, you got it, now shut up, strip, and throw on these." She threw a pair of blue silk boxers at him, along with a faded gray tee-shirt. He sputtered.

"Where--"

"House's closet." He threw them on the ground and stared at them as it they were going to bite him. "They're clean, I made sure of it."

Hesitantly, Wilson picked them up. "All right, I'll--be right back." With that, he hurried into the bathroom.

House rolled his eyes.

A few minutes later, Wilson came out in the clothes, still looking uncomfortable. "Do I really have to wear these?"

"Yes, now shut up and get to bed." She turned him and directed him to the large bed, shoving him onto it without any grace or patience. "I'm going to tell you a little story."

"Oh hell no."

"Once upon a time--"

"Cuddy, no. Just--no."

"--there lived a cottage with three bears."

"House, stop snickering."

"There was the Papa bear, the Mama bear, and--"

"Oh oh! I know this one, the baby bear, right?"

"House, I'm going to stab you with your cane. After I pour your Vicodin down the drain and run the water."

"Will you two shut up and let me tell the story?!" Cuddy snapped, face growing red with irritation.

Wilson snapped his mouth shut, looking flushed (embarrassed), and House merely snorted (nervously, and slightly quietly, which was noted).

"So, anyway--" She continued on with the story. She went on about the bears and their trip ('they went to the mall,', interjected House helpfully, receiving an eye roll from both people), then Goldilocks entering the scene ('breaking and entering, I'd like to see her try to get in here and eat MY porridge.'), eating the porridge, sitting in the chair, and sleeping in the beds ('that whore.').

By the time Cuddy had finished, she clasped her hands shut and looked to Wilson, who had fallen asleep somewhere along her story. She smiled, rising to her feet and pulling the blankets up to his chin.

She turned off the small lamp and ushered House out of the room. "Let him sleep, he needs it."

"After hearing that story, I think he's going to need a bit more than a good night's rest. When can I schedule him for psychotherapy?"

"House, go to bed."

"Yes, Mama bear."