Dislcaimer: No. I do not, in fact, own House,M.D. or any of its characters. Yes, I am a crazed fan who submits this written request to David Shore and all the lovely people at FOX to put House and Wilson together. Because that's how it's supposed to be.

A/N: My first solo House/Wilson story. They wants a baby!! How cute. So anyways...Enjoy...and review, please. Also, it's a bit OOC of times, which I'm ok with, so you should be too.

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Ahh, the perfect bliss of a Friday evening. The week was finally over, and Wilson couldn't be any happier about that. All week long, he was too busy to get anything done outside of work, which he used to not mind. It was nice for him to be able to come home to his empty apartment or hotel room at 8 or 9 at night, drop dead exhausted, and pass out into sleep. He welcomed it, actually, because then he didn't have to face a night on his own.

But now, he wasn't alone, and he wouldn't have minded an early night or two, where he and House could be alone together. But during the week, appointments and labs and clinic hours kept both of them so busy that they barely saw each other away from work, save for the few minutes before bed. He looked forward to those few minutes all day long. It was always late, sometimes 10 or 11 o'clock, and they both were exhausted; they could see it in the other's eyes. But then they got in bed, and Wilson, always the softer one of the pair, would roll over and tuck himself next to House, and wouldn't say a word. Occasionally, House would kiss his head and murmur "I love you," in his ear, but usually it was just the two of them, their bodies communicating what they wouldn't say aloud. Always, they drifted off to sleep like this, and woke up 8 hours later to begin their mutual days apart again.

But the weekends were always reserved for them. It wasn't so much that they stayed home all weekend and had sex, and didn't communicate with the outside world. But during the weekend, they usually did stuff just the two of them. They either went out to eat, or to the movies, or wherever they wanted to. And yeah, they were intimate. In more ways than sex, though. It was the times with the simplest amount of affection that Wilson knew how much he loved House. A look from across the room. A soft kiss on the neck or cheek. The way House's hands were always warm, always. The feel of the warm breath between kissing. It was those parts of House that he loved the best, and Friday, Saturday, and Sunday were the only days he really, really got to experience them.

That particular Friday, Wilson finished up all of his work at 6 instead of 7, and he went to get House, who he was sure wouldn't mind skipping out an hour early. He was probably napping, anyways. He pulled on his overcoat, flipping up the collar, and grabbed his briefcase. A few short paces later, he was standing outside of the glass door to House's office. To his surprise, House was hunched over his desk, filling out a massive pile of charts, with many more to go. He knocked tentatively, not sure he should interrupt his work, but then House looked up.

A faint smile played at his lips, and he nodded for Wilson to come in. He tugged on the handle and said, "Wow, nice to see you actually getting some work done," in a teasing voice.

House stood up and came over, his stubborn look set back on his face and said, "Shut up, smart ass." But tugged Wilson into him, setting his hands gently on Wilson's hips. "I do work all the time, even though you interrupt it." He muttered, landing a short kiss on Wilson's lips. Then he walked back to his desk and sat down. "Looks like you're ready to go home."

Wilson nodded. "Yeah, finished early. You gonna stay here and finish?" he asked, thinking for sure that he'd say no. However, Cuddy had been after him for weeks to do that paperwork, and he knew House liked to avoid her outbursts as much as he could.

"I have to finish this, or else Cuddy is gonna be all over my ass. Personally, I just think she's jealous of you and me, but what do I know? I'm just a simple physician." He put the pen to the chart he'd been working on and began to fill out information. Then he looked up again, meeting Wilson's eyes. "But I won't be here longer than one more hour. At 7, I'm out of here." House knew the importance of the weekends, and he rarely did anything to mess them up for Wilson, or even himself. "I promise. Go home and order pizza, and I'll be home by 7:30. I'll pick up a six pack on the way home."

Wilson hesitated, on the verge of saying that he would stay with him and help, but the sheer and utter exhaustion of the last week prevented him from saying it. "OK. I'll see you at 7:30." He walked to the door and had his hand on the handle when he heard House's low voice grumble something. "Huh?" he asked, turning, wondering if it was him changing his mind.

House looked up at him and said, "I love you."

Wilson smiled. "I love you, too."

--

At precisely 7:30, House walked in the door, carrying a six pack of beer and slamming the door. He set it on the coffee table and shrugged off his jacket, dumping it on the floor, right where Wilson was always after him not to set it. He looked around and saw no Wilson in the immediate area, so he went farther into the apartment. "Wilson?" He called.

He went into their bedroom, and saw that Wilson had probably only meant to lay down in bed and watch some TV while waiting for him, but it was obvious he'd quickly fallen asleep. He was laying down, his head tilted back into the pillow, and he was obviously in a very deep sleep. His mouth had fallen slack, and his hair had flopped into his eyes; he needed it cut. He was snoring softly, so you could only hear it if you were listening for it, and his shirt was rumpled and un-tucked out of his dress pants.

House kicked off his shoes into the corner and loosened his belt a little. He climbed into bed next to Wilson and gently kissed along his jawline, and Wilson's eyes fluttered, but he didn't wake up. House kept going, kissing along his jaw and then down his neck. It was one gentle nibbling kiss that finally woke him up. He snapped his eyes open and saw who it was, and laughed quietly in a tiny voice. "Sorry. Didn't mean to fall asleep, but you've done a fine job waking me up." He yawned and rolled over on his side so he was facing House. "God, I'm glad it's the weekend. I missed you." He pressed his lips gently to House's.

"Been here the whole time." House muttered when he broke off the kiss. "But yeah. I know what you mean. So that would be a ditto."

Wilson leaned his forehead against House's. "This week has been total hell. I've done at least 15 clinic hours when I was only scheduled for 8. I've had not one, not two, but three patients die...and I've had so many late nights I haven't seen you at all." He closed his eyes. "We should've been garbage men. Is it too late to change careers?"

House laughed. "Indeed, I think it is." He stretched back against the pillows, staring at the TV set glowing in the dark room. He laid a hand on Wilson's stomach and Wilson automatically snuggled closer to him. He stared up at the ceiling, lost in a thought that had been playing around in his mind for a few weeks now.

He and House had been going out for seven months now. It was starting to make sense why all of his relationships had failed, why he'd always cheated: he'd been searching for the perfect woman that would complete him, but he'd been trying to fool himself. The perfect person had been in front of him the whole time, but he'd missed it because he'd been trying so hard to find...well...a woman to make him happy.

House's touch had been the right one, the one he'd been looking for. When he first felt his hand on the back of his spine, the way his hands gripped his hips just the right way, his lips on his neck, he knew he'd finally made the right decision after nearly 20 years of being married to the wrong people.

But, truth be told, Wilson had always wanted what most people thought of as the "American Dream". He wanted the house with the picket fence and the 2.7 kids and, now, he wanted House in his dream. It wasn't the typical American dream. But it would do for him, just to be happy. He knew he would always be happy with House, with just House, but he knew that for the rest of his life he would feel like something was missing.

So he decided to bring it up to him that Friday evening, laying there in bed watching some crappy movie on TV that neither one was paying attention to. They weren't really focusing on anything, just laying there, hip to hip. Wilson felt his eyes dragging back down, but he wouldn't let himself go back to sleep. At least not until after he'd said what he was going to.

"Hey...Greg?" he said, leaning his head on House's shoulder. House automatically moved to his arm around Wilson, a habit he'd picked up over time.

"Yeah?" He muttered. He was half awake, at best, having had a hard week himself, and the boring movie droning on the set in front of them was proving to be more of a lullaby than it should've been. Nevertheless, he fixed his gaze on Wilson's face, meeting his brown eyes and holding his gaze.

"I've been wanting to talk to you about something." Wilson twisted his tie in his fingers, wrinkling the expensive silk quickly. It was a nervous habit of his, playing with his ties. Whenever anything serious was being discussed, he would gently pick at his tie. When he was at work, a tie clip kept him from making a fool of himself in front of patients, but here at home he wasn't wearing one, so his feelings of nervousness were clearly conveyed.

"What is it?" House asked, straightening beside him and really listening. He was no longer asleep, no where near it, because all of a sudden he got the feeling that this was the end. This was the part where Wilson either realized that A. He wasn't gay, it had all been a mistake, or B. He thought they were no longer relationship material. He swallowed a dry lump in his throat.

"I just..." the words were hard to get out, because he wasn't sure how House would take it. He didn't want to jeopardize what they had, but he also didn't want to stay this way, childless, forever, if he could do something to change it. He took a deep breath; now or never, he thought. "I want to have a kid." He blurted out.

The clock that was above their bed was suddenly ticking loudly. House's jaw had dropped, literally, and he was just staring. For a few minutes, they lay there in silence; the only sounds to be heard were the ticking of the clock and their deep breathes. Finally, House broke the silence. "A kid?" He questioned, disbelief clouding his eyes.

"You want to have a kid?" He narrowed his eyebrows a little, and Wilson nodded. "That's..." House shook hie head. "...unbelievable. I don't like it." He said. Thoughts of dirty diapers and screaming and tears filled his head. "No." He stated flatly.