AN: My love for Gregory House M.D. is finally being expressed in this short story.

'How did the surgery go, Foreman?' asked House.

'Textbook example. He should get back to normal with physical therapy in... three months?' replied Foreman.

'It's good to hear that. I'll be in my office.'

Limping slowly towards the diagnostics department office, House was met by Dr. Cuddy.

'Clinic time! You owe me four clinic hours this week.'shrieked Cuddy.

'What amount of money and-slash-or sexual favours will it take for you stop pestering me?' asked House.

'Very funny, House. Get your ass to the clinic. NOW!'

'Watch those hormones, Dr. Cuddy. You don't want all that adrenaline messing with little Schlomo's brain.'

'I am not pregnant. And I would never name my son Schlomo!'

'Oh, sorry, Herschel.' came the sarcastic remark as the blue-eyed physician limped away.

'I've been hiccuping for three months stra-hic-ght.'

House was busy watching television on his portable TV while a patient was having violent diaphragmatic fits behind him.

'Can you hear me?' she asked.

'No. In fact, I've lost my hearing due to overexposure to stupidity.' retorted House.

A hiccup penetrated the air.

'I have better hic things to do.' said the patient as she walked away.

'Do you like Indian?' asked House.

'What?'

'Oh, not the sex move. Although how would you know that without near-encyclopaedic knowledge of anal sex moves is a mystery to me. Although you might have a near-encyclopaedic knowledge of anal sex moves.'

'You're sick!'

'Your hiccups were caused by curry. It happens. It's not uncommon at all. And I can see the curry on your shirt. Curry never washes off completely.'

'What am I supposed to do?'

'Stop cheating on your husband.'

'How dare yo--'

'Curry can only cause hiccups when coupled with strenuous physical activity. Either you bench 70 kilos daily or you're having more sex than Agrippina the Elder. And from my experience, no single man can put out as much as Agrippina the Elder demanded.'

The patient walked to the door. Then she turned around and looked at House.

'You think you're so smart. You don't shave, you are unwashed, and God knows what happened to your leg. I would be surprised if any woman would touch you.'

She exited and slammed the door behind her.

'She is right.'

House was sitting in his office. He was alone and there was music playing from his iPod. He did not notice which song or what artist. He was too immersed in his own thoughts.

The patient was right. No woman loved him. He was as alone as a wolf. There was Cameron, of course, but he shunned her and she was not coming back. Cuddy was quite out of the question. She was his boss and things would be very awckward. And Stacey... well, he couldn't possible ask her to leave her husband.

He looked at his cane.

'You will never leave me, will you?' he asked the cane.

He slowly made a shaking motion with his cane.

'You will never call me unshaven, will you?'

House was sure he heard the cane say no.

'You love me, don't you cane?'

And the cane leapt in his face, and House was sure that it was kissing him, nibbling on his ears, licking his cheeks.

'I love you too, cane.'

'I love you, Greg.' said the cane.

House slowly unbuttoned his shirt. The cane sweated in anticipation.

'I'm all yours, cane.'

The cane found its mark. it took House's nipples in its mouth and sucked on them. House felt like heaven. This was love as he had never tasted it. This was pure love, love with someone who will never hurt or leave you.

The cane busied itself with House's pants. It unbuttoned them quickly and found House's throbbing member. It took it in its arms and brought it towards its mouth.

'You taste so good, Greg.'

House grabbed the iPod and maxed the volume. He didn't want anyone to hear his moans of pleasure.

In his mind, every woman he had ever slept with was racing. Cuddy, Stacey, nameless women, paid sex workers, everything racing through his head, as if all of them were blowing him simultaneously. He thought of Cuddy, her little Jewish cunt, her shapely legs, her large breasts, which he remembered, felt so good. They would never fall. They would never go loose, even well into Cuddy's fifties. She was approaching fifty and yet she looked so good. And House knew he desired her. But with real women came problems. With real women came demands, love and other myths of happiness. His cane was his best friend. It had never left him. It had never wanted anything more than the occasional cleaning and repair. Cuddy could fuck herself. His cane was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

In a frenzy of ecstasy, House blew his load all over his cane, his desk and some of it even reached the floor.

'Like that, Greg?' asked the cane.

'Oh yes!'

'It's your turn now, Greg. Turn around.'

House turned around and felt his cane's gentle wooden tip pushing his back. It wanted him to bend over. He complied.

'If it hurts at first, don't worry.' said the cane. 'It gets pretty good.'

'I'm not afraid, cane.' said House.

He felt his cane entering him. At first, the pain was unbearable. But soon enough, he started enjoying himself.

'Oh, Greg, I'm coming!' shouted the cane.

House felt the cane's load all over his rectum.

He turned around and hugged the cane.

They will never be appart.