Title: Filling the Void
Fandom: House, MD
Characters: Lisa Cuddy, Greg House, James Wilson
Prompt: 034. Not Enough
Word Count: 1767
Rating: PG
Summary: She's tired of being alone at night. She wants something, someone, anything, to fill that emptiness that lingers like a thick, dark cloud.
Author's Notes: I was dozing off while writing this piece, so forgive any errors. I'm tired. Um--angsty Cuddy, and sweet Wilson and grouchy yet also sweet but not willing to admit it House.

Lisa Cuddy, one could say, was a proud woman.

She was bold, determined, and more than willing to stand her ground in any case. She refused to back down from a challenge, and often laughed in its face when it reared its ugly head. She wasn't one to get a little scared from something that she could easily stomp into dirt.

She was always a step ahead of the game (except for things involving House--he was a completely separate game she played). She was organized, prompt, and tidy. Never once had she let herself fall into a pit of disorganized disillusions that would send any normal person into a comatose state from too much caffeine in a futile attempt to catch up with the world. She was right in line with the world, walking hand in hand with it most of the time.

Her work ethics were that of a perfect model. She was more than willing to help anyone, show the ropes to newcomers, and was always willing to lend a hand. She seemed to be the type of person who spent her free time working on cases instead of getting her hair and nails done. She seemed like the type who would spend hours upon hours slaving away on the hospital budget, meetings, and other miscellaneous whatnot to keep everything prompt, idealistic, and organized.

What people didn't know was that yes, she was that type of person. Her social life sucked (part of this can be blamed on House for ruining every date she ever had within the past six years), she never went out with people just to have fun, and lived a life as a single bachelorette in a bed too large in a house so empty in a life so dull.

She had tried, really, to fix things. She didn't like the idea of returning to her house alone every night. She didn't like having to face the eternal silence all around her, even with the television on or the radio blasting a familiar 90s tune. It was unnerving, and to say the least, upsetting.

What got her the most was when she went to bed. Her bed--so large, so empty, was like a vast floor with no direction to turn to for help. Night after night, she'd lie in the flannel sheets staring at her ceiling only to look at the empty side of her bed with a certain yearning for that certain something to replace the emptiness that filled her in these times.

One thing she found that she didn't have enough of was friends, real friends who cared, loved, and protected. She was alone in the world--there wasn't anything there for her except for her job.

She needed something to replace the void.

Was there anything there to replace the emptiness she faced every night?

On this night, she tossed onto her side with the same air of numbness. Once again, she was home alone. She had been working on files, but went to bed the moment the old clock in the dining room chimed a mocking one o'clock. With a sigh, she stared at her empty wall and curled into herself.

Today had been especially hard. So many clients, so many new drug trials to get certified so they could be brought into the hospital's pharmacy, so muchloneliness. She ate lunch alone again in her office, watching sadly as other people bustled around with smiles or frowns alike, yet were accompanied with a familiar of comforting face, being that of a friend or a family member.

It felt like the whole world was taunting her.

She sighed, sitting up and stared at her clock angrily. It was one thirty-two in the morning now, she had to be up in less than six hours, and the higher ups weren't being kind enough to grant her the much needed sleep that she oh so desperately desired.

Again, the whole world was taunting her.

Who could she turn to at this time at night? She couldn't call her folks; she lost touch with them a long time ago when her career first started. The 'ducklings', as House had oh so cleverly put it, were not even a good option from the start. Calling Cameron would result in a breakdown of tears or an explosion of lodged in rage. Chase would mutter sleepily into the phone, asking while the hell no one here in this damn country can tell time. Foreman was okay to talk with regarding business and patients, but personal affairs were a no go.

She pressed her lips together in contemplation. House and Wilson were always out and about willing to listen (even though House would deny this, she knew he listened because of the advice he would give her later on in the day when he thought she wasn't paying attention). Wilson listened to everybody; he was just that type of man.

She picked up the phone and decided to call House first because she knew his number. Wilson had been living in the hotel room, and she wasn't sure if the lady at the reception was going to be kind enough to direct a call for a lonely woman in need of a friend at one thirty in the morning.

She dialed the number without hesitation and listened to the tone, feeling herself grow excited with anticipation and nervousness (nervous? Cuddy nervous? She was excited. She never got nervous--at least not a lot). The phone rang several times, the ring drawling out lazily. After the fifth ring, she sadly removed the phone from her ear to hang it up but there was a clicking sound followed by a groggy "House residence, this is Wilson speaking.".

Ah, Wilson.

Cuddy smiled into the phone. She was about to break into a conversation when a loud, gruff voice on the other end of the phone broke through, making the smile grow wider. The voice, property of Gregory House, cursed explicitly and promised pain to anyone if they kept him from his beauty sleep longer than necessary and started chastising Wilson for answering the phone like it was part of a business.

"This is a house, Wilson. This is not a restaurant. Stop with formalities and tell the person on the phone to grow some brain cells instead of killing them and go to bed."

Wilson growled with annoyance and ignored the man. "Hello, who is this?"

"Wilson, hi."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Cuddy?" She could just imagine the wheels in his mind turning as House would freeze from hearing her name escape his lips. She heard shuffling on the other end of the line and waited patiently. "W-what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry for calling you this late at night, but--" What could she say? She was lonely? She was depressed? Wilson would get awkward, start suggesting things to do, therapists to see, and just try to be generally civil. House on the other hand would break out into a full fledged bitch out and hang up. It was just to House.

"But what? Cuddy, what's wrong? Are you okay?" His voice was laced with concern. Good old Wilson.

She was about to speak once again but there was a squawk from the other end of the line as the phone was apparently ripped away from Wilson's ear and a gruff voice broke in. "Cuddy, what's going on?"

She inhaled a shaky breath and finally whispered. "Please come over, I--I can't be alone tonight. I'm sorry for doing this, but I--"

"Shut up, we're on our way."

She heard Wilson in the background start firing a thousand questions, each one asking about her condition and what the hell was going on, was she okay, and who the hell said you were driving at this time of night, thank you, now shut up and put on your bathrobe because we're going NOW.

She hung up the phone, staring at the clock was expectation.

It was one forty-seven when the front door flew open and Wilson dashed into the house, with Greg hot on his heels. The oncologist ran in, calling out her name.

"In here," She called out, watching as he swerved around the doorframe to enter.

He looked at her expectantly as House hobbled in beside the other man. The diagnostician took in a quick look over before eying her. "Cuddy--"

"--I'm sorry."

Wilson gave a small smile. "It's--it's okay." He scratched the back of his head. "I was worried something happened to you, you know? I sort of panicked and--" He tilted his head, looking right at her as realization flooded his features. His smile seemed to strain for a moment before he closed his eyes and nodded once. "I see, so that's it."

"What's it?" House eyed him, eyebrow raised.

"You like sleepovers, right House? I'm sure Cuddy wouldn't mind, and besides--" Wilson kicked off the shoes he was wearing and shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto a nearby dresser as he sat on the edge of the bed. "There's plenty of room for three people on the bed. I'm sure you always wanted to lay in bed with other people and tell stories, giggling like a little girl over a crush and whatnot."

The other man gave Wilson a look that said 'are you out of your mind?', then looked critically at Cuddy. Wilson shifted and cleared his throat. "That is, if you don't mind listening to House giggle like a little girl. It's actually quite funny to listen to."

She smiled as she scooted towards the center of the bed and laid back into the pillows, patting the large spaces on either side of her. "Please, stay in here tonight."

Wilson accepted the invitation without hesitation, and after waiting for him to get comfortable, House tipped his cane against the wall and climbed in on the remaining empty gap.

When both men finally got comfortable, Cuddy pulled the blankets over them and up to her chin. She was about to speak when two hands, one from House and one from Wilson crept up and wrapped themselves over her stomach protectively.

She could practically feel the smiles (or smirks) emanating from their faces, but at that moment, it was just perfect. The emptiness inside was slowly dwindling, being replaced by the love of the two best men in the whole world.

She closed her eyes as sleep finally overcame her, feeling complete for the first time in years.