A/N:

Updated 6/15/10 to fix horizontal rule issues.

House woke up with a throbbing in his leg. Grunting, he took in his surroundings and realized he had fallen asleep in the car. His leg was squeezed into the space between his seat and the steering wheel, and his knee stuck out onto the passenger seat. He slowly brought his wrist up to eye level. 7:00 AM? He had slept in the car all night. Slowly, he raised the seat back to the upright position, opened the door, and eased himself around to the side. He had to go up to the apartment for at least a shower. Sighing, he hoped his original plan of avoiding Wilson would still work. He grabbed his cane, levered himself up and out of the car, and slammed the door shut.

Immediately, his leg began to wobble. He leaned against the side of the car, gasping. He had slept in a bad position, and now he was paying the price. But he couldn't stay here in the garage forever. He rubbed his right thigh for a few minutes with his left hand, then tried walking. It hurt, but he was moving. He gritted his teeth as he slowly made his way to the elevator. When he reached it, he all but collapsed into it, jabbing at the button frenetically.

On his floor, he attempted to limp quietly to their front door, softly turning the key. He swung the door open slowly, trying to avoid any creaking. Peering inside, he didn't immediately see Wilson in the living room or kitchen. Relieved, he shuffled his way into the bathroom and closed the door. At this point it didn't matter whether he made noise or not, because Wilson wouldn't walk in on him in the shower. He ran the water hot, relaxing into it. He felt his leg pain lessen a bit, though the leg was still more tense than it normally felt. He finally soaped himself up, rinsed, then reluctantly turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. Unlike yesterday, he was completely aware of his surroundings, and he listened for any sign of Wilson moving around in the kitchen. He heard nothing.

Thinking it was safe to exit the bathroom, he did so, looking furtively around. It looked as if Wilson may not even be home. What a stroke of luck! House poured himself a bowl of cereal and sat around in nothing but his towel, chewing thoughtfully. He knew he would have to talk to Wilson at some point. He knew Wilson had no idea what had happened yesterday, and the way he had spoken to Wilson had been unfair. Any other person would immediately apologize to Wilson. House knew he should, but wasn't sure how to go about it. He would have to figure it out soon, though. Not only did they need to resolve this fight, but Wilson had outright told him that he had feelings for House. House knew he needed to make some sort of decision, and that if that decision didn't favor Wilson, it would only be fair to cut him loose.


Wilson fidgeted at his desk, pushing his mound of paperwork aside. He had left the condo super early in order to avoid a run-in with House, and now he was regretting missing that last hour of sleep. To his knowledge, House had been out all night with Erica. Wilson assumed things must be getting serious, because this was the second night in a row House had stayed over with Erica. Things must be going well for House to all but move in with her. The only interactions between House and Wilson during the last two days had been arguments and panic attacks. Wilson was starting to think this thing with House would be a losing battle. The thought made him even more exhausted, and he grabbed his mug, intending to procure some coffee from the Oncology lounge.

When he got there, the coffee pot was empty and starting to burn a little on the bottom. He sighed, rinsed it out, and set the machine up to brew a fresh pot. As he worked, he did not notice a pair of blue eyes watching him from the couch in the lounge. A voice cleared its throat, startling Wilson. He turned around to confront the intruder, but saw it was only House.

"House, you scared me!" he cried, shoving the coffee filter into the machine. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

"Didn't mean to," House replied softly. He then looked away, as if suddenly interested in the cracks in the faux leather couch. Wilson watched curiously for a moment, then turned the machine on. As the smell of fresh coffee began to fill the room, Wilson wandered cautiously over to the couch.

"Do you mind if I sit next to you?" he asked, trying to get House to meet his eyes. House just gestured to the cushion beside him, as if to say, go for it. Wilson sat, and the two men were again thrust into awkward silence. Finally, it was House who could no longer stand the tension.

"Wilson, I...I shouldn't have yelled at you like I did yesterday morning. You were just trying to...help, and I treated you like shit. I'm sorry." At this House finally met Wilson's eyes, hoping that it wasn't too little, too late. Wilson smiled.

"I think that's the first time I've ever heard you apologize to me, House."

House looked away again. Wilson worried that he'd gone too far. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything; just taken the apology and changed the subject. But as long as things were awkward anyway–

"House...you don't have to tell me what that was all about yesterday if you don't feel comfortable talking about it. But...you also don't have to be alone with it if you don't want to. I'll listen any time you want to talk."

House was so quiet that Wilson wasn't sure whether he had heard, or was ignoring him, or was taking a while to think of a comeback. Finally, House met Wilson's eyes for the second time, and gave Wilson a brief nod. Then he hung his head, as if afraid that if he held on to that moment, he would somehow destroy it.

Wilson could not leave the conversation alone until he was sure that things were fixed. "So are we...okay?"

"We're okay," House replied quietly.

Wilson nodded. "Okay. And...congratulations, by the way. Looks like you've found a good thing with Erica. I'm happy for you." Wilson got up and left before House could reply, because he really could not stand to talk about the subject for very long. Anything further said would destroy his good wishes and probably start another fight.

House watched Wilson leave, confused. First Wilson was interested in him, now he was encouraging a relationship with Erica? Had Wilson lost interest in him? Or had he simply been lying in the first place when he told House he wanted a relationship? Maybe House was too high-maintenance for Wilson. Even though he was needy, he did not make the best partner – he was snarky, never did chores, kept odd hours, and had trouble expressing his feelings. House really didn't blame Wilson for giving up on the idea. He might have done the same thing if their positions had been switched. So why had he felt so empty when Wilson congratulated him?


"I had a brain fart," he told Erica sheepishly, this time holding a full bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates. She stared at House before finally taking the flowers.

"If this keeps up, next time you're going to have to get me an entire rose bush," she joked, trying to lighten the mood a bit. Relieved, House took that as an invitation to enter her apartment, and closed the door gently behind him.

"They're Godiva," he said, handing over the box of chocolate. She nodded, setting the box down on the coffee table. House noticed that the teddy bear was still there. Maybe he needed to rethink his apology gifts. She didn't appear interested in stuffed animals, candy, or flowers. Might as well give her the big apology and get it over with.

"I acted like an ass last night, and I owe you an apology."

Erica nodded, raising one eyebrow. House realized what she was waiting for.

"So...I'm sorry. I should have told you what was going on, instead of demanding that you leave."

"Uh huh. And...what was going on, exactly?"

House sighed. He really didn't want to go there. He gingerly sat down on the couch and stared at his hands, resting his cane against his left leg.

"I basically acted like a bad sport because...it wasn't the fact that you were winning. It was something you said. It reminded me of something else that was said to me once, by someone I'd rather not think about. Actually, it brought back a whole flood of memories, and I got overwhelmed. It had nothing to do with you, and I didn't mean to take it out on you." At this last, he looked at Erica, feeling extremely vulnerable. He hoped she would take his apology and explanation at face value and not push him. He had gone farther than he even thought he could.

Erica looked into his blue eyes and saw what House wasn't saying. She could tell he was telling the truth, because he looked about ready to bolt.

"Okay," she said. She grabbed his hand, and he looked at her in surprise. "I can get past this if you promise to figure out a way to deal with your feelings that doesn't involve yelling at me. Whatever feelings they may be."

House squeezed her hand. "I was going to call my therapist tomorrow anyway. It's been a rough couple of days. I'll ask him for help not needlessly traumatizing you with my jerky behavior."

She inched closer to him, resting her chin on his shoulder. "You have a therapist?"

"Yeah, I was locked up in the loony bin last summer. Went off the deep end," he said flippantly, hoping that if he made light of it, the fact that he had been institutionalized wouldn't scare her away. Instead of getting up and running screaming from the room, she snuggled closer, wrapping one arm around his back and the other across his chest. House pushed the hair away from her eyes, then began tracing her ear with his hand.

"You know, I hear the crazies have the best sex," he ventured.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, the more insane, the better!" House grinned.

"Well, you've got to introduce me to some of your crazy friends, then. But in the meantime, I guess I'm stuck with you!" She stuck her tongue out at House.

House grinned wider and leaned in for a kiss.

Later, lying in her bed, both spent, House reflected on how lucky he really was. He had found the perfect woman who forgave him but set boundaries to what she would and would not put up with from him. She was smart, sexy, and compassionate. She had a sense of humor, and she didn't push him to open up and share past the minimum requirements.

So why did he still feel empty?