A/N: This a product of allergies, too much Benedryl, and too little inspiration, but it was also necessary to move the story along. Enjoy, and please review. Your reviews help shape the story! Nothing is set in stone yet.

House woke up violently, seizing his leg as the early-morning dose of pain shot through him. Letting out a strangled cry and fumbled for his pills. Confused as to why his night stand wasn't where it should be, he forced his eyes open. He realized he wasn't at home, and that was as far as he got before a pill was shoved into his hand. "Here," a voice dripping with concern told him, and he swallowed it, not caring if it was his vicodin, or rat poison as long as it made it stop. That blast from the taser must have done a little more damage than he thought.

Finally able to form coherent thought, he looked up at the frightened young man standing over him. Not Wilson. Who…? "Daniel?"

"Jimmy told me to give those to you as soon as you woke up. He said you wouldn't be at your best, but geez!"

House was too grateful for the vicodin to even roll his eyes at the kid. "Where is he? He still okay?"

Daniel nodded, and sensing that he was crowding his guest, he went back to the computer at the desk across the room. "He's fine. He woke up about thirty minutes ago, and went to help Mama with breakfast. Can he really cook, or is he just sucking up?"

House managed to sit up and swing both legs over the side of the bed and found his cane leaning where he had left it against the wall. "He can probably teach your Mama a thing or two."

When House finally made his way slowly to the kitchen, he heard a female voice, and then Wilson laugh. It was a laugh that House used to know well, full, unrestrained, not in the least self-conscious. It was the laugh of someone who didn't have a care in the world. Wilson just didn't laugh like that enough anymore. He stood outside the door for a moment, just listening to his friend laugh and joke with the older woman, and enjoyed the fact that his friend was thoroughly enjoying himself. Suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him, and spun swiftly to come face-to-face with Daniel. "She's like that," the young man whispered, instinctively knowing that this wasn't to be overheard. "She can make people feel at ease, even if she just met them."

House smiled, both at the statement, and at how easily the young man understood his thought. Usually, that would be a little scary, but somehow it seemed fitting. Then he went into the kitchen, unnoticed at first, watching Wilson and an older woman with her grey hair pulled up in a bun putter around the room. They worked seamlessly around each other, as if they had worked together for a decade, not like they had just met this morning. Wilson's hair was messy, and he had flour on his face and t-shirt. The blood was gone from his face, but the bruises were even more pronounced. Even the easy smile couldn't erase House's guilt for getting him into this mess.

Finally, he couldn't take being ignored, even inadvertently. "I always said you'll make a great wife someday," He said, finally getting Wilson's attention.

The pan of biscuits clattered down on the counter as Wilson jumped at the sound of his friend's voice. "Jesus, House! Where did you come from?"

The woman shook a rolling pin at him, and glared threateningly. "Don't be using the Lord's name in vain in my kitchen, boy!"

Wilson turned red and looked suitably contrite. "I'm sorry, Ms. Forester. It won't happen again."

"Yeah, Jimmy," House chimed in. "You're Jewish, you shouldn't say that anyway!"

"James, could you get the eggs out of the frigde?" Ms. Forester asked, seeming to instantly forget his transgression in favor of enjoying the extra pair of hands in the kitchen that her children rarely gave. "How does everybody want theirs?"

As she moved to scramble the eggs, she talked Wilson through making the gravy, one thing he had never cooked in his life. When it was all finished, the four of them sat down to the best breakfast the two doctors had ever had.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ms. Forester walked them to Daniel's car, and hugged both of them in turn. "Thanks for breakfast, ma'am," said Wilson. "And for giving us a place to sleep last night."

'And for putting that relaxed smile on Wilson's face and making him look ten years younger,' House thought, but said, "Yeah, thank you."

Daniel and House got in the front seat, Wilson in the back as they drove back to the hospital where House had left his car almost thirty-six hours earlier. It was a silent ride, Daniel sorry to see his new friends go, House and Wilson still recovering from the last two days but feeling much better. Daniel had enjoyed the company of these two doctors, their wit, their intelligence, their loyalty to each other. They were good men. But they were also unpredictable, and that made them fun. Things were just too boring around here, and these two made it exciting for a few days, even if it did earn him a beating from Uncle Bobby. The bruises were healing, but he would get him back better. For himself and the men who had been treated so badly.

House was sitting contentedly, his belly full, pain down to a bearable level, guilt abated slightly by the good mood Wilson was in. Wilson, meanwhile, was as relaxed as the aches in his body would allow. There was no way he would let House see that he was hurting, because he didn't want to spoil the mood and because his friend went through every day in worse pain than this. But when House popped a vicodin and then handed one back to him, he knew he hadn't hid it as well as he thought.

They pulled up beside the Corvette in the hospital parking lot, and they all three got out. Joey's ambulance was parked at the ER door, and as they were saying their goodbyes, he strode up to them, holding something in his hand. "Here," he said, handing Wilson a syringe. "You'll need this, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. From…" He wasn't sure how to finish that statement. There was no tactful way to say 'because your cousin gave me an STD'.

Joey, sensing the source of the discomfort, finished for him. "From Stephanie and her…previous indiscretions."

Wilson nodded his thanks, even though he wasn't thrilled at the idea of getting another needle jabbed in him, but even less thrilled about whatever this girl was carrying. "What did you tell them?" he asked, eyeing the penicillin.

"Told them one of the guys at the station had caught something, and was too embarrassed to come in."

Wilson pocketed the syringe, knowing House would have to give it to him, but also that it could wait. "Thank you guys so much. I don't really know what to say."

"I do," said House. "You saved our asses, and we appreciate it. Anything we can do to make it up to you?"

"Just keep in touch." Daniel handed him a piece of paper. "Here's our phone number, address, and e-mail addresses. No a lot happens around here. Just drop us a line and tell us about some of the other crap you guys get into."

"No problem," House agreed.

Just then, Daniel's radio went off. A staticky voice said something unintelligible to House and Wilson, but the brothers seemed to understand it perfectly, and burst out laughing. "We gotta go," Joey said. "Uncle Bobby just caught someone climbing out of Teresa's window!" They ran back to their respective emergency vehicles, leaving House and Wilson to look at each other and grin.

"Poor bastard," Wilson muttered, getting into the car and settling his aching body into a comfortable position.

"Better him than us," House added, starting the ignition. "Let's go. We can still make it to Evansville before dark."

Wilson was confused. "I thought you wanted to see a patient in Kentucky?"

"No," said House. "I wanted to detour through Kentucky, then go see a patient. I just wanted to get some of the homemade booze they make around here. I got a dozen Mason jars of Joey's Napalm in the trunk. Cost me fifty bucks, but that stuff is worth it's weight in gold. Did you ever get around to trying it?"

"I honestly couldn't tell you," Wilson replied.

He hit the play button on the iPod, scanned through Chase's newest playlist until he found a song that summed up his friendship with House perfectly.

"You may be right, I may be crazy,

but it just might be a lunatic you're looking for.

Turn out the lights, don't try to save me.

You may be wrong, for all I know, but you may be right."

Wilson looked at House as Billy Joel went on with the song. His friend looked more alive than he had in a long time, and he realized that now that they were safe, they were actually having fun. And they were only two and a half days into their vacation. Still plenty of time for the riverboat gambling, getting drunk, checking on House's patient, even snorting cocaine off a homosexual man's stomach.