Getting this chapter out a bit sooner than I planned. The next one is being a bit of a pain, unfortunately, and my cat doesn't want to get off my lap, so typing is hard, hehe. Has a bit more of Wilson the cat and another flashback, which are very fun to write.

Hope you all enjoy:)

Chapter 11

Driving is out of the question, so Wilson looks up House's address and calls a cab. It's the weekend and he hopes the man is home. He knocks, hears a muffled "Come in," then steps inside. Before he can take another step, a streaking ball of fur pounces on his shoe. He almost falls over to keep from stepping on him. "Wilson!"

The kitten rolls over on his back, the undone shoestring still gripped in his claws and his mouth.

"Training him to be a guard cat," House says as he limps from the kitchen, steaming cup of coffee in his hand. "You haven't even been home 24 hours. Already a fight with Julie?"

"I remembered the day I met you." Wilson doesn't want to talk about Julie. He takes off his shoe and leaves it with the cat, then goes to sit on the couch.

House hides his smile behind the coffee cup, taking a sip. Wilson had always seemed to be drawn to that piece of furniture. "Is that a good thing? I don't think I had left a good first impression."

"At least you talked to me. Do you play?" He changed the subject again and nodded over at the piano.

"Sometimes. You over your shyness to ask me to play you a tune?"

"For now."

Wilson tries to drag the shoe closer to the humans. He gives up and leaves it by the door.

House hands Wilson the coffee cup and limps over to the piano, running his fingers lightly over the keys. "Either Wilson have a request?"

"Something relaxing?"

"Mew!"

House turns to see both Wilsons looking at each other. "By unanimous vote," he announces, and then he begins to play.

Wilson sets the mug down on the coffee table, leans back against the cushions, and closes his eyes…and remembers…

"You're taking the couch with you?"

"Of course! You may like it more, but it is mine! You're making it flat by sleeping on it so much."

"More comfortable than my bed," Jimmy grumbles.

"You need yourself a woman" Greg grumbles. "Maybe now you will visit me often."

"Drive over a thousand miles just to sleep on your couch?"

"I was hoping that there would be more to it than that. Plus stranger things have happened." Before Greg turns to go, he holds out his hand. "Doctor Wilson."

"Doctor House." Jimmy shakes his hand in farewell.

They had tried to keep in touch, but Greg's work and Jimmy's further studies took up a lot of their free time. Jimmy was always amused to hear that Greg got fired for badmouthing his boss, then concerned to hear he was fired a second time. Nothing like a warning signal to all the other hospitals in the country. The letters stopped altogether when Greg got fired a third time.

A year later, Greg House is relaxing at home. He heaves a sigh as he sits in front of his much-loved piano. Before he got the chance to grace they keys with his fingers, someone knocks on the door. All of the irritation from the past days and weeks of trying to get along with his boss and patients come flooding back to him in a rush. He gets up and slams open the door, ready to give the person outside the scare of his life. "Jimmy?"

"Couch!" Wilson cries, stumbling past the stunned doctor and collapsing onto it.

"Glad to see you too." House closes the door after he finally realizes he is not imagining his best friend snuggling up on his couch. "Where's Erika?"

"Moved to Washington," he mumbles into the cushions.

"Ah."

He quickly moves his feet before Greg can sit on them.

"So she finally left your sorry ass?"

"If I weren't so happy to see his damn couch, I would kick yours."

"I'm all a quiver."

"Good."

Jimmy stayed a week after wife number one before he drove back home and returned to work. After wife number two, he stayed a month, during which time House suggested he apply for the opening at the newest hospital he was employed at…the PPTH.

"Wilson," Greg greets his friend on Jimmy's first day with an outstretched hand.

"House," he greets back and pulls Greg in for a manly hug.

Then came Wife Number Three, House's Stacy, then the infarction. And, as they say, the rest is history.