Disclaimer- Not mine. None of them. Criminal really. I would take such good care of them, some more than others admittedly, and one in particular.

A/N- Again, thanks to all those that read and review, and also to those that just read. This chapter is a little short, but sadly my holiday is over, and work has reared its ugly head again. Tina

Chapter 30 – Pin Head

Cameron's apartment 10.04pm

Having spent the best part of fifteen minutes in the bathroom, and with no escape route, Cameron decided the sensible thing to do would be to go face him. Her hair had dried, she had put on her PJs and her temper had abated. Leaving the steamy confines behind, she headed into the living room to find it surprisingly empty. On checking the kitchen, and knowing full well that even House wouldn't be audacious enough to have ventured into the bedroom uninvited, she sighed heavily. Round and round like hamsters on a wheel she thought. He hadn't even left a note. Why had he gone? Without telling her? Ok, she hadn't exactly been Miss Congeniality towards him, but he had forced her hand. She hated surprises, he knew that. It interfered with her love of order and routine. Spontaneity was not her bag.

Heading back into the kitchen and making an oversized mug of milky hot chocolate, she decided that for the remainder of the night she would free her mind of him. And Clarkson, albeit that he wasn't exactly the cause of any significant amount of angst. Relaxing on her bed, snuggled between a cluster of baby blue astrakhan cushions whilst clutching the hot froth filled mug to her chest, she turned the radio-alarm on and allowed her mind to unravel to the sounds of Damien Rice.

Monday morning 9.25am House's office

'I'm going to be an uncle.'

House looked up. Wilson was grinning stupidly, his face a human representation of the proverbial all-American apple pie. Way too much oestrogen in his system, House thought. Should get it checked out.

'Ok.'

Wilson stood, hands on hips, lab coat pulled back as a result. 'I'll try again. I'm going to be an uncle.'

House gave his best attempt at a disinterested look, before returning his full attention to his latest executive toy. Forming a fist and pushing it into the pin formation, before tipping it back to reveal the perfect copy it had made of his hand, he smiled to himself. How great is that, he thought to himself.

Wilson glared at him. 'This is the part where you say congratulations. Or when's it due. Or tell me more. You know, textbook responses but kind of important all the same.'

'Congratulations. When's it due. Tell me more. There, that better?'

'Surprisingly, no. Oh, I see forty-eight hours away from this place has only served to magnify your delightfully sunny disposition tenfold. What's the matter? Gameboy got a flat battery? General Hospital been cancelled due to Dutch-Elm disease striking the cast?'

House, face pushed firmly into the pin-toy, gestured with his hand for Wilson to leave. Wilson ignored it and took a seat. Aware that his friend had not complied, House carefully removed the pin-box from his face, and placed it gently down on the desk, as Wilson stared disbelievingly at the fact that even in pin form, House could still look sarcastic.

Wilson tried again. 'Sarah is pregnant.'

'Whoa there. Not guilty. I haven't laid a hand on her. Put your shotgun away Pops.'

'You ass! I know it's not yours, by virtue of the fact that she appears to be pleased at the news. And also because apart from the ex-husband, she normally has exemplary taste in men.'

'Nice. Go tell Cameron. You'll have more luck on the beaming with joy front there. She loves all that kind of stuff. Probably have organised the baby shower before you have time to take a pee.'

Wilson scratched the back of his neck in a worrying fashion. 'Ok. You want to talk about it? I'm sensing that all that high school necking on my back seat didn't exactly get you the pay off you were hoping for.'

House frowned and began throwing his tennis ball from hand to hand. 'Nothing to talk about. Now, seriously, congratulations blah blah blah, but you really should go justify that huge pay cheque you collect on a monthly basis. Oncology is your specialty, not psychology.'

'Fine. It's only a matter of time before you come calling. Why didn't you tell me your problems on Saturday afternoon instead of gate-crashing my barbecue and blaming it on your frustration at finding the cane store had closed down. You're a prize jerk at times.'

'Whatever. Now go. Seriously, I can't be saved. I'm a basket case. My emotional shortcomings are clearly far more worrying than those of someone who's on marriage number three and rather than tell his wife that he prefers to have his crusts cut off his sandwiches, spends half his lunch break peeling them off.'

Wilson got up from the chair, already having had his boundless energy sucked out of him in its entirety. 'Like I said, my door's open.'

'Well, close it. You'll get a draught.'

House watched Wilson leave, shoulders drooping in the process, and ever so slightly troubled by that fact, he cast his gaze on the outer office instead. Clarkson, who would forever remain a vision in pink in his mind, was leaning over the desk talking to Cameron, Foreman was engrossed in reading the paper and Chase was trying to catch peanuts in his mouth, failing miserably it would appear, as there seemed to be quite a collection on the floor around him.

Collecting the notes on the Fry case from his in-tray, House gradually pushed himself up from his chair. And decided the only thing that could possibly lighten his mood today, other than Alicia Silverstone paying him a visit to show him just how clueless she actually wasn't, was to go next door and turn the snark thermostat up to it's highest notch.