Summary, disclaimer, etc. in chapter 1.

Thanks for the reviews! You guys liked the wedding invitations chapter—surprised me. For some reason, I thought everyone would hate that chap, or at least not review it, since Stacy is not typically liked. Not that I'm complaining about reviews…. ;) For House/Wilson fans, the next chapter will be House/Wilson. :)

Please let me know if you like/dislike this one.

40

December 1999

"Hey," Stacy called, closing the door behind her. She could hear the television as she put her purse and briefcase down in the small foyer.

"Hey," she heard him call back.

Good. It wasn't a bad day.

She glanced into the living room quickly to gage his mood. He was slumped on the couch, leg stretched out on the long, wide, cushiony ottoman she'd bought before he came home from the hospital. Sweats. He hadn't shaved. Three beer cans and an open bag of potato chips on the coffee table next to him. His painkillers on the table with the top off.

It wasn't a good day either.

He glanced up as she walked past the couch, his face expressionless.

"How was your day?" he called after she was safely in the bedroom.

"Okay," she said slipping out of her heels. "One strange consultation. I'll tell you about it later."

She went to the closet and hefted a big box and three little ones, then went back to the living room, putting the boxes down next to the couch where he couldn't see them. Of course he hadn't noticed that she was carrying something. She'd relied on that.

"How was PT?" she asked, standing before him. His answer would determine whether she sat down right away or not.

He scowled briefly. "Tried," he mumbled without looking at her.

That was House-speak for 'I don't want to talk about it'. She said nothing, going to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine. She poured a tall glass of water too, wishing she didn't have to nag him like this.

"James says hi," she said settling in next to him on the couch.

She was pleased when he took the water she offered and gulped half of it down immediately without question.

"He wanted to do something this weekend," she said, careful not to sit too close. "He said he'd call later."

House grunted noncommittally.

Stacy leaned toward him cautiously. If he rebuffed her, if he didn't want to be touched right now, the evening was a wash. If not…

There. He let her lean against him. He was either buzzed enough that he didn't care or this wasn't as bad a day as his demeanor suggested.

"Do you know what today is?" she asked lightly.

House sighed a little. "Yeah. She called me earlier."

"How are they?"

"Mom's fine," he said. "Dad's fine too I guess."

"Good," Stacy said smiling. "Well. Happy birthday."

He grunted, but let her kiss his cheek. Good.

"I got you something," she said.

He glanced curiously at her and she smiled. She reached over the arm of the couch and retrieved one of the little packages.

House's curiosity was definitely piqued. He took the package and started working on the ribbon.

"The kid at the store said this one was very popular. They had trouble keeping them in stock. He said it was one of his favorites and he looked about twelve, so I suppose he was right."

House tore off the wrapping paper and held the game in his hands, a troubled look on his face. Of course he didn't expect her to know one game system from another, but…

"This is a Dreamcast game," he said after a moment. "I don't have a Dreamcast."

Stacy smiled warmly at him and nodded toward the end of the couch. "You do now."

House pushed himself up and tried to look over the end of the couch. He caught sight of a large, wrapped box, smiled, and settled back down, putting his left arm around Stacy and hugging her to him.

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

"You're welcome," she said, smiling broadly into his shoulder as she slid an arm over his chest and hugged him back. "Happy birthday."

House was momentarily overwhelmed by how much she must still love him. He kissed the top of her head and inhaled a mix of her shampoo and perfume, and he was gone for a moment. God, he still loved her so much. He tried to fight the feeling, but he didn't push her away. This was good. It was okay to feel good for a little while.

Stacy held onto him as long as she thought he could stand, then squeezed him once and pulled away. It was so hard to do but if she did it, she wasn't smothering him. If she made him do it, she wouldn't get him back tonight.

"If you feel like it, I made a reservation for seven at La Dolce Vita," she said tentatively. "You wouldn't have to dress up." She added hastily, "But if you're tired, I can pick something up."

House looked at the game in his lap. His eyes flickered to his leg—he'd been sitting in the same spot since he got home from physical therapy this morning and the ache was gone from his leg and back now. He glanced up at her quickly. She wanted this but she was letting him control the situation. If he said no there wouldn't be a scene. He loved her for the forethought, for not pushing him; and he hated her for that. But maybe it would be nice to get out. His mother had asked him earlier if he got out at all and he'd tried to evade the question, but she'd known. She didn't know how hard it was, though. How could anyone know that.

House took her hand in his and rubbed her palm briefly, a faint smile on his face.

"I'll think about it," he said.