A/N: For the readers of my stories–unless I actually say so treat every story as a separate entity. Translation: What happens in one story may not necessarily carry over to another.

In this chapter House turns up his mean streak meter to 11.

After our little outburst at breakfast the rest of the workday was uneventful, if not dull and cloudy. When I got back to 221B it was still raining, the kind of gloomy, depressing day that can make even the most jubilant of people stay home with the covers over their heads.

Greg was perusing The New England Journal of Medicine while the local news played out quietly on the television.

"Hey Greg," I said in a low, casual voice as I shrugged out of my dripping coat.

"Evening Jimmy," he replied in the same tone. It was almost impossible to tell if he was avoiding looking at me or was actually interested in the journal.

"Anything enthralling in the world of medicine?"

"New England keeps publishing crap written by quacks," he answered thickly, and tossed the journal on the table.

"Too bad," I remarked, settling into the recliner. "Did you enjoy your soaps?"

He was looking over at the news but not watching it. "They were fine until the cable went out during the last fifteen minutes."

"That sucks."

"Yes it does. It did give me some time to think, though."

"About what?" I said in an idiotically passive tone.

"The usual stuff," Greg smirked. "The meaning of life...skydiving...the great outdoors...you."

I sat up. "What about me?"

My friend turned to face me, his expression giving away nothing. "This morning you made a big deal out saying you cared."

"I mean it," I said, matching his stoic gaze with my own.

"I know you do," he responded with a humorless chuckle. "But why do I get the feeling you have been so patiently waiting for a rather peculiar moment to say it."

"I meant what I said, Greg, whatever the moment was," I remarked, wondering where he was going with this.

Bouncing his cane from hand to hand, he continued, "Hmmm...I suppose that's why you haven't moved out yet. You don't want to move out. The perfect place with the perfect roommate. No bachelor pad for you, no sir–"

"Greg..."

"–you must have the patience of a saint. Laying around my spare bedroom, pining away for that invitation to come into the master suite–"

"Greg..."

"–I'm sure your wives just loved hearing you call out my name–"

"Stop it!" I was out of the recliner, pacing. "Just stop it! Don't you dare try to twist this into something...for God's sake, just shut up!"

I should have known. He wasn't an idiot. He had been able to put together more from less.

But I still didn't understand what he was so angry about.

"We've know each other for twelve years, Jimmy," Greg said, his voice calm and icy, gripping his cane so tightly his knuckles were white. "That knowledge is a two-way street."

"Or a double-edged sword," I snapped, tasting the salty tears running down my face. "Were you pining away to see which one of us would fall on it first?" I didn't wait for an answer. "You could have thrown me out anytime you wanted. You could have thrown all my shit out in the pouring rain today while I was at the hospital. Why didn't you?"

Glancing over, I could see his eyes turning red and welling up. "You never gave me a reason to throw you out."

"That's it? That's all you have to say?"

"What do you want me to say, Jimmy?" Greg leaned his head against the handle of his cane.

"How about this," I said, walking over and standing over him. "You didn't throw me out because you like having me here."

No answer. He just slowly rocked back and forth.

"Tell me I'm wrong, Greg."

Silence.

"Tell me, Greg. Tell me I'm wrong."

More silence. More rocking.

I sighed, defeated. "I'll go pack–"

In a flash his hand clamped onto my wrist. Looking down at him I could see at that moment he was everything he hated to be–angry, scared, vulnerable, sad, confused–and he hated the fact that I had seen him like that. He was squeezing my wrist hard enough to make the bones grind.

"You're not wrong," he finally said, looking me in the eye. "You know, Jimmy, it might seem like that I hate the world and everyone in it, but I've always known that no matter how bad things get I can never bring myself to hate you."