Again, sorry for the wait in updates. School. Ugh. SCHOOL.

House finally set down his guitar, leaning back and stretching out his shoulders. Wilson had gone into the kitchen to cook dinner some time ago, and now it was just him and the kid.

He wasn't bad, House had to admit. For having taught himself, the kid knew quite a bit. Add to it that his guitar wasn't all that great and he still sounded good, and you could color House impressed.

"You're alright, kid," House mused, closing his eyes comfortably. Now that he was seated and immobile, his leg wasn't bothering him so much anymore.

Jacob grinned. He could tell House was pretty amazing himself, and he was eager to learn from him. "Thanks."

House opened one eye, raking it up and down the kid's guitar. "Your guitar is pretty cheap but you make it work," he said slowly.

Jacob knew a compliment when he heard one, and he was glowing inside.

"So, you play piano too?" Jacob asked after a moment, eyeing the baby grand in the corner.

"Yeah."

"Anything else?"

House closed his eyes again, trying not to move around too much. "Harmonica, trumpet, and saxophone. And organ. I wanted a drum set, but Wilson put his foot down on that one…" he said wishfully, sighing.

Jacob grinned. In some ways, Dr. House was too old for himself. In most others, he was a teenager.

"So, what exactly do you do?" Jacob asked, curious. "I mean, I know you're a doctor, but you've got your own people, your own office…"

"I'm a diagnostician," House explained after a moment, wincing as his leg suddenly twinged. "I solve cases no one else can."

Jacob turned his head to the side. "So you're Sherlock Holmes. Does that make Wilson Watson?"

House grinned even as his leg bit at him. "I'm the one with the cane, unfortunately."

In that moment, Wilson came back into the room. His apron made him look like some bizarre version of a house wife.

"Dinner's ready," he said, quickly disappearing back into the kitchen.

Appetite long since resorted, Jacob got up quickly to go eat. But when he didn't hear the clunk of House's cane (which he was quickly becoming used to) behind him, he stopped.

House was still on the couch. He hadn't moved an inch. Jacob bit his lip uneasily, taking in House's closed eyes and stiff posture.

"… Dr. House?" he ventured after a moment.

"Just House, kid."

"… House, then. Are you okay?"

House sighed. "I'm fine. Go eat. Tell Wilson I'm not hungry."

Jacob nodded, backing into the kitchen.

"Wilson, House says he's not hungry."

That set off warning bells in Wilson's head. "Sit and eat, Jacob. I'll be back in a bit, alright?"

Jacob nodded and dug into his meal, hoping Wilson would fix House. He hated seeing the man in pain, especially after all he'd done for him in such a short amount of time.

Wilson hurried into the living room. "House, you have to eat."

House shook his head mutely. His leg was really starting to gnaw at him now, like a starving dog at a scrap of meat on a bone.

Wilson gently sat down beside his friend, lightly laying a warming hand on the offending muscle. House stifled the urge to jump back from the contact, wincing as his leg snapped at him.

"Do you just not want to get up?"

House let out a shaky breath. "I pushed it too hard today. If I try to move now it'll spasm for sure. And I don't want to deal with that with the kid around," he confessed. His unusual honesty was from necessity. If he dealt with it quickly, the kid would be none the wiser.

Wilson tried to keep the worry out of his eyes. "Do you want me to just bring you something?"

House looked faintly green. "Nauseous. Don't want anything."

Wilson closed his eyes for a moment. He leaned into House, trying to share his warmth with the suddenly rigid man.

To his shock, House leaned back. He rested his head on Wilson's shoulder, taking forced, even breaths.

"How bad?" Wilson demanded, knowing that it had to be nasty if House was relying on him without any nasty comments.

"… Getting bad," House confirmed.

"I could give you a shot of morphine and you could take a hot bath, try to ease it out," Wilson suggested, trying to keep his tone flat and even.

House was still for a long moment, not meeting Wilson's eyes. When Wilson said nothing, he nodded slowly. "That would work."

Wilson quietly got up and pulled out the emergency morphine supply. After he'd come home and found House curled up in a non-responsive, shaking ball, he'd kept it on hand. They'd never had to use it until now – in fact, the one time since then that House had gone through breakthrough pain, he'd refused it.

Wilson was pretty much past believing that House was an addict. On the months he'd been without vicodin, he'd been in so much pain he could hardly function. Wilson had observed his friend closely after Mayfeild – and he'd been alarmed at what he saw. Clearly, House's needs weren't being met. He lost weight rapidly, was weak, got sick. When he went back to vicodin, Wilson was more relieved than anything else. House would have died more quickly without it then he was with it.

Ever so slowly, he pushed the drug into House's system. House relaxed as it was absorbed, his eyes sliding closed.

"House, come on," Wilson prodded him gently. "You wanted a bath, remember?"

House nodded sleepily, finally relaxed by the lack of pain in his leg. Wilson helped him into the bathroom slowly, inwardly glad that the morphine made him more compliant to assistance. If House hadn't been on a morphine high, Wilson would have drawn back a nub when he helped him off the couch.

House did draw the line at the bathroom door, however. He pushed Wilson out with his cane, planting it on the oncologist's chest and shoving him lightly out the door. He shut it, but, to Wilson's relief, left it unlocked.

Jacob looked up as Wilson trudged back into the kitchen, a worried look on his face.

The young man put his fork down. "Is House alright?"

Wilson shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. "He's okay now. Just having some issues with his leg."

Jacob chewed his food thoughtfully. "Does he often? Have issues with it, I mean."

Wilson hesitated, biting his lip. He sat down and folded his hands.

"His pain, Jacob… it doesn't… go away. It's chronic. It's always there. Sometime's, like now, it's worse."

Jacob looked saddened. "That's awful. He told me that he had an infarction in the leg. That's what caused the pain?"

Wilson sighed. He wasn't quite ready to dive into the whole Stacy ordeal with Jacob just yet – that was House's story to tell, if he ever did. "Yeah."

Jacob was silent for a long moment, thinking his words through carefully. "House told me you two are just friends. But…"

Wilson was taken aback. "But what?" he asked, curious as to what the kid's answer would be. Was his attraction to the man that obvious?

"It seems like… it's more than that. To me, anyway."

Wilson laughed as his earnest expression. He decided to be totally honest with the kid – there was something about him that Wilson trusted inexplicably. "I might feel that way, but I doubt House would ever return those feelings."

Jacob shook his head. "Have you seen the way he looks at you?" he insisted. "I can guarantee you he feels something."

Before Wilson had a chance to react, Jacob paled. "I'm sorry. It's not my place to say anything," he fumbled, scooting back a bit. He looked wary of Wilson.

His reaction pulled at Wilson. "Jacob, you can speak your mind here. God knows House does. You telling us what you think isn't a bad thing."

Jacob swallowed. "Maybe not here… but it certainly was there."

Wilson couldn't help himself – he was a hugger. He squished Jacob in a bear hug, ruffling his hair. Even after so little time, he already genuinely liked the kid. "Jacob, that's over now. Always tell us what you think. And if you want to talk about anything – just tell us."

Jacob nodded into Wilson's shoulder, taken aback by the hug. It'd been a long time since human contact came with compassion, and not with pain. He wasn't used to it.

The next morning came late. House enjoyed sleeping in for once – the morphine had dulled his usual morning ache. He lay in bed for a long moment and enjoyed the faint sounds of Wilson cooking in the kitchen. He could already smell pancakes cooking and coffee brewing. His and Jacob's chatter filtered through the walls faintly

He ambled into the kitchen in his PJ's, yawning.

"Wilson, you doll," he said groggily, sitting down at the table heavily. House was not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination.

Wilson grinned over his shoulder, in tandem with Jacob. "And good morning to you too, House. Pancake?"

House made an affirmative grunting noise, and a stack of hotcakes was passed over to him. He drowned them with syrup and dug in.

Jacob at his pancakes slowly. "Do you two always eat like this?" he asked, watching House shove forkfuls of hot, buttery batter into his mouth.

Wilson answered for them. "I don't always cook, but with you here we'll probably eat out less. Why do you ask?"

Jacob blushed. "It's just that I've kind of been fending for myself for a while, back home. I'd decided that home cooked meals were just on TV," he explained sheepishly.

House gestured at Wilson with his fork. "Meet Mrs. All-American Housewife. And yes, that's a pun. Wilson enjoys cooking."

Wilson eyed House. "You can cook as well a gourmet chef – you just choose not to, you turd."

House chose to respond by noisily chewing on another sticky bite of pancake mush.

Before long they were on the way to go shopping. Ever the planner, Wilson had a list.

"Okay, so first you need some new clothes," he stated, insightfully ignoring any embarrassment that that might have held. Jacob fingered his ratty hoodie's sleeves, shame faced.

House caught his eye in the rearview mirror. "It isn't your fault your dad spent his money on drugs and beer instead of you."

Wilson shot him a glance, unaccustomed to the kindness. House shrugged, not meeting Wilson's eye. "What? It isn't. When I was growing up, dad was against me being in band. So I had to have a shitty saxophone that hardly played, had to constantly bum reeds off of people, never had private lessons or money for fieldtrips. My band director helped me, and we're helping you. Don't be ashamed to accept free money, that's my philosophy."

Wilson smiled. On impulse, he reached out and took House's hand with the one that wasn't holding the wheel, squeezing it.

Jacob's words came rushing back to him when House lightly returned the pressure, only his eyes betraying the hard emotions that came with that memory. He stared out the window, but didn't remove his hand.

Jacob witnessed their hands, and smiled to himself.

They arrived at the department store not long after, and the three of them were in the men's section in no time.

"What about this?" House said, holding up a pair of skinny jeans with black and red flames all over them.

Jacob was trying hard not to let the revulsion show on his face. "Uh…" he hesitated, trying not to offend House.

House grinned, laughing. "Relax, kid," he said, tossing the pants back on the rack. "I'm not that fashion blind. Wilson's the one you have to worry about."

Jacob laughed, liking the feel of it. He hadn't laughed in a long time.

Wilson protested. "House, you're telling me I have no fashion sense? You go to work in jeans and tee shirts!"

"And you love it!" House shot back, and Wilson had to give him the point. House would look odd if he dressed professionally all the time.

Before long they had some new clothes picked out for Jacob, skinny as he was, and some new shoes.

He eyed the check out price with a sick look on his face. "Listen…" he began, but House cut him off.

"Shut it, Jacob. This is the most fun Wilson's had in weeks."

Jacob obliged.

Next up was a Rooms-To-Go. "Go pick out a bed, a desk, and a dresser, and we'll have them shipped home," Wilson told him kindly, going to sit next to House on one of the love seats near the front of the store.

House was kicked back, watching the customers idly. "That kid looks like he just got smacked in the face with a bat," he mused, eyeing Jacob as the child looked at the furniture hesitantly.

"He's overwhelmed, House," Wilson explained. "You saw what he came from. You think his dad ever did this for him? Give him a break."

House pressed his lips together. "He reminds me of me so much, Wilson. It's scary."

Wilson wisely chose to stay silent.

House leaned back, rubbing his nose. "We're going to have to talk about feelings soon, aren't we."

It was a statement, not a question. Wilson grinned ruefully. "Unfortunately, yes, I think that would be best."

House closed his eyes. "Wilson…"

Wilson waited for him to finish, on the edge of his seat.

"… Never mind."

Wilson leaned back, disappointed.

Next up was a surprise from House. "We're going to the music shop," he announced after none to kindly commandeering the car from Wilson.

Jacob sat up in his seat. He'd only visited a real music shop once, and he hadn't bought anything but a few picks. "Really?"

House nodded. "Really. You're guitar needs new strings," he said bluntly, "And you need a tuner and some music. I've got amps and such at home."

Jacob was grinning ear to ear in the back seat, looking like five year old that had been promised ice cream. When they pulled up, he leapt out of the car and practically ran into the building.

House followed, much the same spark in his eye. He knew the owner of this particular shop, and he always got good prices on anything he got. That's what came with saving the guy's wife from a rare bacterial illness.

"Hey, Garrett!" he called, much to Wilson's bemusement. Wilson was lost in House's musical world – normally, he just went along for the ride. "Need some acoustic strings!"

A graying, balding man with a rather large belly appeared from the back, adjusting his thick glasses. "House, nice to see you again. Been a while, how are you?"

House grinned. "Aw, just had a quick stay in the loony bin. They told me I was unfixable."

Garrett nodded sagely. "No surprises there. Here it's been same old same old. Patricia's been as healthy as the day she walked out of the hospital."

House nodded, limping to a case full of harmonicas. He began to speak musical jargon that Wilson had no concept of, so he drifted off and looked around.

"What's with the kid?" Garrett asked him bluntly, thumbing over his shoulder to point at Jacob. He was currently drooling at a blue electric guitar.

House leaned on his cane, choosing not to look up. "He's got some talent, Garrett. Guitar. I'm trying to teach him."

Garrett seemed satisfied with the answer. "What's his guitar like?"

House looked up at him finally. "Piece of shit. I'm looking to get him a better one. Have anything good while he's distracted?"

Garrett looked thoughtful. "Well, I do have one… You're looking for acoustic, right?"

House nodded, and Garret hurried into the back. He returned with a case and laid it on the corner, opening it up with a flourish.

Inside laid a beautiful acoustic. Its body was a deep blue in the middle, fading to black around the edges. It shined iridescent in the light, giving it a magical glow. It's neck was dark, it's tuning pegs a deep gold. The note marks were gold also, and all together, it was a pretty impressive specimen.

"Looks nice, but how does it play?" House asked, picking it up with a musician's hand.

As he strummed it, he got his answer, but Garrett responded anyway. "Like a dream."

House grinned. "I'll take it. How much?"

Jacob stared at him, open mouthed. "You're kidding."

House rolled his eyes, slightly embarrassed. "No, not kidding."

Jacob took the unopened guitar case reverently. "You just… bought this?"

"No, I stole it. Run," House joked. "Come on, put it in the back and get in. You can drool on it at home."

Jacob carefully set the case in the trunk, excited to see what it looked like. He couldn't believe House had gotten him a guitar. Who did that? Went out and got a guitar for someone they'd spent less than three days with?

The instant they were home, Jacob scurried to the trunk and pulled out the case. He was practically hopping from foot to foot on his eagerness to get inside.

"Calm down, kid," House said gruffly, but there was a sparkle in his eye. Jacob did his best to stay still, but he was quivering.

He rushed to the couch as soon as the door unlocked, hurriedly unlatching the case. House watched him from the doorway, an amused look on his face.

Jacob sucked in a breath. "Wow…" he breathed, lightly fingering the strings. "It's beautiful."

House recognized the huger the kid's eyes held. He'd felt much the same way the first time he'd bought himself a piano – much to his father's displeasure. But damn it, he'd been living on his own, as a grown adult. It was his decision, not his father's.

Jacob picked it up reverently, strumming a chord timidly. The sound of it resonated like an angel's song.

Jacob looked up, catching House's eye. "This… this is beautiful," he expressed quietly. "Thank you."

House looked slightly uncomfortable. He was unused to gratitude – it wasn't something expressed very often around him. "Don't mention it."

Jacob sent his old guitar case a glance. "I know that this one is much better… but I don't think I can get rid of my old one. It was just… so much help, you know? Is that okay?"

House grinned, gesturing to the guitars on the walls. "You think I've ever given up one of mine? Once you have it, you're instrument is yours forever."

House ambled to the closet, pulling out a wall mount guitar stand. "We can set this up in your room, and you can keep your old one on it. The new one can stay in here."

Jacob swallowed, looking suddenly overwhelmed. "Thanks," he choked quietly, suddenly subdued.

Wilson felt it was his time to step in. He sat down on the couch next to Jacob and patted him lightly on the back. "Jacob, we want you to feel comfortable here, okay?"

Jacob nodded, but stopped, and shook his head half way through. "I just don't get why. I'm not worth anything. I'm just a loser kid with a dad that was abusive. I'm not special, I'm not interesting. What's in it for you?"

House felt a pang in his heart. No doubt, those sentiments had been drilled into him by his father just as House's had done to him. "You aren't worthless," House said quietly, startling Wilson. "You deserved better than you got. And now we're giving it to you."

House suddenly shifted his tone. "And now, dinner. Wilson, order pizza."

Wilson nodded. "I was thinking the same thing. What do you want, Jacob?"

Jacob could already feel his mouth watering. "Meat Lovers."

House grinned. "I knew I liked you for a reason."

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