Disclaimer: Ditto.

Househousehouse

"UNCLE GREG! Grier took my sword!"

House groaned and dug the prescription bottle out of his pocket, downing a Vicodin. Life wasn't treating him so easily right now.

He made his way into the play room, only to see Tobin take a flying leap from the sofa and land on Grier. She started screaming and kicking. Punches were flying from both. House's eyes grew wide. Even though he'd been seeing this kind of fighting over the past 2 weeks, he still wasn't used to quite this much hostility in a pair of three year olds.

"Ok, ok, break it up, break it up! Mike Tyson, get off your sister! Grier, give him back the sword or you'll both be in Time Out."

Tobin slowly extracted himself from Grier and held his tiny hand out demandingly for the sword, and she slapped it into his hand, but not before sticking her tongue out.

"I don't care what you two do to each other as long as it isn't physical. Your daddy would kill me if anything happened to you two while under my care." He told them and moved to exit the room. It was 8 am and he had to make them breakfast before dropping them off at day care in an hour.

"Uncle Greg, when is Daddy getting up?" Grier asked the same question in a patient voice every day. And House's answer was always the same.

"You know he needs a lot of sleep now, Grier. He doesn't feel good right now."

Tobin looked sad in the background. He was definitely the quieter one in the pair, but he could speak up and make himself heard if need be. Like now: "When is Daddy going to be not sick no more, Uncle Greg?"

House's heart ached for the twins. They missed Wilson getting up every morning, making breakfast and playing with them. And being there for them when he picked them up at day care.

The last two weeks had been so hectic. Wilson started chemo two weeks ago, and had been physically drained ever since. House had stepped up as Captain Best Friend 2 and a half weeks ago, shortly after Wilson's surgery, and moved in to take care of the twins, since Wilson really wasn't able to anymore. He slept almost all day, if he wasn't busy not eating and puking.

So House's days soon became a hectic routine. He got up every morning at 7, got the twins dressed, washed, and hair brushed, and sent them downstairs to play. While after that he proceeded to pack their bags for day care, make breakfast, and solve whatever little problems they tended to create as a distraction. Then, after forcing about two ounces of food into their bellies, he took them upstairs to see Wilson for a bit, giving him stuff to eat for the rest of the day, before dropping them off at day care and going to the hospital.

He now left work at 2:30, 3 at the latest, and picked the kids up from day care, where he proceeded to keep the house running. Laundry, washing dishes, and picking up the little toys he so often stepped on. He never got a break anymore.

He usually went upstairs while dinner was cooking and the kids were playing to talk to Wilson.

"Hey, how's it going? How're you feeling?" were usual the first two things out of his mouth.

"I'm alright. How are Grier and Tobin?" he would then say sluggishly, and House would always tell him fine. Then they'd proceed to gossip about what was going on at work. House would usually try and give him a timeline of the chemo, if he could.

"Your doctor says another month or two and you're out of the water. You're going to be fine."

Househousehouse

Sometimes, Wilson would get frustrated and start yelling. Sometimes he would cry a little bit, mostly over the relationship he was losing with the twins.

"They don't love me as much anymore, House." He muttered in a frustrated voice that same afternoon. House picked the twins up, let them play and watched them fight over the same sword, and then went upstairs to see Wilson.

"Yeah they do."

"No, they don't. I see the way they look at you. They respect you, they care for you."

"Yeah, but you're their dad. I'm just their stupid Uncle Greg who cooks the crappy meals. I think they want your cooking back most of all." Wilson smiled a small smile. "Look, Wilson. Every morning they ask when you're going to be feeling better, when you're going to join back in the human race. Maybe they don't phrase it quite like that, but they do. Miss you."

Wilson nodded.

"Not much longer and things will get better."

He nodded again and said, "Thank you. So much. I really appreciate you stepping in and helping like this."

"No problem. I don't mind." House said, when really, what was gnawing at him in the back of his mind, were the words, I really do mind. I don't want to be doing this. I'm doing this because I have to. Because it's my job.

Househousehouse

A/N: So what do you think? I'm soooo sorry it's been so long! I totally spaced out and forgot about the story! Plus school stuff, and well, you know the drill. R&R, if you wouldn't mind! This is not the end, btw. :)