Peace at last… House leaned back in his armchair, drink in one hand and remote in the other. He quickly got restless and sat behind the piano. He had a tune in his head, and he needed to get it out. He could hear the lyrics in his head; Love grows where my Rosemary goes… She hadn't called him since their date. Strangely, this bothered him more than he could imagine. He thought he would be glad to get rid of her - and yet here he was, playing a stupid love song about someone with her name.

The phone rang. House sprang up from the piano chair. The sudden movement made his leg hurt and he grabbed it and searched for his cane. One Vicodin later and he was good to go; rushing to the phone, limping, cane in one hand, pill jar in the other.

"Greg House," he answered. He suddenly felt stupid. He was never like this. If the phone rang, he let it ring. It was what it had always been like; at least since Stacy left him.

"Greg? Are you alright?" Rosemary said. House could feel something inside of him shout out loud, it was like he had won a foot ball game, like he had won the Olympics, like he had won a war.

"I'm fine, I just-" House realized he was gasping for air. "It's… I rushed to the phone, that's all." He had a weird feeling; suddenly he didn't want to make Rosemary worried.

"I was waiting for you to call me," she said and laughed. "But I realized you don't have my number." House laughed too, but stopped immediately. What the hell was he laughing at.

"Yeah," House said instead, clearing his throat. "I'm sort of busy, did you want anything?" He closed his eyes and hoped she wouldn't take it as rejection.

"I was wondering," she said and sounded distant and embarrassed. "Would you like to go out with me Friday night?"

"What's in it for me?" House said.

"A nice meal, on your expense of course, and a pleasant time with me," Rosemary explained.

"Fine," House said relieved. "I'll pick you up at eight," he said and hung up the phone. He felt like dancing. He felt like singing. He felt like shouting. He sang a bit and warmed some food in the microwave. He danced a bit as he walked to the kitchen table. He didn't shout, though. It's not like he was in love, or anything. He was just in a good mood. Yeah, that was it.

---

"I'm going on a date tomorrow night," House said and sat down beside Wilson's bed.

"I'm trying to sleep and get some rest from all the tests and biopsies, but you're much more important I understand," Wilson replied.

"They still haven't figured out what's wrong with you?" House asked, but changed subject. "Speaking of wrong, Stacy's still here."

"And that's a bad thing?" Wilson asked.

"Seeing she's sick, no, it's a very good thing."

"You don't think it's time to forgive her? She did save your life."

"No, she sentenced me into a life with constant pain and suffering," House said and looked greedily at Wilson's food tray. There was a sandwich that looked particularly good.

"Have it, I'm not hungry," Wilson said and sighed. "You'll always be the same, won't you, Greg?"

"And how am I?" House said with a mouthful of sandwich. "Ew, corned beef," he said and spit it out into a napkin.

"Like an oversized ten-year-old," Wilson said. "A smart, oversized ten-year-old."

"Well, Jimmy," House said, his mouth cleared from corned beef. "This ten-year-old has a date tomorrow." He started digging into the pudding.

"So you said," Wilson said. "Hope you don't steal her food to."

"I might have to; I'm paying."

"McDonalds it is, so."

"No, I'm thinking I might go big; Burger King!"

"Dr House!" Cuddy came into the room, catching House eating Wilson's pudding.

"He said I could have it!" he said and pointed to Wilson.

"Actually, I said you could have my sandwich," Wilson commented.

"You only said that because you know I hate corned beef!"

"Dr House," Cuddy said sharply.

"Yes, mother," House said and reluctantly put down the pudding.

"Get out, you have work to do," she said and held the door open for him.

"See you later, Jimmy, mummy said I have to go in for my bath," House said and limped away.

"I don't know how you put up with him," Cuddy said to Wilson after he had left.

"Neither do I," Wilson said and laughed. "I haven't a clue."