A/N: This chapter features a visitor from one of my other stories.

Chapter 19

And then of course, there was the first argument. As with most arguments, this one started over something really stupid.

House and Daniel were in the family room playing a video game together, when they heard Karen yell from the kitchen. They tried to ignore it but she came storming in, a bag in her hand.

"Who ate my whole grain pretzels?"

Both guys continued to play.

She spoke louder, "I said, who ate my pretzels?"

"Not me." Daniel said. "I remember how you got the last time I ate some. I won't touch them."

"Greg?" she asked.

"I didn't eat them all. I left some."

"You ate them? You know how much I need to keep my healthy snacks on hand. And not only did you eat them, you left the bag in the cupboard torn and without the clip on."

"Oh, horrors!"

"What's left is stale. Why couldn't you at least close the bag when you were done?"

He looked at her now. "Are you really this upset over pretzels?"

"You know how I am trying to keep my weight down. I need my healthy snacks."

She was really upset. "Is it that time of month again already?" House asked.

She stared at him, daggers in her eyes.

"Oh, man!" Daniel said. "You did not just say that."

She continued to just stare at him and he felt as though he was being encased in ice.

When she spoke, it was quietly, but full of frost. "If you want to eat healthy, go ahead. But that means you stop the huge bowls of ice cream, the boxes of cookies and ten beers."

With that she turned and left the room. House looked at Daniel, shook his head and continued to play.

"I do not envy you tonight, dude." Daniel said.

"She'll be fine." House said.

Daniel just shook his head.

Later than night, when House went into their bedroom, he saw her in bed, reading a book.

"Hey." He said.

She kept reading without acknowledging his presence.

He sat beside her on the bed and stared at her for a few minutes.

"Are you really mad about pretzels?"

She put down the book and looked at him. "Greg, I'm not mad about pretzels. It's being inconsiderate. You know how hard I've been trying to keep my weight down. By eating my snack and then basically not leaving any for me means that you don't care about my feelings, my needs."

His mouth dropped open. "I don't care about your needs? What the fuck? I have been bending over backwards to take care of your 'needs' and then, because I eat a few pretzels, suddenly I'm an insensitive jerk?"

"I didn't say that."

"Hey, I know I'm a jerk. I've been a jerk to almost everyone I know. Except you. I've been trying my damnedest not to be a jerk with you. I guess I never thought pretzels determined a person's jerkiness."

"Will you stop saying pretzels? It's not the pretzels! It's the motives behind them."

"The only motive behind them was hunger and the desire for a tasty snack. I'm sorry I didn't consider your 'feelings' before eating them, but I promise, from now on, I'll be more in touch with your emotional state before putting any food in my mouth."

She glared at him. "You still don't get it."

"No, I don't. And I don't want to. If there is food in that kitchen, I intend to eat it. If I forget to put the fucking clip on it and they go stale, then go and buy another one. I make enough money to buy more pretzels. Hell, buy caviar if you want! Just stop nagging me about pretzels."

Her face was stone cold as she reached up to turn off the light, then turned over and closed her eyes. He was going to go to bed, but he really wasn't in the mood. He got up, went to the family room and watched television for another hour, until he fell asleep on the sofa. Eventually he woke up and dragged himself to bed.

She was asleep. He got in beside her and lay there thinking about the argument. It really was stupid. Was this what would break them up, something stupid like pretzels?

The next day, while he was in his office pondering the situation, he thought of something that might help.

When he got home that night, he had three large grocery bags with him. Karen looked at him oddly.

"Did you go grocery shopping?" She asked him.

"No. Well, yes, sort of." He dumped the contents of the bags on the kitchen table. There were about a dozen bags of whole grain pretzels there.

"Oh." Karen said.

"I called Herr's, but they don't sell directly to people. So I went to Wegman's. This was all that they had on their shelves. Oh, and I got these too."

He pushed the bags aside to reveal a package of bag clips.

"Oh." She said again. "That's nice. Thank you."

She didn't sound happy and he didn't know what to do. "Look, I'll try not to eat your snacks. But I probably will go in to them sometimes. But I'll try to always put the clip thing on them. Okay?"

"Yes, thank you." She said and gave him a tight smile and kissed him on the cheek, before leaving the room.

"Shit." He said under his breath.

The next day, he was in his office. He thought about talking to Wilson, but he knew what his friend would tell him. He would blame House for eating the pretzels and being insensitive. Then he'd tell him to apologize, grovel and hope that Karen forgave him.

House already knew all that stuff, but he wanted more than just groveling and getting over it.

He decided to stay at the hospital later that day and to talk to another friend of his.

Rita DiMascio was the head of Housekeeping at the hospital – night shift. She and House had had some trouble in the past when he acted like a slob and her employees started moving his stuff around. He caught them and she put an end to it. But he had retaliated by "moving" her brooms and mops and such.

This had gone back and forth for a few months, until they had both called a truce. And had somehow become friends. Rita was tough and smart. If she hadn't been happily married, House might have made a play for her, but she'd made it plain early on that she was not interested.

So they'd become friends. And House knew that right now, he really needed a woman's viewpoint on this situation.

Rita was sitting at her desk reviewing the day's requests when he came in and sat in the chair. They never bothered with greetings.

"Why would a woman get mad just because I ate her stupid pretzels?"

"She wouldn't." Rita replied, used to his habit of launching into a conversation without preamble. "It's always about something else."

"Well, how the hell am I supposed to know what it's about if she won't tell me?"

"You're just supposed to know."

"That's bullshit! I'm not clairvoyant."

"I'll say! And like most men, you're not only not clairvoyant, you're so deep in a fog, you can't see two feet in front of your face."

House glared at her. "That is not helping."

Rita smiled. "Did you apologize to her?"

He looked amazed. "I'm supposed to apologize for eating pretzels in my own house?"

"God, you're thick! It isn't about the pretzels. It's about not respecting her and her feelings. You told me her ex cheated on her and basically ignored her for a long time."

"Right."

"Maybe she's thinking that's the way all men treat women. Or that it's the only way she will ever be treated."

"I am not like her asshole ex-husband."

"Of course you're not. But there's a lot of insecurity there."

"So what do I do?"

"I can't tell you that. You know your woman. All I can say is think about what will make her realize you respect her feelings."

He sighed, then without saying goodbye, got up and left her office.

Rita smiled and shook her head. Greg House was quite a character.

He walked quietly into the house. She was in the kitchen, rinsing out some dishes. He came up behind her. He knew that she heard him – damn cane – but he still tried to be as quiet as possible. He put his arms around her waist and kissed her on the neck.

"I'm sorry." He said quietly. "I shouldn't have…"

She sighed. "Greg, this isn't about the pretzels."

"I know. It's about your feelings and your need to take care of yourself. It's me dismissing those concerns and turning them into a matter of money instead of a matter of respecting you. And I'm sorry that I did that."

She turned and put her arms around his neck.

"Thank you," she whispered.

A/N: If anyone hasn't read my short story Moving, give it a try. It's the story of House's first encounter with Rita. I promised she woudl pop up now and then and this seemed the right place to put her.