Disclaimer: I do not own House MD or any of the characters, but I sure as hell wouldn't mind owning Hugh Laurie!

A/N: Mkay so ... again, it feels like a long time since I wrote anything … though, when I think about it, it really wasn't … So, this chapter is, well, part Huddy, part filler. I needed to make something happed (you'll know what by the end) … because really, how realistic is it that Wilson would be able to do it all by himself? … gotta keep a minimum level of realism here :P

I hope you like it anyway … I'm REALLY sleepy and so am going to re-read this a couple of times before posting … but I make little promises about coherence :P

Luckily, I have no school tomorrow (yay!) so I may be able to get some more work done … maybe

Also, we're closing in on those 400 reviews :D :D So, to celebrate the landmark (bare in mind that my record before 'Foetus' was a mere 120 reviews …) I'd like to thank you all SOOOOOOOOOOOO much for all your reviews and to ask you if you could tell me what country you're from. I was checking the 'story traffic' thingy, and saw that there were people there from all over the world … now I'd like to know whose who … if you guys are ok with that … thanks :D

Anyways, Enjoy!

Waking up an hour later, House looked down at the sleeping beauty in his arms. He would really have liked to stay there and marvel at the fact that this was real, that he was actually smelling the warm scent of her conditioner, that she was really lying on him, fast asleep. But even though he didn't have a small child growing inside him, he was still human, and like any other semi-normal human, he really needed to use the bathroom.

So very slowly, he managed to move from underneath Cuddy, replacing his body, where he could, with pillows so that she wouldn't be in a too awkward position, and limped to the bathroom.

Looking at himself in the mirror as he washed his hands, House reflected on who that guy was. He saw the dishevelled look and his permanent frown. His eyes were ice cold.

And he suddenly remembered a time when he'd done this before. When, under different circumstances, he had looked at himself in a mirror and seen different features. He'd been a boy, 20 or so. He'd just woken up in the arms of a gorgeous undergrad who he'd been chasing for months and was feeling at the top of his game. And not just because he had slept with one of the most desirable women he'd ever met either, there was something else. Something he'd never quite understood. But it was there. And the man he was today knew, deep down, that whatever it was that had made his 20 year old self like what he saw in the mirror, was still present today.

As he thought of what that 'something' was, House started to see himself differently, he started to see himself like Wilson had always done. Not as a miserable curmudgeon, but as a man who needed to, and, just maybe, was starting to be, fixed; even if only a little bit.

As he re-entered the bedroom from the bathroom. House noted that Cuddy was still fast asleep, her hand resting on the pillows as it had on his chest. And he felt something akin to a smile grow on his face. It was an interesting feeling, this being happy thing. He could see why people liked it. Although, he added in his thoughts, if you don't know what you're missing, you'll never miss it, and, right then, he was sure he'd miss seeing Cuddy like this, waking up with her in his arms, being perfectly comfortable around her. He really would.

Not wanting to disturb her, House slowly leaned over her and removed the iPod that was resting at her side and the ear piece that was so close to falling out of her ear and, with one last look at her, limped his way out of the room and into the living room.

As she felt his presence leave the room, and the music leave her mind, Cuddy drifted back into reality. Looking around, she noted how the muscular chest she'd fallen asleep on was missing, and sighed.

Sitting up a little groggily, she prepared herself for whatever unexpected events were to come. In the past few days, she'd learnt to expect anything and everything, and the tingling in her stomach as she stood to find House, told her that she was actually looking forwards to whatever was in store.

Sitting on the couch, House felt his leg again, something that hadn't happened in a while. Sighing as he finished 'plugging' himself in, he reached into his pocket and grabbed a couple of Vicodin. Those two extremely familiar pills now looked like something undesirable. He knew Cuddy hated his habit, he knew it didn't make him any better; it just made him function better. It made him better at his job, but worse at being a human being, and for the last few days, he'd opted for being a human being rather than a doctor. Strangely enough, he noted, he didn't mind the change.

But the pain was still there, present as ever. Though happiness could numb it, it wasn't unhappiness that caused it. That pain was real, he really was missing a large portion of his thigh muscle, and it really did hurt beyond words. So, sighing and looking up to the ceiling as he tilted his head, House dry-swallowed the two pills and, after a few seconds of staring at that non-existent spot on the ceiling, he looked back down at his iPod.

Those little machines really were remarkable. House loved his previous iPods and he was very fond of his Gameboy, but having them all in one was just too good. Not only could he listen to music anywhere he wanted, he could play games and surf the internet (having found out how to break into the Hospital's wireless connection).

At the moment, his game of choice was solitaire. He wasn't sure why, but that game had always held a particular interest to him.

Cuddy, who had been standing by the doorway to the living room since he'd popped his pills, knew exactly why he loved the game so much. She'd caught him playing it on the computer at work several times and now, walking over to him and looking over his shoulder, she had to smile. It was such a fitting game. Designed to be played alone, it was a puzzle which could just as easily have a solution as not. It didn't lie, it didn't cheat, it was just a set of cards, placed in a random order, and a possible solution at the end of it all. It screamed 'House'.

Suddenly, a reflection caught on his screen and House looked over his shoulder to see Cuddy standing there, in all her pregnant glory, smiling down at him.

"Did I wake you?" he asked surprising Cuddy and himself by the fact that he actually really did care.

"No" she shook her head as she moved around the couch and sat down next to him "but you stole my pillow and music …" she smiled.

"Yea … my music" he said waving his iPod "… and" he looked down at himself and frowned "my pillow" he grinned as she smiled again.

There was a short moment in which they just looked at each other before Cuddy spoke "Queen of hearts to King of spades"

"What?" asked House momentarily confused.

"The game … Queen of …"

"Oh" he said looking down and moving the suggested card "thanks"

"Solitaire?" she asked, knowing the question sounded more like 'feeling lonely?' than anything else.

House shrugged, he understood the double meaning and gave her an answer that suited both questions "you were asleep"

She merely nodded and studied the little screen again. Following where her eyes had gone, House too looked at the game, and moved a Jack of clubs with a ten of hearts on it onto the previously moved Queen of hears.

"Oh, hadn't seen that one" said Cuddy smiling and scooting a little closer.

For the next five minutes, the two merely sat there, every now and then suggesting a move, using the combined power of their high IQs to try and beat House's insane high score. They might have succeeded too, you know, had they not spent half the time stealing glances at each other and wondering whether to mention what had happened before or not.

It had been about three hours since he'd last spoken to House, and Wilson was being driven insane by the case he'd taken upon himself to solve.

Sure, it was Lupus. But the guy was still declining, even after he'd been given all the proper medication and medical care. There had to be some piece of the puzzle missing, something he'd ignored, something so absurd and minute that only House would have picked up on.

Sitting back in his chair, Wilson looked through the door to his balcony into House's empty office and pulled out his cell phone.

He dialled the number and was about to press the call button when he stopped. He'd taken this case for a reason, he wanted his friends to work things out, he wanted that kid to have both his spectacular mother and amazing father. And he wanted him or her to have them both as mommy and daddy, not as mommy and uncle-who-drools-over-mommy-but-is-too-chicken-to-do-anything.

So, erasing the number and placing the phone back on his desk, Wilson sighed. He had a whole new admiration for House and what he did. Sure, he only saw, what, one patient a week? Sometimes one patient a month. But Wilson now knew it wasn't as easy as throwing a ball against a wall and playing with white board markers (and yes, he had tried all those tactics). House's work was something only he could do. Well, it was something only he could do as well as he did.

Just as he finished that thought and resigned himself to the fact that he would, sooner or later, have to call House, Cameron burst through his door, already half way through some complaint.

She was quickly followed by Foreman and Thirteen, all of them having found nothing in all the exams they'd done. Once their complaints were made, and Wilson had exhausted all possible ideas, Cameron became the voice of reason.

"We need House" she said quite simply.

Wilson nodded. It was true.

"I'll call him" said Thirteen reaching for her cell phone from her pocket.

"Eh, no" said Wilson thinking "It's ok, I'll take the scans to him. He's not at work for a reason, he can just take a look at them and …"

"He needs to see the patient" said Cameron and everyone looked at her like she'd never met House.

"If we can't get House to check on patients when he's sitting in his office, do you really think we're going to get him here when he's sitting all comfy at home downing scotches, playing piano and playing sick?" asked Foreman, shaking his head at Cameron's, what he would call, naïveté.

Wilson merely nodded, not about to take the time to explain that House wasn't at home, he wasn't downing whiskies, he wasn't playing piano, and he wasn't playing sick.

"I'll call you if he finds anything" he said and, with that, he grabbed his coat and left the room.

He hated having to go there and break whatever it was that seemed, from his phone call, to be going on, but the patient needed House. He was a doctor, he needed to do what was best for the patient and, right then, what was best for the patient was for Dr. Gregory House to express his opinions about his medical conditions.

So Wilson would go to him.

At least this way, Wilson figured, there wasn't as big a chance of House leaving Cuddy's side. Wilson would go there, he'd get House's opinion, and he'd get back to the hospital before House could get any ideas that didn't fit with the oncologist's over all plan.

TBC

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CJS-DEPPendent