A/N: For you my dear readers, I told you I'd try to post twice this weekend. This was in my head and now it's yours to enjoy. I've got some ideas for the next chapter, if I can get them out, I'll post them today or tomorrow. Three chapters in a weekend hasn't happened in awhile now! Just enjoy :)

Disclaimer: I don't own House but if I did I would have tied Greg Yaitanes to his director's chair and forced him to listen to a recording of "RIP HUDDY" over and over again for a month straight till, like us, he got tired of hearing it!

Oh one more thing: I am PLEASED to say that "HouseMD83" has returned here after almost a two-year hiatus and just posted Chapter 44 of the fabulous story titled: "You Just Might Get What You Need" and you can find it at fanfiction (dot) net/s/4818393/1/You_Just_Might_Get_What_You_Need

It's really a terrific story. Please check it out and review.

On Saturday night, House and Wilson opted to hang out at Wilson's apartment, make homemade pizzas, drink beer and watching the pool tournament playoffs. Wilson sensed House had something on his mind since Friday but rather than pressure him as he normally did, he wanted to let House tell him when he was ready. They stood at the large prep counter in Wilson's kitchen making their pizzas.

"Hand me the pineapple will you?" Wilson asked.

"What the hell Wilson? Nobody puts pineapple on pizza," House said with a look of disgust on his face.

"I do," Wilson replied.

"It's gross."

"Says the guy who eats Reuben sandwiches," said Wilson, rolling his eyes. "It's just pineapple for crissake. Hey, throw me the ham and mushrooms too while you're at it."

"What the fuck Wilson? Mushrooms and ham on pizza? That's so un-American. Are you sure we're friends?" House chuckled.

"Just hand me the goddamn ham and mushrooms House."

House handed him the bowls. "The only stuff that goes on pizza is sauce, pepperoni and cheese, period."

"Just hurry up and let's get these things in the oven, the commercial's almost over."

"God you're such a nag."

"Yeah and you love me for it."

"You'd make a great girlfriend."

"So you keep saying," Wilson said as he put their pizzas in the oven. Satisfied with their pizza-making skills, they grabbed their beer and headed into the living room where they took a seat and put their feet up on the table. Wilson let out a sigh and House couldn't help but hear it. House leaned his head back on the back of the couch and closed his eyes. "Oh for fuck's sake Wilson, just ask me if you want to know what's on my mind."

"Know what? I didn't say anything."

"You don't have to. I know when you know I have something on my mind. And I know that you know how to make me talk. You start doing that sighing thing that drives me fucking crazy."

"House, I told you I was going to try and be a better friend by doing more listening and less nagging."

"Did you say that? I still think it was your evil twin because there's no way in hell James Evan Wilson would mind his own business."

"House."

"Fine. Do you really want to know what's on my mind?"

"Yeah, but only if you want to tell me."

House didn't reply, he just watched the television and immersed himself in the pool tournament. A few minutes later he broke his silence.

"I talked to Cuddy the night before last."

"You what?" Wilson was clearly taken by surprise.

"I swear Wilson you squeal like Debbie from accounting is sitting on your lap."

"You've used that line before House, try something new."

"Okay you squeal like Roger from accounting is sitting on your lap," House said smirking.

"Okay fine, let's get back to the subject at hand. How on earth did this happen?"

"Well she picked up her phone and dialed, then my phone rang-"

"House! Stop deflecting, spill it!"

"She called me last night around midnight and said she'd had a bad dream, she was worried about me. I'd say it was bad too, she dreamed I was dead. Apparently I'd been working on a case and took a nap in my office and never woke up."

"Holy shit, that's creepy," Wilson said shaking his head.

"I could tell it got to her pretty bad too, from the sound of her voice."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"So now what?" Wilson asked him.

"I don't know. We talked a little, didn't say more than a few words. I apologized to her."

"You already did that, in the letter right?"

"Yeah but last night I didn't know how many more chances I'd have to actually tell her so I figured it was a good time to do that."

"How'd she take it?"

"She accepted it. She even apologized too."

"She did?"

"Yeah she'd written it to me in her letter too. I think she still feels guilty for having dumped me."

"Do you think she should feel guilty?"

"No. I used to, but then I realized Cuddy was doing what she's been doing for years, what I've been doing for years, it's called self-preservation. We've fucking mastered the art of it. She was just protecting herself from the inevitable nuclear fallout. I can't say I blame her. What happened to us is exactly why I avoided getting involved with her for years."

"You can't avoid relationships because you're afraid of getting hurt."

"Seriously? Says the guy who would rather stay home with a diabetic cat on a Friday night than meet chicks."

"Your idea of chicks and my idea of chicks…very different."

"Oh, 'Outside Wilson' looks all adorable and shy just like the boy next door but 'Inside Wilson' is a far cry, he's an unshaven, misanthropic, cane-wielding horn dog like the rest of us."

"You know you really should write Hallmark cards," Wilson snarked.

"Do you think that if she hadn't broken up with you over the Vicodin, you guys would still be together?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"Sooner or later I would have fucked it up. I predicted this shit Wilson, remember? I told you I was trying to find something we had in common in order to make it work and you told me not to worry about it. I told you then how it would go and eventually I was right."

"So you think it was doomed from the beginning?"

"Yep. Is this what you wanted to talk about? I thought you wanted to know what was on my mind."

"You told me, the phone call."

"Yeah and I wasn't finished. I asked her if I could call her sometime, to make sure she was okay."

"No shit? What did she say?"

"She said it would be alright if I called her."

"Oh wow. That's a big step for her, for both of you."

"I still can't believe she called me. First she wrote me back, now this."

"So how are you going to screw this up House?"

"There's no this Wilson, there's nothing to screw up."

"Are you kidding?" Wilson asked, standing up and pacing the living room blocking House's view of the pool tournament as he paced.

"Goddamnit Wilson you're blocking my view."

"House don't you think there are more important things going on right now?"

"No. We've got beer, a pool tournament, pizza in the oven; I'd say we've got it covered."

Wilson continued to pace and threw his hands in the air in exasperation. "You do remember what's happening next weekend right?"

"You're finally getting laid?"

"No!" Wilson exclaimed and pointed his finger at House, "Don't you dare deflect here."

House sighed and looked up at his frantic friend. "Yes Wilson I know what's going on next weekend. I've been going over it in my mind every single fucking day since you brought it up."

"Well, you're coming with me, right?"

"I don't know."

"What? I thought this was settled days ago."

"Yeah well I get to change my mind, it is my life." He lowered his voice as if talking to himself, "Besides, it's been so long, I don't know to say or do."

Wilson resumed his seat on the couch next to his friend and said in a much calmer voice, "House, you just go with the flow. Don't try to plan it. Just be yourself. It's all she ever wanted."

House gritted his teeth. "No it's not what she wanted. She wanted the slightly modified, well-behaved, more respectable, model boyfriend version of me. It doesn't exist."

"House, she wanted you. I know this for a fact. She needed you to be your normal sarcastic pain in the ass self. She didn't you to censor yourself; she needed you to be your usual crass, obnoxious self. She needed truth and apparently you're the only one who gives it to her. When she thought she might have cancer, that's the House she wanted, not the one you apparently think she wanted."

"She should have told me."

"Seriously? Since when have you and Cuddy ever been on the same page?"

"Sex."

"What?"

"Sex was one of the few times we were on the same page," House confessed solemnly.

Wilson, not wanting to venture into images of the physical aspect of House and Cuddy's relationship merely replied, "Okay that's fine and all but I'm talking about verbal communication, which as you know is very important in a relationship."

"I tried, she tried, and it didn't work."

"Bullshit. It's your biggest goddamn problem, the two of you, you didn't try. Hell, you never talked about anything, you always assumed what the other person was thinking. I spent years being the middle man for you two trying to translate your thoughts and feelings to one another. It's a wonder I stayed sane. If you two had only talked like normal people you'd probably still be together."

"We're not the talking type."

"Well, start learning how to be the talking type because you're coming with me to Boston on Thursday and I'm not taking no for an answer."

"What if she doesn't want me there?"

"House, she still cares about you. Besides she needs to see you've changed."

"I haven't changed."

"You have changed. For years you hid behind your pain, using it to as a way to avoid relationships but you're not hiding anymore. Sure, you've fallen down but you keep getting back up and fighting. You're off Vicodin, seeing Nolan again and you're even doing physio. You are trying to have some kind of life."

"It's not enough for a woman like her. She deserves better."

"Let her decide that."

"I did last time and look where it got me."

"I think you're using her as an excuse. You're scared."

"I'm not scared."

"You are too House, just admit it."

"Oh goddamnit Wilson I'm scared alright? Feel better?"

"Okay," Wilson replied softly.

They sat quietly and watched the pool tournament. Wilson turned to House and said, "You should call her."

"I just talked to her."

"No, I mean you should tell her you want to see her next weekend."

"If she knows ahead of time she could say no and then what?"

"Like no has ever stopped you."

"Things are different now, I can't push," House said as he got up from the couch and limped into the kitchen to check the pizzas.

"I know. I'm sorry if it seems like I'm pushing you. Really I'm not," Wilson replied.

They were silent a moment before House looked at Wilson and asked, "Why do you care so much?"

Wilson put his head in his hands for a few seconds, then looked up at House and said in a tone that conveyed pure honesty, "You're my best friend House, we've been through a lot and I care about you. I care about Cuddy too. You two are my family and I want you to be happy. You've both hurt each other so much over the years and yet you keep bouncing back towards each other. Watching you two over the years, makes me wish that I could have felt that same energy that you felt with her. The only one who ever did that for me...was Amber. I know you think it's bullshit but you deserve happiness House, just as much as anyone else."

They were both silent, just staring at the pool tournament on television, half of which they'd missed because they were talking. Suddenly the oven buzzer went off. House leaped off the couch, in an effort to diffuse the awkward moment, and limped into the kitchen. He pulled the pizzas out of the oven, took a whiff and said,

"Now that's what I'm talking about. Come on Wilson, let's eat."

Later that night, House lay in his old room at Wilson's place, having decided to avoid riding his bike with alcohol in his system though he'd only had a few beers. At least that's the excuse he gave Wilson. Truthfully he didn't want to go back to his lonely apartment. He'd had fun with Wilson and didn't like being alone as much as he had in the past. His thoughts drifted to their earlier conversation. Wilson's words came back to him.

"For years you hid behind your pain, using it to as a way to avoid relationships."

He knew Wilson was right and yet while he wanted to change, he just didn't know how to make the kind of lasting change Cuddy needed. He closed his eyes thought of her.

It was Saturday night and House woke up on the couch in Cuddy's living room. Cuddy lay on her right side comfortably nestled up against him, stretched along his chest and his left leg, with her left arm protectively around his middle. The only light in the room was from the infomercial on the television, which he promptly turned off. The room was bathed in darkness except for a small dimly lit lamp in the far corner of the room. House rubbed his thigh a little and then wrapped his arms around her tight, enjoying the feeling of their closeness.

"Stop thinking," he heard her say softly. "You're keeping me awake."

"I'm not thinking."

"Yes you are, I always know when something's on your mind."

"You do?" he asked playfully, kissing her hair.

"Yeah, I can feel it. Go back to sleep."

"I would but I have this ginormous ass with a hottie attached to it currently crushing me."

Cuddy smacked his chest lightly and chuckled. "If you ever want to ever see this ginormous ass and the hottie attached to it naked again you'll shut up."

House laughed. "You know, we should go to bed."

"Don't want to move, stay here," she said snuggling into his chest.

They lay there feeling comfortable, not wanting to move. They were quiet a long time until House suddenly whispered in her ear, "How did I ever get so lucky?"

"House, stop asking and just enjoy it."

He stroked her hair and put his nose in it, smelling that shampoo she used that he loved so much. "I don't deserve you. You could have had any guy and you chose me. You're screwed up, you know that right?"

With her eyes still closed and speaking in a slightly more awake voice, she spoke softly, "House how many times do I have to tell you I don't want anyone else, just you? Stop saying you don't deserve me. If anything I don't deserve you."

"What? Are you kidding?" he asked, lifting her face so he could look at her. She opened her eyes and blue met blue.

"Do you not know me? After all these years? I'm a perfectionist, controlling, and I have fear of intimacy issues. It's a wonder you put up with me."

"So it's a competition now? Which one of us is more screwed up than the other?"

"No, you're definitely way more screwed up than me," Cuddy said just before giggling into his chest.

House loved it when she giggled; it reminded him of when she was young and carefree. As he stroked her and left kisses in her hair, he whispered again, "Being with you makes me feel so much less pain. I never thought I could feel this way."

"Oh House," she whispered, before stretching upwards to kiss him. He leaned forward to meet her lips and found them sweet, soft and reassuring. Her kisses always made him feel wanted and needed and he could never get enough of her.

House opened his eyes, smiling slightly at the memory. Though he and Cuddy fought often in public, when they were alone they had shared many tender moments. During their time together they had shared private things in quiet moments. Looking back he realized he wished he'd shared more, so much more. If he had, they might still be together.

He rubbed his face with his hands and looked over at his phone which lay on the nightstand. He wanted to call her but was afraid. She said I could call her. Would I appear too needy by calling her so soon? He tried to sleep but couldn't because thoughts of the phone call with her, his conversation with Wilson earlier in the evening, and the trip to Boston were all running through his head. Tired of fighting the nagging Wilson-like voice in his head he picked up his phone and spent a moment tapping several buttons on the keypad, then pressed send. Once it was done he let out a sigh and closed his eyes, waiting to see if she would respond.

Ten minutes later, House felt the vibration of the phone on his chest. He swallowed hard, then picked it up. As he read the screen, a relieved smile appeared on his face. The text message read, "Sure, I just put Rachel to bed. Let me shower and you can call me in twenty minutes."

I thought House and Wilson deserved some quality time discussing things. Please read and review!

I've got a lot more in my head so there's no telling when I might post another chapter. It could be right around the corner. Thanks for your support!