A/N: I've been having a terrible writer's block, so I'm really happy for myself that I finally put together another chapter..

On a side note, I know I use alot of songs in this fanfiction. iTunes is always always always open when I write a new chapter, and I hand-pick the chosen songs used that I believe give you a "feel" of being out on the open road. I hope I'm doing a good job with this.


Wilson awoke to the faint sounds of sporadic beeping, hoping it was at least a bird. With a small grunt, he turned over on his side, nestling his face into some horrible fabric material. And then House giggled. Half awake, Wilson could still register voices, and House's was no exception. With creased brows, Wilson's eyelids peeled open, blinking every few moments--and just realizing the 'horrible fabric material' was actually Denim Jeans. And the source of the giggling. With a sigh, Wilson lifted his head, having just realized he had been using House's left thigh as a pillow. "Mmm sr'y," he groggily mumbled, moving mere inches away onto a real pillow. House's back was propped up against the headboard, legs crossed, and casually dressed. He held his cell-phone on his lap, his fingers pressing the keys at random. He looked up from the screen to the sleeping Wilson.

"Wake, wakey," he said in a sing-song voice.

"Mnnnnnn!" said the pillow. House shut his cell-phone close, reached out and tugged at the pillow that was surely suffocating his friend. "Come on, I left some hot water in the shower," he tried. A few moments passed, and the figure under the pillow began to move. With a smirk on his face, House watched as Wilson's head emerged, hair sticking up in various directions. With droopy eyes, Wilson gained focus on House.

"What time is it?" he muttered.

"Quarter to six," House replied, looking at his watch. "Now come on, Salt Lake City tonight!" Wilson rubbed his eyes, while dragging his body off the queen-sized bed, wobbling himself in the small bathroom. When he heard the door lock, a smile suddenly crept on House's face. Step one of House's Brilliant Day To Make Up For Last Night was already in progress.

"Are you going to finish that pancake?"

Wilson looked up from his breakfast plate to see House quizzically looking over.

"House, we're in IHOP. If you want some more pancakes, just ask!" explained Wilson to House, who was already finished with his own breakfast, and just starting on his second cup of coffee.

Day three had started out earlier than the last time. They had quickly checked out of the run-down motel, and headed out for breakfast. House's choice--again, but Wilson was not complaining. A few minutes had passed until House decided to speak again, clearing his throat in an uncertain way.

"I'm sorry about last night," he muttered timidly. Wilson once again looked up from his plate, and at House, who had just offered an apology. He returned his eyes back to his pancakes, resuming his motions with his fork. House could swear a smirk played around his lips.

"So you're repaying me with breakfast...," he said before gulping down his food.

"And lunch," House added, leaning back, and folding his arms across his chest. "On who gets to pick the restaurant, well, that's debatable, but I'm sure--"

"--House," Wilson interrupted, silencing him. His eyes read of partial amusement, and House was still detecting the smirk. He put his fork down, and crossed his arms across his chest, similar to House's.

"It's--we're--," he started, searching for the correct words. His eyes darted to the floor, then back up at House's, who was surely intrigued.

"Its what we do...you know, we're always going to disagree on things, we're always going to say things that--"

"--you're saying our friendship is formulaic."

"--I guess I just didn't prepare--I forgot who I was traveling with," he said. House stared for a few moments, wondering what that last sentence had meant. Surely Wilson wasn't pinning last night on himself? House slowly began to nod, wondering how he was suppose to react. When he figured that comment was safe enough, he proceeded being House.

"I guess you did forget," he winked, reaching over, and grabbing the fork-full of the last of Wilson's pancakes. Wilson didn't even try to rescue the pancakes, even though he could've easily stopped House's arm. He just couldn't help but shake his head and break into a smile...

"Put on my blue suede shoes
And I boarded the plane
Touched down in the land of the
Delta Blues In the middle of the pouring rain
W.C. Handy - wont you look down over me
Yeah I got a first class ticket
But I'm as blue as a girl can be"

Wilson had his window rolled down, enjoying being in the passanger seat for once. House was driving twice as fast as Wilson normally would, one arm extended out the window with the breeze, the other on the wheel. Cher's 'Walking in Memphis" played on the iPod.

"Then I'm walking in Memphis
Walking with my feet ten feet off of Beale
Walking in Memphis
But do I really feel the way I feel?"

"Thanks for breakfast," Wilson said casually, turning his head towards House.

"I thought you paid?" House replied sarcastically, stopping the car at a red light.


"Grab me a bottle of Vicodin," House said, gesturing his head towards the backseats. Wilson reached over, bringing House's backpack on his lap. Unzipping the bag, he sighed. "Finished already with the other bottle?" House breathed in, tapping his fingers against the wheel.

"I left Shereen at the funeral home," answered House, almost embarrassed.

"It was the only motel in sight, you know that."

"We could've set up camp."

"And now you're naming your pills?"

"But of course with all that rain...no way it could've held up."

"You brought In Touch with you?" said Wilson, handing House the new bottle while taking out the celeb trash magazine, a distraught-looking Britney Spears gracing the glossy cover.

"The custody battle is heating up," House informed, dry swallowing a pill.

"How could you read this garbage?" Wilson wondered, carefully examining the pages.

"How could you not?" House argued back. "Compelling lives of the rich and famous. Every day is a drama. Its like TV, only the pictures don't move."

"No, its more like people so bored with they're own lives that they have to read what other people are doing with theirs," Wilson replied, looking at a scantly-clad Paris

Hilton out and about the town. "See, nobody cares that Paris Hilton was out shopping for carrots," he added, pointing to the picture. "I do that."

"Are we about to discuss the gamut lives between you and Paris?" House said, throwing a pathetic look at Wilson.

"I'm a doctor, what has she done with her life?" Wilson replied defensively. House's mouth dropped open in disbelief.

"Have you not seen the tape?"

"Yeah, I think it was that night that you forced me onto your couch and wouldn't let me leave until I saw it."

"God knows you needed it. I always knew you weren't getting any with Julie," House sniggered.

"Oh you...kept track of when we had sex...that's really thoughtful of you. Although next time, I suggest--"

"--You were so miserable you were practically coming onto me!" laughed House.

"Don't flatter yourself."

"And what did I do? I dragged myself out of bed nearly every night, took you to some bar and got you drunk until you were puking all over the pool table," House reminisced.

"Nnnnnnno," Wilson said slowly, trying to recall. Just as House turned his face to him, Wilson began to remember. "No, oh yeah, no, that one was with Bonnie."

"Ahh, Bonners."

"With Julie, you completly tortured me."

"Hey, I was only trying to make you--"

"--kill myself?!"


"Dipping my hand in warm water while sleeping is not the same as actually sitting down and having a human conversation."

"Well, we're conversating now."

"Am I going through a divorce?!"

"Are you? Its so hard to keep track these days."

Wilson stared at House for a few moments, then rolled up the magazine, and gave the top of House's head a whack with it.

"OW!" exclaimed House, reaching with one hand to protect his head. "What the hell, Wilson! Was that what your wives did to you when you told them to give you hea--" WHACK!

"Shut up and drive!" laughed Wilson, obviously enjoying this newfound power.

"Wha--would you like to drive? You practically gave me a goddamn concussion!"

"Whacking your head with a magazine? That gave you a concussion?"

"Where am I? Its like Memento."

"I always thought you looked a little like Gary Sinise," Wilson remarked, remembering the film.

"Ewan Mcgregor, you idiot," House replied.

"No, it was Guy Ritche..." Wilson slowly said.

"Uhhhh..." House began, thinking. "Pierce Brosnen..."

"GUY PEARCE!" was then shouted instantly in unison. The two men then began laughing together like two schoolgirls having just spotted the high school hottie in the mall.

House had decided that the Burger King drive-through was more convienant than actually stopping for a rest (although Wilson's constant "your leg needs to stretch" might've had something to do with it).

"You forgot to ask for ketchup," Wilson said, as he snacked on some hot fries from a bag.

"I'm sure they charge for the packets," House replied, taking one hand off the wheel to reach into the bag of food.

"House, seriously. There's a rest-stop on the next exit," Wilson said, seeing how ridiculous the situation looked, with House trying to eat a burger and drive at the same time.

"You're just worried about your precious steering wheel smelling like mayonaise,"came the retort. Still, they were parked and eating steady a good fifteen minutes later.

"Alright, there are about seven vacant benches all around you. There's no need to--" Wilson started as he made he way back from the restroom, House coming into view with his body reclining on the front of the car, propping his elbows up as he ate.

"--Stop nagging and get over here," House said, chewing on his Whopper. Wilson sighed and slowly got on top of the hood of his own car, legs dangling. "Hand me my drink," Wilson said, turning his body towards House, who was holding out his cup. Wilson reached over and took it. Not far ahead, a young couple held each other on one of the benches,and started showing--

"Public displays of affection," House stated outloud to Wilson. Wilson looked around and spotted the couple, who were practically eating each other's faces.

"They're in love," Wilson shrugged, not seeing the big deal.

"Yeah but did you do that when you--"

"Alright, enough with the ex-wives jokes. You've reached your quota for the day," Wilson said annoyed.

"Well then I'm going over my limit."

"Kinda like what you did on the road?"

"Hey, 80 is the new 60."

"Since you rebel against rules all the time, how would you be in a world where there are no rules? Would you...make up rules and then follow them?"

"I'm trying to ignore you," House stated.

"Because eating a Whopper while staring at strangers like a physco killer is way more exciting than talking to me?"

"Yup,"House replied, gulping down the last of his food. Wilson nodded, getting himself off the car. House crumpled the wrapper, then made a passing attempt to score into the nearby garbage can. He jumped off the car, and got into the driver's seat, Wilson already buckling himself in.

They set back on the road again. The evening's orange light was begining to show on the horizon. Jackson Browne's "The Pretender" was playing, with House confidently singing along.

" I'm going to rent myself a house
In the shade of the freeway
I'm going to pack my lunch in the morning
And go to work each day

And when the evening rolls around
I'll go on home and lay my body down
And when the morning light comes streaming in
I'll get up and do it again

House was musically talented in many ways, and Wilson had secretly enjoyed the rare times where House would burst out in song. Shades on, looking forward, Wilson just listened. But House caught on to Wilson's inner enthusiasm.

"You like this song? House asked casually, finishing the first verse.

"Its alright," Wilson replied, keeping his eyes ahead.

"I know you know the lyrics," House teased, as he began on the second verse, singing it a bit louder than the first verse, and Wilson wondered if it was on purpose.

"I want to know what became of the changes
We waited for love to bring
Were they only the fitful dreams
Of some greater awakening?"

"C'mon, sing the song with me," House encouraged.

"House, I--" Wilson began to protest.

"C'monnnn!" he said again, playfully.

"I've been aware of the time going by
They say in the end it's the wink of an eye
--sing it with me!" House said loudly, turning the volume up. It amazed Wilson how enthusiastic House always became for music. It always brought out a side that Wilson wouldn't mind to see more often. It was a good song, a classic one too. And Wilson figured now or never.

"--and when the morning light comes streaming in, you'll get up and do it again. Amen" Wilson started, almost forcefully, but he couldn't hide the excitement.

"There you go!" House shouted, smiling widely. It was contagious, almost like a jolt of energy going through Wilson, and he couldn't help but continue.

"Caught--between the longing for love and the struggle for the legal tender!" he continued, singing loudly.

"--Where the sirens sing--" House yelled through the wind.

"--and the church bells ring--" Wilson added.




"Out into the cool of the evening strolls the Pretender" they both sang, lowering only a notch to create effect.

"He knows that all his open dreams begining end-air" sang Wilson.

"Hopes and dreams BEGIN and END there!" corrected House.

"No--" defended Wilson.

"Begining end-air? Really, Wilson?" House said.

"Well that's what he said!"

"That is NOT what he said," said House, laughing almost uncontrollably.

"Whatever, House," Wilson laughed, fully knowing that House was right. They both continued singing the song until its last note, but even then they were still laughing

though at this point, neither knew why. To any passerby, one might call it a 'friendship high' moment.

"Wheeww!" exclaimed House, throwing Wilson a big smile.

"Thank you, thank you!" Wilson said. "I'll be here till '10!" he added to the imaginary audience.

"Signing autographs," said House.

"--And accepting roses," added Wilson.

"--And marriage proposals," challenged House.

"--And old-man canes!"

"--And blow-dryers!"

"--And Toupee's!"


"Alright, there is nothing wrong with my ties!" Wilson said in defense.

"Says the man with the purple tie with orange dots," House coughed.

"There's nothing wrong with a man liking a little color."

"Hahhh yeah, if you're Jake Gyllanhall."

"What does--ohh," Wilson said, getting the Brokeback Mountain reference.

The sun had already began to go down as they continued their way on the road, making more puns and jokes, poking at each other's flaws--in other words--being best

friends the House-And-Wilson way.

"What does that sign say?" House asked, driving up to a small secluded location, that almost looked like a bar--an outside one. Small round tables were everywhere seated for four, waiters were serving people, and there was a small stage in the middle.

"Uhhh...'Tonight...Henry K. HeGuessyes',"Wilson read.

"Hmm..," House said, making his way towards the small parking spaces.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Wilson asked as House parked the car. House turned off the engine, and faced Wilson.

"That sign you just read...keep saying the name and you'll eventually find out," House said getting out of the car, leaving a dumbfounded Wilson, who followed seconds later.

They both approached the outside event quickly.There were about forty people in the audience, seated. The stage was occupied by musicians tuning up their instruments. House found the nearest table, which was occupied by two females.

"May we?" House asked, gesturing to the two empty seats left.

"Oh,sure, go ahead!" answered one of the girls. She was young and blonde with a pretty face. The other, a brunette, with curls going down to her waist. House seated himself, and Wilson timidly took the other seat.

"You boys are just in time," the brunette spoke up to them,

"For what?" Wilson asked, but just as the girl was about to answer, the host's voice boomed over the speakers set all around the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to Latin's finest--Enrique Iglesias!"

The audience burst into applause and cheers as the famed Enrique stepped out onto the stage, microphone at hand, waving to the seated audience. Wilson's eyebrows creased as he turned to House.

"But the sign said 'Henry K..." he started, then figuring out the alias name for the singer, which was a strategy used for most artists who want to attract a small audience.

"How are we doing tonight!" Enrique said, taking a seat on a stool conviently placed center-stage. The small gathering of people burst once again in applause.

"Alright, this first song I wrote..." he began.

"Hope you like Budweiser!" the blonde shouted just as a server came over their shoulders, offering them beer. Both men gladly accepted, casually. A catchy song entitled "Tired Of Being Sorry" began to play over the booming speakers.

"I don't know why
You want to follow me tonight
When in the rest of the world
With whom I've crossed and I've quarreled
Let's me down so
For a thousand reasons that I know
To share forever the unrest
With all the demons I possess
Beneath the silver moon"

"Sing it, Enrique!" the brunette shouted.

"Woo!" the other added.

"Maybe you were right
But baby I was lonely
I don't want to fight
I'm tired of being sorry"

"Do you like this song?" the blonde called out to House, who leaned in to hear his answer.

"Its nice!" House replied.

"I'm Tori," she extended a hand.

"Greg," he replied, shaking her hand. He looked over to Wilson, who was --in no surprise--already chatting up with the brunette.

"What brought you here?" House said, starting conversation.

"We finished our last day of college today," Tori explained. "So this is like...the first of many celebrations we have planned. We have a flight to Vegas tomorrow."

"I love the Vegas!" House replied. Tori giggled.

"So whats up with your leg?" she asked politely, noticing the cane. House decided that Miss College Graduate didn't need to know.

"I was in the war around '03," he said, which earned him an immediate "aww" from her. The tempo of the song gradually began to change as Enrique went straight into his next song, the well-known "Hero".

"I love this song!" the brunette called Gaby exclaimed to Wilson, who smiled. She then gasped excitedly. "Do you want to dance with me?"

"Oh, I don't--I don't really dance," Wilson began chuckling. Gaby stood from her chair, and held onto Wilson's hand, urging him from his seat. "C'mon, it'll be fun!" she said.

Wilson stood up from his seat, giving House a 'wish me luck' look. House winked at him, then waved as they disappeared into the crowd.

"Awww your friend is so sweet," Tori said, smiling. House looked back, seeing how his friend held the brunette close as they began to dance. His mouth widened to a smile. "Yeah, he is."

House and Tori then went into light conversation, and she talked excitedly while he intently listened. Gaby didn't return Wilson until about an hour afterwards--who looked worn out yet enjoying himself. Enrique finished up "Can't Escape My Love" which was apparently his last number of the night as he thanked everyone and bowed off the small stage. After a few minutes, people began clearing off from their tables, casual empty beer bottles on the floor.

"Well we better head out," Tori said to House, as they both stood up. "We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

"We'll Tori, you've got my number--"

"--I've got your number," she confirmed. "And uh, well, yeah thanks sooo much for tonight! I had alot of fun," she exclaimed. "And uh...it seems Gaby and your friend over there seemed to have had some fun too!" she added, pointing towards Wilson and Gaby, who were hard to make out from the shadows they were standing in, doing God-knows-what.

"Atta-boy,"House muttered under his breath. Wilson walked Gaby to her car, then met up with House, who was leaning on the driver's side.

"You all good for the week now?" House said. Wilson chuckled.

"Shut up, House," he said as they got into the car.

Thankfully, there was a Best Western not too far ahead. They checked in for one night. And thankfully, the room they were staying in was about twice as large as the last. Cable TV, two beds, room service. Showers were taken, and beds were crawled into. It was nearing midnight, and both men were too tired to even entertain themselves with some TV. Less than an hour after the check-in, the lights were off.

"Hey House?" Wilson started, hoping that House wasn't yet asleep.

"Yeah?" he answered from the other bed not far away.

"Thank you."

"For what?" House asked.

"For coming with me...I don't know, today was--today was really great," Wilson explained softly. House turned to his side, to face Wilson, who was seen through the


"That's because we made it great," House started. He then cleared his throat, and lowered his voice, almost to a whisper.

"I'm glad you haven't kicked me to the curb yet."

"Mmmm,"Wilson replied, smiling, closing his eyes.

"That one was literal and metaphorical," House added. Wilson opened his eyes and smiled again. In House world, Wilson barely got a verbal expression as to what their friendship meant to each other.

"I'll never do that to you, House," Wilson whispered, barely audible. House smiled again for the umpteenth time that day, a warm feeling coming over him. "I know," he finally replied.

"Goodnight, House."

"Goodnight, Wilson."

A/N: Alright, I believe this is my longest chapter yet.. As I have stated, music is crucial, so I strongly recommend downloading the songs used in this chapter to help you get that 'feel' if you haven't already. Please review. I wrote this one over a period of two nights, so I'm not sure about characterization. I'm sure I've made many mistakes. Please point them out, and I'll fix them right away. Thanks so much!