A/N I've partially rewritten this to include dialogue, as per KNITTYWOMAN's reviews suggestion. Dialogues scare me.

"Sex while in hospice care is tricky."

"Well, at least it's home hospice care. Imagine doing this in a six-bed room."

"Maybe for voyeurs it would be a turn-on. Are you sure this way we won't knock down the IV pole? That was no fun last week."

"The IV pole will be fine. What I'm worried about is the oxygen supply."

"We could put the oxygen bottle on the bed with us, turned this way."

"And where do I fit in? You can't decide to get a 6'2" husband and then squeeze the two of us and an oxygen bottle in a twin-sized, hospital style bed."

"For that matter your bad leg isn't helping at all with the positioning issue."

"So sue me. The leg is there to stay. I think this way will work."

"Ok. Now I just hope that you didn't screw up the opiate dosis. You remember when you left it too high three weeks ago? Everything limp like a wet rag."

"Well, it's experimental science. That was just a test. I can't go too low or your pain will be so intense that you'll loose interest. I'm sure you remember that already happened."

"Twice, actually. And speaking of remembering, did you buy new lube? It was almost finished last time."

"Yes I did. Bought and placed. And now shut up, we've got business to do."

"Make me."

"That's precisely what I'm planning to do. Wanna see?"

"House... mmmmmph..."

"That was great."

"Sex with you while a sick cancer patient beats sex with any of my ex-wives. Maybe even with the three of them together."

"I think the endorphins released have fixed both our pain problems for a while. At least I feel really great."

"Me too. In retrospect, I feel sorry for all my past patients lying alone in their hospital rooms, where the most action they got was holding hands. Maybe I should fire up that old blog of mine and publish a long, detailed, lewd post with title Sex as pain management technique for the terminally ill."

"Sure, and while you're at it you could add a link to our video. We just have to upload it to YouPorn."

"I think it's enough to have it in the usual DontLookHere folder on my laptop, together with all the others."

"It's already there. The folder also still contains all the videos you made with Amber, by the way."

"If I weren't so tired I might want to watch some of them again. I haven't done so for a really long time."

"I'm tired too. Let me put everything in order for the night, replace your catheter, up your morphine, change your IV, and go to bed myself."

"Check the oxygen level, too. Goodnight, House."

"Goodnight, Wilson."

"What's this smell? Is it my mother's famous Macadamia Nut Pancakes recipe?"

"Yes it is. I've already eaten one!"

"Where are your manners? How come you haven't offered it to me?"

"You have eaten nothing in the last three days, Wilson. Your digestive system is toast."

"Well, at least I can lick the syrup. Out of your fingers. Or elsewhere."

"Fingers will have to be enough. Well, on second thoughts, maybe fingers and lips."

"Mmmmh. Taste so good."

"Don't go all romantic on me. You may sit lazily in that bed, but I have work to do for both of us today."

"I know House. I'll be waiting."

"I'll join you later. Then we can hold hands really long."

Chase followed the usual routine of every evening: he let himself in noiselessly in case one or both were asleep, switched on the light and put the groceries in the kitchen. As was often the case, House had left a short note on the living room table to list current needs. He picked it up and read it without taking a seat first. He ended up sitting on the floor and crying. He didn't dare opening the bedroom door until everybody else arrived.

Dear Support Team,

the bodies are in the bedroom, and the funeral instructions on the bedside table.
Thank you all very much for your help.

James Wilson and Gregory House

The funeral service was very short, with brief speeches by friends and no clergy at all. From the loudspeakers came a registration of House, playing whatever he felt like on the instrument Wilson had bought for him when they moved to the condo together. The large casket had both bodies in it: they were dressed in their wedding suits, Wilson's remaining hair had been freshly styled, and House's cane was at his side. They were lying in each other's arms, in the position in which they had been found. They looked like they were sleeping together. "They look so happy" thought Cuddy, her makeup melted away.

The ashes were dispersed at sunset from what used to be their joint balcony at PPTH.

Cuddy got the lease of the condo. The bulk of the money went into the House Wilson Ward for Pediatric Oncology. Thirteen got Wilson's laptop.

[Ten years later]

"Dr Masters, how does someone so young become Head of the most prestigious Diagnostics Department in North America?"

"I was lucky enough to learn from the best."

She turned her eyes along the walls of her beautiful new office, and looked among the many diplomas to a frame containing a plain sheet of paper with a few handwritten lines, slightly yellow with the years.

Dear M3,

as you may recall I predicted that a day would come when you would lie to save a patient's life. I'm glad you decided instead to lie to help a friend die happy.
I'm confident you will be a great doctor, and hope you'll appreciate a small keepsake of mine.

Yours,

Gregory House, MD

She started absent-mindedly playing with the ball.

A/N That's it I'm done! I feel like Charles Dickens and Wilkie Collins wrapped into one :-). All kinds of reviews heartily welcome.

PS In my opinion, this is a happy ending.