Disclaimer: Anybody you saw on your TV screen is not my character. Thomas and Jet are my characters, and I'm proud of both of them.

A/N: This story follows Pain in my series. It is quite short, just a handful of chapters, sweet, and to the point. Enjoy!

(H/C)

House carefully maneuvered the shiny new Camaro through the streets, suspiciously eyeing other traffic. The weather was awful, one of those January days of cold, driving rain that would be ice if it had just a few degrees more of ambition. He was confident in his ability to handle the roads, but they were just beginning to get slick at that stage where people who merrily blast on their way with no adjustments made for conditions can lose control. Victory so far didn't have a scratch marring the electric blue and black paint, and he planned to keep it that way as long as possible.

Victory. He ran a hand fondly along the dash as he sat still at a light. The size of this gift from his father still staggered him. The fact that the old man had been happy, even excited to give it and that he hadn't once tried to play it into a now-you-owe-me card staggered House even more.

He was on his way to Thomas' house now. Normally, they had a standing date on Thursdays in the late morning now to meet at the stable, take Ember out for a drive, and then have lunch afterward, unless House had a case urgent enough that he couldn't leave. Today, however, the weather had interfered. Obviously, getting the mare out in this would be miserable for her as well as them. Still, Thomas wanted to do lunch, wanted to see his son, and had asked by text this morning if he were still coming.

House, in private honest moments, admitted that he didn't want to cancel lunch, either. Ember was fun, and driving her and her four sound legs was exhilarating, but Thomas was fascinating. House enjoyed his company. The new relationship they were slowly building still felt odd but progressive, as long unused muscles feel as they become used to exercise and begin to develop newfound condition that the body never knew before that it was missing.

He pulled into the old man's driveway, pulled his jacket closer together, and got out. A sharp dash for the door through the rain wasn't possible, not with his leg, even if it hadn't been aching more than usual today. Effect of the weather, of course. Methadone and the new pain management were helping, but House knew that he would probably always be very aware of rainy and cold conditions.

Thomas was waiting at the front door, holding it open invitingly, with just a hint of quickly suppressed concern in his eyes. He at least didn't point out the lack of an umbrella, which House gave him credit for. There was an umbrella, carefully installed in the back floorboard by Cuddy, but House almost never used it when he was alone.

"Hello, Greg." The smile was in his tone as well as the words.

"Hey, old man." House stepped on inside and shook his head and shoulders like a dog. "Awful day out there."

"Only out there." Thomas was still smiling. "I'm glad to see you."

"Since it's been so long since dinner last night," House shot back, but he was only teasing, and the old man knew it.

"Give me your coat, and I can hang it up. Maybe it will dry off pretty well by the time we're done."

"Lot of good that will do, since it will be raining then, too." House was already shrugging off the coat even as he protested. The action had always been a bit difficult while propped on a cane, especially on bad leg days. Thomas reached out to help him, and House tensed up slightly, then forced himself to relax, reminding himself that no insult was meant, just improved efficiency.

Thomas hung the jacket on the coat tree standing near the door. Jet, who had been hanging back a little from the entrance in acknowledgement of the rain outside and of that House had shaken off his coat a minute earlier, stretched himself fore and aft casually, then ambled forward for his usual greeting.

Five feet away, the black cat froze. Every hair he had stood on end, and he snarled deep in his throat, a growl carrying an emphasis that neither of the men had ever heard from him. Jet advanced another two feet, lower and lower to the ground as he came, then hissed, reached out with claws extended to take a long-distance swipe at House's pants, then whirled around and bolted for his cave. In a flash, nothing was left visible to indicate the presence of the cat, but they could still hear him growling around the corner of the homemade lair and out of sight.

The two men stared after him, then looked at each other. "What the hell?" House asked.

Thomas was just as baffled. "He's been fine all morning."

House knew Jet liked him. This welcome almost reminded him of Belle's reaction to his "cheating" with Cathy's kitten over a year earlier, but it was far more intense and far more deadly serious. Belle merely had been disgusted and offended. Jet just now was terrified. He acted like he had been in danger.

Thomas went to the cave and knelt down in front of it. "Jet?" he called. He reached in.

"Careful," House warned. The kitten was still growling low in his throat.

Thomas' hand found the kitten, and he stroked him. After a moment, he withdrew his hand, fished a cat treat out of his pocket, then offered it into the cave. He shook his head. "He's not taking it."

For Jet to refuse a treat was unheard of. Thomas stroked him a few more times, then carefully pulled the kitten back into view. "What is it, Jet? Are you all right?" The kitten let himself be extracted, and when Thomas picked him up, he huddled in against him, but when House took a step forward, Jet snarled, turning up the volume.

"Take off your shirt, Greg," Thomas requested. House was already starting to unbutton it a second before the old man asked. He stripped the shirt off and then tossed it lightly to the side, landing a good ten feet away from the old man and the cat. Thomas stood and carried Jet over, then bent down to pick the discarded garment up. He only got halfway. Jet launched himself out of Thomas' arms, teeth and claws bared, and ripped the shirt straight out of his human's hand. For several seconds, cat and shirt were locked in mortal combat on the floor, and then Jet, again puffed to twice his size, streaked for the cave and disappeared for the second time.

"What exactly have you been doing this morning?" Thomas asked. "And with whom?"

House was thinking in high speed himself. "I've got a patient," he said. "Interesting but not critical. Had him since yesterday. This morning, right before coming here, I went to his room and spent several minutes examining him directly myself. Not that he really needed it medically, but the team happened to mention that he had some interesting old scars. I was curious."

Thomas looked toward the growling cave. "Claw marks?"

"They could have been. Easily could have been, come to think of it. He wouldn't say, was all in a huff insisting that wasn't what was wrong with him, which it isn't. This happened months ago." House grinned. "They were on his penis."

Thomas smiled himself before the expression dissolved into deadly seriousness.

"Team hadn't seen anything like that before. That's why I examined him, just to check it out even though it wasn't relevant to the case."

"Let's do a lab test," Thomas suggested. "I'll get you some clothes, and you go take a shower. I'll throw your pants and shirt in the washer and then wash my hands off. Let's see what happens."

By the time House emerged, thoroughly scrubbed, from the shower, dressed in his father's clothes, there was no trace of his own left to be seen. Even the coat tree with the jacket had been moved outside onto the front porch. Thomas was sitting on the couch feeding Jet treats, and the black cat, though still looking a little unsettled, was eating them.

House approached. "Hey, Jet," he said. Jet turned to look at him. His ears went back briefly, and his nose wiggled, but he had known House for months, after all. He was wary but not running or attacking, not yet. House walked up slowly, not that he had much choice, and reached out, letting Jet see the approaching hand all the way. Jet gave him a sniff and then relaxed. As House scratched his ears, he started to purr. House sat down on the couch next to them, and Thomas passed the kitten over. Jet curled up nicely in his lap, still purring.

Father and son looked at each other. "Your patient is the SOB who threw Jet out of that car and shattered his leg," Thomas announced.

House nodded. "That's obvious. The better question is, what are we going to do about it? There are limits. Can't break his leg likewise, unfortunately, but surely we can come up with something at least partially appropriate."

Thomas smiled.