Okay, here it is, the sequel to "Mine". House/Cuddy FRIENDSHIP. I make no claims that this is a Huddy fic...focus is on friendship this go around, and a big storyline for Wilson. There may be (okay, will likely be) some Huddy-ish moments, but friendship is really key. Thanks to my Beta, chippers87.

Chapter 1

"Please, Mommy?" Mia asked, excitedly.

"He has a case right now. I don't want you going up there."

"But Mommy, I made it just for him," Mia used her best puppy dog eyes, just like Uncle Jimmy taught her to do.

Cuddy rolled her eyes, "Ten minutes, that's it and then I want you back in my office."

Mia's eyes sparkled, "Okay, Mommy!"

Mia handed her backpack to Cuddy and made a beeline for the elevators, waving at several nurses on her way. She was a regular sight around the hospital and had been since she was healthy enough to attend the onsite daycare facility when she was just over a year old. Cuddy stood in the elevator bay and watched as Mia entered the car. When the doors closed, she phoned Wilson to let him know Mia was on her way up and Wilson hurried out to the elevator bay on the fourth floor and waited to greet her. Mia bolted out of the car, nearly crashing into Wilson. He smiled and picked her up, swinging her from side to side as she giggled, throwing her head back in glee.

"How was your first day of kindergarten?"

"It was okay. My teacher's nice," She paused to straighten her blue-plaid uniform jumper as Wilson put her back down, "But Bobby Prandle is a bully. He poked me in the chest."

"Did he hurt you?"

"No, but he said my friend Emma's red hair looked like pasghetti sauce."

"Spaghetti," Wilson corrected her, smiling.

"Yeah, pasghetti. So I said he was an imbecilic buffoon who wouldn't know his cranium from his gluteus maximus."

Wilson inwardly laughed, imagining what Cuddy would say when she found out what new phrase House had taught her. "Mia, now you know that's not nice."

"He said her hair looked like pasghetti sauce!" She exclaimed.

"And what did your mom tell you about using that kind of language at school?"

Mia stared at her shoes, her voice not nearly as perky as before, "I'm not allowed to say things Uncle House teaches me when I'm at school."

"That's right." Wilson put his finger under her chin and forced her to look up at him, "I know you know what those words mean, but they aren't nice words when you say them that way."

"Okay, Uncle Jimmy."

"Tell me what else you did today."

"Miss. Roberts did calendar first, and then we sat at our seats. She passed out crayons and paper and told us to color because she had to talk to the two girls who were crying. Then she told us we'd learn the alphabet and how to read, except I already know how to read. And then we had recess, and after recess we had snack and that's when Bobby poked me. And then we did centers. I played a matching game with Susan. I won," she said sporting a huge grin.

"Of course you did," Wilson smiled.

"Then it was math time but all we did was count jelly beans. That was kinda boring until she said we could eat them. Then Miss. Roberts read Miss. Bindergarten Gets Ready For Kindergarten and then mommy picked me up."

"Did you have fun?"

"It was okay. It's funner here."

Wilson placed his hand on her head, "It'll get better. I'll talk to you later Mia Bo Bia, I've got an appointment in a few minutes."

"Bye, Uncle Jimmy!" She said, skipping towards House's office.

House stood at the whiteboard, marker in hand, frowning at his fellows when Mia walked in, "Uncle House! I made you something!"

"Not now, Smiagle."

"My name is not Smiagle."

"Go wait in my office," he said gruffly.

Mia defied his orders and marched herself over to one of the conference room chairs and plopped herself down, smiling at his fellows as she passed. She placed the picture she had painted on top of the table, expectedly.

House rolled his eyes and turned to his fellows, "Run a tox screen, a liver panel and get a better history. Let me know if you find anything." The fellows nodded, and filed out of the conference room, leaving Mia and House alone.

He looked down at her, still somewhat frowning, "What do you want Smiagle?"

"I'm not Smeagol. I'm not a hobbit who turned into that ugly thing from that dumb movie. Stop calling me that," she said with her bottom lip sticking out.

"I have work to do, Smiagle." he teased.

A tear formed in the corner of her eye, "I just made this for you." Mia turned towards the door, "It was my first day of kindergarten today, you know."

House saw the tear and pretended not to notice, "You survived."

"It was boring," Mia said, walking over to the fridge, "I'm hungry."

"There's a yogurt in there for you." Mia took the yogurt out and House handed her a spoon from a high shelf, "How was it boring?"

She sat at the conference room table and hungrily dipped into the yogurt, "We counted jelly beans for math."

"How many did you count?"

"Ten."

House pursed his lips and nodded, "Do you have any homework?"

"Just a coloring sheet."

"It's the first day, Smiagle, maybe you'll get a truckload of homework tomorrow."

Mia smiled up at him, "You think so?"

House frowned, "Kids are supposed to hate homework."

She dismissed that thought, "Bobby poked me."

"What did you do to make a boy poke you?"

"I didn't do anything!" She said, growing angry.

"He must have had a reason to poke you." House said with a furrowed brow.

"It's not my fault." She said, crossing her arms in front of her.

House sighed and rolled his eyes, "Come here."

Mia sat rooted to the spot, equally as stubborn as he was, "No."

"Do you know how much you look like your mother right now? Come. Here."

"NO."

"Mia Rose, where did that boy poke you?"

"On my zipper," Mia pointed towards her chest. House had christened the scar that spanned the length of her chest, 'zipper' shortly after the surgery, because of its zipper-like appearance. The name stuck and though Mia had no memory of the life saving heart surgery she had as a baby, she knew she had to be careful when doing certain activities because of it.

"I'm calling your mother."

Mia shook her head, "No, she'll get mad at me."

"Why would she get mad at you, Mia?"

"Just because."

"That's not an answer." House waited for Mia to explain herself, but she kept her lips sealed tight. He picked up the phone, ready to dial Cuddy's extension when she appeared in the doorway.

"Mia Rose Cuddy!" Both House and Mia turned towards an obviously angry Cuddy, "I just had an unpleasant phone call from your teacher. What's this about calling a boy an imbecilic buffoon? And telling him he wouldn't know his cranium from his gluteus maximus?"

House chose to walk towards his office at that moment, "House! Don't move."

"But Mommy, he poked me first!"

"It doesn't matter if someone pokes you or yells at you or calls you names. What should you do if someone hurts you, Mia?"

Mia pursed her lips and sighed, "Tell the teacher, but Mommy, he poked me on my zipper."

Cuddy looked up at House, "This is your fault."

"What? So, I taught her another word for head."

"Don't act innocent with me, House," Cuddy said, as she picked up Mia and sat her on the conference room table.

"Lift up your shirt," she said. Mia pulled her shirt up and Cuddy examined her chest.

House moved closer to Mia and sat down in the chair, examining the contusion, "It's just a small bruise. She'll be fine."

"Did you tell the teacher he poked you?"

"Yes."

"Did you tell her he poked you on your zipper?"

"No."

"Mia, you know that if something happens to your zipper, you need to tell the teacher so they can call me."

"Cuddy, it's a bruise, she's not dying."

Cuddy turned fiercely towards House, and placed her finger on his chest, "You don't get to make these decisions. If I tell her to tell the teacher when something happens to her zipper, she needs to tell the teacher." House placed his hands up defensively and backed away.

"Mia, go into Uncle House's office until I call for you." Cuddy walked over to the mini freezer and pulled out the ice tray, "Here," she said, handing her a piece of ice wrapped in a paper towel, "Put this on the bruise, sweetie. I'll call you in just a minute."

"Okay, Mommy."

Once Mia was out of the room, Cuddy turned to House, "She told you that boy poked her, didn't she?" House nodded. "Why didn't you just examine her?"

"She's getting older Cuddy, I can't just lift her shirt up anymore. People walking by might, I don't know, think I'm a child molester."

"You know you have my permission to examine her zipper if something happens to her."

House nodded.

"I have to get back to my office."

"You do realize that she's not going to learn anything in that class, right?"

Cuddy glared at him, "It's a prestigious school, House."

"Doesn't matter how prestigious it is if she's not learning anything. She needs to be challenged."

"It's only been a day. Give it at least a week," Cuddy opened the door to House's office, "Come on, you can go down to daycare while I finish up for the day."

"But Mommy, I don't want to go to daycare!" Mia whined.

"But Mommy, Mia can stay here," House whined immediately afterwards.

"Honestly, it's like having two children," Cuddy said with a shake of her head, "Don't teach her any more medical terms," she said, looking at House.

"You," she said, looking Mia in the eye, "Stay here with Uncle House and keep the ice on your zipper. I'll pick you up in a little bit."

"And you," Cuddy said, turning her attention towards House, "Keep an eye on her and stay out of trouble."

Mia smiled broadly, "Bye, Mommy!"

"Bye, Mommy," House chimed in as Cuddy let the door close behind her.

Mia looked up at him, "Uncle House?"

"Hmmm?"

"Can I have my hug now?"

House feigned a look of annoyance, "Is anyone looking?"

Mia smiled as she looked outside to make sure the coast was clear, "Nope."

House rolled his eyes, as was their little game, and said, "Just this once." He opened his arms and she rushed into his embrace.

She looked up at him, "I don't like school."

"You have to go."

"It's boring."

"I know, I'm working on it."

"My teacher said she was going to teach us to read, but I already can. So what am I going to learn?"

"Well, look here," he lifted her up onto his good knee and pulled her long, straight black hair out of his face. He held up his hand, "Most people call these fingers, right?"

"Yep."

He ignored Cuddy's demands for no more medical terms and wiggled his fingers, "Well, the really smart people in the world, call them phalanges."