Work Text:
On an early, rainy morning in Princeton, the streets glisten under the soft glow of streetlights. The rhythmic patter of rain creates a soothing soundtrack, blending with the distant hum of awakening traffic. Wet leaves cling to the sidewalks, and the air is fresh with a hint of pine and overall a musty and lush scent.
Gregory House had been sprawled out across his bed, small twitches in his arm and feet occurred sometimes, and a low breathing sound was heard from his mouth. Disturbing his sleep, an agonising sound came from his phones alarm, blaring and beeping. A desperate and grumpy moan replaced his then softer snores, but stifled it as to not wake up James in the other room.
His thigh was in truly excruciating pain, more so than often. He staggered to the kitchen and opened one of the cabinets, hands grabbed the Vicodin bottle and ate a few, before putting his head under the sink and chugging water from the tap. Quickly turning it off, not bothering to wipe the water from his face off, he slowly moved towards his room to start getting ready for the day.
Dr. House walked into the hospital, his senses immediately bombarded by the cacophony of beeping monitors, urgent voices, and the sterile scent of disinfectant. The harsh fluorescent lights flickered overhead, reflecting off the polished floors and stark white walls. Having permanent thigh pain as well as sensory problems could really do number on a man, but House wanted nothing to do with it and kept himself distracted by throwing his giant tennis ball repeatedly at the wall.
Tiredness and agony were not good combinations, and he knew it. Cuddy called him into her office, where she told him to make sure he does clinic duty today. It was quite obvious he didn’t want to, so he walked (or at least tried to) back to his own respective office to prep.
Instantaneously, the pain had another shock of throbbing and stinging which pierced his leg so hard, causing him to leg out a tear before collapsing on the floor.
‘Wilson…’ he thought to himself before fumbling for his phone, before sending him an oddly put together message.
‘No Vicodin. Come to office. Don’t tell Cuddy.’
On the other side of the hospital, Dr. Wilson was talking to Foreman about a patient with viral encephalitis. The conversation was brief but once over, he grabbed his phone from his pocket and read the message. A sigh of annoyance but also sympathy was breathed out, as he started walking quickly to House’s office.
In a jittery fashion, he knocked on the door, but to his surprise no one responded. Cautiously, he opened the door and was revealed to a sight he wishes he hadn’t seen.
There he was.
Dr. Gregory House, curled up in a ball lying on the floor and crying.
This was an odd sight as he would have never let anyone see him cry.
“House…?” James called from the other end of the room.
There were no lights at all and the blinds were completely closed. Rain continued to fall outside and nature passed on by. Not stopping for the scene happening right there and then.
“I-it hurts so bad. Need Vicodin please.” A wrecked sob came from his throat, and Wilson could just about make out the silhouette shaking through the small light that had been let in.
Without a second thought, he rushed out of the office and to the 24/7 pharmacy in the hospital before grabbing some Vicodin. Pouring any money from his pockets and then running again through the halls of the hospital. Really, he shouldn’t be running in a place like this but it was for his friend, albeit an occasional enemy.
The handle was almost torn off as the door opened to House’s office, before slamming it and rushing to Gregory. No thinking took place in his mind as he took two out and opened the doctors mouth before placing them in there. His head tilted back from the force of James’ hand pushing it up to help him swallow it.
Obviously, Vicodin will not just kick in instantly, so Wilson made the decision to stay with House as he cried. The pair both held hands throughout the whole process. They were never this intimate and may not be like this for a good month or so, unless needed.
“Why didn’t you bring any of your meds today?” Dr. Wilson questioned.
“Mmh…I must have forgotten, pain will do that to you sometimes.” For once, House wasn’t bluffing or joking or anything he usually does. He wanted to be dead-on serious with his friend.
Again, they sat in silence, but it only lasted for a few moments before House was the one asking the question.
“Why do you care about me?”
The two both stared at each other, and it took a bit for James to come up with an acceptable answer.
“Sometimes I couldn’t care less about you…other times I am worried that you aren’t safe.” An emphasis on the ‘aren’t’ was there.
Clogs and gears turned endlessly in his peers mind, before deciding to do something. House, for the first time, hugged Wilson. It wasn’t just a simple brief hug, but a genuine gesture of gratitude. His arms held tight to him, leaning closer and closer into the crook of his neck. James accepted this, and returned it.
Raindrops hit the window, creating a soft, steady sound of static. The water trickles down, leaving streaks on the glass that catch the streetlight's glow. This gentle drumming is soothing, filling the room with a calm rhythm. Outside, the rain blurs the view, quieting distant noises. The rain's constant presence feels both calming and unstoppable.
This felt wrong. So very wrong. Something in Dr. House’s mind told him that holding hands with a man in a darkened room was bad. Hell, if House’s father saw this when he was a kid, he would be beaten relentlessly until he passed out.
“I’m not in pain anymore” House finally informed.
Although, James didn’t do anything to stop the hug. In fact, he leaned more and more into it, rubbing and stroking House’s rough and messy short hair. Wilson always had a thing about keeping clean and looking good, but House looked pretty decent even with hair so scruffy.
“Hmm…okay we can stay longer. But if you tell anyone about this, I’ll tell everyone we had sex.” Gregory retorted back, feeling like he won an argument even though he was now the only one talking.
The two men sat there in silence.
House’s head on Wilson’s lap.
Wilson petting and stroking his hair, almost subconsciously.
For once, everything was at peace.