POV Wilson
"I'll be fine Wilson."
"No House, you need to rest."
"Says who?" teases House but still with a bit of disgust in his tone.
Wilson sighs loudly. Why does he have to be like this, never letting anyone in?
"Says me. So, just…don't move."
It had been two days since House had gotten sick and he didn't seem to be getting any better. Despite his insistence that He was ok he looked rather pathetic laying on his dingy couch, propped up by pillows, and wrapped up in blankets. His left arm engulfed in an, "overly puffy" bandage as House had put it.
"Do you need anything else House?"
"Like I said. I'm fine."
He never lets anyone help. It wouldn't have gotten this far if House had just consented to asking a favor sooner, Wilson thought to himself. A few days ago the stubborn Doctor had cut himself while cooking and it had quickly become infected. This wouldn't normally have been a problem but Cuddy has recently cut off his script writing privileges until House came back to clinic duty after his last case. Too embarrassed to explain the situation to Cuddy, House had stubbornly stayed home sick for a day and a half until finally calling Wilson to bring him the appropriate antibiotics.
"Well we might as well watch something while we sit here." Chimed in the older doctor.
"Whatever you want House." Replied Wilson, resigning himself to spending the evening making sure his friend didn't make any more bad decisions.
After an hour or so of watching monster trucks mania Wilson's mind began to wander. Eyeing his sick friend he notices the slight bit of sweat on his forehead and the clenched jaw.
"House, do you need more pain killers?"
"Mm, no." House answered back straining slightly. Closing his eyes he inhales slowly. "I think I'm gonna be sick."
Quickly jumping up from his chair Wilson strides over to House grabbing his arm and helping him up and towards the bathroom. They make their way to the bathroom down the hall where House sinks to his knees and begins hurling into the toilet for the fifth time that day. House hated being in a vulnerable position but even he knew when he needed help. After several minutes, House stops and just sits by the toilet shaking. Visibly paler he has a gaunt look to him, well more so then his usual slightly skeletal look.
"You good House?"
House nods weakly then braces his hands against the tub and pulls himself up. Once standing he takes a half step forward before stopping, a dazed look in his eyes.
"Wilson." He says softly with a bit of panic in his voice. House's eyes roll back and he begins to fall. Grabbing at him desperately Wilson attempts to stop his descent but is too late to stop the heavier man from falling to the ground unconscious.