Greg House groaned as someone knocked on his door. He was halfway through watching a documentary about Monster Trucks and really didn't want to have to get up. But the knocking persisted and he knew exactly who was on the other side of the door.
"I know you've still got a key and I'm not getting up!" House called out, popping a Vicodin pill out of his bottle and swallowing it.
The door creaked open and House heard (he refused to look away from the T.V.) James Wilson entered and shut it quickly behind him, making a small 'cold' noise as he did so.
"Can I stay here tonight?" He asked taking off his scarf and coat and hanging them up, dumping the small bag he was carrying at the bottom of the rack.
"Why?" House asked frowning slightly. "You've got a flat of your own."
"Boiler's bust," Wilson shrugged, standing pointedly by the sofa and waiting until House moved his legs and propped them up on the coffee table. "And after almost killing me with those amphetamines I think you owe me."
"I didn't 'almost kill you'," House scoffed, glancing at his friend finally. "But if you'd rather kip on my couch than in your flat, be my guest. If you start cutting your toenails at eight in the morning though I will not be held responsible for where I shove this."
He waved his cane threateningly in front of Wilson's face. Wilson batted the cane out of the way.
"Fine," he said. "Thanks."
"Don't thank me," House shrugged. "You'll only regret it later."
Wilson couldn't help but smile at that and he knew House was smiling slightly too.
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House groaned and turned over in his bed instantly wishing he hadn't. His leg was screaming in pain and as he reached over to his bedside table for his Vicodin bottle he was suddenly aware of the time. It was five in the morning. Five⦠in the am.
House propped himself up on his elbow. He was awake at five am. He shivered and suddenly realised the reason for this rude awakening. No wonder his leg was so painful, he was freezing his ass off! The duvet he had fallen asleep under was apparently missing.
Growling something very rude under his breath House grabbed his cane and limped into the living room, to find a huddled mass shivering under his duvet.
"I am awake at five in the morning," House poked the bundle with his cane. "Do you know why I'm awake at five in the morning?"
He wandered round to the front of the couch and saw, just visible between the folds of the fabric, a pair of very blue lips.
"Your boiler's gone too," the lips replied, teeth chattering. "I was cold."
"And now so am I!" House snapped. "There was no reason for us to both be cold!"
Wilson pulled the duvet far enough down for his head to stick out. His hair stuck up comically in all directions.
"Would you have thanked me if I'd climbed into your bed?" He asked.
"No, so now I'm climbing into yours," House replied, tapping his friend's leg with his cane. "Budge."
Wilson sighed and opened up half the duvet. House grabbed his phone and sat down next to Wilson, pulling the duvet around him and shivering. He began dialling and held the phone to his ear.
"Hi, yeah, I'm having problems with my boiler," House said into the phone, trying to stop his teeth chattering too loudly. "Any chance you can have some one round here in the next five minutes? That's great. Thanks."
"They're not coming are they?" Wilson asked as House chucked the phone back on the coffee table.
"They'll be at least five hours," House replied as he leant back, rubbing his thigh with his hand.
"Might as well make the most of it," Wilson smiled slightly producing the T.V remote and turning on Blackadder. "You know, you might wanna sit closer. We're never gonna get warm else."
"Jimmy unless you want me sat in your pants, I'm not moving closer," House growled through clenched teeth.
"There's two inches of couch between us!" Wilson shook his head. "Fine. Whatever."
House knew he'd regret this later, but he moved closer, trying to ignore the fact that it was Wilson's warm body pressed up against his.
"Do you mind?" House asked suddenly looking at Wilson wide eyed. "There's only so close I'm coming!"
"That's not me House," Wilson deadpanned knowing his friend was trying to trap him into some kind of sexual harassment.
House huffed then. It was too cold to get a good reaction out of Wilson and it was too cold for him to try harder. They remained sat bathed in the dim glow coming from the T.V.
"This never leaves the apartment," House warned after a while.
"Whatever you say," Wilson hastily agreed.
