AN: Hey everyone I am back! After having my computer taken away forever I am finally back. Now I know I'm not updating any of my other stories and that is because I have decided to discontinue them. I'm branching off from Hannah Montana and Scrubs now and am writing a story for House. I hope you enjoy it! Please review!
Chapter 1
The sun was streaming through his windows is what woke him up that morning. Although his eyes weren't open, they picked up the cheery mood of the sun, although the mood he was in was very different. His eyelids felt as though elephants were resting on top of them and his only coherent thought was to go back to sleep, but it was the light that made it impossible.
And then he opened his eyes.
And then realization stuck him that today he would be his normal miserable, sarcastic self, except more while his head, thigh, arms, abdomen, legs… pretty much his whole body was aching.
Something had to be wrong. It was him.
He thought it couldn't be worse, but his alarm clock went off, sending pangs of pain into his already throbbing head. With moments to spare before he tore out his hair, he slapped the off button on the noise-producing monster Wilson had given him for Christmas to wake him up the next time he needed to go to work.
Damn Wilson.
He decided it would be best to try and make it into work. After all, he was running low on Vicodin. With great hesitation he sat up, immediately regretting it as the room began to spin. He stayed sitting for a couple of moments and finally stood up, putting al of his weight onto his left leg before testing how much his right leg would hold. When he finally estimated the percentage, he limped to the bathroom, the flames on the bottom of his cane not making it look like he was going fast today. When he reached the bathroom, he looked into the mirror noticing his flushed face even though it was a little pale. He lifted a hand to his forehead and felt a fever. Shrugging it off, he turned the water on in the shower and began to undress.
The shower made him feel better, like he was washing away all of his pain which was probably due to a clinic patient with the flu.
And Cuddy said the clinic wouldn't hurt anyone…
When he got out of the shower, he put on a Rolling Stones T-shirt and a pair of jeans along with a black blazer and his leather jacket. He laced up his Nike's and grabbed his wallet, keys, and sunglasses off the counter as well as the helmet by the door and climbed onto his motorcycle.
The ride to the hospital was harder than usual. It took his brain longer to comprehend things which almost made him run two red lights which would've made Tritter dance like a puppet with a drunken puppeteer.
He entered the hospital and was greeted by Wilson.
"You look awful. Is it your leg?"
"You know," House started, "that could be why I'm using a cane and limping. It has only taken you a matter of years, but at least you've figured it out."
"You know," Wilson mimicked, "if you weren't in more pain than you usually are, you wouldn't be this sarcastic," Wilson retorted while walking next to House to his office. "What is it?" He asked. "Are you out of Vicodin?"
"Actually I am, and I'll need a prescription for that."
"Come on House," Wilson said. "It's only been one and a half weeks since I prescribed for you last."
"I can't help it. I keep mistaking them for tic-tacs." House tried to make his way down to his office faster, trying to avoid Wilson. "They are delicious, after all."
Wilson just shrugged. Suddenly House tripped over a backpack which was left on the floor in the hallway by some child visiting his mom, causing him to end up on the floor looking very annoyed.
"Damn kids don't know this is a hos-pit-al?" House asked exaggerating each syllable. He let his head fall back against the wall.
"Are you okay?" Wilson asked with his normal amount of concern.
"Never been better," House mumbled while reaching out for the hand Wilson extended to him.
Once House was up and was handed the cane that flew a great distance, Wilson and House continued to House's office.
"You're late," Chase said as House opened the door although he didn't look up from his crossword puzzle.
"I fell," House said in the same tone of voice as Chase had spoken to him before.
"Are you okay?" Cameron asked with worry.
"I'm here, aren't I?" House responded. "So, symptoms of our lovely patient this week," he said as he limped over to the whiteboard and picked up a black marker.
"There aren't any," Foreman said. "There's no patient."
"Then shouldn't you be out stealing cars?" House asked Foreman.
Foreman gave house a look, not breaking eye contact with him until House did.
House's face went blank as he felt the biggest headache come on. Wilson's face was lined with concern at the disgruntled look on his friend's face. House dropped his head but lifted it back up and said "Okay, I'm going to my office now. If anyone asks for me, especially Cuddy, I moved to Iceland."
House then made his way to his office, took out two Vicodin, and dry swallowed them both, making his throat feel worse than it already did. Then House just put his hands on his desk and laid his head on them once he was sitting at his desk, and fell asleep.
How was that? I hope it was good! Constructive criticism and compliments only please. Please review! Thank you!
Haley