The sun was peeking through the curtains and the incessant knocking on the door was beginning to get on Houses nerves. He let out a low moan, rolled over to face away from the intrusive light, and lifted the blankets over his head. It was already well past midmorning, but the throbbing in his leg and shoulder had kept him awake for most of the night, so Wilson had agreed to let him sleep in. Wilson was probably feeling guilty over what had happened the night before; he had always been the self-critical sort.
The knocking eventually stopped, and House could hear voices coming from the living room, Wilson must have answered the door – not that House was allowed to anymore; sometimes Wilson just ignored it. House closed his eyes and tossed and turned for a few minutes, trying in vain to get some more much needed sleep. After a few minutes he realised it was a useless effort, and he wasn't going to get back to sleep anytime soon. He tossed the covers off, pulled himself up into a sitting position, stretched, yawned, rubbed the sleep from his bleary eyes, and sat quietly, adjusting to the light for a moment.
Eventually he shuffled over to the side of the bed and slipped his feet into his fluffy doggy slippers – when House had first seem them Wilson had been extremely reluctant to buy them for him, but when House set his mind on something even Wilson couldn't convince him to change his mind. He eyed the two pills and the glass of water on his bedside table (Wilson must have left them there - he didn't trust him to remember how many pills he should take anymore. House somehow knew he should find that condescending, but he actually rather liked the proof that Wilson cared about him). He contemplated the pills for a moment, then looked at his shaky hands - could he hold them? He thought so. For the water, though, he would need to use both hands. He grabbed one pill, popped it in his mouth, then did the same with the other, he tried to swallow without the water - he knew he used to do that - but it was too difficult now, so he slowly reached out for the glass, and grasped it with both hands. It was only filled halfway - Wilson knew he wasn't very good with delicate tasks anymore - and carefully began lifting it to his mouth. He grimaced at the taste of the pills as they began dissolving on the tongue, and finally brought the glass to his mouth and downed the pills with a large gulp of water. He finished off the glass, carefully placed it back on the table, and smiled with satisfaction at his accomplishment.
Next he shuffled over to the other end of the bed, grabbed his cane in his right hand, pushed himself to his feet and leaned heavily on the cane. Fortunately for both of them, Wilson had stabbed his left shoulder, or he would have even more trouble getting around than usual and the injury would be easily apparent to any visiting friends.
House limped over to his bedroom door and poked his head outside, he couldn't see Wilson or the visitor from here, so they must have gone into the kitchen. His assumption was soon confirmed by the sound of their voices, the clatter of kitchen utensils and the smell of Wilson's cooking.
House hobbled, sleepily and still pyjama clad, into the living room. He sneezed a couple of times (Wilson always insisted on leaving the windows open, and letting all the pollen in - it had been a game at one point, where House would go around closing them whenever Wilson opened them, but he had stopped when Wilson snapped at him about it), he snorted and rubbed his nose on the elbow of his pyjamas, then limped the rest of the way into the kitchen.
"Wilson?" House asked in a slightly subdued voice.
Wilson was standing at the stove, no doubt cooking breakfast. He tuned his head to look at House over his shoulder, smiled, and tilted his head slightly to the left. "Say hello then, House," he said.
House looked over. Not surprisingly, the visitor was Cuddy. She was seated at the small table Wilson and he ate their meals at, and sipping at a coffee mug. She smiled at him. "Good morning House."
House lifted his free arm and sort of wiggled his fingers in greeting. Cuddy returned his wave. "How are you this morning, House?" she asked.
"Good." House lied. His leg and shoulder were still sore, even after taking his medicine and he was still feeling very tired, but he didn't think he was supposed to say that, so he just lied instead. House plonked himself down in the seat to Cuddy's left, and they sat in companionable silence for a moment.
After a while Wilson came over with the breakfast, a huge stack of pancakes. He placed a couple on his own plate and a couple on House's and offered a plate to Cuddy, but she declined, saying she had eaten already. "You're up early for the weekend, House," Wilson commented, as he cut House's pancakes into manageable slices before handing the plate to him.
"Week…end?" House was bemused by Wilson's cheeriness and choice of food. After what had happened the night before, he had sort of expected him to be mad. Maybe it was because Cuddy was here - Wilson never wanted Cuddy to know when they'd had an argument, he didn't want Cuddy to be angry, because Wilson was a good friend like that.
"Yes. You know, Saturday? Sunday? The days between Friday and Monday?" Wilson asked sarcastically, swinging his fork around as if to emphasise and laughing lightly.
"Yeah." House nodded.
Wilson placed the sliced pancakes in front of House and handed him a fork. House took the fork and Wilson frowned as he gripped it in a fist, much like how he had held the pencil the day before.
"I was thinking I could take him to the park today," started Cuddy, "maybe see if we can find that bird he likes…"
Wilson frowned and looked at House, who was pretty much ignoring them in favour of shoving as many slices of pancake into his mouth as was physically possible. "I don't know…"
"Come on Wilson. House loves it, and you need some time to yourself now and then." Wilson's eyes went to House's shoulder for a second, but soon returned to Cuddy. "I'll think about it. Maybe this afternoon. Maybe."
"Okay, that's great." Cuddy pushed her chair out and stood. House took his eyes off his pancakes to look up at her. "I'll come round to get him at," she glanced at her watch, "about half two."
Wilson opened his mouth to protest, but before he had a chance, she had patted House's head and said she had better leave them to their breakfast. "Bye," said House, awkwardly attempting a wave again.
"Goodbye." Cuddy smiled at him, waved back and saw herself out.
House immediately went back to shovelling pancakes into his mouth and watching Wilson. Wilson sighed deeply, set his pancakes to one side, and got up to pour himself a mug of coffee. House finished off the last slice of his pancakes and pushed the plate towards Wilson. "More!" he demanded, spitting crumbs out of his mouth.
Wilson scowled and took the plate off him. House made a slow growling sound in the back of his throat to indicate his disapproval. "I didn't make any more. Anyway, you've made enough of a mess as it is." Wilson dumped the plate in the sink, wet a cloth, kneeled down next to House, and wiped at his mouth. "Cuddy, wants to take you to the park later. We need to get a few things straight first though, okay?" House nodded. He knew where this was going, they'd been through it before, but it was best to just listen anyway.
Wilson pushed himself to his feet, helped House up, and walked into the living room, House traipsing after him. The two sat down on the couch and House nervously fiddled with his cane and the sleeve of his pyjama top.
Wilson sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Okay, so you want to go to the park with Cuddy, don't you House?" he asked.
House nodded vigorously. He loved spending time with Cuddy, she was nice, she never yelled at him, she took him to fun places, and bought him loads of ice-cream and pretty much anything else he asked for. He loved the park too; he could sit and watch people, or walk until his leg hurt too much, and his favourite bird lived there.
"Good, that's good. And you want me to let you go, don't you?" House nodded again. "And you don't want Cuddy to get angry, or try and take you away from me permanently do you?" House's eyes widened. Cuddy wouldn't do that, Cuddy was nice, Cuddy never got angry, Cuddy never took him anywhere he didn't want to go, and Cuddy wouldn't take him away from Wilson. He shook his head; he didn't want Cuddy to be angry, and he liked living with Wilson.
"Good, that's good too. If you don't want that to happen, you'll have to listen to me okay?" House nodded again. "Don't tell Cuddy about what happened last night, okay." House had guessed that was coming, but he nodded anyway. It wouldn't be hard, he probably couldn't say anything even if he wanted to, so not saying anything would be a cinch. "You can't let her see the bandage either, keep your jacket on, even if it's warm." Again, House just nodded mutely. "She can't know that it hurts either, so don't move your shoulder too much, don't lean on it, or lift anything too heavy - which you shouldn't be doing anyway - don't let her touch it, and try not to wince when you move it. I'll give you another vicodin before you leave, so hopefully it shouldn't hurt too much anyway. Got all that?" House nodded again. "Good. Remember this is important, if you want to keep living with me."
House understood that it was important Cuddy not find out he was hurt, he wasn't quite sure why though. Obviously something was wrong and it would make Cuddy mad, but House had done stupid things around Cuddy before, and she had never been very angry (on one occasion he had run out of paper and painted elephants all over her living room wall, she had just laughed and said she had been planning on re-decorating anyway), but he was sure if Wilson was saying this, it must be for a good reason, so he would listen anyway.
Wilson pushed himself up off the couch and clasped his hands together, "Right. Time to get you dressed," he announced, changing the subject. "Wait there." Wilson disappeared around the back of the couch, and House heard his bedroom door open and close, Wilson must have gone to find him some clean clothes. House sat, chewed on his pyjama sleeve, tapped his feet and cane in a tuneless staccato and waited. Wilson soon returned carrying a pile of clothes. He lay the neatly folded pile on the coffee table, stepped over to House, leaned over, and, to House's surprise and amusement, sniffed him. Wilson pulled back, a look of disgust on his face. "You stink," he announced. House giggled and stuck out his tongue. Wilson sighed and rubbed at his face, "I'm not joking House, you really do stink." Wilson disappeared from view for a moment again, and reappeared carrying a large fluffy towel. "Bath time."
"No!" House practically screamed. He tried to jump to his feet and run away, but Wilson, grabbed him wrapped the towel around his flailing limbs and dragged him into the bathroom.
"This isn't a goddamn game House. You stink, and you need a bath." The bath was already filled - House assumed Wilson must have done it when he went to get the towel - so all Wilson needed to do was turn off the taps, strip House, and get him in the tub; which he managed to do quite efficiently, despite House's relentless thrashing.
Once he was actually inside the bath, House calmed down considerably, and allowed Wilson to scrub him all over, but made absolutely no effort to help. Once Wilson was done scrubbing him, he pulled the plug, helped House out of the bath, and rubbed him down from head to toe with the fluffy over-sized towel, changed his bandage, then retrieved his clothes - which had been abandoned on the coffee table - and helped him into them. House grumbled and fidgeted the whole time, but didn't attempt to stop him.
By the time they were done with the bath, it was already quarter past two, so House sat down on the couch, swallowed the vicodin and water that Wilson gave him and listened while he repeated the rules, nodding along when required, lastly he shimmied into the jacket Wilson gave him and switched the TV on to watch General Hospital while he waited for Cuddy to arrive.
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Notes: I had intended to expand on this, but my muses wanted to continue it instead, so I just went with it.
Hopefully I'll stay motivated enough to continue this to the end. If I don't update for a while, could someone do me a big favour and just give me a (metaphorical) shove (by that I mean leave me a message reminding me)?