A/N: If y'all have any recommendations for house!whump, please let me know. I feel I'm running out. It can be something you wrote too!

Cuddy entered the small apartment again. House had finished his tea, so she took the cup and washed it along with the other dishes. When she came back, House looked three shades paler.

"House?" she asked cautiously. He didn't answer, only stared at the wall. Then he threw up. Cuddy sighed.

"If you're going to throw up, you need to tell me. I'll get you a bag or something. And some other clothes. Where are your pajamas?"

"Bottom...drawer," the diagnostician managed, still nauseous. Cuddy quickly got him a bag and grabbed a set of pajamas from the bottom dresser drawer. She handed them to House.

"You just wanna get me naked," he snarked.

"I won't look," Cuddy promised, turning around.

House took off his vomit-soaked shirt and replaced it with the pajama shirt. He struggled with his jeans. His leg was already hurting worse, and he didn't want to think about how bad it was going to get.

"You can turn around now," he said once he'd pulled on the pants. Cuddy turned.

"That'll be more comfortable. Now what do you want to do?"

"Watch TV."

"You're going to watch TV all week? Why don't you read a book before your focus gets too bad. I can get you one."

House reluctantly nodded and switched off the TV.

Cuddy went back into the bedroom and grabbed books for both her and House. They settled in and read quietly.

LINE BREAK

About an hour later, Cuddy realized House had fallen asleep. His eyes were closed and the book had slipped from his hands. He almost looked peaceful. She gently pulled the paperback from his hands and drew a blanket over him. He shifted slightly but didn't wake. Cuddy set off to do some charting she'd brought along.

LINE BREAK

Another hour passed. Cuddy finished her charts and was now back to reading when she heard a moan come from the man on the couch. House stirred, shifting his weight to the left, eyes opening for a moment, then squeezing shut. His hands went into fists and grabbed the sides of the blanket, wads of fabric being encased in the long fingers.

"House? You OK?"

House gave a slight nod, even though it wasn't true. He was in substantial pain, but she didn't need to know that. His leg was cramped from being in the same position for so long. Slowly, he moved his hands to hold it, massaging the muscles. He opened his eyes a little to see if Cuddy was watching to discover she had moved so she was standing over him.

"Leg?" she asked. He nodded and winced.

"What can I do?"

"Heating pad...top shelf...closet…" he ground out, still massaging his leg. Cuddy got it quickly and turned it on, handing it to him. It lie limp on his leg, and he turned it to the highest setting. It brought some relief, but not much. He gestured for the bag Cuddy had brought. She handed it to him quickly, and he vomited into it again, the tea he'd had earlier sloshing at the bottom of the brown grocery bag.

"Do you want to get into bed? It may be more comfortable," Cuddy suggested. House shook his head. He won't be able to get into bed soon, Cuddy thought, but didn't say anything. Instead, she went into the bathroom and got a thermometer.

"Open your mouth," she ordered.

"I don't have a fever yet."

"Okay. Open your mouth, though."

House sighed and opened his mouth reluctantly. He felt like a child. The thermometer slipped in and he held it under his tongue. Cuddy waited, holding the attachment. It beeped. House pulled the thermometer out.

"99.6. You do have a fever," Cuddy said triumphantly.

"That's barely a fever. I run high anyways."

"Yeah, whatever. Look, House, you need to get in bed and sleep. I don't know how much of that you're going to get in the next week."

"What did I say about telling me what to do?" House grumbled, but stood. He immediately grabbed the table next to him for support.

"Cane…" he said, voice strained. Cuddy brought it to him. Usually, he could walk around the apartment just fine without it, but not today.

"Pathetic," the female voice next to him said. He looked behind him and glared at her. She smiled smugly. Cuddy pretended not to notice. House started slowly making his way to the bedroom, using the wall for support as well as his cane. He stopped every few feet to take a breath. He felt like he didn't have an ounce of strength. He looked to his right and saw that Cuddy had been following him, ready to grab him if he were to fall.

"I'm not going to topple over. Go."

"Not until you're in bed."

"I said go!" House yelled.

Cuddy slunk away and House continued his journey down the hall. Finally, he collapsed onto the bed, panting. He gripped his leg with both hands and felt it pulsing under them with the effort it had taken him to walk down the hall.

"There's pills on top of the bathroom cabinet," Amber said.

"Cuddy got them already. Now go away."

"What about the ones behind the wastebasket?"

"Those too. You're not getting your way this time. Go haunt someone else."

Amber crossed the room and perched onto the chair in the corner. She crossed her legs and sat primly, staring at her captive. House closed his eyes and tried to sleep. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Cuddy was right about the fact that he wouldn't be sleeping for awhile.