An alarm startled House awake the next morning. He blinked against the morning light coming in from his living room window. Movement beside him brought his memories from the night before back and he bit back a harsh remark as Wilson sat up on the other end of the couch, rubbing his eyes and turning off his phone alarm.
"This is hot," House said, sitting up with a groan. He and Wilson had both passed out on the couch watching TV and his leg and shoulder screamed in pain. "This is the closest thing to action I've had in a week."
"That'll be $30," Wilson held out his hand, his eyes closing tiredly.
"No returning customer price?" House reached for his morphine bottle on the table and opened it stiffly. He took two pills and stretched his good arm above his head, trying to work out the kinks in his back. "Why did you let me fall asleep like this?"
"You fell asleep after me." Wilson stood up and scratched his head as he walked to the bathroom. House leaned forward and picked up Wilson's phone and saw that it was 6 AM. He fell onto his side and closed his eyes. "You know," Wilson said from the bathroom, "everyone's going to know something's up when they see us."
House grinned, his eyes still closed, and sighed in content.
"I look ridiculous." Wilson came back out into the living room and leaned over the couch and casually flicked House in the ear. "Are you getting in the shower first?"
"In a minute," House mumbled, and sleep dragged him under again.
A half an hour later, Wilson woke him up, freshly showered and in clean clothes. He had an apple in one hand and was holding his cell phone in the other.
"Are you taking a shower?" He asked, bringing the phone up to his ear. House sat up and rubbed his head and frowned.
"Why did you let me shave my head?" He asked, looking up at Wilson, who stared back at him confused. Wilson held up a finger to shush him and walked away to talk to whoever was on the other line.
He stood up and grabbed his cane from the floor and winced with every step he took toward the bathroom. His entire body was sore, which he assumed was from a combination of the accident, the seizures and sleeping on the couch with Wilson.
When he got to the bathroom, he stared at his reflection nostalgically. In an effort to keep his life in as much control as possible, he shaved his head. It wasn't bald bald, but it was the shortest he'd had it in a very long time. Wilson shaved his head, too, just as short as his, to keep him going. He'd almost stopped when he had half of his hair off, but he knew that it'd all fall off in the next few days anyway. Wilson convinced him that it would grow back.
Wilson appeared in the doorway and House met his eyes in the mirror and grinned. "You're right. You do look ridiculous."
"What are you going to tell them?" Wilson asked, running his hand over his buzzed head.
"By them, I assume you mean my team. I'm not telling them anything. Let them think what they want," House said and turned to the tub to turn on the water.
"Cuddy wants to talk to you before your treatment today."
"No." House pulled the faucet and felt the water, waiting for it to warm up.
Wilson sighed and walked out of the doorway, closing the bathroom door behind him. House scratched his forehead and leaned his cane against the wall and started undressing for his shower.
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"So what's going on with pancreatic cancer chick?" House asked as they stood side by side in the elevator on their way up to the Oncology ward. He had on jeans and a button up shirt - it was the easiest thing he could get into with his shoulder - and a black beanie on his head.
"She's not mad at you, if that's what you're asking," Wilson answered, looking at his watch with a sigh.
"I don't know why she'd be mad at me. I didn't say anything wrong to her. How long does she have?" House stepped off the elevator and made his way to the chemo room.
"A week maybe. Why?" Wilson asked suspiciously.
"I wanted to hit that." House smirked and followed Wilson through the doors into the treatment room. He chose the most secluded chair today and closed his eyes momentarily as his stiff muscles protested.
"I have an appointment in 10 minutes." Wilson checked his watch again and smiled at the nurse who was hooking House up to the medication today. "I'll be back by the time your treatment is done. Do you want me to take you home after?"
House shook his head and watched as the medication flowed from the tube into his arm. "I've left my minions alone too long. It's day 3, I should feel better, right?"
"Yes. You should feel better. I'll see you in an hour." Wilson waved and walked out quickly without another word. House frowned, trying to think of what Wilson's problem was when Cuddy came into the room.
"Dammit. He tricked me," House said and snapped his fingers. "You were in on it too, weren't you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Cuddy said as she sat down in an empty chair beside him. She studied him carefully, then nodded to herself and smiled. "I'm glad you came back. I was afraid you wouldn't, after yesterday."
"What do you want?" He asked, feeling his patience recede. He was starting to feel the medication kick in.
Cuddy didn't seem to hear him, or care, because she was quite cheerful when she said, "you have five patients that need you today. I know I said I'd work with you during treatment, and I will, but your team is asking questions and they pretty much know that you're sick with something. So you either tell them what's going on and work from home, or you stay here and tell them whatever you want. But I can't let you stay home and work with no logical reason why you're gone, because I don't want them getting any ideas."
"It's not my problem if they get ideas. I don't have to tell them what's going on with me, and legally you can't fire me for having cancer," House closed his eyes and put his head in his hand as his stomach rolled. "I'm giving you fair warning now, Cuddy. I'm going to get really sick in about a minute."
A moment later, a bucket was put on House's thighs and he looked through his fingers at Cuddy, who was still sitting there smiling at him. Before he could wipe the smile off her face, bile came up his throat and he gripped the bucket tightly.
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"You lied to me," House said morosely when Wilson came into the chemo room a half an hour later. He was reclined in the chair, the IV still hooked up to his arm. Thankfully Cuddy left shortly after he started getting sick, but not before reminding him of work and leaving a wet towel on his neck.
"What did I lie about?" Wilson checked the IV bags and line, then went to another patient in the room to check on his IV.
"You said I would feel better. I got sick less than 10 minutes into it today."
"I said you should feel better. And you should feel better after treatment. You still have 15 minutes left."
House sighed in resignation and closed his eyes, listening to the conversation between Wilson and his other patients. He laughed out loud when an older lady asked in a scandalized tone, "Dr. Wilson, what happened to your hair?!"
"I have an extremely vain patient who couldn't bear the thought of going bald so I shaved my head with him," Wilson replied smoothly, and House stopped laughing. He opened his eyes and glared at Wilson's back.
"You're a good man," the lady said with a bright smile, and Wilson thanked her before moving on. House watched him and felt a pang of something - jealousy? Shame? - before turning his head. Wilson was good with patients, and knew their names and comforted them. House was completely opposite.
After treatment, House had to admit that he did feel better. He wasn't throwing up or feeling horribly nauseous, and he wasn't overly exhausted. He felt good, and was ready to work.
"You look better," Wilson said in the elevator on their way down to their offices.
"Don't tell Cuddy. I might get away with another day of sleeping on the job," House adjusted the strap on his sling and prepared himself for the onslaught of questions his team was going to ask him.
Before any of the doctors could open their mouths to ask the obvious questions - What happened to your arm? Your head? - House said, "I fell off my bike. I'm fine, don't panic. I hear you've started slacking and now have five cases open. Not one of you used the board?" He asked, hanging his can on the white board for emphasis. He rolled his neck and picked up his marker. "Tell me about the one who's going to die first."
A little while later, House was standing in one of his patient's room, holding a paper face mask to his face as he stood at the foot of the bed. They were arguing - the man denying drug use, the wife defending her husband, and House telling them that the tox screen was positive for methamphetamine.
"Then if you aren't purposely doing the drug, someone is slipping it to you. Do you have kids? Teenager struggling to come to terms with his sexuality and taking it out on you?" House raised his eyebrows at the couple who exchanged looks briefly. "I need to know what it's being cut with. If there's rat poison in there, then you've been poisoned and are dying."
Finally he had Foreman and Kutner off to confront the couple's teenage son, while Thirteen and Taub stayed behind to work on the other four cases. By lunch time - 4 hours after his treatment ended - he'd only had to excuse himself once to throw up in the bathroom, and the rest of the time had flown by. He was feeling a lot better.
Wilson stopped at the outer office as they were finishing up their differential for their second sickest patient - they found the heart problem the first ultrasounds had missed - and Thirteen hid a smile when she saw him. Taub raised his eyebrows.
"What did you do to your hair?" He asked surprised. House watched Wilson with a hard look. He still had his beanie on, and nobody had asked him what he was hiding.
"I had a bet with a patient. I lost," Wilson answered with a defeated shrug. House stood up from the chair he'd been sitting in and grabbed his cane from the board. "Ready?" Wilson asked, holding the door open for House and waving to the two doctors briefly. When they were down the hall and out of earshot, Wilson said, "are you feeling better?"
"Yes," House hit the button on the elevator and stood rigidly against his cane. His shoulder was starting to hurt alongside his leg. "I'm even hungry."
Wilson clapped House on the back once and smiled as they walked off of the elevator toward the cafeteria. "That's a major improvement. I'm happy for you. I take it you didn't seize after? Anymore memory loss?"
"Not that I know of," House said as they got in line with trays. He felt awkward limping along the line without the use of his second hand.
"Have you talked to Cuddy?"
"Not since this morning."
The two fell silent after that. Wilson grabbed House's tray and paid for both of their meals and followed House to an empty table. They sat down across from each other, and Wilson watched his friend pick up a french fry and eat it. After a few minutes of silence while they ate, Wilson put his fork down and said quietly, "what's wrong?"
House looked up at him slightly startled. "Why would anything be wrong? I'm alive and healthier, and my excellent pain management skills are making it easier to get through the day."
"Are you actually upset that you're alive?" Wilson asked, his tone sharp. He leaned forward to make sure he wasn't overheard. "After last night -"
"Nothing happened last night," House said angrily and dropped his napkin on top of his mostly untouched food.
"Bullshit." Wilson narrowed his eyes. "Don't you dare do this. You're getting better, and in a week you'll be back to throwing a ball against your wall in your office and bitching about your leg and you'll be back to your miserable existence."
"Thanks," House snapped and stood up. "I wasn't mad at you." Wilson opened his mouth to say something - either apologize, or try to explain what he meant - but House continued on. "I have things to do."
House walked away, leaving Wilson alone at the table in surprise. I thought things were better he thought tiredly, and shook his head in frustration.
Okay. There was concern about possible Huddy. I'd written in a few Huddy scenes in later chapters because I was having a writer's block, but I've since fixed it. No Huddy, no Hilson, no pairings. I have ideas for stories that involve those pairings later. R&R :)