A/N: I'm enjoying writing this story, but truth be told, your comments help a great deal. Please don't stop and I'll try my best to keep you happy and bring this whole thing to a satisfying ending. Not yet though .

I'm going back to work tomorrow but I'll try to get the updates out quickly. And I'll try not to turn this into an epic.

Chapter 9

When House came into the bedroom, Wilson was lying on his back under the blanket, his forearm covering his eyes. The older doctor kept an eye on his friend as he retrieved his bottle of Vicodin from his jacket pocket and quickly downed a pill, the last one of the day, the one that he relied upon to help him sleep. It was amazing the power of that one tiny little pill…it meant the difference between lying awake at night staring up at the ceiling or getting a fairly good, relatively painless night's sleep.

As he placed the bottle back into his pocket, he limped to Wilson's side of the bed and sat down on the edge, attempting to ascertain if the young doctor was asleep by listening to the cadence of his breathing. His question was answered when he began to speak.

"You okay?"

House raised an eyebrow. "I'm supposed to ask you that."

Wilson moved his arm away from his face and rested it across his chest. "Just practicing for when you finally let me play the doctor."

House smiled. "But you're so much better as the patient."

Wilson's expression turned serious. "Are you okay?" he asked again.

"Why the concern?"

"Well…I heard the Vicodin bottle…."

"Ah. Not to worry, just my usual sleeping pill….which just happens to be the same as my get-out-of-bed-in-the-morning pill… not to mention my making-it-through-the-day-pill. Nice and efficient… everything I need in one tiny compact pill."

"Everything you need?"

"Well, maybe not everything," he said, happy that his friend had bounced back from his experience earlier that night. "So, no nausea, headache, lightheadedness, dizziness?"

"No. Everything's good."

"Everything?"

"Well, maybe not everything." The oncologist shifted his head on the pillow to get more comfortable. "Still exhausted."

"Normal. I'm going to bed now; make sure you call me if anything starts acting up."

"Anything?"

"Yep. I'm responsible for you… Cuddy will kill me if I let anything happen to you."

"I thought you said she doesn't like me that much."

"No… I said she likes me better. There's room in that big 'ole heart of hers for both of us." House leaned into his cane and started to stand.

"Where will you be sleeping?" Wilson asked.

He sat back down on the bed, scrunching his forehead. "Well, I thought I'd do something completely different tonight and sleep in the room where my bed is."

The young doctor squinted his eyes. "But your room is all the way on the other side of the living room."

"That's where it was located when I moved in. But when you're feeling strong enough, we can move it closer."

"What if I call you and you can't hear me?"

House wasn't quite sure what this was all about. "The last I checked, your vocal cords weren't affected by the concussion. Plus, I'm a pretty light sleeper."

Wilson hesitated. "Why don't you just sleep here with me?"

House did a stellar job of covering up his initial reaction to this suggestion, which was total and utter shock. He eyed the empty side of the bed as he scratched his chin. "Well, it is a king sized bed."

"Why would you get a king sized bed for your spare bedroom?"

House laughed. "Why are you asking me this now?"

"Just curious."

"Again, it was here when I moved in."

"Oh."

Both men silently regarded each other, House finally speaking.

"Okay. I can sleep here if you promise not to puke all over me."

"I'll try my best."

The older doctor stood and walked around to the other side of the bed, lifting the covers as he slowly sank down into the mattress. He took the bottle of Vicodin from his pocket and placed it on the night stand, shrugging off his jacket and allowing it to fall to the floor. Resting his cane against the night stand, he raised his left leg onto the bed using his hands to help lift his right leg. Settling in, he reached down and pulled the blanket over himself, glancing towards his now bedmate, who was on his elbow watching him.

"I thought you were exhausted," he said, turning his head away from Wilson.

"I am."

"Then turn off the light and go to sleep."

"Greg…thank you."

"Stop. Thanking. Me." House's voice was adamant.

Wilson reached up and turned off the lamp next to his side of the bed. Rolling over on his stomach, it wasn't long before he was sleeping soundly.

House glanced over and looked at the young man quietly sleeping next to him, his face appearing content as he slept. The older doctor was too tired to theorize the significance of lying in bed with his best friend, so he closed his eyes and quickly drifted off to sleep enjoying the moment.

House woke up with a start. He peered at the clock on the night stand, squinting as he tried to read the lighted dial. His eyes grew wide when he finally realized that it was five A.M., which meant that he and Wilson had been sleeping for six hours.

"Shit!" He quickly glanced over towards his bedmate and found that he was sleeping soundly facing the other direction.

He tossed back the blanket and reached out to grab his cane. It was then that he felt the first stab of pain in his leg. Groaning, he groped for the bottle of Vicodin, flipping off the cap with one hand and quickly downing one. It would be several minutes before it took effect, but he forced himself to sit up and swing his legs off the bed.

As he dealt with the pain, he reprimanded himself for not waking his friend three hours earlier to check that he hadn't slipped into a confused state, which was a potentially serious symptom of a concussion.

He leaned into his cane and slowly stood, taking a moment to get his bearings. The room was adequately lit from the light in the hallway, so he was able to walk fairly quickly to the other side of the bed despite the throbbing in his leg.

"Jimmy…wake up." House gently shook the young man by his shoulders. He didn't stir.

He waited a moment and shook him harder, raising his voice, "Jimmy!" Wilson continued to sleep soundly. Growing concerned, House placed his fingers to his friend's neck. His pulse was strong and steady. He noted that his respiration was normal. Why wasn't he waking up?

The older doctor tried a few more times to wake his sleeping friend by calling out his name and shaking him by the shoulders. Out of desperation, he finally slapped his colleague's face with the palm of his hand, somewhat unnerved by the 'twack!' that resonated in the solitude of the early morning.

"Ow! What did you do that for?" Wilson asked groggily as he rubbed his cheek.

House hid his relief. "I was trying to wake you up."

"Couldn't you just say something like, 'Jimmy, wake up'?" The young doctor continued to rub the side of his face.

Smiling, House reached over and turned on the lamp.

Wilson squinted until his eyes adjusted to the light. He looked around the room. "What are you doing in my bedroom?" he asked, scrunching up his face.

House couldn't hide his rising panic.

The younger man smiled. "I'm just playing with you."

"You're asking for that suppository," House warned.

Wilson touched the side of his face again. "Why did you hit me?"

"Because you tried to touch me in my private place."

"House…."

The older doctor sighed. "It took a while to wake you." For fear of alarming his friend, he quickly added, "but based on how exhausted you were, I'm not worried." He hesitated. "But just to be sure, what day is it?"

"That depends, what time is it?"

"Five A.M."

"Then it must be Friday."

House was satisfied. "Sorry I hit you."

"It's okay." Wilson was having difficulty keeping his eyes open.

"Go back to sleep. I'll wake you at eight."

"What are you going to do?" the young doctor asked, barely awake.

"I've got some research to do."

" 'kay." Wilson rolled onto his side and fell asleep immediately. House watched him for a few moments, then turned out the light and left the bedroom.

tbc