"I don't need this," House said, moving to remove the mask.
"Greg, you'll wear it or I'll put the tube back in for a couple of days. I know your blood gases were good, but they weren't Ithat/I good," Wilson told him.
"Does it have to be a mask?" House asked, pouting slightly.
"While you've got the NG tube in, it has to be a mask." Wilson made himself busy drawing up the next load of painkillers for House. Since the removal of the tumour his friend had still been in a considerable amount of pain and they were still giving him regular injections of morphine. Thankfully, the amount of fentanyl being used had been reduced since the surgery – a sign that the pain was beginning to lessen.
"My throat hurts," Greg complained.
"You had the tube in for over a week, it's bound to be sore."
"It wouldn't be sore if you'd taken it out yesterday like I wanted," House argued.
"I'm not going to argue with you about that," Wilson replied, ignoring the look that House was giving him.
"Yeah, only coz you know I'd win."
Wilson said nothing, but gave his friend a look. House was probably right, there had been no need for him to stay on the ventilator that previous night -at least nothing had happened to justify it but Wilson hadn't been willing to risk his friend's life, not after the week of hell he'd been through when they hadn't been sure if Greg would wake up and even if he did they didn't know if he'd wake up and still be the same House he'd been before all of this. The fact that he'd only be able to speak for a few minutes and was already complaining told Wilson that him that Greg's brain was most likely acting as normal.
"Give me a number," Wilson said, changing the subject.
"Five," House replied without even thinking about it. "I don't need a top up."
"Okay, but let me know when you do." Wilson sighed and sat back down in the chair that had pretty much been his home since House had been admitted, he'd spent every night in it bar the night House was at home and the few days House had been on the intensive care unit.
"You need a shower, you're starting to ferment," House said, looking over at Wilson and wrinkling his nose.
"You sound like Cuddy," Wilson told him, giving him a look.
"I would never say this to her face, but she's right. Go home, get some sleep, have a shower before you start to grow something."
"I'd rather wait until you were slightly better," Wilson admitted.
"I don't need you to hold my hand, James. I can recover without you here and if anything goes wrong, they'll page you."
"I'd still rather be here."
"Is this the part where I get all weepy eyed and girly about the fact that my boyfriend doesn't want to leave my side?" House asked, sarcastically.
"I guess that proves that brain surgery hasn't changed you," Wilson replied, trying to hide the hurt from his voice.
"James, it's not that I don't like having you here, you're certainly nicer to look at than all the nurses and whatever crap happens to be on the TV, but I'd also prefer that you didn't smell like you were fermenting. If you won't go home, at least go and grab a shower or something," House told him, shifting on the bed to make himself more comfortable. Wilson mis-read the movement as pain.
"You need a top-up?" he asked, moving to grab the dose he'd already drawn up and swabbing House's injection port.
"I'm fine, stop fussing over me and please, get a shower or something," House said, pulling away and complaining.
"If I go and grab a shower will you let me top you up and stop being such a martyr?"
"I'm not being a martyr."
"I know you better than you think and I know that you're hurting."
"You just want to dose me up on painkillers so that I'll sleep and you can molest me."
"Last time I checked you didn't need to be unconscious for that to happen," Wilson told him, raising his eyebrow.
"Pervert."
"Will you let me top you up? If nothing else you'll sleep and then I can shower without having to worry about you."
"Fine, but you have to shower and get something to eat and you have to go to your office and have a sleep and it has to be at least four hours," House told him, making sure that Wilson understood there would be no negotiation about this.
"I'd argue with you but you've got that look." Wilson pushed the meds and leaned over and gave Greg a kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you in a few hours, have me paged if you need me."
"I will. Sleep well," Greg told him, not minding the affection in the kiss and watching as his boyfriend finally left to look after himself for a change. He settled back against the pillows, letting the pain medication flow through his veins and started flicking through the TV. Something would have to amuse him for the time Wilson was gone.