A/N: This is the sixteenth of my 31 stories as I work my way through Draco's Den, Excelsior Fanfiction, Hermione's Haven, Marvelously Magical Fanfiction, Melting Pot Fanfiction, NaNo's Misfits, and Wizarding Crossover Connection's 31 Days of Writing Fanfiction event. Each day is a brand new prompt and hopefully, each day will be a different fandom coming from me.
The challenge: Substance Abuse. When writing Greg House, you can't forget his favorite white pills.
I hope you enjoy it!
Love always,
~starr
"You have six minutes," House grumbled, popping the top off of his pill bottle and tipping it into his hand. He looked down at the little white pills that landed in the palm of his hand. Three pills left. "Damn it."
"What's wrong?" Cameron asked, furrowing her brow as she looked from House's face to his hand.
"Nothing," House replied, tilting his head back as he lifted his hand to his mouth. He swallowed the three remaining pills and redirected his focus to the whiteboard. "Five minutes."
House rolled his eyes at the silence and turned on his heel, walking from the conference room into his office. He knew there was another bottle of pills stored in his desk. He could hear the grumblings of his compatriots in the other room and chose to ignore them.
They were smart doctors; they would figure something out soon enough. House had other concerns on his mind. If he couldn't find his secret stash or his secret, secret stash, then he would need to talk to Willson. If he needed to speak to Wilson, he would need to listen to a lecture about his addiction.
Gregory House did not have an addiction to Vicodin. He had an addiction to not being in pain. Vicodin was just the current vice he was using to manage his pain. There were other much more dangerous vices he could be using to manage his pain; Wilson should be grateful that it was only a handful of little white pills whenever the pain was unbearable.
House pulled open the middle drawer of his desk and started rummaging through the items stored inside. Tossing the pens and notepads out of the drawer and onto the desk, House finally found the little orange bottle he was looking for. He pulled the bottle out and shook it. He smiled when he heard the rattle of pills inside.
Sighing with relief, House made his way back into the conference room and took a seat at the table opposite of Foreman and Chase. He popped the lid off the pill bottle and dumped a few more pills into his hand. He lifted his hand to his mouth and dropped the pills inside.
"Didn't you just?" Cameron asked, cocking her head to the side as she watched him swallow the pills without batting an eye.
"My leg hurts," House replied, shrugging his shoulder. "So, where were we with this case?"
"He was admitted with breathing problems during sex," Cameron said, skimming over his charts for what seemed like the one-millionth time. "Then, his tongue started to swell."
"He developed pain in his lower extremities and kidney failure," Chase chimed in, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
"Where has his wife been during all of this?" House asked, pressing the top of his cane into his chin.
"At his bedside, waiting on him hand and foot. Why?" Foreman asked, furrowing his brow.
"Go search her stuff," House said, waving them out the door.
"What are we looking for?" Cameron asked, tilting her head to the side as she walked toward the door.
"Anything she could be using to kill her husband," House replied, massaging his thigh as a dull ache resonated through his muscle.
"Why can't you do it?" Foreman asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his chair.
"Because I'm in pain!" House shouted, smacking his hand on the table. "Now, go, do your damn jobs."
Cameron, Chase, and Foreman quickly exited the room and made their way to the elevator without another word. They knew better than to ignore House's orders when the pain in his leg was more significant than he could deal with.
"Damn it," House groaned, leaning his head back against the back of his chair. The Vicodin didn't give him the relief that he wanted this time. It only dulled the ever-present ache that was the bane of his existence.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the pill bottle, grumbling under his breath. He popped off the top once more and dumped a few pills into his hand. He lifted his hand to his mouth and shoved the pills inside, swallowing roughly.
Maybe this time, he'd get more than a few moments of a pain-free life.