052. Fever

Fever Dreams

House leaned back against the pillows in his bed and ran one hand wearily down his face. He was exhausted and hurting, two conditions he hated and the fact that he didn't much care right now was either due to irritation or the fact that he was just too worn out. He reached out and snagged his bottle of pills from the side table, opening them and swallowing one. He almost tossed the bottle back onto the table but with the way he was feeling right now, he'd probably miss and he really was too tired to go searching after them. So instead he carefully placed them within reach and settled back against the pillows.

A low mumble drew his attention and he looked down at his lover. Wilson was sleeping, not peacefully or very comfortably but he was sleeping. House brushed his hand over Wilson's forehead and grimaced. His lover's fever was still high. It had been just over 103 last time he'd checked and while he was certain it hadn't gone up, it probably hadn't come down either.

Wilson shifted into his caress and opened fever-glazed eyes, blinking up at him in confusion for a moment.

"Greg," Wilson murmured before he curled onto his side and put his head on House's thigh.

House flinched and gently shifted Wilson's head off his leg, ignoring the mumbled complaint.

"If you want to do that, you have to sleep on the other side of the bed," he said, rubbing his thigh lightly.

Wilson looked up at him with a small, confused frown then his eyes widened almost comically.

"Sorry," he almost slurred, reaching up with one shaking hand to gently pet House's leg.

House shivered at the gentle touch and he quickly captured Wilson's hand.

"Not quite having the effect you were after," he said with a wry smile.

Wilson's answering smile was slightly dazed, somewhat sleepy and yet somehow still very suggestive. "Know what effect I was after," he said, pulling his hand free and rather clumsily groping House's groin.

House caught Wilson's hand and pulled it away with a sigh.

"I appreciate the thought," he said dryly. "But a) you're feverish and not thinking. If you were thinking you'd know there is no way you are going to be able to manage sex of any description right now. And b) it's…not going to happen for me right now either."

There was no response and he looked down to find that Wilson had fallen asleep again. He gently put Wilson's hand back down on the bed and sighed with relief. Wilson could be startlingly focused when he was sick, even as feverish and disconnected as he was now, and if he'd been awake enough to really get in the mood for sex then House would have been hard-pressed to fend him off. Because no matter how enthusiastic Wilson was right now, there was no way House was going to be able to get it up. He was tired, he was in pain and he just had his fourth pill in…well, in too few a number of hours. And if he wasn't able to respond, he'd had got the other reaction that Wilson specialised in when he was sick...the pathetic act. All puppy eyes and pouting lips and incredibly hard to resist…and if anyone at the hospital knew how susceptible he was to that sort of thing, his reputation for being a mean, shallow bastard would be ruined.

He sighed again and shuffled down the bed until he was lying flat. He shifted gingerly onto his side and stared at his lover. Wilson stirred in his sleep and murmured drowsily and House reached over and started gently running his hand through his hair. Wilson murmured again then settled back into a feverish sleep and House kept going until he too fell asleep.