089. Delirious
Fever Talk
House sat in a chair beside Wilson's bed and buried his face in his hands. He was exhausted and his leg was aching as was his head. He was fairly sure he'd figured out what was wrong with his friend but only time would tell. He raised his head and looked over at Wilson. The man was still fevered and flushed, his breathing ragged and laboured. As House watched, Wilson's eyes flickered open, revealing fever-glazed brown. His head lolled on the pillow until he saw House then he blinked slowly.
"Greg," he said, his voice a quiet slur.
House relaxed a little. If Wilson was coherent enough to recognise him then the treatment must be working. He'd been completely incoherent and hadn't recognised anyone or anything the last few times he'd woken. He'd been rather panicky about that and if he hadn't been so weak, they would have had to put him in restraints.
"Hey," he said with a small smile.
Wilson blinked then smiled a loopy, goofy smile. "Pretty," he slurred.
House frowned then snorted. "You're delirious," he said with amusement.
"Mmm," Wilson hummed. "You're pretty. Pretty eyes."
House's eyebrows went up with that and he gleefully thought of the blackmail material this conversation had already provided. He leaned forward in his chair and propped his elbows on the bed, letting his aches and pains drift to the background.
"I've got pretty eyes, huh?" he said with a smirk.
"Very pretty," Wilson said, his voice still slurred. "Blue."
"Very good," House said with a mix of condescension and sarcasm then flinched as Wilson's eyes filled with tears.
When the sick man didn't say anything, just stared at him with the most ridiculously woebegone expression on his face, House scowled.
"What?" he snapped.
Wilson shook his head a tiny bit and curled up on himself a little, looking pathetic and sad. House scowled at him until it finally occurred to him that he was talking to a man who was very sick and fevered and expecting a sensible conversation or even a sensible reaction was asking a bit much. Hence the 'pretty' comments.
"Oh, fine," he said, rolling his eyes. "Yes, my eyes are very pretty. Yes, my eyes are blue."
Wilson seemed to brighten at that and he looked back hopefully at House with a silly little smile. House looked at him then rolled his eyes again.
"You're really pathetic when you're sick," he said with exasperation. "Yes, your eyes are very pretty too. And they're brown by the way. Now go to sleep until you're normal again, will you?"
Wilson hummed happily, and a little deliriously, to himself as he curled up again and promptly fell asleep. House shook his head at the ridiculous conversation he'd just had and mentally filed it away in the 'things to tease Wilson about' file in his mind, firmly ignoring the feeling of relief that flowed through him that it looked like he'd actually be able to use it as teasing material.