Characters: Wilson, House
Genre: Gen, friendship
Summary: Wilson's down with a wicked migraine--fine time for House to start acting stranger than usual! x-posted
Migraine. He doesn’t get ‘em often, maybe once a year—but when he does, he’s got a system. Dark room. Icy-cold cloth to the forehead. Ibuprofen, 800mg. Two pillows; one for under his head, one for over. And no noise. No. Noise. It’s a simple formula; too bad he’d forgotten to figure House into the equation. How the hell could he have forgotten House? No one can forget House. But he had—and now, he thinks, he’ll have to pay, big-time, for the oversight.
“Go away, House. Please. In the name of all that’s compassionate, just turn around and leave. I’m begging.”
“What’s the matter with you?”
“I broke my arm. See the cast? I’ll let you autograph it later if you’ll just. Go. Away.”
“Well, your sarcasm button’s definitely broken; that was lame, even for you. Got a headache?”
“Sherlock Holmes. Not just a headache. Migraine From Hell.” Shouldn’t have admitted to anything—now he’ll use it against me.
“What’ve you taken?”
“Ibuprofen. If I’d known you were coming, I’d have thrown in some cyanide too, ended this a little faster. But wouldn’t want to deprive you of your fun.”
“How long what? I’m really not up for Twenty Questions right now, House. Ten, maybe. If you’ll leave after I answer them.”
“How long have you had the headache, you moron?”
“Idiot,” House whispers, and leaves quietly, shutting the door soundlessly behind him.
Great. He behaved himself. Must be a new form of torture; now I have to lie here and worry about why he didn’t act like a jerk.
Wilson tries to relax, attempts to allow the cool, comforting, quiet darkness a chance to work its slow magic on his headache—but he can’t enjoy it. He’s too busy trying to solve the puzzle of House’s human-like behavior.
The sound of House’s cane out in the hall causes
But House enters just as quietly as he’d departed. He does turn on the desk lamp, but angles the light away from
“Whaddaya want now, House? Not dying fast enough for you?”
“Jimmy, I’m hurt! Ever occur to you I might just want to help?”
“You think I’m an idiot? That’s the trouble with you younger doctors; you forget the tried-and-true stuff. Good, old-fashioned D.H.E.45. Ergotamine.” Before
“There’s gotta be something wrong with me? You think I enjoy seeing you suffer?”
“That’d be a ‘yes.’ What do you want, House?”
“What makes you think I want anything?”
“You’ve got some sort of ulterior motive for wanting my migraine over with. Under normal circumstances, you’d be rubbing your hands together and cackling with glee, making a list of all the ways you could use this to nurture your inner sadist. So what gives?”
House frowns and pauses, then smiles. “Okay, you got me. Busted. Had these tickets to… something… for a few weeks now. Don’t wanna go by myself. Guess I could ask Cameron….”
“Yeah, because that whole encouraging-an-unrequited-crush thing always works out so well,”
“Exactly. Not going there. So I need you back in shape by tonight.”
“Tickets to where, House?”
House stands smoothly. “Now that’d spoil the surprise, wouldn’t it? Get some rest; been looking forward to this for weeks. Don’t want some sicko ruining my evening.” And he’s gone.
Several hours later,
“Dr. Wilson, I can’t find House. Could you do me a favor? Tell him I finally found something for him, but it’s gonna cost.”
“What are you talking about, Chase?”
Chase rolls his eyes. “House told me to find him some nice, quiet activity for tonight. Wouldn’t explain anything else. Just said it’d be cool if it was something that wouldn’t bore him too much. I figured you’d know what was going on.”
Chase walks off shaking his head, and
Later that evening, on the drive to the movie theater, House glances over at
“It’s okay. Migraine messed with your brain. You’ll catch on faster next time,” House assures him.
A/N: thanks to blackmare for the brilliant movie suggestion!