#please forgive me I’m delirious and my cramps are KILLING ME

[waterlillyyyyyyyy]

I love this series so much because first it’s about the super serious stuff like human suffering and evil and the totalitarian government regime enforcing a literal KILLING game

…. Then there’s just ppl being like hahaha lol their ship name is PeeNiss🤪🤪🤪

…BUT NOW I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT HAHA LOL THEIR SHIP NAME IS FUCKING BAIRDANUS???

[inconvenient-sneezes]

this is a continuation!!! [[read part i here and part ii here]]

Chapter III

***

“By body’s tryig to kill be,” House announced, shaking. “How’s thad for a symptom?”

Wilson frowned. “I know you feel cold but you’re really hot. Lay down.”

“Ooh, so forward Wilsod. Whad’s next, you askig be to take off by p-pands?” A large hand on his chest pushed him down into the cushions, earning a cry of pain from House. “Ah! Thad hurt!” he snapped.

“Sorry,” the oncologist said, placing a cool wet rag on his forehead. “But I’m going to have to at least unbutton your shirt.”

House didn’t complain as his friend’s fingers carefully moved down his shirt, revealing the bare skin underneath. He gently tugged his arms out of the sleeves and took a deep, shuddering breath. “Hh’ISHHHUHH!”

“Bless you.”

“I ache all over,” House whined. “Ad by leg hurts. Ad I cad’t stop sd-sdeezig — eh’EHTISHOOO!”

“Definitely flu. Lucky, I remembered something you forgot.”

House exhaled in relief when Wilson reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a familiar bottle. “Thag God. Gimme.” 

When he shook out five tablets, Wilson nearly choked. “What are you doing?! Are you trying to kill yourself? Two’s a good number.”

“I’b id pain!”

“You won’t be able to feel anything if you take the whole bottle. Here.” He set some NyQuil on the coffee table and stood up, Vicodin container in hand. “I’ll be right back and I’m taking this with me.”

As soon as he was gone, House snatched the cough suppressant and took a couple of swigs. More than a couple. He sighed in relief as a sort of warmth flooded his senses.

“Hey, I found a couple DVD’s of Prescription Passion and I’m willing to suffer through a few episodes if you — House? What did you take?”

House’s eyes were half-open and his breathing was irregular. “I’b floatig.”

“Shit.” Wilson tossed the DVD’s to the side and grabbed his stethoscope off the chair. “Your heart’s beating too fast. You tired? Dizzy? House!”

“I’b great. Id wasn’t NyQuil by the way.”

“Really? I hadn’t figured that out by now!”

“Id’s filled with—” His face contorted. Before Wilson could assume he was about to have a seizure, the man’s nose twitched and his head snapped forward. “Ih’HITISHHH! Hur’ESHHHH!” 

He had a hand clamped over his nose and mouth and patted his pocket for his handkerchief. House buried his face in the cloth and continued talking. “It’s filled with Robitussin. Hah’ESHHH!”

“You can’t suffer through a cold without getting high? That’s pathetic. And dangerous.”

“Ad fud,” House pointed out, staring at his friend without blinking. Wilson’s eyes were different colors and his face seemed to be emitting bright light. “Your skid is sparkly.”

Eyes watering, he frantically searched the couch for his handkerchief. “Have you seen my— ehhh... eh’PTISHHHHAHH!”

Wilson quickly grabbed the damp cloth before House could get to it. “No way. This is gross and unsanitary. I’m getting you some tissues like a normal person would use.”

House pinched his itching nose firmly until Wilson came back with a few boxes of tissues. Seeing House’s obvious dilemma, he ripped open the box and snatched a few tissues, pressing them into House’s free hand. 

As soon as he released his nose, his breath started hitching wildly. “Ahhh... hahhH! Hah’TISHAHHH! Huh’TCHHOOO! Ehhh... ih’SHUHHH! Ugh...”

“Bless you.” Wilson fed the DVD player a disk. “We’re starting with season one though.”

“By head hurds,” House groaned, closing his eyes and shuddering.

“Too bad you already maxed out on medicine for the night. Lift up your leg.”

“Uh, doe.”

“Yes.” Wilson carefully lifted the man’s bad leg and sat down on the other end of the couch. He put a pillow in his lap and elevated House’s leg.

“Thad actually feels—” He took a gasping breath and Wilson waited for the inevitable. “Heh’GETISHHHOOO! Guhhh...”

“Bless.”

A few minutes later, Wilson started talking again. “You know, this show is actually kind of addicting. Must be something to do with the totally unrealistic drama.” 

He waited for a sarcastic reply from House. When there wasn’t one, he glanced over and saw that House was asleep, his chest rising and falling evenly. Wilson allowed his own eyelids to drift shut.

***

Wilson awoke with a horrible cramp in his neck. Groaning, he tried to sit up and found that he was at least partially trapped by House’s leg on top of him.

“Hgnn....” A moan escaped House’s lips and caught Wilson’s attention immediately. 

House was shaking and beads of sweat dotted his face. Trying not to hurt him, Wilson lifted up the leg. A hand on his forehead confirmed the high fever and he frantically started searching for wherever House must’ve tossed the cool cloth.

“Where is that damn cloth?” he muttered to himself.

“Please...”

Wilson glanced up from the floor, where he was on his hands and knees, still searching.

“Dad, l-let me in, it’s c-cold out here.” House’s lips barely moved yet he was speaking, speaking to someone that was not Wilson. “I’m... I’m s-sorry.”

Wilson blinked, snapping out of his state of shock, and began undressing his friend.

“No, n-no, just let me come inside. I won’t — ih’KHISHHHH! — d-do it again! I’ve learned m-my lesson! Please!” House’s eyes were wide open and he was shaking more violently now, clad only in a pair of boxers.

“House. House!” Wilson shook the man by the shoulders, desperately trying to get through to him. 

He’d never, ever seen House like this and to be frank, it was beyond terrifying. “You’re delirious. This isn’t you talking, it’s the fever. Listen to me. Can you hear me? It’s Wilson.”

“Wilson?” House blinked, eyes glassy and red-rimmed. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

Wilson sighed in relief. “You’re sick. Really sick.”

“Hih’TISCCHHH!” House’s nostrils flared and he sneezed into cupped hands. “Hah’TSHHH!”

“Bless you, House.” Wilson got up and returned with a few dripped cloths and some ice chips. He strategically put a few washcloths on the man’s chest, neck and forehead. “I know it’s cold, but I’m just... I’m just trying to bring your fever down.”

House shuddered once more before turning into the couch to sneeze without hitting Wilson. “Eh’HERSHHHHH! I’b.... I’b sorry, Dad. Led me id, please. Id won’t happen agaid.”

Before Wilson could stop himself, he was running his fingers through House’s damp hair. 

“I forgive you,” he breathed as if the words were a secret mantra. “I forgive you.”

***

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