Work Text:
It’s quiet at 3 am in Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. No matter what emergency room or ward, the weight of the night usually settles in around this hour. In room 415 Greg House sits wide awake at the bedside of a Dr. James Wilson. There was an accident- nothing life threatening but the duo is shaken. Well- one of them is. The one who’s awake right now. The other dropped off through the haze of a drug induced slumber around 11 PM. House was awake, watching him, taking his vital signs every hour himself. There were the high tech monitors surrounding him that were doing a fine job of letting the cavalcade of nurses that had paraded through the space since they’d been admitted know he was decidedly not dead. He knew this. He finished medical school too and can read a goddamn computer screen. But House was superstitious. If he could feel his pulse beneath the plastic band around his wrist himself then he was okay. If he could see his chest rise and fall under his hand and hear his breath he’d be okay. He’d wake up in six or so hours and be right as rain. Exactly. That was the only way to tell. That was the only way to make sure. Wilson stirred in his sleep, only to lay still again to return to the steady breathing of the unconscious.
“He’s fine. Go to bed and just come back in the morning.” Cuddy advised around the second hour of his overnight vigil. House shook his head.
“No.”
Cuddy frowned, patted House’s shoulder with familiar exasperation and left him to continue his watch.
“Who’s going to take care of you when you drop on your feet tomorrow?” Chase asked, handing him a paper cup of strong, dark coffee. Definitely brought from home. No machine within five hundred feet of the building would be allowed to be this powerful. House would’ve been touched by the gesture if he wasn’t so busy worrying about Wilson. He’d thank him eventually. Maybe.
“I’ll be fine.”
There was a bet going amongst the fellows. While technically, not specifically, “cheating'' Chase was improving his odds by plying his boss with homemade caffeine. Not that anybody needed to know. There were fifty bucks on the line- and he knew that money was going to be his.
“Did Chase give you coffee?”
“You think he’s boosting his odds on the bet you all made against me?”
Foreman shook his head, “You know, cheaters never prosper.”
“And when did you bet I’m gonna pass out?”
“Around hour twenty. Had you pegged as a lightweight. Especially when paired with that empty vicodin bottle.”
“Pharmacy opens at 9, besides none of you know about my other stash.” House smiled to himself, satisfied at fending off another wave of gambling at his expense.
“Good luck.”
Foreman got up to turn off the TV, leaving House and Wilson alone. But not for long.
“This isn’t healthy.”
“So? And uh judgy much?”
“You were in a car accident and you haven’t slept since.” Cameron worried. She was always worried. House rolled his eyes, the coffee helped but he’d be damned if he wasn’t at least a little tired.
“Go to bed.”
Not that he’d ever admit it.
“Or what? You’ll sedate me?”
Cameron scoffed, “Shut up.”
“Bye Cameron.”
“I want you to be safe, can I at least get Waters to check you out?”
Ugh. Bryce Waters was the latest addition to the ER circus. Always with the tie clips and belts with that guy. Like he thought he was George fuckin’ Clooney. What’d he have to prove?
“No.”
“Why?”
House bit back on a nasty series of words for her, “Because.”
“Because why?”
Something in his sleep deprived brain broke, “Because what if I wake up without him, Cameron? Then what do I do? Huh?” He shouted, standing, wrenching the muscle in his leg to agonizing alertness. In a rush the adrenaline that had kept him afloat burnt out of him. He didn't mean to shout. It was just. Well. He had meant to shake her up a bit but not at the level he’d seen flash across her face just now. She was afraid of him, if only for a moment.
Deflated, he cast an arm into the empty air, “Fuck. I’m sorry, Allison. I-“
“Don’t.”
She left. House looked out the window, the sun was rising. He was still awake as Wilson began to stir. Wilson blinked one eye, then the other before closing both again. A headache was inching his way up his sinuses. He’d heard the last of the argument, of House raising his voice.
“Don’t yell at Cameron.” He mumbled, just loud enough for House to hear before sleeping on. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the un-bandaged side of his head then settled in the armchair beside his bed and let his eyes close, finally to sleep.