Chapter Text
This is hopeless.
Another night where House could feel his eyelids starting to burn, but no matter how much he closed his eyes, tossed and turned, or even laid as completely still as he could. Nothing. He didn’t suspect even a blink of sleep.
He couldn’t even count on both hands how many times his eyes have drifted over to his analog clock, the bright red letters staring right back at him in mockery.
Right. Inanimate objects can’t mock.
2:36 AM
House didn’t even have the excuse of a late-night phone call from the team or an ongoing case to drag his ass back into the hospital this late without some sort of personal investigation or attack to be brought upon him by… Well, at this point, anybody he knew.
And sure they knew about his insomnia; but that explanation would never be enough to satisfy anybody.
Letting his head hit the pillow again, House sighed. He could just barely move any extremities without exhaustion. It was never enough to allow him to fall asleep, but just enough to torture him. This whole situation was torture.
Just as he was considering going into work to see if he could score a script for sleeping pills and maybe some relaxation in his office- since of course, his bed is never enough- the apartment was juuust quiet enough for the light shuffling echoing from his front door to reach him.
Not loud enough for footsteps; but maybe an object? Was somebody dragging something? Maybe… a body bag?
Immediately after the sound began, House shot his head up.
Now he really had an excuse to be awake.
Gripping his thigh, House threw his legs over the side of his bed. Shuffling forward to grab his cane, he kept an ear out for the sound.
If it was a person, I would’ve heard footsteps. It’s too quiet to not hear footsteps.
A break in, maybe? Still… too quiet. Maybe a distraction.
The possibilities wandering through his mind, the sound faded to a stop. Determined to catch the source of the noise, House picked up his pace as he left his bedroom.
A rodent? Too loud to be anything small. Maybe…
As House threw open the door, he braced himself for whatever it is he might see. Maybe a criminal at work? A rat infestation? A-
Cat?
A moment of confusion washed over House; then clarity. It all made sense now. How did he not think of a cat?
Of course it was a cat!
House studied the cat. It had short, curly fur- but tufts on its face, legs and tail. It didn’t appear to have a collar, but how did it end up in the building in the first place?
So many questions, too little answers. All House knew is that it showed up on his doorstep; and …
“Wait- hey!” House exclaimed as the cat wandered past his legs and into his home. It hadn’t strayed too far, just sniffing about at the walls, then the floor… then towards his piano.
With a sigh, House leaned against the wall next to the propped open door.
“Unless you’re gonna pay rent, get out of here.”
If his coworkers didn’t think he was insane before, they definitely would now. Best be glad talking to animals isn’t a symptom of sleep deprivation.
Or maybe it would be better if it was.
The cat froze in its tracks at the sound of House’s voice, turning its head towards him. House craned his head upwards, hopeful the more he talked, the less it would want to stay.
“Heeeere puss. Here puss puss puss…” Leaning on his cane, he talked slowly, gesturing towards the door. To his (not) surprise, the cat walked towards him, more on the cautious side.
“There you go…” House trailed off under his breath as the cat was next to him now.
The cat’s eyes were darting out the door, legs not following. Instead, it coiled around between House, rubbing its head on his good leg’s shin.
Not according to plan.
Agitated and tired, House couldn’t deny his curiosity. Though typically (not always) one of his stronger traits, in this circumstance, he just wanted to find a way to sleep.
Whether that be drowning his insomnia in alcohol, watching one of his favourite soaps until the sun rose with a big pot of coffee, or tossing and turning in bed until he finally decided to go into the hospital one too many hours early, something had to work.
Definitely not trying to figure out where this cat came from, or why it chose House to bother so early in the morning.
“God…” House grunted under his breath, pushing the door closed with his cane. This cat had decided to stay despite House’s attempts, and not only was he too tired to deal with this predicament, he wanted to investigate the situation further when he wasn’t barely conscious standing in his living room.
A consciousness he could not slip out of.
Laying in bed proving to be futile, House limped over to his couch. He tossed his cane onto the coffee table littered with papers and empty cups & mugs he definitely needed to wash soon.
The moment his head hit the pillow nudged between the arm of the couch, the ache of being on his bad leg too long settled into a dull pain. Not much better, but definitely an improvement.
Draping his arm over his face, House tried his best attempt at relaxation.
He had heard all kinds of advice from Wilson, Cuddy- even the psychiatrist he dreaded to see. So much so, it was only a one time experience.
Keeping the temperature down, avoid eating before laying down, sleeping less at work (which was stupid advice to him. Any sleep was sleep to him, it didn't matter where.) or avoiding caffeine and alcohol.
You could guess who told him that.
It was all stuff he had heard (and ignored) before, and all it ever did for him was repeat in his brain when he was trying to sleep.
Instead of debating the pros and cons of each piece of advice, the silence of the building was getting to him, and blocking all of his thought process.
He could hear the cars outside. Who the hell is driving this late at night?
Why did cars have to only be so obnoxiously loud at night?
The whistling of the wind outside his window echoed in the empty room. The sound of leaves rustling on the pavement below. Distant honking and god why did cars have to be so fucking annoying at this hour?
At this point, a headache was more likely to come on instead of sleep. Everything was so loud and his leg was starting to hurt worse and…
The cat. Where’s that cat?
Just as House tilted his head up from his thoughts, his body jolted as the cat in question hopped up onto the couch, climbing atop of House.
Digging its paws into his gut, he gasped in pain and tried to nudge the cat off of him.
“Get off!” He scowled, trying to direct the cat off of him and back onto the floor by pushing his hands in front of it so it would be discouraged from coming any closer.
Pushing his hands further, it did succeed in redirecting the cat. Right onto his infarction.
Biting back a shout, House’s skin crawled as the pain shot through his thigh. The cat immediately jumped off of him and bolted across the room. House didn’t see where it had gone as he had kicked his head back to fight a string of cuss words close to escaping his mouth.
Pressing the palm of his hand into his face, he let out a heavy sigh.
The pain lingered, pain he was definitely used to. He grabbed his prescription bottle off of the coffee table, nested between two mugs and a stack of papers.
So much for sleep.
-
“Yes, that’s fine. I’ll write you a cheque, and-” Wilson’s voice tapered off as he looked up from his desk, seeing a disheveled and very clearly irritated House standing above him.
“Hold on, could you just- give a moment?- yeah, I’ll call you back. Thanks.” Setting his phone down with a barely audible click, Wilson took a deep breath before continuing.
“What is it, House?” Wilson said, leaning back in his chair.
“There is an intruder in my home. A big, fluffy intruder. And it won’t leave.” House broke eye contact with Wilson, wandering over to the window by the balcony.
“I’ve tried everything.” House muttered, eyeing the scenery outside up and down.
“Wait, what? What is the context here?” Wilson chimed in before House could get another word in.
“Bigfoot’s in my house. A cat, you idiot!” At least House wasn’t the only one who guessed wrong the first time. Wilson didn’t need to know that.
“Oh, well… have you tried, I don’t know… picking it up and… carrying it outside?” Wilson was studying House’s demeanor. He seemed… well, very tired for one. House was running his fingers through his stubble in deep thought until Wilson had spoken up, which made him turn around in exasperation.
If this wasn’t clearly impacting House’s life, he wouldn’t have dreamed of coming to talk to Wilson about this. So it was definitely the reason he looked so tired.
“You know, that’s a great idea!” House exclaimed, throwing his hand up in over-exaggerated joy. Right. Sarcasm. House wouldn’t have been able to pick up the cat without some sort of enclosure, let alone predict how much it would move in his arms without one.
“Right. Have you tried getting some cat treats? You know, scatter them outside your door…”
“Yeah, because I’m the crazy cat lady next door who always has some snacks laying around.” House was spinning his cane in thought now, glancing over to Wilson who was speechless.
“Wasn’t cat treats. All I had was some bread. Didn’t work, clearly.”
Wilson was in awe.
“I wonder why.” Wilson muttered, into a loud sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I guess… the cat likes you,” He continued, trying to come up with some sort of statement that would satisfy House’s curiosity and solve his nearly impossible puzzle. Animals didn’t speak, that was an obvious fact. Just because House wanted answers didn’t mean he could magically make them.
“Oh yeah, totally my charming personality and inviting aura. Makes everyone wanna stick around, you couldn’t tell?” House said, of course starting his train of thought with a thick layer of sarcasm.
“Doesn’t make sense. It’s clearly not me, it must be something about my apartment. But there’s plenty of other places in the building that are- and stay- much warmer. And if it’s not warmth, it’s food. But it didn’t chase after anything I tossed on the ground…” House trailed off, losing himself in thought again as he mindlessly rubbed his leg.
“You could always just call the shelter to pick it up, you know,” Wilson suggested, pushing his chair onto the side of his desk closer to House.
House looked up at Wilson again, except he was met with silence and a quick glance away. The gears in Wilson’s brain were starting to work.
“Oh,” Wilson chuckled.
“What?” House looked back up, his thoughtful stare fading into concerned confusion.
“You like the cat. You wanna keep it,” Wilson was smiling now.
“Oh, please. Just because it can’t talk doesn’t mean I like it any more than you. It’s like a human roommate- you- except I’m stuck taking care of it.” House griped, teeth gritted.
“I don’t want to keep it. I’ll call the shelter when I get home.” House shook the bottle of Vicodin he pulled from his jacket pocket before popping the cap.
“Then I can finally get some sleep.”
“Okay,” Wilson winced as he watched his friend. He figured trying to argue with him was useless, he was moments from leaving his office regardless if he spoke up or not.
Either House was being secretive and stubborn because he wanted to solve this mystery, or because he liked the cat and wanted to keep it. Wilson was starting to believe the former. House was never one for animals, let alone pets.
He just wanted to make sense of this before he gave up his one clue.
-
Part of- no, most of House was hoping that when he opened the door to his apartment, the cat would be long gone.
He hadn’t seen it leave or enter since he left for work, but he wasn’t sure if it was the lack of sleep to blame and he just hadn’t seen or that he scared it off last night.
Crushing the empty cup of coffee in his hands as he walked in, he threw the trash away in the bin next to the coat hanger. The sound of the cup rattling echoed throughout the empty room… nothing. Luckily, throwing out the cup freed up his hand to pull the extra plastic bag off of his shoulder into his now empty left.
House put his duffel bag down next to him as he studied the room, flicking the light switch on. The hallway leading down to his bedroom and bathroom seemed empty, the kitchen empty…
There it was. Sitting politely on the arm of his couch was the same cat from last night, curly fur and all.
How many cats actually have curly fur?
The cat was staring directly at House, its head lightly jerked to the side.
“Of course you’re still here,” He grumbled under his breath. As House tossed his jacket over the back of the couch, he took one last glance at the cat before he wandered into his kitchen. He set the plastic bag on his counter, leaving it untouched as he grabbed a bowl from his cupboard.
“Here. Think of it as a peace offering.” House mumbled as he set the bowl on the coffee table; piquing the cat’s interest. House had cleared off enough of the mess to leave a spot for the cat to sit.
As House sat down on the couch, he grabbed his jacket he had discarded earlier to search for his spare pill bottle.
He shook the container in his hands, squinting at the cat.
It had jumped onto the table, sniffing at the bowl House had set out.
Cat food. Some generic store brand he hadn’t bothered to look too deep into… but seemed to be enough for the cat, as it ate almost all of it.
House figured the cat hadn’t eaten in at least a few days, as it didn’t seem too interested in the scraps he offered last night. Even buying cat food was a gamble; maybe the cat was a stray and was particular about what it ate.
House flicked the bottle in circles, deep in thought. The confusion of why this cat wanted to stay with him was eating at his brain; why him?
Surely this couldn’t be a stray. How would it have found its way to his door in particular? What if it’s a neighbor’s cat- he wouldn’t know if any of them had pets, he never talks to them. How do you explain you stole someone’s cat because it won’t leave your house?
Maybe the cat is carrying a disease. Maybe-
Much like the previous night, the cat hopped up next to House. Tense and lost in his thoughts, House squinted at the cat. It was staring right back at him, tail swaying back and forth; as if it was thinking, too.
The cat’s gaze wandered down to his legs, which were crossed at the ankles and propped on the coffee table; now next to the empty bowl of cat food.
Just as House was about to move so the cat could take the couch, the cat pressed a paw into his good thigh- tail still slowly waving back and forth. His hands were suspended in the air as the cat inspected his lap, preparing himself for the pain after the cat crawled across him.
After a moment of just standing on his leg, the cat stepped off, not moving further. House exhaled in relief.
Instead of leaving, the cat proceeded to spin around and plop itself right next to House, its upper body leaning against his good leg.
His hands still raised, House tensed up. He couldn’t be sure if the cat wanted to bite him or not; surely it would?
He was an ass, to people and pets alike, apparently.
Except… the biting never came. Even after House let his guard down, resting his arm along the cat.
House ran his fingers along the cat’s side, petting it softly.
Why do you want to stay here?
-
“House?” Wilson called from outside his apartment.
It wasn’t too late. Only 8:45. House was never asleep before 12:00 AM at the least, so Wilson was antsy and nervous. He hadn’t gotten a reply after a few knocks, and usually that was when House was done messing with him and would actually open the door.
“House, this isn’t funny.” He repeated, with no reply.
With an anxious breath, Wilson shuffled through his pockets for his key ring to find House’s spare he had given him a couple years back, when he moved in.
Unlocking the door as quickly as he could, he rushed in… to nothing.
“House, what the-” Wilson was about to raise his voice, yell- berate him for ignoring him even though he was sitting right by the door, but… he was asleep.
Was he asleep?
Wilson lunged forward to check his pulse, but quickly stopped when he saw the rise and fall of his chest, and the presence of a cat.
The cat was curled up next to House, purring loudly and swatting its tail against the couch in joy. House’s reading glasses were slipping off of his face, and he had a notebook open on his lap. It only had a few words written on it.
House had fallen asleep with his hand patting the cat’s head, ears nearly flattened. Wilson exhaled a breath of relief.
He needed that rest.
Just as Wilson was going to leave him to rest, he noticed an opened plastic bag on his kitchen counter.
Squinting, he realized House must’ve bought cat food… in bulk.
Wilson chuckled, barely above a whisper. Now extremely cautious not to wake House up… except, if he hadn’t woken up to any of Wilson’s previous commotion, he was sure even an explosion would keep him asleep.
House always found new ways to surprise Wilson.