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House had come down with the flu. How ironic, a doctor being sick.
He'd been stubborn, being adamant that he was feeling just fine and refusing to go home, instead staying at work all day. When he finally got home he went straight to bed, flopping down on it.
You'd barely had time to say hello before he had disappeared into the bedroom. When you softly opened the door, wanting to check on House, he just muttered:
"I'm fine, go away."
"I can see you're not. What's going on?"
You asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed and taking in the view of him. He looked tired and his cheeks were flushed with a soft pink color. When he didn't respond you reached a hand out, putting it on his forehead. House let out a grunt, but didn't pull away, secretly enjoying the cool touch of your hand.
"You're burning up."
You pointed out, removing your hand.
"It's just a damn cold."
He grumbled. He didn't bother to open his eyes to look at you, already knowing that concerned expression would be etched onto your face.
"How long have you been feeling this way for?
You asked. Knowing House he'd probably noticed his symptoms early, but been stubborn as usual and ignored it.
"Started at around lunch, I guess."
House responded reluctantly, knowing you wouldn't let it go if he didn't answer. He opened his eyes, looking at you. You stayed quiet for a moment, stroking your thumb over his shoulder in a soft motion.
"Do you want me to get you anything? I could make you a cup of tea or draw you a bath?"
"Tea is for old people. Might as well ask me to follow you to Bingo at twelve on Tuesdays."
House responded, proving that he still had his snark, but after a moment he spoke in a slightly softer tone.
"A bath would be fine, I suppose."
~
"I can undress myself, you know."
House muttered as you helped him out of his shirt. The bath had been drawn and the bathroom was warm and had a faint scent of the soap you'd put in the water.
"Just relax for once, will you?"
You responded. He grumbled something in response, but didn't try to protest more than that.
He tensed up slightly as you unbuttoned his jeans. You'd seen his body multiple times before, but still he always had a lingering sense of anxiety about you seeing the infarction scar even though you'd told him countless times that it didn't bother you. You met his gaze, giving him a look that said 'I love you just the way you are, don't you doubt that' before pulling down his pants and underwear. He stepped out of them, before lowering himself into the bathtub with a slight grimace.
After a moment he slowly started to relax as the warm water enveloped his body. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back. You sat down next to the bathtub, placing your hand on his, which was resting on the edge of the tub.
"Planning on staying to watch me bathe?"
He asked, his gaze moving down to your hands.
"It's more interesting to look at you than the roll of toilet paper,"
You responded before adding:
"Besides, somebody's got to make sure you don't drown in the two feet deep water."
House let out an annoyed huff, but after a moment he moved to grip your hand, giving it a soft squeeze, a quiet 'thank you' that he wouldn't say verbally.
After a couple minutes you reached for the bottle of shampoo, pouring some onto your palm. House muttered something about 'not needing a damn babysitter' before finally letting you massage it into his hair, but it didn't take long before he insisted on rinsing himself off. He'd still been surprisingly compliant, maybe it was the sickness and lack of energy to put up a fight or the secret need to be taken care of.
After he got himself dried off and got into his pajamas the both of you slipped under the covers.
"You enjoy seeing me vulnerable so you can pamper me, don't you? You treat me like a fluffy, white little dog you can bathe and put stupid bows on."
House said while you played with his damp hair. His voice was annoyed, but there was a hint of amusement in it.
"Just because i take care of you doesn't mean I enjoy seeing you feeling bad,"
You answered, before adding:
"And you wish I'd put crappy bows on you."
You said, punctuating your sentence with a soft tug to his hair. He glared at you, but the small smirk on his lips was still visible.
He listened to you talk about your day and various other topics, sometimes chiming in with a question or a quip. After a while your conversation turned into a comfortable silence. House was trying to keep himself awake, but the exhaustion of the day and fever slowly started to take over until he dozed off. His hand softly clutched the fabric of your shirt. You looked at him in the dim lighting, the usually irritated face looked at peace now.