November 17, 2007 - Overnight

[house-greg-md.livejournal.com]

House wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, but it couldn't have been that long. An hour or two at most. The room was still black-dark with the night, but enough time must have passed to let his Vicodin wear off and the pain to jolt his brain awake, searing hot and sharp through his body. A few seconds awake and House was already curling forward, both hands gripping his leg, his breathing ragged, drawn through clenched teeth as if his breaths had never fallen into a relaxed, deep rhythm, as if he'd never slept at all. Fuck. He wondered if he should get up and walk, at least to the TV or the piano to try to distract himself, but his body didn't want to move. He tried to force it, ease into it, using his hand to push himself onto his back.

He only started to turn when he bumped into something solid. Something warm. Foreman. Fuck. Fuck, no, damn it. House forced himself to lie still after he turned back to his side, not wanting to wake Foreman up. Doing his best to quiet the sound of his breathing, he kept his ear tuned to any movement behind him, hoping like hell Foreman wouldn't wake up to see this. He knew Foreman had seen him when the pain was bad, but that was at work; this was different. He didn't know how Foreman would react, what he'd say, and House didn't want to deal with Foreman and the fucking pain at the same time. He wished he could stop his body from shaking--it was the only thing that would give him away if Foreman was just waking up--but he laid there anyway, wishing the pain would pass, but, more than that, wishing Foreman would just stay asleep. Just stay asleep.