Wilson sighed as he closed the apartment door behind him. He wasn't feeling well and all he wanted was just a hot cup of tea, steaming bowl of chicken soup and a comfortable position on the couch, preferably under the blanket. But over the last few months of living with House again, he had learned not to expect food to magically appear in the refrigerator unless he bought it.

There were some differences, sure, because now they weren't just friends anymore. It's a weird thing when your best buddy suddenly becomes your boyfriend, but Wilson got used to this feeling quickly. He wasn't sure about House though, because this ass still continued to mentally torment him, boyfriend or not. And still Wilson loved him, but they would have to talk about housework duties soon!

Wilson just shook his head and prepared a cup of tea for himself. He was too sore to make the soup even if there actually were any groceries left in the fridge. The mug was comfortably hot in his cold hands and he managed to get on the couch without any incidents. He stretched his legs and settled himself down. For a moment he thought about switching the TV on, but the building migraine and his tired eyes had their own mind, so he stayed as he was in the quiet and slowly darkening living room, hoping that House would be home early today.

The pounding on the door awakened him a few hours later. It was already dark outside, and for a moment Wilson wondered where he was. A quick glance at the clock told him it was about nine o'clock in the evening, which meant he had slept for almost three hours. Despite this fact, he wasn't feeling any better, but rather worse. A lot worse, if he thought about it. His throat was sore, his head was killing him and he was sure he was running a fever. Definitely not good.

The bangs increased and now they were also accompanied by House's voice. "Wilson! Get your fat ass off the couch and come open the door for a cripple!" Really, this man showed his love for you in every sentence.

Instead of an answer, Wilson just coughed and slowly made his way towards the door, blindly fumbling for the light switch on the wall and turning it on. It forced his eyes to blink several times, but then he could finally let House inside.

"What took you so long--", House stopped in the middle of sentence when he saw Wilson. The younger man didn't look good and the doctor in House was telling him to do something. However, House rarely listened to those inner voices.

Wilson didn't answer. He just shifted to the right to make room for House, who slowly limped inside.

"You look like shit." House stated matter-of-factly and Wilson just rolled his eyes.

"Great diagnosis..." He was surprised how different his voice sounded. It was almost like a howling sound from a wild animal. House evidently noticed that too and dragged his friend into the center of the room under the light.

Wilson tried to protest but felt too sick to complain loudly. In the bright place, House looked him over and felt his neck.

"Enlarged lymph nodes." He continued the exam by putting his hand on Wilson's forehead. Wilson leaned into the touch, because it felt damn good. "And you have a fever."

House led him back to the couch. "Sit down, I'll get the thermometer."

"It's not necessary; I'm not having a fever. It's just a slightly increased temperature in my mouth from drinking the hot tea," protested Wilson.

"Call it what you want," House answered as he went to the bathroom to fetch the medical bag.

Wilson sighed again and shivered. He was feeling really bad and House's poking and prodding weren't exactly helping matters. His throat tasted weird and it was already very hard to swallow. But still he had the feeling that maybe he could sleep off this stupid cold.

House came back few moments later with the bag in his hand and found Wilson in the same position where he left him. He put the bag on the table and went to the kitchen. When he reappeared, he was carrying a glass full of water in his free hand.

"Here, take this. It's for the migraine." He handed Wilson the glass and two small pills hidden in his palm.

Wilson looked at him in astonishment. "How do you know I ha--"

House cut him off. "You're always this annoying when you have one," he shrugged.

Wilson blinked in surprise, but took the offered medicine. His throat was almost too sore to swallow, so instead of finishing the glass off in quick gulps, he just took a few careful sips to prevent the pills from sticking themselves in his throat.

He put the half-full glass back down on the table and caught House's inquisitory look.

"Sore throat, " he half said, half squeaked.

"I see." In the same moment House already had his hands on Wilson's cheeks. "Let's see what you hide in there. Open your mouth!" It wasn't request, it was order, and Wilson shook his head.

"No, my mouth is my business. Go away House, leave me alone." That might have sounded reasonable if it wasn't for Wilson's squeaking. This way, it sounded just absurd and funny.

House smirked. "Ever heard of doctors being the worst patients? Come on, I'm not gonna bite you."

Wilson shook his head again and turned away from his friend. "Leave me alone House. It's just some stupid cold. You don't have to play doctor." He made a pause and realized that he had been quite harsh to House, who acted suspiciously nice tonight.

They were sitting for a while in the silence.

"Look, I appreciate your caring, but I just need a warm bed to sleep it off, do you think you can manage it?" He looked pleadingly at House who was evidently thinking about the next move.

"Okay, but I won't let you snuggle with me if you won't let me take your temperature." House grinned evilly and sat down next to him.

Wilson smiled and nodded. Taking the thermometer into his mouth, he leaned nearer to House and rested his head comfortably on House's shoulder. This way they stayed until the thermometer beeped.

"101.8. That's pretty high. You should at least take some Tylenol."

"No, please, you know I don't like to take any medication and I don't want to mix it with the Sumatriptan I had for the migraine." Wilson made a perfect impression of a very cute puppy dog looking upside on his master. This look was irresistible even for House, at least sometimes.

"Okay, but if you're not better in the morning, we are going to the hospital to see what's wrong. Blood tests won't hurt. Well, technically, they will hurt, but not that much." House smirked again.

Wilson smiled back and nodded slowly. He knew that House was trying to make him better in his own way. And while this way was just rude and impolite to the rest of the world, for Wilson it was the music to his ears. To his surprise he noticed that House tended to be very kind and almost concerned when Wilson was sick even with the slightest case of the flu. It was a weird thing, but it never stopped amusing Wilson.

They made their way to the bedroom and House managed to tuck them both under the extra thick blanket, because Wilson was still shivering. As promised, House also allowed him to cuddle up, back to chest.

"What happened to you?" Wilson asked in a raspy voice.


"You're being nice, what happened to you?" Wilson asked again.

"Who would buy my lunches, clean my apartment, wash and iron my clothes, pay my bills and most importantly, who would have sex with me if you died?" House answered with a mock innocence.

"And I thought you loved me," Wilson whined playfully.

"Nah, only post-orgasm speech," House mumbled but the arm he had around Wilson's waist tightened and the grip of his hand stayed firm until they both fell asleep.

Wilson woke up very early with a very bad feeling. He was still comfortably snuggled next to House but otherwise, every part of his body felt achy and sore.

He shifted restlessly in the bed, and after a while, he realized that the uncomfortable heat he was feeling was his own body. His cheeks were flushed and his ears were buzzing. Also, every slightest movement of the head made him want to jump out of his skin.

After a quick thought, he tried to swallow, but when he did, it felt as if some weird creature had settled in the back of his mouth and tried to strangle him with its claws. He wouldn't admit it in front of House, but tears appeared in his eyes from the pain. Wilson coughed, which made the pain thousand times worse and also woke up House, who shifted and slowly opened his eyelids to find his friend red-eyed, shivering, but still hot enough to fry eggs on his face.

House only moaned and closed his eyes again for a moment. His leg was giving him a morning lesson. He muted it with two Vicodins from the bedside table and turned over to take care of Wilson, who was suffering quietly beside him.

"Open up," House ordered and slipped the thermometer into Wilson's mouth again, while putting his hand on his friend's forehead. It was uncomfortably hot.

While they were waiting for the beep, House got up and started collecting his and Wilson's clothes.

"103.1. Nice. Now open your mouth and let me take a look at your throat."

Wilson knew that the examination was probably going to be uncomfortable since even the slightest swallow or attempt to talk hurt like hell, but arguing with House would be painful as well, so he figured he might as well go ahead and get this over with.

"My call is tonsillitis, but we have to rule out everything else and confirm if it's viral or bacterial. You know the drill. Now come on, get up, I won't carry you." House went back to collecting their clothes.

Wilson felt weak and shaky, and his legs threatened to give out on him. He hurt too much to talk, so he settled for approving and disapproving grunts. Together, they managed to get him dressed. House was trying to be helpful, but wasn't very good at it, and Wilson's shirt ended wrongly buttoned. From time to time he also measured Wilson's temperature with his hand, which Wilson found oddly comforting.

Thirty minutes later they made their way towards the car. House gripped his cane with one hand, and guided a shivering Wilson to the car with the other.

In the ER was some incompetent - at least for House's taste - young doctor, so House called for Cameron. Even with the slightest case of the cold, he trusted her more.

"House! What does it mea-- Ah! Hello Dr. Wilson!" Cameron greeted them. "What's wrong?" She looked at Wilson anxiously.

Wilson stopped shivering for a while and croaked. "Sorry, can't talk..."

She used her concerned gaze number 15 and turned to House.

"Do a swab, find out if it's bacterial or not," he said as if she knew the whole story. "If yes, prescribe penicillin for him. And do a blood test to rule out mononucleosis and other icky stuff."

Cameron turned back to Wilson. "Do you have a stiff neck?"

He shook his head.


"103.1 when I last checked," House answered for him. "Go!" He yelled at Cameron.

"Wait a moment, I'm a doctor, let me do my job," she said, sounding a little annoyed.

"Dr. Wilson, do you have a headache?"

A nod.


Wilson shrugged. In fact, now he looked pretty pale and he wasn't sure if his stomach was just empty or queasy.

"Okay, lay down for a minute. I'll send someone in with a cold compress." She spoke kindly and quietly, but also firmly.

House was irritated. "Can't you just do the swab and draw his blood? Or should I do it myself?" he barked at her.

"Wait a moment! I need to get the supplies." She scowled at him and left the cubicle, leaving them alone for a while.

House seated himself in the plastic chair near the bed and propped his chin on his cane. In this position, he just stared at Wilson, who was wheezing slightly and trying not to swallow. The bed wasn't comfortable, but at least he got the blanket, so he was relatively warm.

"You know that tonsillitis is very rare for adults, right? Next prove that you are, in fact, still a big baby." House smirked and Wilson rolled his eyes.

"Don't know, who is older then." It was a lame reply, but Wilson felt too miserable to try to come up with anything better.

House continued as if Wilson didn't say anything. "Consider yourself lucky. In the past, the only treatment for this was tonsillectomy."

Wilson shivered and closed his eyes. Suddenly, he felt himself panicking. His throat felt as if it could easily close up! All worst-case-scenarios played in his mind and if it wasn't for House sitting close to him, he was sure, he would have been very near to some stupid panic attack. It was embarrassing, because he was a doctor for God's sake! But hospital can have a really bad influence on you, of course, if you are here as a patient. Well, at least in the most cases.

Cameron came back few moments later, holding the spatula for the swab in her hand. "Open your mouth, please."

Wilson complied and was surprised how gentle she was while taking the sample.

House sat quietly in his chair, not sure about his own feelings about Wilson being so sick and vulnerable.

Cameron produced a tourniquet from her pocket. "Okay, now I need your blood. Make a fist."

House thought that he was getting sentimental, because when Cameron missed on the first try and Wilson winced in pain, he winced with him and felt his heart beat faster. It also probably had something to do with the feeling he had about kicking Cameron out and doing the procedure himself.

Everything went fine on the second try. "I'm done," Cameron labeled the vial and turned to collect the swab as well. House made a mental note about Wilson being a little bit afraid of needles when being a patient, because his friend was in obvious discomfort during the blood collection. What a useful material in the future! House thought.

"The results should be back in twenty minutes. Stay here please." She looked more firmly at House than at Wilson though. "I'll bring you your medication soon." Cameron left the cubicle again and House inconspicuously shifted his chair nearer to Wilson. He took his wrist as if to check his pulse, but they both knew the real reason for the physical contact.

Soon to be continued :-)