house M.D.

infected. (gregory house x reader )

You understood that he was searching for something you couldn't see, something you felt. "Tired. Like I'm going to be sick."

He nodded, "Any pain?"

"A little." You admitted. "My whole body aches."

House hung his cane on the bed rail, before approaching the unit, opening the drawers to find the pain medication he was searching for. He took the cap off and your eyes flickered across his face, lowering to observe as he injected the medication into your arm.

"That should take the edge off." He said, resting his hands on the bed.

"Thank you." You whispered.

House tucked your hair behind your ear. "Try and get some sleep. It's going to be a long night."

"Title of your sex tape."

A chuckle escaped his lips, and you smiled at the sound. He leaned down to kiss your forehead before he grabbed his cane and left. The next twelve hours were brutal, your condition worsening by rhe minute and House grew agitated with his team, and frustrated as he searched every book and journal for answers, only to find none.

He had stayed at the hospital all night looking for answers and in the morning his mood only got worse. He was waiting on lab results, standing across from your room, twirling his cane as his eyes watched over you as the machines did the breathing for you.

House recalled the briefing a few days before when the patient first arrived.

"It could be meningitis." You suggested, reading over the files, meeting his gaze.

"Tested and proven false." Foreman said.

"Bacterial?" Cameron glanced up from her notes.

"Or viral. Or blood poisoning." Chase added. "We need to narrow it down."

"We need to know what came first. There's something missing. Something we can't see." You sighed.

"If only we could ask - oh wait he is unconscious so that may be difficult." Foreman clipped.

You glared at him and House knew the tension between you both from the last case was about to come to a head. "I'm hearing a lot of maybes. Any definite ideas?" He spoke up from where he stood by the whiteboard.

"I still say meningitis." You said.

"We tested for meningitis but it came back negative." Foreman reminded you with a slight scoff.

You ignored him turning to House. "Permission to run my own tests?" You asked, standing up.

House pointed at you, "Granted."

"Thank you." You looked at Foreman smugly before leaving with your notes. House looked at the floor, a smirk on his lips, before continuing with the briefing.

A few hours afterwards you were sitting in his office, files spread around you and House knew from your expression the results were negative.

"It has to be meningitis."

"It can't be." He said. "So, look for something else."

"We're missing something." You rested your chin on your hand, elbow reating on your leg. "I don't know what it is."

"Obviously otherwise you wouldn't be missing it." He walked to the chair, sighing as he looked at the circle of notes you had made. And for the next hour you bounced diagnosis back and forth until your patient flatlined and you rushed to his isolated room.

As he stared at your weary form, the death of the patient fresh in his mind, House recalled the book you had been reading that day, and rushed to his office as quickly as his leg allowed.

You woke up fourteen hours later, and were greeted with the sight of House in a ward rather than the isolated room. You blinked as you adjusted to the lighting, and he sent you a small smile.

"It wasn't meningitis." He spoke up after a few moments. "It was Encephalitis."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "Encephalitis?"

"You responded better with the concoction of antiviral meds and the steroid injections. Symptoms were similar. The reason you were able to fight it off longer was because our patient had an underlying infection that weakened his immune system."

"How is he?"

House shook his head and a frown formed on your lips. "He didn't make it through the night."

You nodded solemnly.

"We'll keep up the antiviral meds for another twenty four hours. But you're responding well to the treatment. You might need half of that."

You smiled softly. "Thank you."

He returned the smile, "You'll be here for observation over night. But you're through the worst of it."

You took his hand, and he leaned down to kiss your forehead. "Get some sleep."

"Stay with me?"

He pulled a chair over and you smiled as he took a seat beside your bed, holding onto your hand. You closed your eyes briefly when he kissed your hand.

"I love you." You confessed, and his striking eyes met your gaze.

"I love you too."

You turned on your side, facing him. For the next twenty minutes he answered your questions about everything you had missed until you fell asleep, holding his hand. He leaned over to kiss your forehead, pulling away to gaze down at you, relieved that you had pulled through.