House MD Oneshots + Imagines

Vices & Virtues (Gregory House x Fem!Reader) (NSFW)

Here I go again...

It's been a long day, but you let out a sigh of relief as you find yourself on the doorstep of Greg House- the head of the team of diagnosticians you're on and longtime on and off fling, whose day has been even longer. The two of you lost a patient that you've been working with for weeks, and though that's just part of the job, it never hurts any less- you and House both know that, both know that the other is hurting despite the professionalism and composure you managed to keep at the hospital when the woman flatlined in her hospital bed despite your best efforts. Even when you went back to your apartment to shower and get ready to go to House's, the anguished cries of her family echoed in your mind. You wonder if House is hearing the same cries as you knock on the door of his apartment, half-expecting him not to bother with answering.

But he does. He answers surprisingly fast, his movements jerky as he looks at you, rolls his eyes, and nods in understanding.

The doctor doesn't say a word to you, only gesturing for you to come in and leading you to his bedroom. You shut and lock the front door behind you, then follow him, noticing that instead of his usual get-up, he's in a t-shirt that's too big for him and a pair of baggy pajama pants. His bedroom is the same as usual; surprisingly immaculate with a large bed, a desk with neatly organized textbooks and papers piled on it, bookshelves that are full to the brim lining the walls, and a plush rug on the dark wooden floors. The only thing that's a mess is his nightstand, which is littered with pills, water bottles, and a half-full ashtray. You choose to look away.

"I don't know why you'd bother coming after today, (y/n)," House looks at you, icy blue eyes peering into your soul. He walks a circle around you with his cane in hand, scans you from top to bottom, and shakes his head. "Why not go home and get some rest? You're going to kill yourself, running off of nothing the way you do."

House fronts like he's worried for you, and though you wouldn't be surprised if he was, you know he wants you to leave so he can wallow in self-pity and drown in his own destructive behavior; in vicodin and baths so hot they agitate his skin as he tries to wash off the guilt of that day's losses to no avail. You can see that he's clearly agitated, jittery and tense, his arms and face scrubbed raw and red. Peppery locks of hair are dark and damp from his bath, and for once, he doesn't smell like sickness and smoke- rather, a pleasant aroma of teakwood and sage wafts off of him. You notice that he hasn't been keeping up with getting his hair trimmed and make a mental note to ask him at a better time if he wants you to do it for him.

"I was worried about you," You answer his earlier question after a little too long, and while it's true, you also find House's presence comforting. He has no real direction, and yet, he always seems to be so sure of himself and what he's doing. Even when he's struggling constantly, just being near him is enough to make you feel better. After years of working together, years of on and off dating, and years of having this weird friends with benefits agreement that you've settled into- all behind everyone's backs- the two of you know each other terrifyingly well. "I thought I should drop by."

"Well, nothing to worry about here," The diagnostician shrugs and hangs his cane on the coat rack by the bedroom door before limping over to his bed and shifting most of his weight on his better leg. Based on the wince he tries to hide, you can tell that his pain is especially bad today, probably exacerbated by his intense stress. "Just another day living in hell on earth. Nothing new."

"Well, try to look forward to tomorrow," You attempt to be reassuring and take a few bold steps towards the man, placing a hand on his shoulder, even if you know there's nothing that could be said to comfort either of you right now. He flinches, but quickly settles into your touch after a few moments. "Maybe it'll be better."