Cold Shoulder // House x Reader

Chapter 3 // Same Song and Dance

"The results came back normal. Nothing out of the ordinary." You said sitting down at the table in House's office. House paced around near the whiteboard as Cameron reviewed the file since she had finally returned.

"How was clinic duty? Did it make you feel like a real doctor?" House said to Cameron.

"More so than doing tests all day. Speaking of tests, so since the blood tests were regular we're thinking Cirrhosis still, right?" She asked, closing the file. "Unless you have some genius revelation you'd like to share?"

"My revelations take time. And clearly Foreman and Chase take time too; they've been gone forever."

"Maybe they finally got the cops called on them." You uttered your chin resting on your hand.

"It wouldn't be the first time for Foreman." House said, looking back at you.

"Did the guy seem like an alcoholic? I mean a middle-aged man, unmarried, seems like the recipe for loneliness." Cameron stated.

"Woah woah woah, careful with your words." House stated feigning offense. You laughed lightly.

"You are an alcoholic."

"Only on the weekends. During the week I'm just plain old drug addict." And this reminded you that, yes he had relapsed. Something you had been trying very carefully to push out of your mind.

"I thought you stopped taking Vicodin." Cameron said.

"Oops, it was supposed to be a secret wasn't it?" He said, covering his mouth and looking at you.

"Does Cuddy know?" Cameron asked clearly concerned.

"What part of secret did you not get?" House stated, limping over to the table and sitting down, propping his feet up.

"Ooh now that we know your secret, maybe we can stay up late and we'll tell you ours, you know, paint each other's fingernails, watch Scream.." You muttered sarcastically looking back up.

"No can do, we have a case to work on." House said, twirling his cane around.

"No we don't, it's clearly Cirrhosis of the liver. You even sent Chase and Foreman to confirm it." The brunette beside you said, irritated.

"When have I ever been right first try? You clearly don't know me as well as I thought. I'm calling the wedding off." He said. Cameron rolled her eyes and stood up.

"You can page me when the diagnosis suddenly turns out to not be Cirrhosis, till then I'll be in the E.R doing 'real doctor' things." Cameron said walking out the office.

"Now that she's gone are you going to give me a lap dance?" House said, looking back at you.

"I can't believe you can just pretend it's no big deal that you relapsed."

"It's not, for you."

"It is for me and everyone else you work with."

"Why are you so upset? I do unpredictable stuff all the time! It's a part of my rugged charm."

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose.

"Yeah, and that rugged charm is giving me a headache."

"When you can give me a real diagnosis I'll give you a real apology. Even though I have no idea why you'd need one, seeing as my painkillers have nothing to do with you." He started looking at you. "Do you want a Vicodin for that migraine?"

The patient was stable for now, so you got to go home at a normal time. From all the tests ran Cirrhosis was the diagnosis, Foreman and Chase had found countless empty liquor bottles at the patients home to confirm it. Your apartment was full of clutter, but due to your busy work life, the clutter was reserved to shelves and cabinets. You didn't have time or the sleep schedule to make a mess let alone clean it, so trinkets and bobbles sat idly collecting dust. When you got home you did the thing you did everyday, took a nice hot shower to wash the day away. As you scrubbed your hair and washed your skin, you thought through your day. Cirrhosis seemed like it fit, but House wasn't satisfied and it irked you. It irked you that he had started taking Vicodin like candy, and it irked you that he and nobody else really cared. You scrubbed and washed harder. Why did it bother you so much? Maybe he was right it really had nothing to do with you. God he was always right, wasn't he? You got out of the shower and dried off, the mirror was fogged over so you wiped the condensation with your hand and looked at your reflection. For the first time in forever you noticed eye bags under your eyes. This work schedule was killing you. You brushed your teeth, and gargled mouthwash, before spitting the excess into the sink and walking to your room. You put on your pajamas and laid on your bed and looked up at the ceiling fan. The breeze was nice. And after a while you were asleep.