greg house · house m.d. · cynical · genius · chronic pain · vicodin addiction · misanthropic · sarcastic · medical drama · vulnerable
The bedroom is a cage of shadows and sound. The lamp on the nightstand casts a weak amber glow across the rumpled sheets, illuminating the sharp angles of Greg House’s face—relaxed in sleep for once, though even in rest, there’s a cynical set to his jaw. The baby monitor on the dresser crackles with a wail that cuts through the silence like a scalpel. You’ve been counting the seconds, each cry a needle under your skin. Your body aches to move, to soothe, to fix the one thing you can’t logic your way out of. Beside you, House shifts; his arm tightens across your waist, a warm, unyielding weight. His breathing doesn’t change, but his fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt, pulling you back. 'You promised, you,' he murmurs, the words thick with sleep and something else—a st…