misanthrope_md (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
misanthrope_md) wrote2010-04-13 08:22 pm
misanthrope_md) wrote2010-04-13 08:22 pm
Entry tags:
for Jack
It wasn't exactly a bad pain day. It was a bad pain month.
There were two things that helped with the pain, that had once been in House's life and no longer were: the first was drugs, and the second was sex. He blamed the island for both. No pharmacies and no prostitutes.
He wouldn't blame Pam for the second, since he knew she was a hell of a lot better off without him, especially since she'd gone back on the wagon. He'd been a bad influence on her, and though he didn't want to admit to himself that he was actually doing a selfless act, making himself scarce after what had happened on New Years was probably the best thing he could have done for her. After all, he hadn't had sex sober since before he'd gone off the heroin, and he had no intention of starting now.
Of course, that would presume that he was having sex with anyone. Well, anyone besides his right hand. Besides, he'd seen Pam with that guy. He should have known she was a cougar at heart.
So. Bad pain month. But it was the middle of the night and he couldn't sleep and it was the last fucking straw. "Come on, Fucker," he muttered, slipping into his shoes and watching the big dog run in a circle in the hut and then taking him outside into the night air.
It was one of those nights when it seemed like walking was better than being still, if only because the movement in his muscles distracted him from the aching in them. He didn't really have a destination in mind, so he just let Padfoot lead him. It wasn't until they were halfway up the path toward it that he realized the dog was leading him straight to Bohemia.
"Traiter," he muttered to the dog, and started to yank on his leash and turn them back around, but his eye caught sight of the bathhouse. The one he hadn't been in because, well fuck, because Jack built it.
But it was the middle of the damned night and if walking didn't help his leg, maybe hot water would. So he walked over and tied Padfoot's leash to a skinny tree. The dog immediately lay down, looking as if he were just as happy to go back to sleep.
House slipped into the bathhouse then. It was empty, obviously, and so he turned on the water and watched the tub fill and heat. He had to hand it to Jack, really. Okay, no he didn't. But that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy it.
He slipped out of his clothes and sank into the water then, trying to force his body to relax. All he wanted was to be something other than one big knot of pain.
There were two things that helped with the pain, that had once been in House's life and no longer were: the first was drugs, and the second was sex. He blamed the island for both. No pharmacies and no prostitutes.
He wouldn't blame Pam for the second, since he knew she was a hell of a lot better off without him, especially since she'd gone back on the wagon. He'd been a bad influence on her, and though he didn't want to admit to himself that he was actually doing a selfless act, making himself scarce after what had happened on New Years was probably the best thing he could have done for her. After all, he hadn't had sex sober since before he'd gone off the heroin, and he had no intention of starting now.
Of course, that would presume that he was having sex with anyone. Well, anyone besides his right hand. Besides, he'd seen Pam with that guy. He should have known she was a cougar at heart.
So. Bad pain month. But it was the middle of the night and he couldn't sleep and it was the last fucking straw. "Come on, Fucker," he muttered, slipping into his shoes and watching the big dog run in a circle in the hut and then taking him outside into the night air.
It was one of those nights when it seemed like walking was better than being still, if only because the movement in his muscles distracted him from the aching in them. He didn't really have a destination in mind, so he just let Padfoot lead him. It wasn't until they were halfway up the path toward it that he realized the dog was leading him straight to Bohemia.
"Traiter," he muttered to the dog, and started to yank on his leash and turn them back around, but his eye caught sight of the bathhouse. The one he hadn't been in because, well fuck, because Jack built it.
But it was the middle of the damned night and if walking didn't help his leg, maybe hot water would. So he walked over and tied Padfoot's leash to a skinny tree. The dog immediately lay down, looking as if he were just as happy to go back to sleep.
House slipped into the bathhouse then. It was empty, obviously, and so he turned on the water and watched the tub fill and heat. He had to hand it to Jack, really. Okay, no he didn't. But that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy it.
He slipped out of his clothes and sank into the water then, trying to force his body to relax. All he wanted was to be something other than one big knot of pain.
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