Small Comfort
May. 28th, 2011 08:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
damigellaTitle: Small Comfort
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 100
Notes:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
mmom Day 28. Unbeta'd. Post-ep drabble for 7x23. ETA: Many thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
menolly_au for improving my English.
Summary: It could have been worse.
The painkiller wasn't working. He looked at his phone on the bedside table: 2.13 am. No call from the police. Or House.
Which meant he probably wasn't dead, or they would have found him. He closed his eyes and sunk into recollection. He could still feel House's weight on his arm, the beating of his heart under the fingers of the right hand. The sweaty smell of his skin, the warmth seeping through the thin hospital gown, the slight tickling of his stubble.
At least he’d broken his right wrist, Wilson thought as he slipped his hand inside his boxers.
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 100
Notes:
mmom Day 28. Unbeta'd. Post-ep drabble for 7x23. ETA: Many thanks to menolly_au for improving my English. Summary: It could have been worse.
The painkiller wasn't working. He looked at his phone on the bedside table: 2.13 am. No call from the police. Or House.
Which meant he probably wasn't dead, or they would have found him. He closed his eyes and sunk into recollection. He could still feel House's weight on his arm, the beating of his heart under the fingers of the right hand. The sweaty smell of his skin, the warmth seeping through the thin hospital gown, the slight tickling of his stubble.
At least he’d broken his right wrist, Wilson thought as he slipped his hand inside his boxers.