House can tell that he’s not really standing on his own. It feels like he’s moving like a baby giraffe, like his legs are too new, too spindly to use. His feet may be on the floor, but he’s uncoordinated and awkward, hardly even able to lean into him.

“Don’t mention it. I’ve got you,” he says softly, voice low and reassuring.

House shifts the way he’s holding him, gets a better grip before he works to bring him down from the suspension. It takes a bit of effort, a fair amount of rearranging his grip again, but when he’s got him free from the ceiling, he starts to move him to the bed. He’s still bound, arms behind his back, and as unsteady as he is, there’s no way to get him untied until they get him onto the bed. It’s difficult to get him in bed. He’d just let him sit, but his ass is raw and sore and he’s not pushing him to sit just yet.

“Gonna lay you face down while I untie you,” he says, and he manages to get him in bed, on his side, angled mostly face down, and he works quickly at untying his arms, first at the wrists and then the upper arms, pulling the ropes away and off.