Title: Sentiments
Author: YoungFreak92
Beta: None
Rating: G
Pairing: House/Wilson
Wordcount: 579
Feedback: Yes, please
Disclaimer: I don't own House MD or any of the characters. I'm just playing around a bit.
For: phinnia, who gave me the prompt "House/Wilson and Wilson's bunny slippers"
Summary: "You were looking through the closet?"
Author's Note: Just a short piece, written for phinnia. I know I am walking on the tightrope between fluff and sappiness; I really hope this isn't too schmoopy.

--

"Wilson?"

Wilson mumbled something inaudible and buried his head deeper into the pillow. It was late, by all probability past two in the morning, but House made sure everyone suffered from his insomnia.

How stupid of Wilson to assume that House being silent for the past half hour would mean that House would actually let him sleep.

House seemed to take the murmur as something affirmative and continued conversationally. "I found something in the closet today."

Wilson frowned when his brain had processed what House had said, and he turned over to look at House directly.

"In the closet?" he asked confusedly and House rolled his eyes.

"Don't make a horrible pun now," House said and prodded Wilson lightly in the stomach. Wilson let out an indignant noise.

"No, I was serious. You were looking through the closet? It's practically a bomb site, you can't find anything in there," Wilson said in disbelief. "What were you doing? Trying to bury a body?"

"Wilson, I'm sad to say that your wit becomes increasingly duller after midnight," House said and Wilson would have rolled his eyes if he wasn't feeling so tired.

Wilson waited for House to continue, but the man didn't say anything more. Wilson shifted a little and moved closer to House's body, ducked his head and tucked it in under House's chin. He let out a content sigh and was just drifting off to sleep again when House finally spoke up.

"I found a pair of pink bunny slippers."

Wilson tensed. He'd forgotten that he'd hidden them there when he'd moved in. He had been sure House wouldn't find them. Now he realized how stupid he had been.

"I bought you them eight years ago to piss you off," House continued, his voice so low it was practically a mumble. "I thought you had thrown them away."

Wilson felt his face flush from embarrassment. He wasn't prone to self-consciousness around House, but this was somewhat of a special case. When even Wilson considered himself being sentimental, he could only guess what House would think and, worse yet, say.

House shifted and grabbed Wilson's shoulder, pushing his friend on his back so that he could see his face. Wilson stubbornly turned his head to the opposite side and stared at the wall.

"Why did you keep them?" House asked, his voice still whispering-like and his hand still on Wilson's shoulder.

Wilson screwed his eyes shut. What was he going to answer to that? 'Because I'm a pathetic, maudlin sap that believes in sentimental value' was putting himself up for ridicule. On the other hand, trying to think of a lie in this state would probably result in a worse mess than telling the truth.

"Because you gave them to me," Wilson eventually mumbled, bracing himself for the mockery to come.

House was silent.

Slowly, after a several seconds long pause, Wilson opened his eyes and turned his head. House was grinning at him, almost smiling, and Wilson felt relief spread through his body. He hesitatingly returned the smile, still unsure if this was just a feint.

House moved again and this time he placed his chin on Wilson's shoulder, pressed his body close and flung his arm across his friend's stomach.

"You're such a sentimentalist," House whispered in his ear. And there were the words Wilson had dreaded to hear. But they didn't hurt at much as he thought they would.

In fact, they didn't hurt at all.