Disclaimer: Not mine. Mostly angst. Rated for angst content.

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The Boogeyman

Wilson woke up around, it seemed to be, 2 o clock. A glance at his watch told him he was about right.

Fucking hell.

Annoyed at House for once again letting Wilson drink himself into a drunken stupor and then to pass out, Wilson started to pick up the glasses on the coffee table. He tried to ignore the building headache and went into the kitchen, sparingly throwing a glance at House on the way out. He was totally out of it.

When he came back out, House was still in the same position, sprawled out on the couch, mouth slightly open, one leg straight up on the couch, and one leg bent. One arm was out on top of the head of the couch while one hung off the sofa, and his head was leaned back. House almost looked at peace.

Signing, Wilson picked up his stuff and grabbed the cane from where it was on the ground. He placed it closer to House, leaning it carefully against the couch.

Unfortunately, the headache was now pounding, signaling for him to leave.

Or go back to sleep?

"Bye House." Wilson said dryly, and turned to leave-

House whimpered.

Wilson froze in his tracks. He turned back to House, slowly. Had he misheard?

He dropped his brief case, and slung his jacket on a nearby chair. He walked up, closer to House, and noted that his mouth was no longer slightly open, but he was unconsciously biting on his lower lip. There was also a slight crease in his forehead.

"House?" Wilson whispered, attempting to provoke some sort of reaction. Another whimper maybe. However, House twitched, and brought the hand that was hanging off the couch to his stomach, clutching at the cloth of his t-shirt in his hand. His eyebrows twisted together and his other hand clenched into a fist, curling over the material of the couch.

Huh. Must be having a nightmare. Wilson sighed. If only he didn't have such a headache, he could have so much fun with this. He could actually find out what scared House. For now, he felt generous, so he decided to shake House awake, probably terrifying him in the process.

Wilson reached out for his shoulder, calling "House, wake up." However, as soon as his hand made contact with the other man's body, House flinched away.

"No." He moaned, in the smallest voice possible. His tone chilled Wilson's blood. And then – "Please."

Wilson couldn't move, his hand still reached out to House's shoulder. Having pulled away, House pressed himself unconsciously back against the couch, and brought both hands to his chest, palms facing Wilson, in a defensive posture.

Wilson felt his hand fall to his side, and couldn't take his eyes off of his best friend. He opened his mouth, but the words died on his lips, and his tongue went oddly dry.

House stilled after some more fidgeting. He was on his side now, his knees pulled up to his chest.

For some reason, this wasn't fun anymore. Wilson moved closer to House and placed two hands gently on his shoulder, lightly. House still flinched back, but he tightened his grip.

"House! Wake up!" Wilson heard his voice cracking, and wondered why he was so unnerved all of a sudden.

"No-Please! Don't-I'll be g-" Eyes snapped open in midsentence, and blue stared into brown. He let go of his shoulders, as if shocked. House's mouth was still half open.

House sat up, abruptly, and Wilson pulled back, almost falling into the coffee table. He straightened up, but his legs felt weak.

There was a moment of silence as House didn't tear his eyes away from what seemed like frightened brown eyes. Then he looked away.

"Sorry." He whispered, and then cleared his throat. "Had a nightmare."

Wilson wanted desperately just to take that for what it was and get as far away from House as he could right now.

"What was it about?" He found himself asking, before kicking himself mentally.

House snorted humorlessly.

"The boogeyman, who else?" House smirked, looking up at Wilson, his eyes betraying exhaustion. "Sad, but true. I have nightmares when I sleep drunk." He shrugged, still smirking. Made it sound like they were talking about the weather, and how it's unfortunate it snows during winter.

"Stop that. It was more than that." His words were still fighting his mental longing to run.

House's smirk dropped, and he looked back at Wilson, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Get out." Wilson was taken aback at the words that met his ears.

"What? House-I-"

"Out. Now." House brought a hand to his head, and massaged his right temple.

"House-"

House got to his feet, and glared at Wilson with a intensity he'd never seen before, his hand falling from his head. He took a defiant step closer to Wilson.

"Get the fuck out of my house, Wilson. What the fuck don't you get about that?" Hot breath hit his face, the alcohol mixing into it.

Speechless, Wilson took a step back, and then turned around. He picked up his briefcase and grabbed his jacket.

Without another word, and without pausing on the way out, Wilson left.

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