Beautiful
No one else understands what's in that smile, he thinks. Beautiful is the only word for it, and he mentally chides himself for being so stupid, so sentimental. He can almost feel himself turning into one of those fools who believe fate and destiny will make everything ok.
Beautiful is the only word he can think of though, the only way to describe the tiny moment as Wilson's lips quirk upwards, the moment when it's a genuine spark and the emotion is pure.
House thinks, just in those tiny moments, the world could be beautiful, if everyone understood that smile.
Physicality
He's right. He wasn't real, he was a dream, but he was right. Wilson's words were right, and it's the defining thought of everything between them.
House doesn't like defining words. He doesn't like "friends" or "love" or even "close", but he can deal with a defining thought. It doesn't have assumptions included. It's just a sense.
They defy the labels, every one of them, falling into bed together on cold nights. It's meaningless, but it happens. They're not friends. House can't be a lover.
The physicality is gone but the words are gone too now, transcended by a sense.