Nightmare
It had been a hard couple of weeks for Wilson. He had been having nightmares ever since he first went to visit his brother, but House hadn't been able to convince him to stop going. He had given up after a while, because he knew Wilson, which meant he knew that whatever happened, at whatever personal cost, the stubborn oncologist would be there for his brother.
Now House lay, wide awake, watching for the early signs of a nightmare with Wilson half draped over his chest. The gruff diagnostician didn't particularly like having Wilson there – it was a nuisance more than it was a comfort – but his usually level-headed friend needed it, and it was much easier to calm him down from right beside him than from 25 feet away in the living room.
Wilson stirred and House tensed, preparing for the struggle his friend would surely put up upon awakening.
"Not that one..." the oncologist protested sleepily, batting at something softly with his right hand before snuggling closer to House and surprising the older doctor. "Needs proper fruit..." his voice trailed off and he mumbled something unintelligible to himself before huffing out a breath, relaxing against House's chest and going silent once more.
House let out a quiet chuckle. Figures Wilson would dream about food, he thought, somewhat relieved.
The diagnostician shifted into a more comfortable position and closed his eyes, assured now that his friend would be alright. "Love you, buddy," House whispered into the safety of the night, smiling to himself as he slowly drifted off to sleep.