Were you watching me?

Two eyes flickered open in the blackened room, struggling to make sense of where they were and how exactly they had got their. Then it all came flooding back. The cafeteria, the plane journey, Cameron and the vicodin. This last memory made the brown eyes flinch a little more than all the rest. Why had he done that? How could he have let himself be so exposed to the very thing he was trying so desperately to conceal? What had he said exactly? How was he going to explain his actions to House? And why did he have the word Sapphire imprinted on his short term memory bank?

As he shifted to get up, he felt a hand grab him in the darkness and a familiar voice say his name.

"Wilson"

His body began to shake as he realized House was lying beside him now. He must have slept all through the night.

"Yeah"

"Am I useless cripple, who's a self centered asshole and is slowly dragging you down to the gutter with me?"

Wilson sighed and turned to face his friend. Leaning towards him and putting his, 'you've got cancer' face on (as House called his serious face); he spoke to the tired looking man lying next to him.

"I assume this was all in the conversation I missed between you and your father."

"Am I? Do I?"

House needed an answer to his question quickly. Not much that his father said really managed to get to him anymore, but even now there were still times were he could get through his defenses and unnerve him. House though could only think it fitting that Wilson should be the cause of this occurrence. After all he had been unnerving him since the first time he had realized that to not have Wilson in his life would be like not having his vicodin, with one difference, in time he could learn to live without the vicodin.

He was snapped back into reality by the response that felt like a long time coming.

"Yes. And I praise God for it everyday."

Wilson now had his, 'you've not got cancer' face on. House new him too well. Sometimes he thought he knew him better than he knew himself. After all isn't it easier to read someone else's book than to write your own?

House gave Wilson two taps on the arm (his way of saying thank you I really needed that) and then asked him the question he was dreading.

"So did you enjoy your trip?"

Wilson shifted so that he was sitting upwards on the bed, and thought, simply, here goes.

"Yes thank you it was lovely."

House looked at him; his face was lit up only by the rounded moon suspended outside the window. He looked like shit He would tell him but not just now. He had something far more important to say.

"Do you know why I didn't ask Cameron?"

Wilson stood up as if to stretch his legs, but once again he was agitated.

"Not with this again House, look you don't have to explain that, just drop it."

"I can't I need to tell you why I didn't invite her."

"Okay then tell me, and then we can get some sleep."

"You've been sleeping all night."

Something occurred to Wilson at that point and it made his stomach do flips to think about it, however he had to know.

"When I woke up you spoke to me straight away, were you watching me?"

House hadn't been prepared for this question. What could he say? He couldn't tell him that he lay looking at him, tracing his every feature, for nearly three hours. He couldn't tell him that he had thought several times about how much he would have loved him to open his eyes and realize he had been doing just that, smile at him and allow his lips to slide gently onto his. No he had to think of something else, something that sounded more like him and less like the 15 year old girl he had apparently mutated into.

"Someone had to make sure you didn't kill yourself when you stole someone else's medical prescription."

Wilson looked down at his feet in guilt.

"And I wasn't watching you, just listening and thinking, mostly thinking."

"House can't the Cameron thing wait till later, we have to be up in a couple of hours and you have to pull yourself together for this cousin of yours, screw your father he's an ass hole and you know it. Get some sleep."

"No more stealing my vicodin."

Wilson was glad in the shift in topic and therefore his demeanor became much lighter.

"I'll admit it was fun, but I won't be doing that again, in a hurry."

House had to ask him the question once more just in case he hadn't heard it right the first time. He had to check that he wasn't slowly destroying this mans life. The man who put so much trust in him and got very little back.

"Is my bad influence dragging you down to the gutter?"

"No mines is keeping you out of it."

House lay his head against the pillow and felt relaxed for the first time that evening, since they had been told they were sharing a room. Why had he got so worked up, so agitated? Sharing a bed with Wilson was fast becoming the easiest thing in the world he had ever had to do.

Wilson walked into the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face and compose himself before he went back to bed. It was then he heard his friend call for him once more.

"Wilson."

"Yeah."

"Should I tell you what you said to me today when I was sitting on the bed with you or should I keep that till tomorrow as well?"

Before Wilson could answer, a loud banging noise began. It seemed to be coming from the direction of House's parent's bedroom.

"Unbelievable." House exclaimed. His Father was actually signaling for them to be quiet.

Wilson silently finished up in the bathroom and got into bed beside House. It was like they were children again. And their muffled laughter was only reinforcing the comparison.

House spoke first.

"I forgot to tell you, the walls are as thin as paper in this House."

"Your teenage years must have been a blast."

"They had their moments."

Some time had passed before Wilson Whispered the words, "oh no."

House was intrigued.

"What."

"Do you think he heard me call him an asshole?"

The thud, thud noise appeared once more as their muffled laughter grew into an incredulous roar.