7

This story has a mind of its own. Don't shoot but this idea came to me as I was just getting to sleep last night. Enjoy.

House's feet fell off the bed and he awoke. Opening his eyes he found himself on his own couch. His feet were no where close to the ground, no where from falling to the floor. Wilson was no where to be found. Getting to his feet and grabbing his cane he started his search for Wilson.

So I'm at my house. Weird considering I don't remember leaving Wilson or driving home. How did I end up here? That leaves only one option. I remember falling asleep with Wilson on the couch, now he's not here. From what I can tell. So maybe, just maybe…

"Wilson." Called how the hall. "Wilson!" A little louder in the kitchen. He sat back down on the couch, no clue what had just happened to him. He remembered. Wilson was camping in the office, and he never checked there.

Walking down the hall he didn't hear anything. Stopping at the door he found it half closed. He pushed it open further and found Wilson on the bed sleeping as he was before. Making as little noise as possible he walked in and placed the back of his hand on Wilson's forehead. No fever, it was a dream. Satisfied he gave Wilson a look then went to his room. He slept dreamless that night.

Wilson found him still asleep in his room, much later than his usual sleeping in. With little difficulty Wilson sat on the opposite side of the bed, next to the sleeping figure. Something must have kept him up even later than usual. Hopefully it wasn't pain, or me. The last thing I want to do is be a burden on House, hopefully it was nothing. He was just drifting off when he heard House stir next to him. With a grunt and a reach House was awake. He took two Vicodin and as he laid there he could feel the extra weight on the other side of the bed.

"What are you doing here?" A low sleepy voice was emitted from House directed towards Wilson.

"You slept in later than usual. I don't want to be a burden on you." Wilson was still lying on his back; both men still had their eyes closed.

"What do you mean?"

"I hope I'm not the reason you were up late. I'm fine, really."

"So am I. Just had a lot on my mind last night." He didn't want to talk about the dream, it was too much for himself let alone sharing it with the person it was about.

The weekend passed by quickly and Wilson was still doing fine, no infection, fever, even little to no pain. He was getting around wonderfully and was slowly going stir crazy due to his mobility limits. He now had a taste of how House had felt after the infarct. The long days he was stuck inside by himself. The only thought that was on Wilson's mind was how he was going to get back into the swing of things and start working. The only thing stopping him from working was a lowly article of clothing.

"What am I going to wear?" Wilson mumbled to himself as he tried to pick out clothing for the next day. House over heard and appeared in the living room.

"You're going to wear shorts, if you even own a pair."

Wilson looked over his shoulder as he was sifting through his suit case. "What? I can't wear shorts. Doctors are professionals incase you had forgotten. Although your daily wardrobe suggests otherwise."

"Hey this isn't about me." He sat down on the coffee table. "Your dress pants won't fit so it's either scrubs of shorts."

"Why are we discussing this? You don't care."

"I can see it's bothering you."

Wilson sighed, House was right. Shorts were the answer. If he was to wear scrubs that would fit over the cast they would be way too big everywhere else.

"Guess I'll be looking very athletic for the next couple weeks. Cuddy will have to roll with it."

"You're always worried about authority. Just do what you have to do."

Monday morning, Wilson was ready to get out of House's lair and do some work. House had gone out to pull the car around. Sitting by the curb he saw Wilson standing in the doorway. He was wearing a pair of Nike sneakers, House had bought them for him ages ago, when they actually ran together. They were probably the only thing House ever bought for him. As for the rest of him he had donned some running shorts and a matching t-shirt. The part that made House smile were Wilson's sunglasses, they just topped off the look. Wilson smiled back then descended the stairs.

House was still wearing a grin when Wilson entered the car.

"What's that look for?"

"Cuddy can't refuse your wardrobe."

"Why do you say that?"

"You look hot, that's why."

"Shut up and drive the car." Wilson smiled back and looked out at the road. Wilson did know one thing; the first day back was going to be eventful, even if Cuddy didn't mind how he appeared.