Based off the prompt: Person A (House) and Person B (Wilson) share an apartment, but have separate rooms. Person B has a nightmare one night and is really rattled by it. They get out of bed and walk down the hallway to knock on Person A's door. The door is already open and Person B walks into the room silently. They go up to Person A's bed to find that they're already awake. Person B tells Person A that they had a nightmare. Person A scoots over in the bed and lets Person B curl up with them and they fall asleep like this. Enjoy!
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Night. The back-allies of Princeton. Dr James Wilson wanders, all alone. No phone, no means of communication other than spoken word. The air is thick with the smell of smoke, shouts from thugs drifting into his ears.
A rustle. Our doctor turns around quickly, looking around. An unknown thug emerges from the shadows, smoking gun in his hands. He asks for money. Our man answers, truthfully enough, that he hasn't got anything. He even pulls out his pockets to prove it. This angers the thugs, who shoves the gun onto the oncologist's temple, hissing in his ear, saying he will ask one last time before he shoots. He repeats again, he has nothing but his watch. The thug wrestles the watch off of his wrist, raising the gun.
He shoots our doctor directly in the head.
Wilson woke with a strangled scream, the bed-covers tangled around his legs. He could feel the fear rising in him, his chest heaving as tears fell onto his face. He reached over and flicked the bedside light on, trying to compose himself. He could still see the thug, smell the burning gunpowder from the gun. His breathing remained laboured and heavy, and the oncologist saw the edges of his vision go blurry as his brain didn't get enough oxygen. Virtually having a panic attack, he stumbled upwards, almost tripping over the sheets which were still wound tightly around his legs as he made his way toward his best friend's room, unaware that it was the middle of the night.
House's door, bizarrely, was already open. Wilson hurriedly wiped his eyes before he went in, trying to calm himself down.
"House?" he said quietly, tapping the diagnostician on the shoulder. House, rolled over, his inquisitive icy blue eyes filled with concern as he took inventory of Wilson's tear-streaked face. "I had a nightmare."
House rolled his eyes, but moved over, making room for the oncologist. Wilson hesitantly lay down next to him, curling up into a ball, his head resting on House's undamaged left thigh. His breathing almost immediately slowed down, and heartrate stopped being pretty much tachycardic. House, that manipulative bastard, that arrogant idiot, somehow had a calming effect on Wilson, kept the fear at bay.
Wilson felt his eyelids begin to droop, but he felt safe. He knew House would protect him.
House would always protect him.
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Very short, this one. I'm sort of depressed from just finishing Hamilton, so there might be some sad ones coming up (including one set after the show; will be super sad). Has anyone been having problems uploading new files? If so, could you please let me know in the reviews? I just wanna know whether it's just me or not. Please remember to R&R! *u*