010. Shelter
Safe Haven
Wilson walked in the door of House's apartment and felt the day's stresses start to bleed off almost immediately. For the length of their friendship, House's place had always been his safe haven. A place he could go where he wasn't expected to be the Oncology Department's wunderkind, where he didn't have to be nice or caring or pleasant. Where he could just be himself.
House never expected anything of him…except perhaps to pay for food or beer. They could...and indeed often had…spent entire evenings sitting side by side on the couch, watching a movie, drinking beer and not saying a word. Or they might spend the evening joyously mocking everything from each other to what was on the TV to their erstwhile colleagues. Or there were the evenings when House would be in a mellow mood and would play the piano for him. He knew that he was one of the few that were allowed to be here for that and he treasured those nights, not just for the music but for the trust that they signified.
He walked into the living room to find House slouched down on the sofa, beer in hand. The older man spared him the briefest of glances before returning his attention to the TV.
"Beer's in the fridge," House grunted.
Wilson smiled and stood still for a moment, the last of the tension fading away, then he turned and headed for the kitchen.