This is my first House/Wilson-ish thing I've ever done. Reviews are appreciated.
It's two in the morning; the moon is shining through the windows, and House can't sleep, so he watches; watches Wilson from his place on the piano bench with his hands on his thighs and his cane resting against the ivory keys of his biggest toy.
It's two in the morning, and Wilson is sleeping on the couch, dead to the world, with his arm up over his head and his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of his breathing.
Distinguished sapphire eyes pierce the darkness, almost glowing, eerie amidst the shadows in the room.
And they watch, narrowing at the fact that Wilson is just lying there and he already looks so damn peaceful and adorable, and House is only a narcissistic jackass and will be a narcissistic jackass for the rest of his life.
He stands up and hobbles to the couch, calmly regarding his sleeping houseguest. Wavy, chocolate brown hair falls in the younger man's eyes, and unnaturally long eyelashes flutter sleepily.
A shadow of a smile flits across his face. Friends like James Wilson are hard to come by. Calloused fingers reach out, brushing a lock of hair off Wilson's forehead.
It's two thirty in the morning. It's time to go to bed.