He looks out the large lattice windows that have tracery on their frosted surfaces. He turns his head to look at House who is sleeping soundly in the left half of the ugliest, reclining, separable, plush, orange sofa he's ever laid eyes on. The hockey game is over, but he is too comfortable to get up and House has the remote tucked under his right hand.

No one had won their little game the day before, but he had done the unexpected. And then House had listened to him sing tonight until he ran out of lyrics, scowling at him. Neither of them got the girl but it didn't matter. They would probably get rid of the oversized poster and the sofa, but it didn't matter either. They'd had fun. Fun seeing each other struggle and squirm, sabotaging each other. He smiles as he thinks about House's utterly baffled expression when he declared his love for him and asked thee question. Wilson had even exhumed his old wedding band for the occasion. Totally worth it.

He reaches over and empties his water with lemon – still no alcohol for him after the surgery. House twitches a little in his sleep and Wilson leans over to watch him. His long legs are stretched out and crossed at the ankles, arms lying on either side of his slack body. His head is lolling to the right, the skin beneath his chin folded slightly. His lips are parted and his front teeth are showing a little, his breathing is deep and even. Now that House is asleep he lets him look.

House has groomed his hair and beard for the occasion of playing his version of an attractive, middle-aged, gay man. Wilson has to admit that he looks great. He'd looked fantastic in the ironed lavender shirt with the untucked and unbuttoned collar, the narrow jacket and dress pants. He certainly looked very debonair, festive even, as if he'd been waiting to be asked. Wilson smirks at this observation. The setting actually had been perfect for a proposal. Romantic little restaurant, Dean Martin singing 'Sway' in the background, candles. The gasps of the other guests, the tense silence, the lady cheering House on to say 'yes'. It had definitely hit House completely off-guard. He was silently fuming and admiring Wilson at the same time after Nora left. And he was also turning things over in his head.

He smiles at the sleeping House beside him, letting his eyes roam over his features again, his eyes dropping to the delicate silver band on his left ring finger, gracing his beautiful, slender hands.

They'd both won.