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Wilson had never slept very well in a strange bed--not that House's apartment was strange to him, or that he was sleeping in a bed, but that was beside the point. House had hastily thrown together and a pillow and some blankets on the couch and expected his best friend to just deal with it, uncomfortable lumps of stuffing and all.
He got up at least three times that first night: once to use the bathroom, once to get a drink, and once for no reason at all. He wandered around the main room, gazed at the various trinkets and decorations: a copper figure of some Egyptian goddess here, a marble carving of a guitar there. He ran his hands along the piano, and looked idly through House's CD collection. There was the usual: the Stones, the Beatles, a little bit of jazz, some classical stuff he didn't recognize, and, tucked away behind a statue of what was probably Athena, "The Best of the Drifters". He smiled, and then heard the familiar thump step thump step coming up behind him and whirled around.
"Having fun?" House asked.
"I was just--" Wilson started.
"It's okay, I don't mind you look through them," House said, "I just mind the noise you're making. So if you're going to creak the floors that much, turn on a light, would you?" He flicked on the lamp near the couch, then limped into the kitchen and left Wilson fairly speechless.
A few moments later, House was back with a splash of scotch, and grabbed the CD case from Wilson's hand.
"Huh, I thought I'd lost this," he said gruffly. He opened the case, put the disc in his player, hit a few buttons, adjusted the volume. "Under the Boardwalk" was soon whispering out of the speakers.
"I didn't know you liked these guys," Wilson said dumbly.
"Well, I am human, you know," House said, sitting on the couch and leaning his head back, opposite Wilson's pillow. Wilson sat next to him, and didn't say anything until the song changed to "Save the Last Dance for Me".
"This was our song, Julie and me," Wilson said absently, and looked over at House, who was asleep. Somewhere in his heart of hearts, he'd wanted House to make a snide comment or a rude facial expression, but now all he wanted to do was dance. With House. In the middle of the night. He shook his head, telling himself how ridiculous he was being, took the last swig of scotch from House's glass, and repositioned his pillow so he could sleep comfortably sitting up. He closed his eyes and crossed his arms, and fell asleep.
When he woke up hours later, House was gone, as was the empty glass on the coffee table. But the next night, and every night after that until he moved in with Grace, he would sing the closing strains (and in who's arms you're gonna be) and always, always sleep through the night.