Chapter Text
Wilson’s attempts to fall asleep were futile that night. His brain wouldn’t shut up for a second. Once he was finally able to fall asleep and rest, it wasn’t for long, he kept waking up. During what was maybe the sixth try, he was woken up by his phone buzzing on the nightstand. He knew it was House, who else would call him at an ungodly hour like this?
Wilson sighed and rolled over to reach for the device. He picked up the call and waited for House to speak.
“Wilson?” House slurred on the other end.
Wilson rolled his eyes gently, not truly mad as interaction with House was a relatively good distraction from his racing thoughts, he wouldn’t be able to get any sleep either way, “You’re drunk,”
“And high,” House added. “I need you to pick me up. Are you coming or not?”
Wilson sat up and replied affirmatively. He hung up the phone and left the bed. He threw his McGill sweatshirt and a pair of black pants on, grabbed his wallet and keys.
He drove to the bar he and House frequented, knowing the way by heart and probably with closed eyes as he had to pick up his best friend from there many, many times.
Wilson parked his car and sent a message to House. After a few minutes, he could make out a faint silhouette of the man. He was swaying on his feet. House opened the door to the car and got inside ungracefully. He was in worse shape than Wilson initially thought, meaning he couldn’t just drop him off at his apartment and leave, he’d have to stay to look after him for the night, making sure he'd actually go to sleep.
He ignited the engine and began driving towards the direction of House's apartment. He glanced at his best friend every now and then, making sure he was doing well.
Wilson ushered him inside the apartment and made him sit on the couch. He put his hands on his hips in his usual authoritative manner, preparing for a lecture. House rolled his eyes but stayed silent.
“It's three in the morning,” Wilson started.
“You weren't sleeping anyways,” House countered.
“But I could be!”
Wilson sighed and made his way towards the kitchen. He poured water into a glass and brought it to House. “Drink. That hungover is gonna hurt.”
House listened and took a sip of the cold liquid, shortly downing the entire glass. He tried to stand up but Wilson pushed him back down onto the couch. He kept his hand on his shoulders for a moment and squeezed tightly.
“You should get some sleep,” Wilson decided.
“I'm not tired,” House complained.
“I don't care,” he replied, taking his hands off House's shoulders, instead putting one on his back to hold him up as he helped him walk towards the bedroom.
House collapsed onto the bed and tangled the blanket around himself. He closed his eyes and fell asleep almost immediately, the alcohol knocking him out.
Wilson chuckled softly and brushed hair out of House's forehead tenderly, “Not tired, huh?”