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"You're not gonna win," Wilson drunkenly lectured. "They're rigged so you lose. Even you."
From where he was fiddling with the mechanics of the claw machine, House flashed him a grin. "Try me."
After House had started loudly pointing out plot holes at the screen (a few pre-drinks had not been a good idea), Wilson had had to drag him out of the movie theatre, shooting apologetic looks to infuriated audience members. The night was still young, however, and he wanted to have fun with his best friend, goddamnit, so they'd stumbled to the arcade next door. House had stolen all of Wilson's spare change for the coin machines but seemed to take pity on him when he kept losing at the claw machine.
"I don't even care what I get! I just wanted one," he had complained to House, thumping the machine.
So, naturally, House had taken the matter into his own hands. In a way that almost contradicted his inebriation, he'd observed Wilson's losses with great scrutiny, counting the number of attempts, and comparing it to the kid a couple of machines over.
"I need more coins," he demanded, turning to Wilson.
Wilson didn't even know why he was going along with this, but sighed and gave him some anyway.
"This better not take too much," he warned. "I haven't got many left. I don't wanna waste them all on- on this broken thing."
"It's not broken. It's scheduled."
Wilson blinked at him. He was too far gone for this. "Yeah, sure."
House waited, then inserted a coin at exactly the right moment. The claw firmly gripped one of the teddy bears and dropped it into the opening at the bottom.
Mouth agape, Wilson bent down and picked it up for him. "Wha- How-?"
"Keep it." House thrust the bear back into Wilson's hands. "You were the one who wanted it in the first place."
Wilson stared down at it. It had curly dark red fur, with a slight pink tint under the harsh glare of the arcade lighting, and small, dark, round eyes gazing into his. If he were slightly more sober, he might find it childish how cute the bear looked. And to think House had cheated the game to get it for him.
"How'd you do it?" he asked House, catching up with him to where he'd wandered off to a motorcycle racing simulator.
"Oh, I'm gonna be good at this," House delighted, hooking his cane on Wilson's arm.
"House," Wilson whined, pouting.
"It's easy stuff, Wilson." House fiddled with the buttons, trying to choose a race track. "The claw's grip only becomes strong every X attempts. Between those, it always slips, but it starts to get stronger and stronger each time. Your last attempt, you were really close, so I figured it wasn't long until it paid out."
"So..." Wilson scratched his head. "So it kind of was luck."
"No, it was clever. I mean, I could've just whacked the machine with my cane, but all the staff are keeping an eye on us because of your drunkenness."
Wilson chuckled as House revved the imaginary throttle. "Your drunkness, you mean."
Then he balanced the bear in front of House on the fake bike.
"Passengers are supposed to sit on the back."
"But he'll fall off."
House laughed and pressed play. "Whatever."
-
It was perhaps a testament of just how many drinks they'd ended up having that the next morning, House woke before Wilson - a rare occurrence. He stumbled to their kitchen as quickly as his body allowed to acquire a cold glass of water and painkillers, planning to head straight back to bed and hide away from the world for a few more hours. On his way back, however, he noticed Wilson's door was ajar and couldn't resist the opportunity to peek inside. Maybe just to check he was still alive, maybe to wake him up and worsen his hangover, who knows.
Wilson was curled up on his side, facing the door, snoring lightly. Nothing House hadn't seen before. More interestingly, though, held tight in his arms was the red teddy bear House had won for him.
-
A few weeks passed without further incident or mention of the teddy bear. House assumed Wilson had stored it away somewhere, maybe thrown it away if he was in one of his rare ruthless moods. He even rationalised that Wilson had only slept with it that night because he had been too drunk to put it anywhere else.
One evening made him doubt his earlier assumptions, however. He'd called Wilson to tell him he'd be home late - his patient had taken an unexpected turn for the worse - and told him to save a portion of dinner for him. They really were getting more domestic by the day. Would he be calling Wilson his wife soon?
When he came home, he found Wilson sprawled, half-asleep, on their couch, cocooned in several layers of blankets, watching some plotless late-night TV. And among the nest of warm layers was that red teddy bear, hugged against Wilson's chest.
"Oh, hi, House," Wilson mumbled, blearily rubbing his eyes. "How's the case?"
House dumbly stared at the bear. "That's the one I got you."
"Oh." Wilson looked down at it, as if he had forgotten it were there. "Yeah, it is."
House felt the urge to make some joke about a middle-aged man sleeping with stuffed animals but it died in his throat as he took the scene in. Wilson looked so damn warm and comfortable. Who was he to disturb that? So he turned and, speechless, headed for the kitchen instead.
-
House was sure it was no mistake when they checked into their hotel room for a medical conference and found a double bed waiting for them, rather than two singles.
"Oh," was all Wilson could say.
House nudged him. "Hey, let's have a sleepover and do our hair and talk about boys."
Oddly enough, the joke relaxed Wilson and they were both tired enough to get ready for bed without much more complaint. When they turned off the lights, House stared at Wilson's back turned away from him, a theory forming in his mind.
"Hey, Wilson?"
Wilson's answering sigh echoed in the almost clinical room. "Yeah?"
"Do you have that teddy with you right now?"
There was a pause. Then: "Fuck off."
House smiled. "I think it's cute, that's all."
"Fuck. Off."
"I mean, I won it for you and everything. Isn't that sweet?"
Wilson turned around, furious. "Shut up right now, House."
"What?" House held his arms up in the darkness in mock surrender. "I'm not saying it's a bad thing. I kinda like it."
"Right," Wilson grunted and turned away again.
Tentatively, House moved closer. Wrapped an arm round both his best friend and the teddy bear in question.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm cold," he lied, before giving the game away and pressing a kiss to the nape of Wilson's neck. "I think we should go to sleep now."
"Yeah..."
-
"So, have you thought about what this might symbolise?" House asked Wilson over breakfast the next morning, innocently buttering his toast.
Wilson sipped his coffee. "What's symbolising what?"
"You and that teddy bear."
Wilson paled a little bit. Opened his mouth as if to say something and then closed it again. He set his coffee down in resignation.
"House..."
House shrugged. "I'm just saying. If you ever want to trade it for something human, I'm here."
At that, he suddenly became very invested in the day's schedule, circling which speeches he wanted to rudely interrupt. He didn't miss Wilson's open-mouthed stare in the background.
-
That night, House was the first to crawl into their shared hotel bed. He watched Wilson anxiously check all the outlets to make sure everything was unplugged, spend an extra few minutes brushing his teeth, neatly fold and re-fold all of his clothes. Anything to delay House's offer.
In the end, House gave in. "Wilson," he called softly, watching the man start like a deer in headlights. "C'mere."
Wilson slowly walked over to the bed, twitching like his body was following orders his mind hadn't given. As he got under the covers, House gently pulled him into his arms. He took his time, not wanting to rush him, giving him an out.
Wilson took it.
He pulled back, slipped away. House felt his heart pulling away. Had he got this all wrong?
But Wilson simply switched off all the lights and then practically threw himself into House's arms. House eagerly held him close, pulling the covers up fully over them. He felt Wilson's quick heartbeat, each thump bleeding through his warm skin, through their shirts, connecting to House's, intertwining them.
With a swallow, House realised that was not a metaphor friends used.
"Not using this as an excuse to cop a feel, are you?" he joked, desperately trying to cover up feelings so exposed they may as well have been displayed in a public art gallery. "I don't know what else you've been doing with that teddy bear."
Wilson laughed into his chest, a comforting, radiating sensation. "Get your mind out of the gutter, House."
"Just trying to lighten the mood," House murmured, risking a stroke of Wilson's hair.
"With explicit jokes, yeah, I shouldn't have expected any different." Wilson leaned into House's touch. "Well, I'll have you know I did nothing of the kind. I... Well, you already know. And I talked to it."
"Oh yeah? What about?"
"Things I couldn't tell you."
"So it does symbolise something!" House rejoiced triumphantly, before pausing. "What can't you tell me?"
"Couldn't. Past tense."
"Ok, what couldn't you tell me?"
There was a silence between them for a while as Wilson figured out how to phrase whatever secret he was about to share. House kept stroking his hair, admiring the soft locks. He made a mental note to start stealing his conditioner.
"That I..." Wilson started carefully, voice barely above a whisper. "Wanted this. Wanted...us."
He gazed up at House, eyes betraying a fear that his heartbeat only confirmed, but also willing House to understand what he was trying to communicate.
"Us...as in romantically?"
"Please don't hate me," Wilson begged, not quite able to draw his eyes away from House's, trying to read some emotion, any emotion.
"Ok." House cursed himself for the ambiguity of his answer and smiled, hoping it would help to cast away Wilson's doubts. "I mean, I don't hate you. I wouldn't have offered this if I didn't also want...us." He tried the word out in his mouth. "Us. Yeah, I like that. Us."
Wilson let out a shaky laugh, gripping onto House tighter. "Okay, good. Thank god."
"No, thank the teddy bear. Our little matchmaker."
"I'm still not getting rid of him."
"Good. I didn't go through all that trouble to get him just for you to throw him away." House pressed a gentle kiss to Wilson's forehead. "I do get to be the favourite though, right? I feel like I deserve to be told things now and he can go suck it."
"Yeah, yeah," Wilson appeased, snuggling into him. "You've always been my favourite, anyway. Out of anyone."