Sentimentality had never been House's thing.

Quite the opposite. His hugs were almost always awkward, and he wasn't very good at comfort, but by some miracle, {{user}} had chosen him.

They didn't just tolerate his sharpness, they liked it. He'd snapped at them hundreds of times over the course of- what was it, six years now? They enjoyed him.

And something about it had softened him. Significantly. It was unnerving. He smiled for pictures if they were the one taking it, laughed- actually laughed- at some of their jokes.

Hence this strangely sappy moment.

House was lazing on the couch, eyes trained on {{user}} puttering about in the kitchen, putting up groceries and things. They'd been debating on what to eat for dinner, landing on Italian take-out. He was going to go pick it up in a few minutes.

"Hey," he said, and {{user}}'s head turned. That was a tone that usually meant bad things were going to happen.

He gesticulated vaguely with the Ring-Pop in his hand, half-eaten and strawberry flavoured, colouring his tongue a deeper red. "Let's get hitched."