"You smell."

Wilson glanced up from his paperwork to look at House, sitting on the couch in his office. "You could leave, you know."

House twirled his cane as he stared intently at his friend. "You smell. Which means you either didn't take a shower this morning, or you spent a little less time with the soap than usual."

Wilson, barely looking up to acknowledge House's insult, replied, "And I see you spent your usual amount of time with a razor. You know, it wouldn't kill you to shave once in a while."

"And it wouldn't have killed you to shower this morning, but you didn't do that, either, did you? Trouble in paradise? Or should I say, trouble in hell? If you ask me, your marriage is running low on that newlywed bliss that young couples are blessed with for the first flawless two weeks," House retorted.

Wilson threw his pen down and sighed. "Must you interrogate me about every aspect of my personal life?"

The older man leaned forward and clasped his hands together. "Oh, Jimmy. You know I'm just concerned for my dearest friend."

Scoffing, Wilson glared at House. "No, you're not. You're just trying to solve another puzzle so you can further detach yourself from your own pathetic life."

"That stings, Jimmy," House declared as he leaned back on the couch. Furrowing his brow in mock disappointment, he continued, "I might just have to go cry myself to sleep on Cuddy's breasts."

Wilson rolled his eyes, but otherwise ignored his lecherous friend.

After a moment of silence, House seriously looked at Wilson and said, "It's an anomaly. Anomalies bug me." He still got no rise out of his companion, and so he continued, "Normally, you're overly anal about your hygiene. You shower enough for two people…" as an afterthought, he added, "...Though your hair will never be as full and luscious as Chase's, no matter how much you wash and blow dry it."

Wilson chuckled, and rested his head in his hands. After a moment, he looked back to House, and explained, "My wife and I got into a fight last night. I wanted to leave the house before she woke up, so I rushed."

House leaned on his cane and made no effort to respond. Wilson, thinking he had all of the information he needed, went back to his paperwork once again.

"You idiot."

The younger man shook his head, and closed the file of his current patient. He wouldn't be able to get any work done while House was here, obviously. "You think I should have woken her so we could have fought more before I went to work?" When House didn't respond, Wilson felt a surge of anger coursing through him. "God, House, you're so pathetic. You need there to be something wrong with my marriage, because otherwise, you'll be all alone in your misery. You need me to be right there with you, suffering, just… hating the world." He slammed a hand down on his desk, and tried to calm himself down.

The room was silent and motionless, and for a instant, even the great Dr. House was speechless. He stood though, and limped, wincing towards the door. With one hand on the doorknob, he leaned his cane against the wall, and reached in his pocket for his prescription Vicodin bottle.

"Actually," he started, as he popped the cap off of the bottle. He brought the bottle to his lips, swallowing one white pill. As he recapped the bottle and shoved it back into his pocket, he said, "I was going to say you should've come to my place." Wilson looked up at him curiously, as he continued with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "I know it's a stretch for you to imagine, but I do own a shower. Paid my water bills and everything." Looking directly at Wilson, he finished, "Your cancer patients have enough to worry about. Do you really want to add a repulsive oncologist to the list?"

As he limped out of the room and closed the door behind him, Wilson sighed and massaged his temples with his forefingers, trying to ease the impending sense of guilt. After all, telling Wilson he smelled and offering his shower's services was House's way of telling him that he cared. Or at least, that's what Wilson allowed himself to believe.

Looking around the empty room, he raised his arm and took a tentative sniff of what residual smells clung to his skin. He quickly put his arm back on his desk, as if nervous someone would have seen.

So maybe he shouldn't have yelled at House about what turned out to be an attempt from House to connect with him, but honestly… he didn't smell that bad.

Wilson sighed and re-opened his patient's file.

Gregory House was an anomaly.

And like all of his patients eventually accepted cancer for the deadly, malignant tumor that it was, Wilson would just have to accept House for the tortured, anomalous person that he was.

It's not like Wilson could imagine him being any different, anyway.

A/N: Uhmm, this was my first House fic... I was really nervous about keeping everyone in character, especially House. Wanna let me know how I did with that? :D Thanks loads. More to come if this one is likable, and I didn't kill it.