A/N: Sorry it's so short! I'll update soon during the holidays with a longer entry!

Wilson sat in the passenger seat, silent.

"You're not still pissed because I signed the papers, are you?" asked House, his eyes on Wilson.

"Keep your eyes on the road," he said, monotone.

"Oo-kay. Touchy," he muttered, lookingat the road. "Someone needs some happy pills." Suddenly, Wilsonsnapped.

"Look, I have just - or you just - signed divorce papers for the bloodythird time, I am NOT going to be in a good mood! My life is completely falling apart and yet all you can do is stand at the sidelines and make fun of me!You - you -" House pulled over and the two men looked everywhere except at each other.

"Maybe we should talk," said House softly. Wilson gave a disbelieving laugh.

"Yeah," he said, calmer after his outburst.

"You know I'm sorry," said House, staring straight ahead.

"Yeah. You just don't know how to show it." Wilson sighed.

"You don't really want to talk, do you?" asked House plaintively. "I'm not too great at that." This time Wilson laughed properly.

"I know. You're crap at talking."

"Maybe we both are," said House defensively. "If you hadn't - "

"Okay, okay. No talking. Let's just go home."

"Home sweet home," he murmured, starting the car up again. The darkness swallowed them, and Wilson half-wished they could stay that way forever.

They made it back to House's apartment, making useless conversation all the way. Wilson noted that House had dropped the sarcasm, and was grateful. He opened the door with his key (he had cut one for himself after the operation in case...in case something happened) and staggered to the couch, sinking into its familiarity.

"We're like the Odd Couple," said House, closing the door with a soft bump. Wilson smiled and ran a hand through his hair. "All right, rub it in. You've got hair. Whoopdeedoo." Wilson kicked off his shoes and picked up the phone.

"Indian or Chinese?"

"What, you ringing the local strip club?"yelled House from his bedroom. "Told you, don't do that kind of stuff anymore. And I thought you were all healthy now?"

"Take-away." He came out, wearing a loose jumper and jeans.

"Pizza." He could never agree with anything, could he? But Wilson felt he had caused enough trouble and dialed the local pizza delivery place. A rather young-sounding voice picked up on the other end.

"Carly's Pizza Place, how may I help you?"

"Two-"

"Three," interuppted House. "I eat a lot. Growing boy and all that." Wilson rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, three pizzas. Pep-"

"All the toppings. No anchovies."

"Stop it!" hissed Wilson. "Oh, sorry! Not you. I was talking to my...err...dog." House laughed and gave an obligatory bark. Wilson grinned. "Keeps pissing on the furniture. Anyway - three large pizzas, all the toppings except anchovies. Five minutes? That's fine. Thank you very much. Yes. Okay. Thank you."

"If I had a dollar for every time you said thank you..." mused House.

"You'd be a millionaire?" finished Wilson. House cocked his head to one side, spinning his cane with one hand.

"And you'd be a suck-up." The two friends laughed together, their previous troubles forgotten. The promise of food(the first in a few months) was too tempting to row. House switched on the television and they settled back to watch a re-run of some old sitcom.