Wet

House was heating up dinner when Wilson came in from the rain. He could hear the squeak of wet shoes on wood over the hum of the microwave.

"A little help here?" Wilson called.

House peered out to find him dripping wet from head to toe, the bottoms of his soaked pant legs speckled with dirt. His lips twitched. "Lose a fight with your umbrella?"

"The 605 bus drove through a puddle next to me."

House tossed him a dish towel and leaned against the door jamb to watch as Wilson rubbed at his hair. It stuck up in damp tufts when he was finished. "You look like a hedgehog," House said affectionately.

Wilson knelt to untie his shoelaces. "Gonna take a shower and change. I'm freezing."

"Will you need help with that too?"

Wilson smirked and chucked the towel back at him. "You wish." He peeled off his socks with a grimace.

Winding and unwinding the towel in his hands, House watched his friend grab some dry clothes from his suitcase and pad out of the room. His smile faded. He touched the rough, damp cloth to his nose and lips and breathed in. After the bathroom door closed, he murmured, "I do wish."