Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I’m not an idiot.” Chase pushes out nervously, scanning House’s stature, the way House craned over Chase was enough to push Chase into a scattered panic.

Chase knew very well what House knew. Why would House care otherwise if Chase was safe in his sexual encounters? Swallowing hard and pressing his lips together, trying to clutch onto the last fleeting thread of nonchalance he had in his body, he hears House let out a sarcastic sigh.

Yep, he definitely knew what happened last night.

“Obviously not,” House started out, sarcasm being the force behind each word, his attention directs towards the disheveled mess that is Cameron,

“Who doesn’t sleep with a drugged-out colleague when they have a chance?”

House flicks his eyes between Chase and Cameron, the silence that is shared between the pair is the polar opposite to the secret whispers that Chase filled Cameron’s ears with last night, the crinkling of sheets and the pretty sounds that escaped Cameron’s lips in between her mutters for ‘harder’. While Cameron feels her blood drain from her face, the adrenaline that was already building from the meth crashing through her system, she knew she didn’t regret sleeping with Chase.

After her husband passed away, she didn’t want to be tied down like she once was. She wanted to try new things, different scenarios she had only dreamed of when she did have sex with her sick husband. She never asked him to fulfill them, it felt wrong, disrespectful to ask for what she wanted. Cameron wasn’t the one dying.

Her husband liked things that were soft, pure. He wanted it to feel bubbly and light, he called this romance. Cameron didn’t have the heart to tell a man who had six months left to live that all she wanted was to be degraded. She played the perfect part for his desires, so her legacy in his now non-existent world would remain as the impeccable wife, who loved him for every dying, cell destroying, piece of him.

She would feel slightly guilty after he passed, in the moments at work where she would watch happy couples hold hands and smile walking through the sad, industrial hallways of the hospital. It was like they had angel wings and she was the fallen one, the broken one, beyond saving.

In the end, she truly knows that she did the right thing by giving her husband the ending he deserved, the way she would play the part under him, letting him take things slow and careful. He was so soft in every way, his care and kindness were reflected by his preference.

Other women would kill for what she had, but in the end, it wasn’t her. It never was. She felt she was finally ready to move on.

Chase was her first candidate, because he only really cared for her, and no one else. She saw it through the glances they gave each other in the lab, across the patient's bed. Chase was clinical until it came to her, all she wanted to do was dip her foot into the pool. He wasn’t going to be hard to cooperate with, he would listen to her and hopefully, fulfill her requests. Cameron thought that jumping into a freezing cold ocean might destroy her view of love altogether. Her mind swirled with scenarios that day as she pinched the meth from the testing lab.

He did everything she requested, and it could almost make her cry on the spot. His hands were her comfort but weapons, she could tell he was past the point of enjoyment when she asked him to slap her ass, hard. He fucked her rough, and she couldn’t help but relive it as House thought he was embarrassing her.

She analysed House’s expression, the way he raised his eyebrows in the sarcastic manner he usually does. But something was way off.

He was gritting his teeth, his jaw clenching.

The joke was a way for him to communicate with Cameron in a way she has only been dreaming of. House wants her to know that he not only knows about her reckless decision, but that he knows that she can act out if she chooses to.

However, the teeth clenching was a pleasant slip in House’s facade that almost made Cameron grin ear-to-ear when she received his message loud and clear.

House wanted to understand why Cameron picked Chase for her drug-fuelled hook up over himself.

She held all the power, and if she didn’t have any restraint, she would wait for everyone to leave and ask House for everything Chase gave her and more.

But she knew better than to drop all the power into the hands of the hospital’s God, she analysed everyone in this hospital’s thought processes.

Foreman wants a bad girl that will one day settle down, Chase is just infatuated with her, and House? Well House was harder to read.

House only pursued the women who were harder to reach, harder to understand. Women who entertained his arguing and stupidity. Cameron slightly tolerated his insane behaviour but not in the way Cuddy did. If she gave in immediately, she wouldn’t be appealing anymore.

After last night, House has been blessed with a puzzle. Not a diagnostic disaster, not one of his own issues, where Wilson follows him in tow.

House didn’t know the true Cameron at all. The meth was the catalyst to everything House had solidly stood on in regards to Cameron. He always thought Cameron was a beautiful but needy girl. It wasn’t what he wanted, that never lured him in close to Cameron, even though she was gorgeous. He’d tried to imagine her and him together but he knew it was never even feasible, she was too precious and he was too broken, mentally and physically.

He knew very well that Cameron on meth wasn’t a one time mistake, House sees a woman who kept complacent in her marriage and feels enough time has passed to move on, with a different approach, one that is furiously winding up the coil in House’s stomach with tantalizing desire.

Her bedside manners are impeccable. House wanted, no, needed to know what her manners were like in the bedroom. She was a pure stone statue, seen from every angle, and now she’s the shadowy, elusive figure that has potential to dance around House’s mind for hours on end. She gave him a puzzle, but she wants him to solve it.

Everyone in the room except Foreman were clearly distracted in different ways during the initial differential.

Chase was trying to burrow into the ground after the expose that was him sleeping with Cameron with only one party being on substances.

Cameron was plotting how to play her cards in luring House in, however, she could blame her lack of attention on coming off of meth, now that everyone knew about her night.

And, House? House was trying to keep himself composed. He had never felt so blindsided socially about what he thought he knew in a long time. His rugged blue eyes dragged across Cameron’s pure skin, her neck looked like a perfect canvas for his teeth and hopefully his hand if he approaches this well.

He forces himself out of his fantasy land before everyone becomes aware of what he was daydreaming of by looking about two feet south of his face. He quickly makes a diagnosis that seems up to his standard and dismisses his team.

Cameron is the last to exit, she turns to look at House who is still staring off into the distance, perplexed and focused. He notices her absence, his head shooting up towards the doorframe as he realises she’s still there. Her lab coat sits in her hand, hanging by her side, her sweater hugging her figure firmly.

He looks wrecked, his eyebrows still remembering their furrowed position from earlier, his mouth slightly ajar as he shamelessly scans her from her legs up.

Cameron smirks, to answer the way he responded to her ethereal night.

A proud emphasis with her mouth, a challenging undertone with her eyebrows as they narrow in on him, and pure, burning seduction in her deep, blue eyes.

All House can manage is to slightly widen his eyes, as if to help himself recognise that she actually just slightly flirted with him.

As Cameron sashays away, her smirk turning into a huge grin of anticipation, House rubs the scruffy stubble of his beard.

Even he can’t tell if it was in awe or if it was in hopes of sparking an idea on how to bag the revealed version of Cameron. He leans into his cane, trying to decipher the best path forward.

All he knows is that her expression just signed them both up for the best game of their lives.

Chapter Text

The door clicks lightly behind Cameron, her hand slips off of the metal handle.

“I can’t believe House outed us like that!” Chase exclaims in a lower volume, his assumption to still keep quiet was humble, as the walls of the janitor closet aren’t exactly noise-cancelling. Cameron shrugs lightly, her eyes darting to the side to check the door once more.

“It is House, that you’re talking about,” Cameron replies monotonously, tucking a loose hair behind her ear. His sudden energy crashes into a look of confusion.

“You aren’t angry, not even a little?” Chase asks her, putting his right hand on her upper arm, his thumb moving in small motions across the fabric of her lab coat. The small movement of comfort means more to Cameron than she thought it would, because her answer to the question might make Chase even more annoyed than a minute ago. Or it might drive him in the opposite direction.

“I-, uh…” Cameron stutters, a slight blush pricks at her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, “I kind of, liked that it was exposed, like that.” She looks up at Chase, making big doe eyes to soften the blow, at least she hopes. A secret part of her made herself look vulnerable so Chase might dominate her again, her eyes in this closet might represent their encounter from the night before.

Chase clenches his jaw, almost in restraint, the notion behind Cameron’s delivery is cheering that he isn’t clenching it in irritation. She doesn’t stop the innocent act, she couldn’t, even if she wanted to. It was just as addictive as the meth she took to perform like this for him.

“I was going to say maybe, we, shouldn’t happen again,” Chase starts slowly, unable to tear his gaze away from her dazzling eyes.
“But when you,” he gulps as Cameron moves her hand to rest on the back of his head, scratching his head slowly, her manicured nails scrambling the thoughts in his mind.

“When you look at me like that, I, fuck it-” Chase cuts himself off, moving his hands to Cameron’s shoulders, his lips quickly attaching to hers, using the force of his lips, hands and the shock that is still instilling into Cameron, he shoves them both into the shelving of the closet. The loud bang that it makes fills Cameron with excitement, that she could even hear how aggressive Chase was handling her, she couldn’t help but let out a needy moan into his mouth as she clutched at the collar of his lab coat.

He could sense how badly they both needed this, Cameron essentially ripping his lab coat off and letting it hit the ground wherever it landed was evidence enough. Chase knew that she loved the roughness of it all, and he couldn’t deny that he was beneath that. He enjoyed controlling her, and he enjoyed it even more when he could hear how much she loved every second of it.

Chase grabs the clip that is holding her hair up and unclips it urgently, tossing it to the floor, a clattering noise cuts through the heavy breathing and the lewd noise of his tongue exploring every crevice of her mouth. His hands travel to her ass, lifting her up and dropping her on the bench.

A breathy laugh and a brief smile from Cameron as she hits the bench turns into her mouth falling agape slightly, her eyebrows furrow as Chase tugs slightly at the roots of her hair. The access to her neck was immediately filled by Chase’s tongue as he takes a quick lick all the way up the column of her neck. Her blissful sigh turned into a stifled gasp as his teeth nipped at her skin, his lips taking a small turn in leaving a mark on her neck.

“Chase,” she whined out at the pleasure of his hand yanking at her hair once over, the slight pain making her claw at his back, her legs squeezed around his torso.

Chase lets a groan out into her neck, transferring into a breathy moan from Cameron as his other hand travels underneath her sweater and bra, latching onto her boob, running his thumb across her nipple briefly.

A drawled out whine as Chase’s thumb meets her nipple again is cut off by the door opening, a flood of light broadcasting what they’ve been up to.
Again.

Chase immediately retracts to the intrusion, practically leaping backwards, Cameron honestly sighs at the loss of the contact, but her muscles constrict, freezing her, when she realises who’s flicked the lightswitch.

House.

She becomes suddenly aware of how her sweater is hooked into the top of her bra, swiftly but urgently yanking it down in sheer horror. Cameron doesn’t have a problem with a little voyeurism, as was made clear to Chase a few minutes ago. What she did have a problem with is she doesn’t know if this will entice House, or turn him away from the idea of her. She hopes endlessly that this is a turn on for him.

“Tsk, sorry,” House shrugs at the two deer in the headlights, as he shuffles with his cane towards the large trash bin beside Cameron on the bench, “just needed an extra-large trash can.”

The thud of the pile of folders hits the bottom of the trash can, and all Cameron can do is follow House with her eyes. As his hand returns away from the trash can, it brushes slightly against Cameron’s knees. She slowly shuts her eyes, taking a deep breath in to restrain herself. She can feel House’s eyes looking at her, she knows she should be wishing he didn’t see Chase’s hand pulling her hair back, that he didn’t see his hand teasing at her tits, her hands attempting to make scratches on Chase’s back. Cameron can’t help it, she wanted him to see it, to give him pointers on how to make her feel good.

Her eyes are ripped open with the loud thud of a door slamming shut. That was violent, even for House, so much so that Chase even noticed his subtle jealousy.

“When has he ever thrown anything out?” Chase asks, defeated, leaning back against the shelving.

Cameron looks down at the ground, sighing out herself as her feet hit the tiled floor with a soft thump. She leans down to pick up her hair clip, reaching for the door handle.

She knows House, and she knows that this is going to be a disaster. She’s only seen jealousy once in House, and it wasn’t pretty. Though, pretty is the last thing she is looking for in him. Maybe this could work in her advantage, the supposed embarrassment is only giving her leverage over House.

“I guess that’s over for now,” she mutters out to Chase as they both exit the janitor closet.

Chapter Text

“So, let me recap,” Wilson cleared his throat speedily, resetting the positioning of his hands on the cafeteria table, “You listened to them through the door since they walked into the closet?” His face construed into a strong perplexement with a hint of expectancy, House always found a way to violate his coworkers in one form or another.

House frowns sarcastically, tilting his head to the right from the other side of the table, “Well when you say it like that,” A small grin taking over his face, amused at his own behaviour. Wilson sighed, taking his hands through his slightly untamed hair. 

“House,” Wilson said exasperatedly, “You can’t just invade people’s privacy like that!”

House looks up at the ceiling to mimic deep thought, “But the idea of being able to crush Chase’s spirit so easily is just too hard to pass up.” 

Wilson rolls his eyes, his inhale suddenly cut off by one of his philosophical ideas. House caught onto this immediately, “Whatever you are about to say about me wanting Chase to show up to work in a pair of tight little shorts, don’t say it,” House pleads jokingly, mostly through the furrow of his eyebrows, his eyes honing into Wilson’s. Wilson's inspiration crashes into a brick wall of confusion. 

“What? I- no,” the bewildered quality of his voice is quickly erased by the scrambling motion that his hands make to reset his train of thought. 

“I know Chase leapt away from Cameron like she was diseased, but what did Cameron do?” Wilson asks, intrigue filling the brown of his irises. 

Wilson knows Cameron all too well. A pure creature with a desire to mend the broken, to fix everyone else's issues but her own. Wilson is ready to welcome back the Cameron that was totally and utterly infatuated with House.

House pauses. It had only been about 5 minutes since the incident, the fluke chance of him seeing Chase and Cameron rush hurriedly into the janitor’s closet had fallen directly into his lap. The files in his hand that he had taken out of his office were to be disposed of in the bin three metres away from his door, but the sight of the couple’s urgency made him interested. The puzzle called to him. 

House had to admit, he was in a bit over his head once the adrenaline of hearing the engrossing noises from the couple, the fervent roughness of the loud noises of shelving rattling and the piercing plastic hitting the ground dramatically, it’s almost like they knew he was on the other side of the door, like they were putting on a show for him.

After House’s little stunt, it only took him ten seconds to realise how in character, but uncalculated that decision was, forty seconds for the dread to kick in, and two minutes to get to the nearest elevator to beetle straight to Wilson in the cafeteria, reuben sandwich already greeting House in his respective spot. 

He thought about how Cameron had barely pulled away from Chase until she realised who was standing in the doorframe, cane in tow. The pale skin under Cameron’s sweater radiates in his mind, making him swallow noticeably just at the thought, her dark blue laced bra partially exposed under the newfound light. Snap out of it. This has to be clinical. She froze up, covering up the skin that wasn’t socially acceptable to show at her workplace.

Maybe she didn’t want her boss to see her like that? No, her eyes told him something entirely different this morning, though, she was hopped up on meth. However, the way she confessed her desire to be watched wouldn’t fit into this. His stomach flipped at the possibility of her wanting to be stared at in that closet by House. God, he was losing it. Over one decision that Cameron had made, teeth grinding at his annoyance at himself for being so damn weak. He feels his eyebrows pinch together, pulling him back into his weaving thoughts.

The involuntary brush of his hands against her knees turned into House yearning for his hand to linger for a second longer. The effect it had on Cameron was flattering, to say the least. Her fluttering eyelids and the strangled inhale she took, her knuckles whitening as they clasped the bench. 

House wondered what effect his hands could have in other aspects, not limited to the way he could make the joints of his fingers disappear into her. He imagined the way he could run his hands through her thick, radiant hair, scratching her scalp with care. The potential his fingers had at caressing and cradling her face, her soft skin malleable underneath his touch. His hands could wipe away the brutal tears that roll down her cheeks, secret admissions and painful conversations carrying them through the night on his cold bathroom floor. Palms of his hands rubbing warranted circles on her small back, as his arms embraced her, holding on so tightly so that she would never leave.

That night that he took Cameron on her requested and mandatory date should have made him realise that Cameron was perfect for him, in every way. The puzzle was nearing completion.

She cared for the version of House that his ex-wife had rejected years ago, his brutality, the vicodin addiction and his overall selfishness. 

House was wrong all along.

Cameron didn’t want House because she wanted to fix him, she wanted him because he was broken like her. Her meth-induced night was a message to herself and the people around her, that she wasn’t here to be saved, she wanted everyone to see a different side of her.

Flaws that made Stacy cry drew Cameron in closer and closer, until the subtle brushes of sleeves in a patient’s room or how her index finger slightly touched his as she handed him his cup of coffee in the differential room was the closest they could be without acknowledging what House pushed away. 

He liked Cameron.

House’s mouth slowly dropped to be slightly agape at his realisation that he didn’t just admire Cameron’s body, the way her body would feel for a quick fuck. He didn’t want to treat her like the variety of hookers he invited through his door every Friday night. House wanted Allison Cameron, the girl who was equally pure as she was broken.

“House!” Wilson exclaimed, waving his hand in front of House’s face, scoffing with a genuine smile. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you wanted to be with Cameron!” Wilson chuckled, his smile travelling through the crinkles of his eyes. 

House stayed silent, only moving his eyes to look at his reuben sandwich that remained barely eaten. Wilson’s smile faded slowly, leaving a pause of defeated silence between the two.

“Oh, House.” Wilson said with pure sincerity, a small but paternal smile spread like butter across his face. He knew that this behaviour from House was completely out of the ordinary, Wilson knew to handle this with care. The shallow breaths that exited House’s mouth were such a rarity, Wilson couldn’t believe that Cameron was the one to break House’s guard down, he was so sure House and Cuddy would eventually find each other. He owes Foreman fifty dollars. 

House looked up into Wilson’s eyes, he felt his eyes slightly glaze as he remembered this feeling all too well.

“I’m in trouble, aren’t I,” House says quietly, his voice slightly rasping as his jaw readjusts into its resting position.

Wilson exhales roughly, pursing his lips together.

Chapter Text

The shuffle of papers across the seamless surface soothed Cameron’s racing heart. Her and Chase had exchanged a quick peck before parting their separate ways after the rude interruption. Cameron decided that the best way to sort through her thoughts was to catch the department up on the paperwork that they were shamefully drowning in.

Her hands unclick the highlighter lid as she paints the fluro yellow ink onto the first page, the smoothness of the marker is opposing the abrasiveness of her befuddled mind. Making her way through the pages, she lets out an unsure exhale.

How did she possibly end up in this situation?

Yes, she wanted people to understand she wasn’t the personification of Bambi, but House purposefully walking in on her and Chase? That was different.

She had so many questions, too many. They all congregated in her brain and made a team effort to hurt her head. How did he find us? Why did he feel the need to, well, cock-block us? Was his hand brushing my knee by accident or on purpose?

But the one question she was dying to know the answer to was quite simple, straightforward, but made her clench her calves and clasp her hands together in anticipation.

How long had House been standing on the other side of the door?

She already felt a slight throb shoot through her at the thought of House hearing her earth-crushing whine as he opened the door, let alone any of her other noises. Goosebumps littered her skin as she fantasised about what he thought of her lacy bra, her tousled hair, slightly scruffy from the tugs that Chase had given it.

She had to cut her wandering dreams off to consider something less sexy and more realistic.

House had always been a special reserve for Cameron, she knew he was different to the other men she had dated. If House asked her to jump off a cliff with him, she wouldn’t hesitate for a second. 

Everything about House was objectively perfect for Cameron. He clearly had the potential to be extremely promiscuous, his jokes about sex fuelling the small fire in her stomach. House was broken, completely unlike her first husband and filled the cracks that she struggled with, as she would fill his. His rigid personality against her strong but caring demeanour made her want to giggle a little. The fire grew to a bonfire.

The feeling begins to fade as Cameron remembers her forced date with House, the way he got her all wrong. She didn’t want to fix him, she wanted to understand every aspect of his brokenness and carry it like it was her own. 

Cameron just wanted to know what it would feel like, to see his rugged blue eyes in the morning, laying next to her and holding her close. The way he would whisper sweet-nothings into her ear, his beard grazing her skin as she sat on his lap, her chest lifting and falling in sync with his.

She always appreciated the soft nature of her husband when it came to the calm moments, some things never change. A man who is aggressive in nature is not right for her, and never will be.

House would be gentle and sweet with her, like lapping waves at the shore, but he could push her into the deep depths of the rough waves. It was everything she wanted, everything she needed.

Her focus regains to the bright colour on the stark paper, just like the reality that settles like dust over the foreground of her mind.

House wouldn’t like her, and he never would. She was just a piece of ass to him, and maybe that would soothe her enough for the rest of her life. Her eyes disagreed, starting to sting and glisten with the familiar salt water she let consume her in the four walls of her own home. Pull it together, Allison. 

Her lip starts to slightly wobble as she tries to distract herself by reading the words on the page, but the thoughts of her and House flood her subconscious, sweeping ruthlessly.

“Cameron?” 

Her head shoots up.

A concerned Foreman takes in the struggling Cameron, letting his hand drop from the side of the doorframe.

“Paperwork really that sad?” Foreman jokes, letting a comforting smile make a brief appearance. Cameron lets out a shaky exhale, a pathetic laugh as a tear rolls down her face. She takes a deep inhale in, sniffling as Foreman makes his way to the office chair next to the latter.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” Cameron mutters, looking to the ceiling as if it would give her the answer, her thumb brushing the loose tear off of her cheek. “It’s probably the effects of coming off the meth.”

Foreman looks at her with disconcertion, sighing out lightly, “Okay. But if it’s even slightly to not do with the drugs, do you think it might have something to do with Chase?”

Cameron takes a minute to respond. On the one hand, she doesn’t want Chase to think he’s done something wrong. On the other hand, she doesn’t want anyone getting near the truth of her feelings for House. Until today, they were locked up and pushed into the lonely crevice of her mind to rot and die there.

“I,” Cameron sighs out, rubbing her temple with her fingers, Foreman showing the tell-tale signs of his full attention, “I just don’t think it was a good idea to hook up with Chase,” she bites out nervously. Foreman doesn’t look one bit shocked.

She was partially lying, because while Chase let her explore herself, even the slight chance that House might want to fuck her will drive her to the Earth’s end to make it happen. Now that she knows he wanted to mess with her and Chase, the opportunity felt unreal, too close for comfort.

If she can break this off early without damaging Chase, she will be content in being single if it means that House might want her.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to be the one to say it, but yeah. I agree,” Foreman nods slowly, his eyes focusing on the old, pulled and torn carpet.

Cameron looks at Foreman, hoping he might give her some advice on how to go about breaking this off, she had too much on her plate to deal with already, let alone this. Foreman notices the implication of her look.

“Uh, well,” Foreman shrugs his shoulders, building up his confidence in his own advice, “just take it easy, tell Chase that he’s a great guy but you made a mistake with the drugs.”

Cameron nods slowly, ingesting his advice fully. A humble smile reappears on Foreman’s face.

“Easy,” he says, attempting to reassure her.

“Easy.” Cameron responds, repeating it back to him, a calm little grin brushing across her face.

“Why are you two so giddy?” House’s voice sounds from the entrance of the differential room.

Cameron tenses slightly at the sight of House, considering that the last time she saw him he could see most of her bare stomach.

“Foreman, I told you, no more sniffing the permanent markers,” House mocked, rolling his eyes, hobbling up to them and around them.

“And you should know better, Cameron,” House tries to mock, but her name comes out in a serious way, a way he’s only said it once before. 

Cameron can briefly smell the candles that were burning in the restaurant of their mandatory date, his voice so bold and bare of all humour as it picked her apart.

She sniffs lightly to neutralise the environment, her eyes not dragging away from her paperwork as she reaches out for the black ballpoint pen, clicking it to send a permanent signal of ‘I’m busy’.

His eyes rest on her silky hair, Foreman’s look of annoyance turns into something more curious. House drags his eyes away reluctantly.

House continues to hobble to the kitchen area, the coffee pot seemingly empty.

“My beautiful ducklings,” House starts, animation controlling the delivery of his words, “which one of you are going to remake this coffee pot?” He turns to stare at the two colleagues.

“Not me House, you can do that yourself,” Foreman says forcefully, standing and walking to the door. Cameron’s eyes follow him respectively.

“Cool down, dawg,” House smirks at Foreman, who is clearly beyond unimpressed with House’s concurrent racial profiling. Foreman turns back around and leaves without dignifying House with a response, making his way to the nurse station.

“Cameron,” House says with a harmonic tone. Cameron spins around in her chair, meeting his all-encompassing eyes with hers, staying strong and nonchalant. A reposition of House’s posture shows a slight falter in his confidence.

“Coffee?” House points at the pot with his cane. She stands up making her way to the pot, grabbing the box of paper filters, House slightly steps to the side, but his intoxicating musk makes itself known to Cameron.

“How long were you standing outside the door of the janitor closet, House?” She asks, doing everything in her power to not look away from the coffee maker as she starts to spoon the coffee grounds into the white paper. House stops moving momentarily, but adjusts a couple of seconds later.

“Now Cameron, I told you I was looking for an extra large trash can,” he replies with a bubbly tone, leaning both hands on his cane to lean down to her height. Cameron thinks, hard. You could almost hear the cogs whirring in her brain. When House got no response, he lathered the humorous energy on thick.

“Kids, am I right?” he says sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“No,” Cameron replies flatly.

“No?” House questions, stepping back as she fills the coffee machine with the water.

“No,” she replies, shaking her head with confidence, turning the tap off and taking a step further, pushing House into the corner of the room. She places the coffee maker down quickly, locking eyes with House once more.

“You knew, and you jerked us around. Why?” She asks sternly, but with an inquisitive flash in her eyes.

House went from a smirk to a more solemn look.

“Because, I really just wanted to see,” he starts, the blue in his eyes deepening slightly. Cameron felt like if he didn’t spit the answer out, she was going to throw up straight into the sink. 

“ –the extra large trash can,” he says dramatically, his eyes widening for comedic effect. She grits her teeth down harder.

“Uh oh, I made you angry,” House pretended to stifle a laugh.

Cameron pushed herself impossibly close to House, the goofy facade he held up plummeted straight to the ground, his eyes deepening into her irritated gaze.

“House,” she starts to spit out, her mind racing with all the ways she wanted to get the answer out of him, “I want to know.”

She looked up at him with the eyes she knew how to use the best, she flashed her eyes at him, filling them up with pure innocence that would be oh, so easy to break. 

He clears his throat gently, unable to pull away from her gaze. She was so gorgeous, and a part of him knew he could break the last bit of innocence she displayed. 

Foreman had somehow gotten roped into a conversation with a nurse about her pet turtle. He was barely listening as he looked to his right, the glass of the differential room being the stage for the tension between House and Cameron. They were unbelievably close, and House even looked affected. He clenched his jaw slightly.

“I was there for the entire time, I saw you walk in and I followed,” House admitted, the expression in his eyes unchanging, full of the desire and the restraint to not reach out to touch her. Cameron felt like her heart had stopped entirely, wanting to reach up and touch his face, trace her fingers along his back.

“Why would you do that?” Cameron managed to get out breathlessly, clenching her fists by her sides so her hands wouldn’t travel anywhere else.

House’s hand slices through the silence between them, brushing his knuckles along the side of her face, his hand cupping her chin.

Foreman is now entirely oblivious to what food the turtle has been eating, as House had broken every moral and social code in the House manual. Foreman was holding his breath, hoping Cameron woke the hell up and walked right out the office door.

House’s thumb reaches up and pulls slightly at Cameron’s bottom lip, her lipgloss acting as a glue for his thumb to rest there.

“I don’t know,” House mutters lowly, his heart working overtime just to keep them frozen in time. Cameron shakily sighs out, her mouth moving to wrap her lips around his thumb. Her tongue pokes out of her mouth slightly, making contact with House’s skin. He groans subtly at the contact as she parts her lips further.

“Hou- Oh, oh my god?” Cuddy stands at the entrance of the room, paralysed with shock, her arms swinging slightly by her sides. Cameron and House both jump back, House’s hand whipped directly back to his side. All Cameron can manage to do is look at her shoes.

“Oh shit…” Foreman mumbled amused under his breath, watching the scene play out from a distance. He cannot wait to tell Wilson about this.

“Mom, what did I tell you about knocking before entering my room?” House says after a few moments, breaking the silent tension between the three. Cuddy looks less amused than before. Cameron is still looking at her shoes.

“Tough crowd?” House shrugs. Cameron keeps her head down, scampering straight past Cuddy and towards the elevator, tucking her hair behind her ear as she goes.

House follows Cameron with his eyes, a pang of guilt hitting his chest, he doesn’t try to hide it, not now anyway.

Cuddy can only observe House’s slight pain before walking out of the room as well, heading off in the opposite direction. 

House is left directionless in the corner of the kitchen, unsure and honestly, a little exposed. 

“Man Cameron,” Foreman shakes his head, muttering to himself and striding away, “you never learn.”

Chapter Text

The subtle ruffle of House’s cane against the carpeted floor of his office was the only thing that held him attached to the reality of the world around him. He moves towards his office chair, recklessly swinging his legs up onto the desk, grabbing his red tennis ball. The big sigh that exited his mouth did nothing to clear his head. He started to toss the ball lightly from one hand to the other.

What the hell were you thinking?

Reliving the feeling of Cameron’s tongue only lightly touching his thumb, made him shakily inhale. It was feather-like, akin to the light draping of a sheet over a mattress. Her eyes corresponded to her slow, steady movement, a thick curtain of innocence dragged across the window of her own story. 

House’s knuckles paled as he noticed he had stopped tossing the ball, instead holding it in both hands with a strong grip.

The dirtiness of her choosing to put her lips to his thumb instead of his own made him clench his teeth down. His roughened knuckles against her smooth, shimmering skin is a moment he wanted to capture and lock in his mind, ready to be replayed at his demand. 

But she ran away. Scared, unlike Cameron in the face of adversity. She wasn’t ready.

She doesn’t want you, House.

“Shut up,” House grumbled to himself, his forearms now tensing.

He doesn’t know where she went, nor was he going to check. For selfish reasons, House doesn’t want to confront his own feelings, but here he was. Going to coach Cameron through feelings that were directly related to him was the last thing he wanted to do. Too messy, not his area of expertise.

If there were any feelings at all.

House swallows forcefully, his teeth still grinding together, jittery and unfashionably.

He knows what he heard in that janitor closet, the ultimate frenzy that cultivated. It was desperate, reckless. He thought Cameron just wanted to hook up with anyone she could find. Cameron just wanted to hook up with Chase that night, but repeating that in the closet? She wanted to pursue Chase. Now House was sorely mistaken.

House shakes his head indignantly, wanting all of this to be over. Go back to his old life, where his biggest issue was hiding his steak under a mound of lettuce to fool the cafeteria lady from charging him the full price.

Would she have even touched him, in any way, if he hadn’t broken the contact first? Letting the tension build and knocking it clean out after she got the answer to her question?

If you weren’t such a weak son of a bitch, this never would have happened.

House hastily punts the ball into the carpet in front of him, the ball making a painful thud, rolling to a pair of shoes. House lifts his eyes slightly higher.

“Hockey player giving you that much trouble?” Wilson inquires, standing blandly in the middle of the office.

“Who?” House asked, trying to fumble through the folders of his mind.

“Your patient?” Wilson says, his tone reeking of superiority.

“Oh. No, he has sarcoidosis.” House looks at the ball, resting so peacefully next to Wilson’s shiny shoes, unlike how it travelled mere seconds ago.

“Why were you using your ball then?” Wilson asks, encroaching closer to sit in the chair on the other side of House’s desk.

“Gee, a lot of questions from you, hey, don’t sit d-” House tries to get out before Wilson establishes himself in the cushioned chair. House sighs defeated.

“Oh yeah, that makes sense, considering your entire job relies on a proposal of a medicine that is entirely theoretical,” House grits out, his arms crossing as he sinks back further into the recline of the chair.

“You only make fun of my job when you don’t want me to know something,” Wilson replies inquisitively, crossing his arms to match House’s. “It’s little angel Cameron isn’t it?” 

House slightly winces at someone else letting his secret obsession fall out of their mouth.

“Cameron licked my thumb.” House stated starkly, staring at Wilson. Wilson could only manage to be puzzled.

“I- She what?” Wilson asked rhetorically with such urgency that House saw the opportunity for deflection.

“No, it’s not a euphemism, Wilson. Get your head out of the gutter!” House exclaimed acrimoniously. Wilson rolls his eyes and waits for House to inevitably get uncomfortable with the lack of response. House’s smile fades, his finger slightly twitching on top of the arm of the office chair.

House sighs, rubbing his forehead momentarily, “Well, she cornered me in the differential room about how long I was standing outside the janitor closet door.”

“House, that’s a little dramatic, she probably just asked yo-” Wilson reasons before being hastily cut off.

“No, she literally cornered me, very closely too,” House replies, slightly distracted as he uses his cane to wheel himself around to the other side of the desk, now sitting next to Wilson, “that corner, right there.” House points his cane at the kitchen corner accusingly, as if the coffee maker was the culprit of his misfortune.

Wilson’s eyebrows furrowed a tad, only because this wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary for Cameron and, well, it’s House.

“She wasn’t very kind about it either,” House adds, hoping to spark a response from Wilson.

“So where does her licking your thumb fit into this?” Wilson inquires, adding emphasis on how absurd the reduction of the highly tension filled act sounded to the outsider.

“She was really close, and she,” House stops himself. He doesn’t know how to say why he did what he chose to do out loud, even if it was Wilson. He purses his lips together, looking at the shine of the desk.

“House, if you want my help, you’re going to have to be honest with me,” Wilson starts, craning his head around to catch House’s attention.

“I know, crushes are really scary for you. I won't tell anyone what you’re thinking, okay?” Wilson waits on House to open his mouth, now resting his hand on his shoulder lightly as encouragement.

House knew Wilson was right. Wilson was also being really serious and House knew that while he would betray Wilson’s trust, Wilson wouldn’t do that to him. Here goes nothing.

“She was really close,” House starts to repeat his sentence from earlier, “She smelt like, sweet, like, I don’t know, cinnamon?” He throws his arms up in helplessness and lingering embarrassment. 

Wilson was reassuring but talking about female fragrances was entirely out of his comfort zone. House slightly covered his mouth trying to think of how he was going to proceed. 

Wilson stiffly forced his shock and lightheartedness down to the depths of his body, his face staying as neutral as he could muster. It was so inconceivable to see House like this, even when Stacy was around, he was never close to being this soppy. It made Wilson happy, because House truly deserved it and maybe House would finally discern this.
“Keep going House, no judgement, remember?” Wilson reminded House, as House looked a little dazed and his posture reeked of nervousness. House flicked his afraid eyes up to Wilson, his hand slowly drawing away from his face.

“She begged me for the answer, but she had this look,” House continued on reluctantly, being unable to move his eyes up to meet Wilson’s, “I, she, her eyes, they looked so… pure.”

Wilson’s eyebrows furrowed, he leant his forearm onto his knee, feeling physically engaged to whatever House truly meant.

“All I could think of is how perfect she looked, so I cracked,” House progresses, making a nod of confidence to his own story-telling, “I told her I’d been standing outside the door the entire time.”

“Why would you do that?” Wilson petitioned, so entranced in the moment that House’s slightly widened eyes snapping straight in his direction startled him more than it should’ve.

“How did you know that?” House asked frantically, the exact words that Cameron had asked him matching directly to Wilson’s. This was a mistake. He never should have shared anything.

“Know what?” Wilson sat back in his chair again, swiveling it so his entire body was facing House’s.

“That’s what Cameron said,” House looked into Wilson’s eyes, desperately wishing that Wilson hadn’t talked to Cameron as well. 

“House, anyone would have asked that. Calm down.” Wilson’s small smile of reassurance surprisingly calmed House back down. The way House got so worked up over this troubled Wilson to no end. He had never seen House like this, even when he had been detoxing.

“Well, then she said, that,” House refers to what Wilson said just moments ago, “then she looked at me, with those eyes, and I couldn’t help but brush her face with my hand, holding her chin.”

“What a gentleman,” Wilson joked, but House looked so entranced in his own memory that Wilson stifled his slight chuckle to silence, his grin fading as he matched House’s coolness.

“I told her I didn’t know and I brought my thumb up to her lip,” House encroached closer to the peak of the story, “and she made this noise.” 

Wilson returned back to his puzzled demeanour, “What kind of noise, like an “get your thumb off my lip” kind of noise?” He smirked slightly, returning to his default expression.

“No, it,” House sighs out shortly, frustrated with how much Cameron’s exhale clearly meant to him, “It was like a sigh, shaky. But it was so,” House stopped himself once more, this time clear of embarrassment, but he didn’t want to hear himself talk about it, the reality crashing over him in waves.

“House, come on,” Wilson sighed respectfully, with a hint of desperation. He was so close to telling the truth, he just needed a little push. House’s jaw clenched slightly, his eyes rapidly darted to Wilson. 

“Fine. You want me to tell you what I’m really feeling?” House shot up from his chair, planting his cane into the carpeted floor forcefully as he started to pace towards his respective side of the desk.

“Yes,” was all Wilson could manage, trying not to deter House from sharing. He snaps around at the response, his eyes crazed.

“She made pretty noises in that janitor closet, but when she made one for me, I, I felt like I was going to die.” House forces out, racing with his own pace.

Wilson’s jaw slightly slacked, his lips just parting open in awe.

“She pressed her lips to my thumb, and then she,” House pauses momentarily, looking up at the ceiling trying to compose himself from the sexual tension he distinctly remembers, “she put the tip of her tongue on my thumb. I couldn’t move, all I did was just groan at her, the sight of her. She was doing something so dirty, so impure with her innocent eyes, it felt even more substantial than if we kissed.”

At this point House was pacing so impossibly fast, trying to keep up with his supersonic thoughts. Wilson was frozen.

“I just, I want her to do it again. I want more. I can’t help it Wilson!” House pauses his pacing to connect to Wilson’s frozen expression.

“Every thought I have is of her, and the worst part is that all she’s looking for is a one-night stand!” House fires out rapidly, “Wow, I never thought I would say that. Did I mention her eyes? Then Cuddy walks in and catches us, Cameron practically sprints out of the room, probably being embarrassed to even be seen with me. Clearly she wants nothing to do with me!”

House’s hand lands onto his desk, slightly heaving at how worked up he got himself. 

“Fuck,” he bites out, the syllable strangling against his teeth. His head shakes to disapprove of himself, his behaviour.

“You need to talk to her,” Wilson starts slowly, cautiously backing his bold statement at the look of dread on House’s face, “It doesn’t have to be tonight, sleep on it and talk to her tomorrow.”

“Thats all good and nice, but what the hell am I supposed to say? ‘Sorry that our boss caught you with my finger in your mouth?’” House slightly exclaimed, the stress bonding to his bloodstream. 

“No, you need to tell her the truth,” Wilson said, a little sterner this time, “You quickly made a diagnosis that anyone on your team would’ve made, your hockey player is probably uncured, this is an obvious distraction and you deserve to get it out in the open.”

House’s eyebrows furrowed into something a little sinister.

“You don’t know that, it was clearly sarcoidosis!” House raised his voice, clearly avoiding the part about talking to Cameron, Foreman suddenly appearing in the doorway.

“No, it’s not,” Foreman forces himself into the tension, “Calcium is way too low.”

House sighs frustrated, defeated, “Run a test on his antibodies.”

Foreman nods, quickly escaping the drama.

House grabs the jacket hanging off of the back of his chair, forcing his motorbike helmet underneath his unoccupied arm, speed walking out of the room.

“Hey, where are you going?” Wilson asks hurriedly.

“Home,” House replies, still facing away from Wilson as he enters the hallway, directing himself towards the elevator.

All Wilson knew was that Cameron might have had a one-night stand, but House was different. To Cameron, House was like the expensive jewellery you only wear once a year, but it’s still somehow your favourite piece. Wilson didn’t have any doubts that Cameron didn’t want something long-term with House, but he doesn’t know how the hell he’s going to communicate this without some meddling. 

He yanks his pager out of his pocket, fumbling at the digits hastily.

DIFFERENTIAL ROOM

He shoves his pager back into his pocket, slipping into the differential room.

About a minute later, Cameron appears, her eyes clearly red from crying.

“Where’s the rest of the team?” Cameron asked, her arms folded across her thin frame, her eyes slowly dragging to Wilson.

Wilson presses his lips together, pulling out a seat to sit directly in front of him.

“Why don’t you have a seat?”

Chapter Text

Cameron hesitantly shuffles towards the open chair, her arms crossed around her body as she begrudgingly places herself onto it. Wilson takes a manspread position, resting his elbows on his knees as he leans forward to get closer to the moody girl.

“First of all, are you okay?” Wilson asks, sincerity not only carrying his words, but his eyes soften to make Cameron feel more comfortable. She shuffles in her seat slightly, crossing her leg over the other gently.

“Do we have to talk about this, I can already tell you spoke to House,” she sternly utters out, her eyes drifting towards the carpet. Wilson clears his throat slightly.

“No, but I want to know what you’re feeling, just between us,” Wilson admits, he catches himself holding his breath waiting for Cameron's response. 

These two dance around each other continuously, but now that they’ve both broken the ice, this is either going to be euphoric or entirely catastrophic. Wilson hopes it's the first option.

Cameron doesn’t know how to respond. When she ran out, she did feel a tiny bit bad leaving House there like that, but she was being so reckless in front of her boss. Once she had hit the secluded lab with her coffee, her guilt could have crushed a city skyscraper. She didn’t want House to think this was because of him, not that she thinks he cares anyway. 

House wouldn’t be losing anything if he lost her, in fact, he would gain.

He orders hookers to his house, all the time. He clearly isn’t looking for a solid relationship at all, and even if he did hook up with Cameron, her lack of expertise in comparison with the hookers would be more than enough to put House off entirely. Let alone that they worked together, on the same team. It would be inevitably awkward. 

She just wishes that there was even a slight chance he wanted her, as something serious, set in stone. Cameron wasn’t asking for a ring, she just wanted to thrash around in the deep, ravenous waves, jump in head first and see if she could stay afloat.

“Does House like me?” Cameron breaks the silence with her weighted question, “Like romantically, not just as a person,” she tacks onto the end to make herself extremely clear.

“I- You’re going to have to talk to him, Cameron. I can’t just share all of this with you.” Wilson sighs, his head hanging lower momentarily, snapping up at Cameron’s reply.

“Then why are you here?” Cameron says, collected but fiercely, “if you want to mess with me, do it another way.”

“Cameron, no. That’s not what I’m doing at all,” Wilson quickly iterated, his hands tensing in urgency.
“Yeah? Then what are you doing Wilson?” Cameron says cleanly, shooting up out of her chair, the fierceness still taking charge of her words, “because to me all you’re trying to do is make me,” Cameron’s tone starts to falter.

Her eyes sting, again. Third time today, way to go Allison.

Wilson sits back in his chair, keeping eye contact with Cameron, who admittedly is extremely good at it.

“You’re trying to make me get my hopes up,” Cameron’s nose turns a pinkish red, sniffling as her voice strains against her lack of rationality. 

“Make me go talk to him, just for him to re- reject me,” Her voice comes out in a broken whine, a sob breaks any professionalism into tiny, shattered pieces.

“Cam-” Wilson tries to stand up as well, to calm the frenzied woman in front of him. He reaches a hand out to rest on her shoulder, to provide some security.

“No!” Cameron exclaimed, rolling her shoulder back to get the newly placed hand off. 

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted him for?” Her volume has increased significantly, though she can’t even bear to utter House’s name from her lips.

Wilson crosses his arms, shaking his head slowly, eyebrows furrowed in untainted concern.

“A year Wilson, a fucking year, I had to work so hard to push those feeling aside for my job, and now my boss saw me in a once in a lifetime moment with the man I need!” She’s almost yelling at this point, her monologue unbroken, but a painful sob breaks out at the end, as she gasps for air.

“So I’m sorry if I don’t want to talk to him,” her voice comes out in a raspy whisper, her eyes unmoving from Wilson’s, her lips pursed. She covers her mouth as another loud sob enters the room.

“Allison, please. You need to talk to him. I can’t tell you what I know, but I know it’s not rejection, okay?” Wilson manages to get out, a tear rolls down his cheek at the sheer sight of the latter. 

Everything depends on her answer to his plea, and anything he says is probably a lost cause.

Cameron sniffles, looking back up at him, a shimmer of silver lining tracing the outsides of her irises.

“I swear to God you better not be lying just to make me feel better,” she mutters out, attempting to wipe the tears with the sleeve of her sweater.

Wilson lets out a small laugh, adjusting the way he holds his weight. 

“No, I’m not. I’m really not,” A smile grows on his face.

“God,” Cameron gets out, hurriedly making her way to the door.

“He’s gone home, at least that’s what he told me. Good luck.” Wilson says, his smile is unchanged, unmoved. 

Cameron gives him a quick nod, almost sprinting to the elevator, yanking her key out of her pocket. 

House actually wanting her, not for her body, for her actual personality could kill her. 

She still remembers the time when he said he hired her because she was like the art piece in the lobby. Though she’s happy that he thinks she’s attractive, there’s so much more to her. House wants to see past her hair and her ass, he wants to know her favourite foods, and how she processes information. 

It took every fibre of her being to not squeal as she was in that elevator. 

This conversation better go well, and he better answer his damn door.

There’s a smile on her face that she couldn’t erase, even if she tried.

Chapter Text

Cameron approaches the concrete stairs of House’s home. The subtle patter of her flats against the stairs mimics the peculiar calmness that is slowly spiraling through her heart. Wilson’s words play on her mind, his subtle or not so subtle hint of there being potential between House and Cameron is what's dragging her feet closer and closer to his door.

She pauses. This is it.

She wonders if she will remember this as a huge moment, something monumental akin to claiming a trophy. Her eyes slowly close, a deep breath follows, the earthy smell of the ground after the rain had passed wafts through her nose. 

It felt odd to admit, but she was trying to hang onto every detail of this moment. What she was wearing, what he would be wearing, the way his eyes were to shift from normality to something more loving, something more fit for Cameron.

Her hand lifts, her knuckles making contact with the varnished wooden door, the porch seemed very neat, something she didn’t expect from House. Her gaze lingers at the deep brown of the door, her hand falling to her side.

No response.

Wilson said he was home? Cameron sighs lightly and knocks the door harder this time, making sure to get a couple of extra knocks in, her hand swings down more sloppily this time.

No response.

Cameron looks for a doorbell, maybe she was missing something. She knocks like last time, however she decided it was time to add a bit more pressure into it. Seeing him was a need, like an itch you just have to scratch.

“House?” Cameron shouted, loud enough so he could hear, but not so she would disturb his neighbours. The place wasn’t that far from the hospital, probably under 10 minutes on a good day. It was oddly suburban, but it somehow still felt like where she imagined House would live. 

No response.

The calmness that inhabited her heart once before has been taken over by the unrelenting force of panic. Why didn’t he want to see her? Was Wilson mistaken, or did he even tell the truth at all. Cameron was just so tired, overtired, her shift at the hospital today was not only long but was packed with quite tragic events. Her eyelids were heavy, her heart working overtime to pump adrenaline through her body.

She knocks again, looking at the exterior of the house, not seeing any lights on. 

“House!” Cameron raised her voice louder, hoping that the neighbours wouldn’t be too angry with her. Her hand instinctually reaches for the door handle, wiggling it furiously. Cameron wasn’t stupid, she knew it would be locked, but there was a part of her who hoped he had just forgotten. 

Tingling. In her fingers. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” she mumbles hastily to herself, on the off chance House could hear her. 

Cameron has a past with anxiety, it was evident in the way she treated the euthanasia case a little bit ago. Or the time that woman was going to lose her baby. She hated losing patients. It made her feel like all of her years at school, her purpose was obsolete because she couldn’t help these people who were just like her. After those cases she would go to the lab and nurse herself through the anxiety attacks that ensued. No one knew, not even her team, not even her boss.

Her voice became undoubtedly animalistic, distressed, in moments. 

“House!” Cameron yelled out brokenly, not even acknowledging the surrounding neighbours.

A sharp but unstable inhale grabs a hold of her, a sob breaking out into the darkness that surrounded her. The adrenaline washing through her system was overwhelming, her exhaustion breaking her down, tears flowed solidly, a drop hit the porch she stood on. 

Cameron acts only on irrationality now. She wasn’t capable of thinking while in this state, the lack of oxygen she was getting from the ceaseless hyperventilation wasn’t helping her brain whatsoever.

She banged on the door harder, turning her fists so that the side of her hand, her pinky fingers made contact with the door first. It made it easier to hit, a louder noise came from the hits she was making on the door. She didn’t stop hitting the door, over and over, her heart felt like it was in rhythm with it all. 

“House! Please!” she squealed, her voice undeniably deafening, “Open the fucking door!”

Her breaths didn’t slow as she gave up on knocking, pushing her entire weight into the door, sliding down it melodramatically. Her hands were red, probably bruised in the morning where she had been beating the door. They shook intensely, her vision blurred as she sat on the doormat, gently knocking her head against the door.

“House…” she croaked out, his name throwing another tidal wave of emotion toward her. Another gargantuan sob tried to relieve the pure panic her anxiety was giving her.
“Hey, what’s going on? Are you okay?” A stranger appears beside her, observing her, her eyes scattering across her frantically. Cameron looks at her, but the way Cameron tries to move her body doesn’t even feel real, like she’s not really here at all. 

“I,” Cameron hiccups erratically, causing the pause in her speech, “I’ll be okay.”

Cameron realises the woman in front of her must be one of House’s neighbours, another surge of panic rising.

“I’m so sorry,” she sniffles, starting to calm down after getting an apology out into the open, “I didn’t mean to yell like that, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Tears still roll down her face, her guilt combating her anxiety, winning the battle.

“Hey, it’s okay. This stuff happens sometimes. Do you need a ride home?” The woman helped Cameron up off the ground, giving her a hand up.

“No, no, it’s fine. I drove, thanks anyway,” she replies, starting to scurry away as quickly as she could. The embarrassment of knowing everyone heard her breakdown is leaving an already stale pain. 

“Drive safe!” The mystery woman yelled out, but Cameron had already slammed the door of her car, speeding off from the scene.

How could Wilson just lie to her like that? Why was House not home? All hopes of her and House were crushed under her raw hands against the wooden door. Her tears still flowed, and she knows they will be for a lot longer tonight. 

Chapter Text

The smell of the familiar coffee wafted through the differential room. Cameron was on her third cup of the day as she had already been here for four hours. She checks her watch,

11.03am

Where was House? It wasn’t unusual for him to be late, but on a day like today? Where Cameron had gotten up at 4am this morning just to ice her eyes back down to a less puffy state and dressed herself up way more than usual for work. 

As she was laying in her bed last night, tossing and turning due to the little show she performed on House’s doorstep, she decided that if he was home and heard her hysterics, he was a total and complete asshole for letting her go on like that. If he wasn’t home, at least maybe her look might make him more willing to talk to her privately, if he ever arrives. 

She made sure to wash her hair to give herself a flawless blowout for the day. Her makeup was a lot heavier, her perfume and lotion lathered on to last the entire work day. 

Finally, she took a leaf out of Cuddy’s book. Cuddy always wears the most fabulous put together outfits, with a hint of cleavage that drives all the men in her department insane, to varying degrees. 

Cameron’s outfit had her favourite work pants, the ones that look like they were custom made, her legs and ass perfectly displayed like an art piece through the fabric’s medium. However, she decided to wear a shirt she has never worn to work thus far, something a little riskier but still appropriate. She hopes that Cuddy’s tactic works just as well for her.

As she turned around from the coffee maker, Foreman and Chase’s eyes darted away from her suspiciously, like guilty dogs.

“Thank you Cuddy,” Cameron whispered to herself, pushing her head slightly down so the other two couldn’t hear her. She makes her way to sit down at the differential desk, joining them.

“So, what are we going to do about this case? House still isn’t here,” Cameron started the conversation to take pressure off of the two men struggling on the other side of the desk. Though, the way she said House felt a little shaky. She needed to work on that before he actually got here. Cameron clears her throat slightly.

“Uhm, well, I say we just make a decision and go for it. Not our fault he can’t show up,” Foreman replies confidently, the shimmer in his eyes of being able to call the shots is suddenly crushed by Chase’s interjection.

“No, I say we wait for him to get here. He’s going to kill us if we start without him.”

Foreman rolls his eyes, checking his watch, scoffing.

“It’s literally five past eleven, I don’t know about you guys, but we need to administer something,” Foreman adds onto his point.

“You guys keep arguing, I’m going to ask Wilson if he knows where House is,” Cameron says, addressing them both. She stands up from the office chair, exiting the differential room, feeling the other two doctors' eyes on her, like hawks. She scoffs to herself, taking the short trip to Wilson’s office. Men really are just simple creatures.

The knocks on Wilson’s door sting, the redness on her hands from last night turned into gnarly bruises, all over her knuckles and the sides of her hands. A small sigh runs away from her before she can catch it. 

“Hi,” Wilson scans her chest instinctively, covering it up with a pathetic clearing of his throat, “Cameron, come in.” She accepts his offer, smirking at the attention she was getting today, sitting in the chair across from him. 

“So, how did it go?” Wilson asks, his face trying to stay non-chalant, but his eyes glistened in hopes that it went well.

“He wasn’t home. Or at least, he didn’t open the door and all the lights were off by eight-thirty,” Cameron responded blandly, a tinge of anger searing through her vocal cords. Wilson looked extremely bewildered, his mouth slightly dropping open.

“I- That’s so odd,” Wilson continued, eyebrows still furrowed, “So have you tried to talk to him today?”

Cameron froze. Wilson thinks House is here today. She can feel the coffee she just finished half of turn in her stomach.

“Well that’s kind of why I’m here,” Cameron got out quicker this time, her heart starting to pick up it’s pace, “He still isn’t here, where is he?”

Now Wilson froze. Cameron’s hands started to shake.

“I, I don’t know,” Wilson replied, puzzled, matching his concern to the level of Cameron’s.

“Oh my God,” Cameron’s hand came up to rub her forehead slightly, Wilson catching a glimpse of the bruises on her hands. He stood up quickly grabbing her hand, a wince escaped Cameron’s mouth.

“What, how… who?” Wilson looked at Cameron with a concern that she had only seen a few times, only directed towards House. It made her feel kind of, special.

“I,” Cameron lets out an exasperated sigh, “It was me.” 

Wilson’s face didn’t change, he was waiting for more context. Cameron felt heat flood to her cheeks, she didn’t want to reveal her act from last night, but she decides that WIlson will be able to help her find House. Now that she knows Wilson wasn’t leading her astray, she relents some of her insecurity to tell him the truth.

“I kind of, got myself into a bit of a panic on House’s doorstep. I was essentially trying to kill the door with my bare hands,” Cameron unloaded the information nervously, Wilson now holding both her hands, flipping them around to examine them. The look in his eyes whispered a lingering anger, for whom she didn't know. 

“I was- yelling so loud one of House’s neighbours came to check if I was okay, I kind of just got up and left…” Cameron’s voice trailed off, the blush on her cheeks was all-consuming, they felt like they were burning under her makeup. 

When she got no response from Wilson, she felt the guilt from that night all over again, like that anger in his eyes was directed towards her. Maybe she really was in the wrong, she felt like a loser.

“I’m sorry,” her voice retreated to a shaky quietness, her eyes starting to sting.

She felt Wilson’s hands on her arms, dragging her up to envelop her in a hug. Her arms made their way around his back after the shock had worn off. She was going to make a joke, but maybe now wasn’t the right time. Wilson had a special place in her heart, that was entirely different to how House consumed her whole being. Sometimes she thinks in an alternate universe they would have given a relationship a shot together. 

“It’s not your fault, I sent you there, I should have known he would run off, like he always does,” Wilson starts softly but fades into something heavier. Cameron lets go, Wilson in tow.

“Like he always does?” Cameron asks, her tears thankfully not spilling, as she spent a long time on her eyes. 

“Whenever he’s faced with a difficult,” Wilson starts, trying to find the right words to describe House’s behaviour. It must be a hard feat trying to excuse and explain House’s behaviour all the time, she feels sorry for him. “Emotional dilemma, he takes his bike and goes off for days at a time, turns his cell off so no one can find him. He always comes back within 3 days, don’t worry.”

“But what if he gets into a crash and we don’t know?” Cameron frets openly now that her emotions have been shared with Wilson already. 

“Look, it’s never happened but all we can do is wait, I’m sorry,” Wilson fiddles with the fabric of his tie. 

“But I want to see him,” Cameron gets out, sadness reverting to anger, she feels a little like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“I know, but if it helps, it’s already been about 14 hours since he ran off, he will be back,” Wilson tries to make this better for Cameron, but is clearly failing. Cameron’s arms cross, a newfound rage hijacking her system.

“He better come back. I swear to God!” Cameron bit out loudly, storming towards the door, slamming it, out of control of her nervous system. Wilson crosses his arms at the now closed wooden door, cursing House for running off. This is not going to go well.

Sometimes Cameron has trouble controlling her emotions. Ok, maybe it’s most of the time, the last couple of days being an example of her not being able to keep it in her pants three times, a panic attack and now unregulated anger issues. But she really couldn’t help it, the frustration of not being able to tell House how she feels right now feels like the aching pain that lingers in her hands.

Her feet have dragged her back to the differential room, the slither of hope she had of House coming back crushes her as the view of only Chase and Foreman at the desk is processed in her mind.

She sits down at the desk, flipping her cell open as Chase and Foreman bombard her with questions. Cameron starts to type House’s number into her phone, she knows Wilson said House turns his phone off, but it can’t hurt to try, right?

“Where’s House?” Chase and Foreman ask in unison, side-eyeing each other, their gawking from earlier remixing into a sense of urgency for the patient that they haven’t started treating yet. Cameron can feel the undesired emotion making her clench her jaw, she can already sense she isn’t going to be the easiest girl to get along with until House gets back.

“I don’t know,” Cameron grits out as she holds her phone up to her ear, the dreaded extension of the ringing on the other end of the phone only feeds the monster that's unfortunately going to terrorise everyone in her department.

“Well is he okay?” Chase asks, always favouring House and his opinion. Somehow in this state, it made Cameron’s jealousy surge, even though the two men aren’t gay. Well maybe Chase is, never say never.

“I don’t know, can we stop talking about this? We have a patient who needs us,” Cameron bites out, her patience non-existent, all she can think of is, ‘No, I need you House’. 

Chase and Foreman are rightfully annoyed and confused at Cameron’s reaction, but the one thing that they can’t say she is is wrong. Foreman sighs, already piecing together a solution to propose to the smaller team. 

Cameron stays quiet, only nodding or shaking her head where necessary. She knows Foreman can cover this case, but all she can do is think about House. What would she do if he, no.
She can’t think about that right now. Not yet anyway.

“I can do whatever tests in the lab,” Cameron manages to propose to Foreman, who looks at her suspiciously.

“Is everything okay?” Foreman asks, replaying the events from yesterday in his mind. No wonder why she is distraught, she wants to see House for an in-doctor visit again. He hides his smirk eloquently.

“Yeah, I just need to be away from people for a bit, just one of those days, you know,” Cameron sighs, her hand reaching to rub her forehead again, she stifles her movement to not make the same mistake she did last time with Wilson. 

“Yeah, we can tell- ow!” Chase snarked but quickly developed his speech into a whiny yelp thanks to Foreman’s elbow in his rib.

“All good, head on down, I’ll get a nurse to deliver all the bloods, etcetera,” Foreman said calmly, completely drawing away from his last action.

“Thank you,” Cameron broke her stream of irritancy to flash him a grateful smile. She stood up and left, quickly but calculated.

As she left the room, she sighed in relief, heading for the lab.

Hopefully House would show in 2 days, like Wilson said. It felt so long, too long. 

But what could she do except wait?

Chapter Text

The jingle of keys were unmuffled as House removed his helmet. He sat on the bike, unwilling to move. If he moved it meant he was back to reality, back to his breath-taking, undoubtedly gorgeous problem. He sighed, his hands still resting on the handlebars. 

As he encroached closer to Rhode Island, a place far enough away from all the noise, but still conveniently close to Princeton, he refused to think about it. Give himself a few hours peace before he practically tore his mind apart, lifting up couches and emptying full drawers of his mind looking for answers. 

He made his way to the boardwalk to sit on the beach. Normally, he would think this is cheesy but looking at the sunrise a couple of hours later reminded him of how precious Cameron’s nature was. How he could affect her entire perception of reality, even if she didn’t want to fix him. 

He was the issue. Not Cameron. His teeth grit together, anger building within him. He just needs to see her, to calm himself down. Maybe Wilson was right, he should confess how he feels so that he can just hold her. It wasn’t even about sex anymore. 

She makes him feel stable, confident in his decisions. Does his paperwork, keeps him focused on the area that he is best at. Now all he could do was think about her, every thought consumed by her beautiful brown hair, her gorgeous green eyes twinkling under the stark light of the hospital. 

He was so pathetic. But yet the only reason that he was angry was that he hadn’t stayed and talked to her.

He needs to see her.

A slight breeze of wind bristles through House’s hair. That one sentence alone was the only thing that had been motivating him to come back home. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say, or do, for that matter. 

He knows he needs to go inside and clean himself up before returning to the hospital, though. 

He pulls his cane off of his bike, hobbling up to his front door, but he sees his neighbour, Lily, in his peripheral vision. What does she want? On a bit of a time crunch here.

“Hey, Greg. Sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to tell you there was someone here last night at your door,” she quickly states, trying to hurry her information.

“If it was Wilson, he’s about to see me in thirty minutes anyway,” House replies, starting to walk away.

“Not Wilson,” Lily says hurriedly to get House to turn around, which works, “It was a girl.”
House’s expression changes to puzzled, he obviously didn’t order any hookers while he was gone. Even then, hookers weren’t a regular thing, they shouldn’t have been at his door. 

“She had dark hair, thin frame, pale skin. She was– pretty upset. I saw her walk up to your door calmly at first but after you didn’t answer the third time…” Lily trails off, trying to just cut the conversation short, hoping House didn’t know the girl at all.

Dark hair, thin frame… House didn’t have to scramble through the list of women he knew to know who it was. 

Cameron.

House’s confusion suddenly turned into a sense of urgency, something Lily had never seen in her neighbour before, ever. They’d been living next to each other for 10 years.

“What– What did she do after the third time Lily?” House got out, his voice almost shaky, uncertain whether he wanted to know or not.

“I- House, I’m assuming you know her, so I’ll tell you the lengthy version. She was practically banging down your door, the poor thing really had a go at it, her hands were really red, probably bruised by now,” Lily replied, sympathy travelling through her words.

House froze. He unintentionally made Cameron upset again, all because he was in stupid, cheesy Rhode Island. His anger turned to rage, furious at the world for letting him leave, for letting her show up at his door while he was away, for not letting him be there to comfort her. God, this woman was changing him in ways he couldn’t even describe.

Lily continued on, finishing her story, “She was in hysterics, lots of sobs, her voice was insanely shrill, super loud, Mike and I heard it from the other side of the house. That’s when I decided to go out to help her, by the time I got there, she had sunk to sit on your doormat, slightly knocking her head against the door, the poor thing. Practically jetted off once she realised the disturbance she had made.”

House’s heart was filled with an unnerving ache and a sickening fury that honestly scared himself. 

“What was she saying?” House barely replied, his voice quiet compared to the enormous nature of his feelings.

“Basically just your last name, I thought she was probably from the hospital. I think the thing she screamed the loudest was ‘House please open the fucking door,’” Lily said slowly, watching House’s mannerisms become agitated, he ran his hand through his hair. 

“I– I have to go,” House muttered, practically running to his door, unlocking it hastily and slipping inside with a dramatic bang of his front door. Lily sighed. She better not have to help this girl up off of his porch every week.

He had a quick shower, changing his clothes, purely thinking about Cameron on his doorstep. All he wanted was to tell her it was okay. A week ago he wouldn’t have even been close to being in this situation, it’s haunting.

As he locks his door again, he rushes to his bike, uncontrollable anger and emotional pain blinding all rationality. He checks his watch momentarily.

6.37pm

He still had time, but that didn’t stop him from racing off.

Chapter Text

Chase and Foreman had decided to join Cameron in the lab, much to Chase’s dismay, as Cameron had informed him earlier today of her reckless mistakes regarding Chase. 

The conversation had gone over smoothly, but Chase was still pretty disappointed, to say the least. He didn’t know why she wouldn’t want to pursue him at the time, but now that he saw how much she was fretting at House’s absence, her hands constantly running through her hair, it all made sense.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Cameron still wasn’t over House. A subtle ache turned in Chase’s heart as he looked at how beautiful she was, her glasses perched on top of her nose as she concentrated, thick waves and curls contrasted by the stark white of her labcoat.

Foreman was still talking about the game from last night, which Chase would usually be invested in, adding his comments in continuously, but the girl in front of him was making his focus slide, tumbling down a mountain rapidly.

“Hey, what’s up?” Foreman asks Chase, his eyes dragging to Cameron, who was truly and completely invested in the work in front of her. 

She really had to be, to make these days go by faster. Every minute she didn’t know where House was, the more her worries and fears caressed her brain, dancing along the intricate texture and infecting her thoughts into something more sinister, scenarios where House was injured, or worse. 

There were no words to describe her anger for herself, for letting herself dump the situation on House. She was even more furious at House, in a hypocritical, self-serving way, that connected to her fears, crystallising and morphing to create a new emotion she had never seen in herself before. 

He decided to take off, not letting anyone know, lying to Wilson of his whereabouts. 

She was so mad, but she was mad about him. The things she would do to look in his eyes right now almost made tears well in her eyes again. Cameron pushes them back down.

Chase sighs, his eyes pulling away from Cameron, unwilling.

“I’ll talk to you-” Chase is interrupted by the door to the lab, swinging open ruthlessly. The intrusion made the group all jump, Cameron let out a slight yelp, as the mixture of her current skittish nature and her broken concentration made her an easy target. Before Cameron has time to register who is walking towards her, she hears his voice.

“Why were you at my door?” House boomed, his voice encompassing the molecules of the room. Chase and Foreman were forgotten by both parties when Cameron opened her mouth, trying to respond.

House had untreatable fury racing through his body, his grip on his cane was the only self-soothing he could do. Truthfully, he wasn’t only frustrated with himself, but with Cameron.

He hated when his neighbours knew about his business, and the fact that she decided to come to his door on the one night when he wasn’t home? He knew this was entirely irrational, but he couldn’t stop his heart from controlling his mind. It was entirely unlike him, and it was terrifying.

“I- uh, h-,” Cameron tried to explain herself, but pure shock and adrenaline stifled her words, pushing them back down her throat and back into the corners of her mind, locking them away and throwing the key outside of the lab.

How did he find out? Maybe he was really home the entire time? Why was he so angry?

These questions were the first that arose, but the most important question came forth, rapidly, key in hand to let itself be free.

“Why were you at my door, Cameron!” House erupted again, trying to get Cameron to say something, anything. His body getting abnormally close to hers again as she was still seated.

Cameron stood up, the anger that she had felt in Wilson’s office when he told her he would be gone for days finds her strength.

“Where did you end up going, huh?” Cameron mouths off to him, her head tilting up to look him dead in his intoxicating eyes.

The smell of his cologne registers in her nose, slightly impacting her choice of words, “Where were you?”

House feels his teeth clamp together at the fact that Cameron is questioning his stupid, careless mistake.

“Doesn’t matter. Answer my damn question!” House responds, his voice still very much raised, no signs of it lowering.

“No! You answer mine, you could’ve died House!” Cameron feels tears sting at her eyes, attacking her last slither of rationality.

“Don’t cry. You can’t cry right now,” House inches away to escape the emotion that is about to pour out of Cameron.

A secret he’s kept from everyone, even from himself for a period of time. 

He can’t stand to hear or see Cameron upset. It pulls and sways his emotions too much, he gets enveloped, tangled in her tears. It’s the most he’s ever felt for someone in his life, including himself. 

House needs to remain angry, remain distant. She can’t possibly want him if he’s angry, the walls need to stay firmly up.

“I can, because you’re, you’re a fucking idiot H-House. Why do you think I c-came to your door?” Cameron manages to get out firmly between sniffles, a loud sob escapes her lips at the implicit confession. 

If he is this angry, maybe he truly doesn’t want her. Maybe Wilson was mistaken. It was the wrong time to put this idea out in the open, but she didn’t care. She knew her feelings were about to be hurt but she would tell the truth, wholly and completely. Living alone without knowing the answer would kill her faster than being hurt by House’s answer.

Her sob makes House flinch, his last piece of self-control is barely hanging on. The sentence she tacked on messily at the end makes him think there's a shimmer of hope that she might want something more than sex, something where he can wipe her tears and calm her sobs down. 

For now though, all he can do is stand hopelessly and humour the conversation, play the part to see the end result. No matter how much he wants to close the gap between them, he needs answers. The first time hearing her truly sob makes his chest hurt so badly he almost reaches up to make sure he’s not dying. 

“Why did you?” he croaks out, his voice barely above a whisper. He moves back to his initial position, her tears glimmer under the low lab lighting. He grits his teeth.

“House,” Cameron almost whines, the jittery mess of her nervous system makes it feel impossible to provide the answer he’s hinting around, the answer he’s digging for.

Her emotions feel so surreal, she just wants him to grab her and not let go.

“Pl-” House cuts himself off, sighing. He hates to look this vulnerable.

“Please,” House pushes himself to say the word, but when it is produced it sounds so natural, so perfect in Cameron’s ears.

“I want you, House. I wake up and I think about you. I come to work and I think about you. I go to sleep and I dream about you, what we could be,” Cameron starts, her voice shaky, but her eye contact is so precise and strong that House could just lose her words looking into her eyes. So vulnerable. 

House doesn’t care if that’s socially frowned upon. He loves to see the innocence in her eyes, harnessing the control because he’s in charge, because he’s older. Freud is somewhere having a field day.

“Just let me in, please,” Cameron inches closer without touching him, to be able to look up at him. House understands her implicit request, both times over. 

The way her tears still flow are now breaking pieces off of his heart. He can finally tell her it’s okay. His cane falls to the ground with a loud clatter, discarded already.

House’s right hand immediately hooks into her hair, his left hand grabbing at her cheek quite roughly, his lips crash into hers abruptly. Cameron is quick to reciprocate, grabbing both sides of his head, feeling the stubble under her fingers. 

Being able to finally feel his lips, his stubble, to taste him is so overwhelming that it brings a tsunami of emotion she doesn’t even try to stop. Her tears pour out of her eyes, sobs transferring from her own mouth and into his.

He pulls away, to talk into her ear, both his hands now grabbing her face. Her hands fall to rest on his back.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” House speaks to her quietly, though, now he realises that there were three people in here, and probably still is. 

House can’t bring himself to look and break the moment. They’ve already seen enough anyway, so he just continues to talk to her at a normal volume, moving his arm to snake around her waist, bringing her impossibly close.

“I’m here,” House continued, his voice disarmed and broken. Her tears continued to flow effortlessly, sobs still surrounding the pair. He doesn’t know how to calm her down, because truthfully he thought that might help, but it didn’t. Not even a little.

His other hand snakes around her upper back, his hand landing on the back of her head to stroke her hair. 

“Cameron, my precious girl, it’s okay,” House mumbles into her hair, the pet name sends an illicit shiver down both of their spines.

House hopes that wasn’t too far, meanwhile Cameron just wants him to say it again.

“H- Hou-” 

“Shhh… we’re okay,”

“Say i-it again,” Cameron’s eyes peek up at House’s puzzled expression at her request, forming into a warm smile. Something he can do to cheer her up.

“My precious baby,” he spins the last word in the fleeting moment, testing the waters, his finger grazing the side of her face, reliving the moment in the differential room kitchen.

House only wishes he could take a photo of the smile that beamed on her face.

Cameron’s smile suddenly fades, House gathers she’s remembered that it’s most likely not just the two of them in the room anymore. Her head moves slowly, hesitantly towards Foreman and Chase. 

Foreman has been trying silently to get Chase to leave ever since House arrived in the room, who is still trying, but freezes as the two pairs of eyes land on him.

Chase sits, stewing on hate and embarrassment. How could Cameron lead him on like this? It’s clear this wasn’t just a one and done moment, it had tension, it had been building, probably while Chase and Cameron had slept together. Their realisation makes him stand up, storming out of the room.

Foreman looks back at the new couple, mouthing ‘I’m sorry’, before quickly scurrying off behind Chase.

Cameron couldn’t help the warmth she felt in her chest just being next to House in this context. She could care less what Chase thinks of the person she’s wanted for so long. If he can’t handle this, he can leave. Now all she wanted to do was absorb every aspect of House.

House was expecting this to impact Cameron more, considering her sweet temperament, but she doesn’t seem to care an awful lot. She lets out a small giggle, nestling her head back against House’s chest, letting herself sway as her arms are tightly wrapped around his torso.

House couldn’t wipe the smile off his face, he was so undeniably screwed. 

He loved every second of it. 

Chapter Text

Cameron and House decided to just call off work early, not wanting to face the other two employees, going their separate ways. 

However, before they left, they both decided that they were most definitely dating. This happened with a quick ‘So are we-’ from Cameron and an interrupting but loving ‘Yes’ from House. Quick, painless, easy. 

She couldn’t say the same about the bruises that were attempting to heal on her hands. House hadn’t commented on it yet, she was hoping maybe he wouldn’t notice until they were a little less purple and yellow.

Cameron laid in bed, her mind still frenzied and alive after her moment with House. She wanted to talk to him tomorrow about some rules she had thought about, things that will knit the relationship together securely. She hopes he doesn’t think they’re stupid, equally that he agrees with them.

She sat up, grabbing the notepad and pen from her first drawer, jotting down the basic point for each rule.

1. No sex until we’ve been on 3 dates.

Cameron was proud of this, a lot of resistance and self-control went into that one. She thinks that they need to form a sort of emotional bond before having sex. She also thinks it will make the sex better if they’ve been around each other as a couple for a while. This point is put forward first because she thinks it will be the hardest to convince House on.

2. Our relationship will not be kept under wraps.

She hates secrecy. What she hates more is trying to lie about the thing she’s the most proud of. Hopefully House is just as eager to show her off, or this may sting.

Now, the last rule will be hard to run through without wanting to rip his clothes off in the hospital, but this was really important to her and she needs to know now how committed House is to their relationship.

3. Be open to all forms of experimentation. I will do anything for you and you will do anything for me.

Her heart thumps hard at all the things she had been craving to try, with any partner, but with House? It might kill her, and she would let it.

She quickly puts the notepad over her cellphone so she won't forget it in the morning, turning over to attempt to sleep.

Meanwhile, with House, it had only taken a few minutes of appreciation, excitement and desire filled thoughts to put him out like a light. The sooner he saw Cameron, the better. He wanted to be well-rested, as he has no idea what his day will look like tomorrow.

The one thing he did before bed was text Wilson, because if Chase and Foreman knew, the whole hospital would know by eleven tomorrow morning.

“Cameron and I are dating now, see you tomorrow.”
He wanted it to be slightly ominous to make Wilson guess how it all had happened, riling him up was the funniest thing.

After the first three pings from his cell, he muted it and went to sleep, wishing Cameron was next to him.

—

“Twenty-six year old male, complete loss of taste and smell. Go,” House orders, the three doctors sitting in front of him brainstorm furiously.

House noticed that Cameron’s shirt was lower cut yesterday, and today it was even lower. Her hair was more styled than usual, and the lipgloss she wore was darker, shinier. Was it bad that he wanted to lick it off, until her lips were clean and raw? His objectifications felt justified, now that they were actually dating.

The better question was is she doing this just for him? The thought is making him so wired he adjusts the way he is standing, pulling his focus back into the differential. He’s going to save that question for later.

“Viral Hepatitis,” Cameron put forward first, hoping House wouldn’t treat her medical knowledge any differently now that they were together. 

“Doesn’t explain the smell,” House immediately replied, Cameron let out a small smile at the fact that nothing had changed.

“What if it was Viral Hep and he’s just done a lot of drugs through his nose?” Foreman asked, trying to give House an obscure diagnosis, just how he prefers them.

“Mmmm, no. But you would know a lot about that, wouldn’t you?” House mocked.

“What? House, I stole a car, I wasn’t doing lines,” Foreman interjects, unimpressed.

“Yeah, yeah, what else?” House continued, brushing Foreman’s concerns aside.

“I’m thinking neurological, Parkinson’s or MS?” Chase threw his hat into the ring, House smirked.

“Good, take the history, and do a CT, I knew I could count on you Wombat,” House jokes, Chase’s small smile of victory almost makes Foreman burst out in laughter.

“Now go, I have porn to watch, or to do performance reviews, I can’t remember,” House says sarcastically, but glances at Cameron, who has now developed a soft pink tinge across the bridge of her nose and on her cheeks.

The other two doctors leave, Cameron purposefully lagging behind. As soon as they’re out the door, Cameron opens the adjacent door to House’s office, grabbing House’s free hand, dragging him. 

“Slow down little lady, I know you’re young and fit but if you didn’t notice, I have a bum leg,” House jokes, pretending to reveal his leg injury as if she didn’t even know.

Cameron giggles lightly, closing the blinds. Fuck, her laugh was not mixing well with the thoughts he had before, his arousal sitting close to the surface already.

“Wow, you already want to have sex?” House says amused at the signal she just sent by closing his office blinds. 

“Not exactly, I just wanted some privacy. Go, sit down,” Cameron replies sweetly, rather than making it an order, it was more a plea. 

House wasn’t one to object. He went to his office chair, sitting down, waiting for Cameron’s next move. She walks towards him, straddling his lap. The chair slightly spins, making the chair turn to the side. Her eyes darted to the monitor, nothing but boring peer reviews. A smile almost reaches her lips but she pushes it down.

“Is this okay, it doesn’t hurt your leg?” Cameron asks inquisitively, looking towards his sore leg.

“No, it’s perfectly comfortable, sometimes some pressure helps it anyway,” House explains, he knows how careful and anxious Cameron can be, trying to put her at ease.

At that answer, Cameron leans down slowly, kissing him passionately, her arms just hovering over his shoulders, the weight of them resting on the back of the chair. House’s hands brush from her hips and up to her waist, only on top of her clothes to start, but slowly creep underneath, lightly darting along her waistline. House’s arousal from earlier is most definitely accelerated.

Cameron’s list is pushed to the back of her mind momentarily, just to try something to heat up the moment. What better time to try something than now, right?

Her lips unlock from House’s, her breathing heavier than before. Though she was pretty wired, she still needed to make sure this didn’t hurt him.

Cameron pushes her hips down slowly, grinding against House’s crotch, trying to make it as sensual as she could, her mouth agape, but barely, as she takes a shaky inhale in.

“Does that hurt?” Her smile, tension-filled and hot went straight to his cock.

Cameron sees a look in his eyes that she has never seen before, his eyes darkening, his eyelids slightly relaxing into a more hooded fashion.

“Mm, fuck Cameron, you have no idea what you do to me,” House’s voice was deeper, more gruff, more possessive, and for Cameron, more beautiful.

The way he said her name in this voice made her heart skip a beat, but she needs to put the rules out in the open before she goes any further.

“I know, but I do have something important to talk through,” Cameron starts, House’s deeper eyes turning into complaining ones.

“What, now? Can you not feel me against you?” House asks, almost whining in annoyance.

She could, she really could. It was all consuming being this close to his cock, only a few layers of fabric separating her from its glory.

“I- I can, very much so,” Cameron blushed, revelling in the thought, “But I was thinking last night about some… rules,” She winced waiting for his scoff.

“Tsk, of course you did. I wouldn’t expect any less from you.” House replied imminently, as if it was just obvious that she had these ready to go.

That was not the tone of scoff she was expecting, but she wasn’t complaining. He knows her. This made her smile goofily.

“Ok, one second,” Cameron pulls the notepad out of her pocket, flipping through the pages to find the right one. A sudden hand grabs hers.

“Hey, what are these?” House found her bruises. He traced them softly, his hand touching the knuckle caused her to wince slightly. 

“Did someone do this to you?” House spat out, his arousal from before coming to a sudden halt as his possessiveness crept in.

This shocked Cameron, in the sense that he was so possessive of her, as if he owned her. The thought knocked a harsh breath out of her, she just loved everything about him.

“Just myself, you know how I was at your door?” Cameron replied, waiting for his response to continue.

House nods silently, still sitting her hands in his, making sure to not hurt her again.

“I,” Cameron felt heat creep into her cheeks, even though House probably knows somehow, it was still extremely embarrassing to relive, “I kind of got really upset, and carried away with the task of knocking on your door.”

House sighs, his eyebrows slightly furrowed in concern for the latter, “My neighbour told me you were trying to break the damn door down, that’s why I rushed to see you yesterday,” 

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t’ve taken a ride to Rhode Island, I turned around early because I wanted to see you,” His lips met slightly, barely touching her hand as he kissed each one.

Cameron's breath hitched in her throat, now she was the possessive one.

“It’s okay, but don’t do it again. I was worried sick once you didn’t show up to work the next day,” she said this sincerely but with a certain sternness that made House nod immediately, his arms coming to rest around her lower back.

“So, what are the rules?” House asked, changing the subject to something he preferred, now that it was all cleared up.

“Ok, Rule one, and hear me out here, no sex until we’ve been on 3 dates.” Cameron puts the rule out to her audience, expecting uproar, maybe a popcorn bucket thrown at her, landing over her head.

“Sure, that makes sense. But we can still kiss and stuff right?” House answered so blandly, but his eyes carried so much hope that he was still able to hold her close, like he was able to do right now.

Cameron giggled, her eyes crinkling at the corners, “Of course.”

“I love when you do that,” House admits quickly, in a slight shock that he even said that out loud. 

“Do what? Laugh?” Cameron asks.

House makes an affirmative grunt, bringing his other hand back up to her waist again.

“You’re easy to please,” Cameron smirks at him, looking back down to her list.

“I’m glad that was easier, rule two, our relationship will not be kept under wraps,” Cameron continued, looking up from the notepad to gauge House’s initial reaction.

“Did you say it won’t be kept under wraps?” House asked, genuine.

“Yes. I just hate secrets, I don’t want to create that environment,” Cameron replies, clearly something else was on the tip of her tongue though, as House didn’t look fully convinced.

“And, I want to be seen with you. Want you to show me off,” she mutters out shyly, her head slightly dipped down, a strand of her hair falling in front of her vision. House reaches out and tucks it back behind her ear in awe.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me,” he responds, easing her nerves of how that would be received.

“I’m glad you’re feeling soppy and chilled out, because the last rule is kind of…” Cameron trails off, trying to get him to finish her sentence for her.

“Sexual?” House guesses, his thumb rubbing small circles into her waist.

“Yeah…” Cameron starts to blush once more, but her nerves are calmed by House’s movements.

“Rule three,” she clears her throat, ready to read out the dirtiness of what she wrote on the page, “be open to all forms of experimentation. I will do anything for you and you will do anything for me.”

House’s thumb on her waist halts. His eyes have that look again, deep and hooded. Cameron feels flustered, not only by what she says but the way he looks at her, like she’s the only good thing in this cruel world.

“Wow, I’m very lucky, huh?” House licked his lips, feeling her gaze become so innocent.

“I like when you do that,” Cameron breathes out, looking into his beautiful blue eyes.

“Do what?” House questions, his voice husky once again.

“When you look at me when you’re turned on. Your eyes go all deep and your eyelids become all hooded, I feel,” Cameron almost stops herself from saying what she really wants to, “I feel so special.”

“That’s because you are,” he mutters out, his lips meeting the side of her neck, just grazing the skin. She shuddered.

“I was thinking, we combine two of our desires on our first time,” Cameron gasps as his teeth nip at her neck momentarily, “It can be broad, specific-”

“I already know what I want to do,” House murmured into her neck, his lips kissing her skin lightly, trying not to leave a big mark while at work.

“Already? But I just told you,” Cameron replies, a slight shuddery breath leaves her mouth as his tongue laps over the area he nipped at earlier.

“Can I tell you now, or is that too tempting?” House smirked, pulling away from her neck. He wants to see the way she reacts to his fantasies.

“No, tell me,” she replies immediately, almost frantic.

“Needy,” House taunted, watching her face burn up at one word.

“I want to do some foreplay of sorts, there’s something specific, if you’re okay with it,” House tests the waters, ready to explain this to her in such detail he will want to bend her over his desk right here. Cameron nods eagerly, yearning to hear it.

“I know we have quite an age gap, I want to expand on that,” House starts, “I don’t want it to be or sound predatory, but you’re 14 years younger than me, and that turns me on like you would not believe.”

He looks up at Cameron, checking to see if she’s uncomfortable, but she has her doe eyes on, the ones that drive him crazy.

“So what do you propose? I call you daddy and you pull my pigtails?” Her words are purely driven by lust. House clears his throat at the welcome nickname.

“Not quite, but I definitely don’t object to the nickname.” Cameron notes this for later, starting to throb at the thought of her fantasy mixing with this.

“I just want you to act pure, innocent, like you have no idea that you drive me wild,” House continues, leaning closer to her ear, “Then I’m going to fuck you from behind, hard. Like you’re my little plaything.”

Cameron almost moans at the thought. Instead a little whimper comes out as she grinds her hips down again, feeling House’s cock through the fabric. Her chest heaves as she holds onto his face, a loud chuckle leaving his lips.

“That’s a yes from both of us,” House smirks, “So, baby, tell me what you want.”

The nickname blinds her with arousal once over, she already wants to play into his fantasy but she refrains, she wants their first time to be unique, never experienced. Her newfound confidence takes over, she leans into his ear.

“I want you to be really rough with me, manhandle me.” Just talking is making her so horny that she keeps grinding down on him, to fuel her thoughts. His groan is like a bucket of gasoline on the fire.

“I want you to slap me, choke me, pull my hair, anything else you can think of, just use me like I’m your clueless little slut,” she pants in his ear, his grin affirms her.

House starts, lacing a hand in her hair, pulling at a handful of the roots tightly, but not too hard, to only give her a taste. Her grinding increases in pace at this motion, his lips nipping at her earlobe.

“That I am very,” House roughly murmurs into her ear, “happy to do for you, my little sl-”

His nickname is cut off by the vision of Wilson, in the doorway. When he realises what they were doing, Cameron swears the colour drains right out of his face.

Cameron throbs harder at the intrusion, her willingness to be caught registers with House. He takes this as an opportunity to exercise rule 3.

“Time and place, Wilson.” House grits out loudly, his hand still in Cameron’s hair, visibly yanking harder, making her whimper out. Wilson looks like he’s just seen a murder. He turns back around without saying a word, leaving hastily.

“That was so hot,” Cameron breathed out, House’s hand now released from her hair. 

“I remembered what I heard in that closet, see how good I am, picking up on all these things about you to help you?” House replies, his hands now resting stagnant on her back.

“You’re more than good, House, I’ll think of some nicknames and get back to you,” Cameron smiled.

“It’s probably best that he interrupted anyway, we can’t get too carried away,” Cameron continues, still feeling the ache between her legs.

“I agree, but I think we're pretty worked up,” House nods.

“I think I’m going to have to go to the bathroom, I feel like a damn teenager,” Cameron laughs through her words.

“Me too, can’t diagnose patients while thinking about you and yo-” House starts gruffly again, but Cameron interjects, getting off of his lap quite quickly.

“Ok, no more. Let’s get this out of our system and just go back to work, okay? I’ll text you for a time for our first date tonight?” Cameron asks lightly,

“Sure thing,” House gets out of the chair, grabbing his cane to walk out, “Straightened out my limp, Allison.”

She gives a hearty laugh as she follows behind him, closing the door gently.

Chapter Text

The clattering sound of House’s cane against the cafeteria table invoked a startle yelp from Wilson, who stared at House’s sandwich, ghostly and a touch pale.

“Hey bud, I’m sorry,” House starts, latching onto the confusion that operates Wilson’s gaze, his usual sarcasm absent. Wilson’s lack of response, gives House the green light to continue.

“I know it’s hard to walk in on your parents, you know…” House says, a lather of sincerity coating his voice, but the smirk on his face has other things to say. 

“House, that’s not funny,” Wilson grits out, his eyes dart back to the sandwich after realising House’s apology was fake, as per usual. A slight chuckle leaves House.

“Okay, I am sorry,” House settles back into sincerity, “I do mean it, Wilson.”

Wilson perks back up at House’s truth, but still not convinced to speak any further.

“It’s just…” House trails off, realising the cafeteria was bustling with fellow nurses, patients, people who didn’t need to hear the inner-workings of what happened in House’s office. Not that House cared if they knew about his sexual encounters, but he wanted to protect Cameron. After all, it was her workplace as well. House leans in closer, which encourages Wilson to do the same, he was such a sheep, really.

House’s voice drops to a lower murmur, “She really likes that.”

A slight tinge of rose spreads across Wilson’s cheeks, his eyebrows furrowing, mouth opening then closing once over.

“I’m going to hate myself for asking this,” Wilson rolls his eyes, already feeling the self-loathing as he exhales, his voice also lowered, “Likes what?”

House smirks, remembering Cameron’s third rule again. He wouldn’t disclose that, not without her permission after it happens anyway. He can, however, tell Wilson this more publicly known fact. Cautiously, of course.

“She likes to be watched, a voyeurism type of thing,” House is almost laughing before he sees Wilson’s reaction, his eyes widening, shock wasn’t the right word. 

No, it was something else. Wilson has a different look when he’s taken aback.

It dawned on House.

“Oh my God!” House whisper-exclaims, Wilson realising he didn’t hide that very well, at all.

“You found that hot, didn’t you?” House asks, leaning closer to Wilson, who was flustered and non-verbal.

“I- Okay, maybe,” Wilson bites out, his arms crossing over each other on the table. The shade of pink on his face was priceless.

“Look, I’m very flattered. I’m sure Cameron would be very flattered if she knew. But, we agreed we aren’t going to have sex until our third date,” House explains, watching Wilson use this as an opportunity for diversion, just as he suspects he would.

“You really like her, don't you?” Wilson continues, his turn to tease has brought him some much needed relief from the spotlight.

“Yeah,” House looks down at his sandwich, grinning goofily, “I do.”

“I’m really happy for you, House. Truly,” Wilson murmurs softly, his genuine demeanour was always so potent.

“Thanks,” House looked at Wilson’s plate, unsure of how to be this soppy with someone that wasn’t Cameron. The awkward silence dragged on, House now able to tune into the business of the cafeteria.

“By the way, you can tell her,” Wilson breaks the tension with a newfound tension that he felt blessed to revel in. Now House’s eyes widened, in the shocked way this time.

“Really?” House questioned, suspicious of this attitude of forwardness from Wilson.

“Yeah, there’s something else you could pass on. Maybe not yet, give it a while, but I want you to know I’m open to it,” Wilson starts, his arousal sitting high in his head. He knows House is very much experimental, and if Cameron is also appearing that way, now might be his opportunity.

House nods, thoughts scrambling to guess what might come out of Wilson’s mouth next. 

“If you guys want to ever experiment… with a third,” House chokes on air, his last sprinkling of composure fleeing. Wilson continues, “I’d be willing to be a part of that.”

“Wilson,” House replies, warning curates his tone, “I really don’t know how this relationship is going to go, but so far some of the things we have discussed are a little controversial.”

Wilson nods, understanding the nature of House’s sex life, he was domineering, though, now Wilson doubts if he even knows the half of it. 

“I need to know that you’re open to anything that isn’t illegal.”

Wilson gulped, this sentence going straight to his cock.

“Yes.”

House smirks, picking up his sandwich, ready to take a bite.

“I’ll pass the message on, not yet, but after we’ve tried a couple of things together. I’ll put it to the board, so to speak.” House says, as if it was just a casual topic of conversation. He takes a bite of his sandwich.

Wilson nods, trying to ignore the ache between his legs. The wait would be worth it.

“Hey Wilson?” House asked, his voice carrying a bubbly quality.

“Yeah?” Wilson replied, still on edge from their conversation.

“On a scale of one to ten, me being at a six,” House continues, Wilson trying to grapple at what they were rating on a scale.

House mutters, his joking manner taking some of the sexuality and confronting manner out of the meaning of the words, “How hard are you right now?”

It was now Wilson’s turn to choke, his water going down the wrong way, spluttering to regulate his breathing.

“Seven, you’re a bastard, you know that right?” Wilson replies, taking a deeper breath in now that he had the opportunity.

“Don’t I know it,” House chuckles, followed by Wilson’s laughter.

They really had a lot in common today.

Chapter Text

Cameron’s front door opens, the beautiful emerald silk dress fluently wrapping and pulling to show off her elegant waist. Her hair slightly curled, blown out, her dark lips sharp.

House couldn’t help but to stare, his hand slowly returning to his side as he took her in. He felt a sense of urgency, as if he should pull his eyes away, pretend that she didn’t affect him. 

It washed over him, lightly brushed his mind that this was all his, and he was all hers. A burst of chills shot through his system, like a firework. The way she was looking at him softened something within, like she could see past the lust, over the horizon. As if she was admiring him, the entire package, everything that comes with and everything that will appear. 

This felt way too deep to think about so soon into the relationship, but it was impossible to not want the rest of his life to be with her, who cares more about him than herself. It felt right, like they balanced each other out.

“House,” Cameron waved her manicured hand slightly across his face, trying to snap him out of his dazed state.

“Hi baby,” he replied, a small grin appears on his face and her face practically lights up at his pet name. House’s arm snaked around her waist, bringing her into his side as she locked her front door, his arm sitting underneath her little black bag.

“You’re so soppy with me, why don’t you have this enthusiasm towards anyone else?” Cameron inquires, her hair brushing his arm as she looks up at him through her lashes. 

“Because no one else has those eyes,” House replied, the cheesiness being painted over with slight sarcasm, he slightly smirked at her.

“See, you’re doing it again!” Cameron exclaimed, she realised where House had stopped.

“We’re taking your bike?” Cameron looked back up to House, puzzled as ever as his arm detached from her body. She secretly missed the contact. 

“Is that okay?” He touched her arm with his hand again, realising how cold she will be as the wind flutters over her skin, “Here, have my jacket.”

A leather jacket appeared in Cameron’s hands. She holds it close to her chest, grinning goofily, “Thank you. But don’t expect my hair to stay this perfect after the wind gets to it.”

House responded with a deep laugh, hopping onto the bike, shuffling forward so she could situate herself behind him. As if he would care what her hair looked like if she was with him. She swung her leg over the bike, carefully positioning the fabric of her dress so she wouldn’t flash anyone. 

House handed her his sunglasses, hastily contextualising the object due to Cameron’s confusion. 

“To protect your eyes, when we ride through the city, watching the lights with the glasses on is prettier anyway,” House explains, “Grab around my waist, tightly.”

Cameron pretended that his ordering didn’t affect her composure. She let out a slight giggle at having an excuse to cling onto House like a dropbear. He puts his helmet on, letting Cameron get comfortable, resting her head against his back. Without warning, he jets off. 

As soon as they started to approach the city, the lights that reflected off the tinted windows of skyscrapers came into view. Cameron couldn’t help but grin, House was right. To be fair, he usually always was, but it still felt special that he had sacrificed his view so she could take it all in. 

It was objectively and utterly gorgeous, mixed in with the white lights were tinges of different colours from the clubs and advertising signs. It almost felt like stained glass, the fractals of light all being perfectly highlighted and presented by the sunglasses. She gave him a tight squeeze, unable to contain her excitement at his idea for the date.

Sooner rather than later, they arrived at a burger place, House parked the bike on the street parking, helping Cameron off the bike, holding her dress down respectfully. All his little gestures made her feel so safe, so calm in his presence, like she was the female lead of a romance movie. She almost pinched herself to make sure this was real.

As she took in where she was standing, she turned to House confused, for the second time tonight. 

“Just trust me, I know it looks kind of…” House began and trailed off dramatically.

“Dodgy?” Cameron finished the sentence for him, grabbing a hold of his hand, seeing how he felt about public affection. 

“Yeah, dodgy. But it’s not, I assure you,” House grins, looking down at her hand. He squeezes it infinitely tight, enacting a little yip from Cameron. 

“What was that for?” Cameron enquired as they walked towards the entrance of the shop.

“Just making sure this is all real,” House replied, still looking straight ahead, a scarce fear darted across his face, but recedes quite quickly by the change of scenery.

Cameron caught this, but it ran away from her too quickly. Sometimes she forgets about his addiction, the way it’s affected him before. The way it could affect him in the present. Her heart aches slightly at the thought that one day he could hallucinate something like this, unable to discern what is real and what is fake. Since he pushed it away so quickly, she decides to leave it alone until it comes up again. Cameron wanted him to enjoy this night as much as she already was. 

“Gregory!” A voice boomed as it gravitated towards the counter, House pressing his lips together, eyes drifting to the marbled counter, feigning annoyance. Cameron was better at reading House than she thought, maybe because a wall was let down in front of her now. 

He was embarrassed. Cameron giggled a little at this, unbelievable.

“On another trip aga-” The man had now come into view, his broad shoulders and massively built arms contradicted the warmness in his voice. His dark brown eyes landed on Cameron, darting across her appearance. At first she thought this was lustful but as she took in the glimmer that reflected from the dark in his eyes, she knew he was only observing, looking at what the metaphorical, scruffy and disabled cat had dragged in. 

“Oh my God! Greg’s brought a girl home!” The man exclaimed, another two people of staff came rushing out of the back door. Cameron looked at House, whose hand that was holding hers had risen up to his face, his palm over it like a guilty little boy. Seeing him in this state was so entertaining, she couldn’t help but laugh at his own misfortune, even if she was the butt of the joke.

Both of the, Cameron assumes cooks, peer over the big man’s shoulders, stepping out now, unafraid.

“She’s gorgeous Gregory,” the man on the left piped up, a big smile erupts on Cameron’s face as she pieces together what all of this means.

House didn’t talk to his parents much, as far as she knew, he only gave them a call on the important occasions, birthdays and Christmas. Something about how naturally House navigated here, how it was evident he had been to this place before.

How the staff called him by his first name. Observed her in a non-sexual way, wanting to see who she was in relation to House. It all amounted suddenly, quite rapidly and overwhelmingly.

He’d brought her home to meet his family. 

A tear escaped her eye before it was too late, the ambience shifted as all the men around her thought she was upset in a sad and distraught way. She felt House’s hands on her shoulders, his cane forgotten, clattering to the tiled floor.

The man on the right scattered to add in his words, “He means that respectfully, we didn’t mean to make you upset! Mierda,” 

“If you all hadn’t been leering,” House barked out, emphasis laying in the last word, “this wouldn’t have happened!”

The men in front of her started arguing with each other, speaking in Spanish, she thinks. The way House was protecting her, arguing with the other people he probably cares about for her on the first date made a second tear escape. She’s never felt so understood in her life. House turned to Cameron, as he heard her sniffle

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have brought you here, they’re too much. I didn’t know they would be like this,” the last sentence ending in his frustration, his teeth gritting as he got louder to interrupt the quarrel from across the counter. House’s hands move, his arm wrapping around her, his hand landing in her hair, petting her gently.

The physical contact made Cameron break, an overwhelming amount of emotion crowding her, squishing her in this tiny burger joint. He didn’t care about being vulnerable in front of them, solidifying their role in his life even more than before. A part of her doesn’t understand how any of them back at the hospital hadn’t figured out about House’s regular trip to this place.

“Please don’t cry, we’ll leave, I’m so sorry,” House muttered into her hair, little sobs left her mouth directly into his dress shirt. 

“I- No, it’s n-not that,” Cameron got out, looking up at him, her eyes unfocused and bleary. He looked so sincere, it made another tear slip from her eye.

“You… they… they’re the family y-you never had, and you wanted to bring me on the first date, to show the-em, me,” Cameron wasn’t proud of how shaky that whole explanation was, the me coming out in a whiny cry. 

Embarrassed enough, she shoved her face back into his shirt as more little sobs are made.

“You brought her here on the first date?” The man on the left broke the silence first. 

“Gregster, that is the sweetest thing I think you have ever done,” The man in the middle said so sweetly that she felt House freeze under her tight grip. Cameron really just froze at the nickname. Gregster? It started to scare her tears away, laughing into his chest, holding him tightly, making sure she could remember this moment forever.

“It’s not a big deal, guys,” House tried to reinforce, attempting to draw the attention away from how soft he could truly be.

“Not a big deal? Man, you’re dreaming. You’re lucky to have us, otherwise you would have no idea what you’re doing,” the man on the right erupts in laughter. His laugh was so infectious that Cameron joined him, breaking contact with House, placing her hands on the counter.

The emotional moment started to subside, now she was just extremely curious as to who these people really were. 

“Sorry about, all that. I just couldn’t believe it once I realised what was happening,” Cameron explained, wiping the loose makeup away from under her eyes. 

“Nothing to be sorry for sweetheart, we don’t believe it either,” The man in the middle glances up to House, causing Cameron to follow, turning her head around to House at the realisation that she had been naming these men in what order they stood in front of her.

House’s expression had relaxed now, settling into something she had only seen when they’ve been alone together. It was like he felt free, unrestricted from the anxieties that his disability brought him.

“Oh, right,” House sighed out, rolling his eyes, starting to reach for his cane that was on the floor. Cameron immediately bends down, picking it up for him. It’s the least she can do to repay him. She hands it to him, his smirk unforgettable.

“Parientes amigables, this is Allison,” House brings her closer to the counter once again, his hand around her waist comfortably.

“Angel, that’s David, Carlos and Daniel,” his finger points from left to right as he cycles through the names. Thankfully the new nickname Cameron had coined hadn’t entirely ruined her composure, but the men in front of her couldn’t help themselves.

“I’m sorry, did you just call her angel?” David asks, absurdity uncovered in his voice.

“Don’t worry, she loves nicknames,” House replied, his voice neutral, conversational, but his look was not so forgiving. The men still couldn’t move past this.

“I do, but isn’t it funny to hear him say them?” she asks rhetorically as the men in front of her envelop themselves into laughter, immediately joining them.

Half still in laughter, she adds to the joke, “You wait until he calls me baby, you’ll all be on the floor!”

The laughter from in front of her gains in volume, she grins at her ability to impress House’s theoretical family. No, his real family. She can’t dismiss that.

“Okay, that’s enough. Do I have to give you all a lap dance to order or what?” House retorted, pulling his wallet out of his pocket, “Warning, I charge by the hour.”

“Yeah, yeah, you don’t get to choose what you’re ordering. I’m making you the best thing I know how to,” Carlos replied forcefully, “Oh, and no payment, of any kind.”

A sudden realisation of joy and wonder hits Cameron, like a baseball bat to the head. This is where the beauty in life is, in moments like these. She feels giddy, like a little girl who just wanted to absorb everything around her.

“Can we sit in the booth with the window?” Cameron asks, using her innocent mood to her advantage, knowing very well it’s showing through her eyes, just as House likes it.

House clicks his tongue, a shaky inhale audible to Cameron lets her know that this is working. 

“Of course, go ahead, I’ll be there in a minute,” House replied, smiling at her briefly as she spins on her heel rushing over to the table, before turning to the crew in front of him.

“This is the girl from the last ride you did, isn’t it?” Carlos asked, already knowing the answer, “we thought you died, you never ducked back through for food yesterday like you usually do on the three-day stints.”

“I came back early,” House muttered, trying not to draw attention to what he was talking about.

“Went back early for her, she really is that special,” Carlos added, knowing everything with only a lick of context.

House only sighed, smirking at Carlos, shaking his head slightly before going to join Cameron at the table.

“Hi darling,” this time Cameron tried the pet name, but it immediately felt wrong, “Oh, no that was really bad.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t the best was it?” House shuffled in closer to her, wrapping his arm back around her waist once more.

It was hard for House, suddenly wanting this much human contact. He never felt like this before, even with Stacy. All he wanted to do was hold Cameron close to him, feel her weight on him for hours. It was one of the only beautiful things of this world, and he treasured it like it was his survival.

Cameron enjoyed how touchy House was, she wanted him to feel calm. Though she wanted him to stay close to her as much as possible, she can see how much House really needs it. It seems to keep him grounded, as if his protection of her made him feel okay. She definitely was not complaining.

“I’ll find a name eventually,” Cameron replied, looking up at him. All this contact made her realise that they haven't kissed since the office incident this morning.

She leans up to him, grasping at the collar of his dress shirt gently as her lips softly meet his. The urge to push her tongue into his mouth takes over due to his hand drifting slowly to her ass. This motion elicits a groan, deep from his throat. The fluidity was so smooth, so careful, unlike the office. Cameron decides maybe she should stop, pulling away from the kiss.

Her eyes land on the three men, all stunned, staring at the couple with no shame. Cameron knew this was House’s family, but their intrigue of their relationship made her feel a little excited, like it was forbidden to kiss in their restaurant. So, she did what she knew would drive House infinitely wild, even if he couldn’t admit it.

She pushed herself up, hoisting her leg over House’s lap, straddling him like she did in the office. Her mind couldn’t drift past how perfectly they fit into each other. House was beyond shocked, his face was priceless. Cameron knew this may affect her future punishments in the bedroom, but right now she didn’t care. It was too perfect of a moment, an opportunity she would pay to be placed in.

“Cameron…” he almost growled, a warning that ramped up her arousal ten-fold.

She grabbed his hand, pulling his thumb to her mouth, enveloping it with such flirtation even she felt aroused from her own behaviour. She wanted to blend their two sexual encounters together so flawlessly, to drive home to his family what she did to him, what she does to him. 

Cameron isn’t a ditzy girl, she has a nice and pure nature that most women lack, but she knows how much she’s changed House in 48 hours. How much she can affect him with her words, her look, her slight touches and the dagger she keeps in the sheath, on her at all times. Her eyes.

Cameron sealed the final touch. As she did this, she turned her body so the three men had a clear and gorgeous view of her practically sucking House’s thumb off. 

She batted her eyelashes, her innocence that she feigned was always true deep down, not a harmful bone in her body. As she pulled her mouth off his thumb, a string of spit dripped down her chin. She wiped it hastily, winking at the three men who had practically gone pale in the face. 

Her sexiness turned into a grin she couldn’t contain, the societal rules she broke while sober was only something she was confident enough to do with House by her side. People could say House was rubbing off on her, changing her for the worst. Cameron knew who she was, she only hid that.

She demounted House’s lap, looking at him as she returned to her seat next to him. She observed quietly as House and Carlos locked eyes, Carlos laughing, shaking his head as he dried a dish with a cloth, House laughed as he walked off to the back. A real laugh.

It was so authentic, like House was entirely vulnerable in this space. It made her so warm, incredibly and terrifyingly with how fast they were both moving in this relationship.

“I think I’ve found my match, baby,” he ruffled the hair on her head, smirking with that deep look in his eyes. It was like she was living her favourite song over and over again. He was the repeat button.

—

The food segment was over, which Cameron had to admit, those burgers were the best she has ever had. House knew his way around food, that’s for sure. Didn’t pay for it much, but he knew it all.

Carlos caught up to them just as they’d exited the shop, the couple turning around.

“Allison, it was lovely to meet you,” Carlos meant that she could tell by the way he smiled when he said it.

“You’re perfect for Greg, really. No other girl would have done what you did to initiate yourself with us, it screamed reckless. Just like him,” Carlos now scruffed up House’s hair as House swatted him away with his cane.

“Thank you Carlos, the food was outstanding,” Cameron replied, her smile light, “and House knows what I’m capable of, he brought me here to see if I’d crack under the pressure of his family. I don’t.” Her tone was stern, sharp, not threatening, just assertive.

“We’ll see you again?” She returned to her natural kind and bubbly tone, her head tilting slightly, her gaze drifting towards House, who was barely still standing at her pure confidence.

“Yes, you’ll see your playthings again, Bye Carl,” House retorted, letting Cameron walk first so her back was turned.

House proceeded to mouth ‘Oh my God’ theatrically, dramatically rolling his eyes in pure admiration of his girlfriend, of all her aspects to Carlos, who returned his acting with a hefty laugh that sent Cameron spinning back around, realising House was theatrically rejoicing.

“Get over here, House,” Cameron rolls her eyes, pointing her finger to where she stood.

“Yes ma’am,” he replied, enticingly rough, heat flooded her cheeks at the delivery. 

Carlos laughed harder.

—

House had gotten her back to the front door successfully, popping two vicodin as they approached the stairs. Cameron secretly hoped he was okay.

They stood on her front door mat.

“So, I’ll see you next week?” House pulled her into a soft kiss, trying to be all gentleman-like.

Cameron’s heart sank. It was Friday night, therefore she wouldn’t see him for another two days. She just wanted him to stay and hold her, so badly that it practically enraged her that it was a possibility it wouldn’t happen.

“Stay.” Cameron snapped out abruptly, stark against House’s softer tone earlier.

“Cameron, you made the rules,” House replied, reminding her of her first rule.

“No, we don’t have sex, I just…” Cameron trails off, maybe this is all too quick. House is bad with commitment, she should know this by now, “Nevermind, forget I said anything.”

“No, Cameron. Say it please.” A hand grabbed the wrist that was headed towards the doorknob.

Cameron sighs.

“I just, after tonight, I know things have moved really quickly and I know how you struggle with commitment, and I know you, uh, really like me and I just, um, want you to just- hold me because it feels really safe and I really like you but I don’t want to push anything because I resp-”

“Cameron, calm down. You’re beet red,” House chuckles lightly, pressing a thumb to her cheeks to see the contrast of colour. A loud exhale emits from the latter.

“I know,” House started slowly, “I’ve had commitment issues with other people, but, with you it’s different. I don’t know how to describe it in my own head, so don’t expect me to explain how it’s different. That’s why I took you to Carl tonight, if you guys got along, I’d know…” He trails off as he realises where he had been subconsciously heading.

“You’d know?” Cameron begged him to continue, her breath held onto every word. House was frozen.

“Come on, don’t get shy on me now,” Cameron said with a hint of frustration in her voice.

“I’d know that you would survive my life, my personality. It’s clear you don’t want to fix me, you just want me for who I am. I just made sure of that.” House responds, finding it difficult to push this much information out into the wild. 

Wilson was right, this was really good for him and really bad. Good in the sense that he felt something other than sadness again, bad in the sense that he was scared his intensity to life would ruin her, the inherent niceness she was born with.

“I just need you to know what you already know. I’m intense, abhorrent, not good looking,” House continued, looking at his leg, “and you have to deal with all the problems that thing causes, I need to know before I come in that you're prepared for all of me, because there’s no changing me now.”

“House, you’re intense, yes, but that’s what I like about you. You aren’t abhorrent, you’re for a refined taste and for the love of God, do not call yourself unattractive.” Cameron crossed her arms, House thought she might actually be a tad bit angry with him.

“I wouldn’t invite you in if I hadn’t weighed up all the factors, even your leg. I love your leg, that it’s still a leg and not cut off, no matter how much you hate it,” Cameron dropped her arms now, knowing he still didn’t supply an answer to what would happen in her home.

“So please, hold me so I can sleep better knowing you’re here. Don’t go home and sleep alon-” Cameron’s admirable speech was cut off by House’s lips meeting hers urgently, holding in a stagnant kiss that signalled so much emotion to her core. They pull apart, House looks partially distraught, emotionally moved. 

Cameron knows he doesn’t like to be interrogated about his emotions, so instead she opens the door, taking his hand as she drops her keys in the bowl next to her door.

“Wow, it’s beautiful here.” House muttered, shutting the door behind him, almost as if Cameron wasn’t standing next to him.

“I know, you can explore in the morning, but I’m so tired, come on,” she practically dragged him forward to her bedroom, turned the light on and headed toward the bathroom. He closed the bedroom door behind him, looking at all the trinkets and decorations her room had to offer. She loved aqua and deep red, looking at all the colour coded items in these two respective shades. He noted that for later.

“I’m just quickly getting changed, then you can come and brush your teeth n’ stuff,” she said, House nodded as he wondered if her underwear was mainly in these two colours. Deep aqua on Cameron’s pale, white skin as the landscape. A shiver hunted his inhibition.

“Is your favourite colour aqua and red?” House inquired at a slightly louder volume to let the sound travel through the wood of the door.

“What are we playing 20 questions now?” Cameron asked, the light sound of a bra hitting the ground, the metal clip meeting the tiled floor. 

House was too curious for his own good, wanting to know everything all the time. Some people would call it a superiority complex, considering how cocky he is about his plethora of knowledge in multiple areas. He calls it embracing life. He would give anything to embrace every detail of Cameron, almost opening the door to learn more. Almost.

“Yes, I love dark aqua and deep red,” she agreed with his earlier question when he hadn’t replied to hers, “What’s yours? Or is Dr House above favourite hex codes?”

House laughs slightly at her jab at his character. 

“I like this specific blue, I think they call it azure,” House answered willingly.

As much as he loved the mystery, solving the puzzle of Cameron, he appreciated how she also wanted to discover him, his mysteries. Though, he was apprehensive.

Cameron might think he’s elusive, but there’s nothing special about him. He’s just an old guy with a wrecked leg, he takes that out on everyone else. Except her. He still couldn’t figure out why.

“Mmm,” She replies with a satisfaction that House loved.

Cameron opens the door, her cotton t-shirt and shorts cling to her skin, as she turns back around to start wiping her makeup off. House felt like he had been in this home, doing this ritual for years.

She passed him a spare toothbrush, toothpaste already planted atop of it. He started brushing his teeth, his cane already leaning against the bedside table, using this free hand, he glides his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp.

Cameron’s makeup removal momentarily halted, a small but modest groan leaving her mouth. The noise made her remember what she had been doing a couple of seconds earlier, continuing on but revelling in the pleasure.

He quickly finished brushing his teeth, freeing up two hands, letting him massage her shoulders, which were unnervingly tense. House sighed as he felt the muscle, his medical knowledge transferring to his home life, he knew this much tension would be causing her constant subtle pain.

Cameron shuffled back into the touch, pressure-filled, her head flopped back to hit his chest, feeling whole at the domestic nature of the moment. A louder, more animalistic groan hissed from her lips as his fingers squeezed deeper into the space where her neck met her shoulders. 

“Sorry, that wasn’t sexual,” she muttered lightly, opening her eyes to meet House’s

“Just feels goo- God,” Cameron’s eyes squeezed shut, cut off by how well House managed to treat her.

“Relax, I’m no stranger to muscle pain,” House raised his eyebrows at how much his hands could change her expression, the tight knit in her eyebrows, the way her eyes fluttered and then squeezed shut. 

Taking away her pain almost lessened the pain in his own leg. He silently cursed psychoneuroimmunology for proving slightly true tonight.

After a few minutes of this, House started to get drowsier, his hands starting to cramp a little.

“Do you want to go to bed now?” He inquired softly, trying not to push for anything she didn’t want.

“Yeah, tired,” The massage rendered the woman beside him partly speechless, her words came out in a shaky mumble.

Cameron immediately makes sure to help House get to the bed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders for support. She squeezed his hand tightly.

House sits on the bed, realising he’s still in his jeans and dress shirt.

“Is it ok if I take these off?”

“More than ok,” her smirk infectious, turning the lights off.

He pulls his jeans off, quickly placing his legs under the covers, trying not to draw attention to his scar. His dress shirt also ends up on the floor, leaving Cameron speechless again.

“You aren’t very subtle,” House snarks, shuffling under the covers.

Cameron joins him, sliding under the covers immediately, practically pouncing on him as she settles, her weight on top of him as he lays flat on his back.

“Don’t need to be,” she replies late, nuzzling into his chest hair, a genuine laugh rumbles from House. His arms wrap over her back, satisfaction trickling into every orpheus of their bodies. A comfortable silence forms between them, bright moonlight squeezing its way into the room.

“Thank you,” she mumbles into his chest, her tone so soft that he gave her a little rub on her back through her shirt.

House understood what she meant without asking. He knows she appreciates the tiny details, hence why he went out of his way to make sure the night was perfect for her. The sunglasses, meeting Carl and his brothers, the food, the massage. 

It went perfectly. If there was a God, now was the time to thank them. Not that God had saved his leg, or freed him from addiction, but he had Cameron. 

And that was more than enough.

Chapter Text

The smell of cinnamon and another female voice overcrowds his laggy system.

“House…” Cameron’s speech derails as she ducks her head down to leave a sloppier kiss on House’s jawline. It was careful, considerate, a sweet attempt to wake him up, her hair still occupies the space on his face.

“Mmm…” Was all House could manage to groan out, the fatigue plagues his ability to speak. His hand lazily reaches up to pat her head, trying to signal that he was awake.

“Ooh, you’re awake, yay,” Cameron quickly mutters, talking as if House wasn’t even here, her speech soft but well-intentioned. A quick but sleepy laugh leaves House’s mouth. 

He loved the newer, less refined version of Cameron he had seen last night and now this morning. God, did this optimal dream ever end?

Her more fluent mannerisms, the rigid tone of her voice from work softening out into something with a more adorable quality. House was just as hooked on it as the pills that had been forgotten in his jean pocket.

“Morning,” his speech returned, his voice gravelly, deeper. Cameron, now sitting up, rolling off of him, slightly blushes at this.

“What? How did ‘morning’ flatter you so much?” House inquires, still laying down, observing the newly established rosy colour that bloomed. Voice still as gravely as ever.

“It’s stupid,” Cameron rolls her eyes, the sound of his voice like this in a full-sentence makes her jittery, wide awake.

“Hey, I think we should try to be as truthful as possible, makes you feel sound,” House paws at her upper arm, “makes me not have to struggle with the social norm.” 

Cameron nods relenting.

“Your voice when you wake up, sounds hot,” Cameron’s rose colour turning into a darker shade, toying with her hair, House’s hand still on her arm.

House squeezes her arm impossibly tight, making her jump.

“Ow, what was that for!” Cameron’s eyebrows are now furrowed, the blush starting to recede.

“Sorry, no reason,” House mutters, rubbing his hand across the flesh he just hurt.

Cameron spots the look in his eyes again, the one she saw last night as she walked into the restaurant, that disappeared into the night air.

She’s got him cornered this time.

“House, remember what you just said, my peace of mind? What is it?” Cameron asks, her hand finding his fingers, lifting his hand to be held in hers.

House sighs. He wants to be honest, but his intensity will scare her. He’s sure of it. 

He curses himself for forcing the truth thirty seconds ago.

“Ah, I just can’t believe this is happening.” House forces out into the open as a starter sentence, looking at Cameron’s face to test her reaction. She fidgets softly with the joints of his fingers, bending them slowly in between her hands.

“I–sometimes with the vicodin I’ve hallucinated things, things that aren’t even close to real,” He continued, not looking at her face, but as he dragged his eyes back up to her, the way he was holding his hand.

He was back in the memory, the hallucination, rather.

It’s all so blurry, the pain from the gun wound excruciating. Cameron was there, holding his hand.

She took him home, stayed with him. Took care of him, fed him, changed his gauze, gave him his pills. Slept clutching at him, tears falling out her eyes when she thought House was asleep. 

After he woke up in the hospital bed, Cameron reading a book by his bedside, he just wanted to go back to sleep, never to wake up again.

He wanted her, but she just wanted to fix him. With the gun incident piled on top of his leg issue, he knew he would be more irresistible than ever.

He kept it to himself, the hallucination not even being mentioned to Wilson. All he saw for days in that bed was Cameron, holding onto him tightly, little puddles being made on his skin. 

But now that they were together, he knew she didn’t want to fix him.

She’s waiting for you to reply.

Shut up. 

She’s unbelievably sweet and all you’ve done is hurt her twice.

Don’t say that.

I’m your mind, all I do is tell the truth. You’re just an addict who’s going to end up shattering her.

Shut the fuck up!

His hand ripped away from Cameron’s contact, rubbing his forehead, the anger from his internal battle seeping through the cracks. His throat stung slightly but he cleared it abruptly, sending the thought of crying in front of her flying.

“House…” she said softly, toeing the line of pushing him too far or making him uncomfortable.

She couldn’t believe that just a simple question had caused such a falter in House’s stoic nature. 

The way he looked at their hands, then ripped it away, like it hurt him, like it burned.

It was burning her, but she had to stay strong. She wanted to hear what he had to say without crying, it would just distract him and it would become a mess. 

Inhale… exhale, just listen.

She focused back in, waiting for her answer.

“I–this is going to freak you out, okay. But we said we would be honest and it would hurt me to not tell you. Would hurt you.” House’s mumble felt so sacred, she just wanted to hold his hand and tell him it was okay, but he needed to do this for himself.

“Okay,” Cameron replied softly, trying to balance the reverence with a monotone quality.

“When I got shot, I had this hallucination, I woke up and you were holding my hand, they discharged me, you took me home. You,” House paused, sighing, the awkwardness clouding his choice of words.

“You made us food, we ate. You put me in bed and you,” House couldn’t believe this word was going to leave his mouth right now, “cuddled me.”

“Why would that freak me out?” Cameron asked, a slight relief settled knowing that he was unconsciously pining for her since the accident.

“Because, you were crying into my side when you thought I was asleep. I was awake, you thought I was asleep and I didn’t help you. I was stuck.” House replied, his composure starting to crack, fraying at the edges, the sting in his throat returning. He tried to clear it but this time it didn’t work.

“You were sobbing into me and I knew and I didn’t even open my eyes, I didn’t help you.” He continued, his frustration with his own actions causing him to grind his teeth, the emotion being clear in his voice. The stinging from his throat had now reached his eyes.

“And then when I woke up and you were already sitting there, reading your book, I just wanted to go to sleep and not wake up.” House croaked, his voice faltering at the end of his sentence. It took everything in him to keep his tears in, he looked up at the ceiling as he talked from now on.

“I knew I wouldn’t be able to forget you and I knew that I’d ruin you if you even wanted me.” His eyes still stayed fixed on the ceiling, the sun brightening the colour of the paint.

“House, you’re not going to ruin me,” Cameron responds, her arms now crossed, “that’s ridiculous.”

“Is it really? Because all I am is an addict who is miserable, I’ll take your sparkle and I'll vacuum it up like a giant black hole of death.” House felt his voice cracking, the edges already frayed and unravelling marvellously.

“You won’t.”

“I will!”

The shout left House’s chest heaving, his stare unattached to focus on Cameron, whose breath was also weighted. The stare he gave turned from acclimatisation into a small but interrogative sob, finding Cameron’s walls she attempted to chart up but failed miserably.

“No, no, no, no,” Cameron muttered the two letter word repeatedly in her frightened state, practically lunging at House as tears escaped his eyes, running away from him like everything else good in his life. But Cameron reached forward. 

“I c–can’t,” House accepted defeat and let himself go under the feeling of Cameron’s embrace. 

She straddles his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and back as the sobs fall out, one of her hands in his hair, the other rubbing little circles into his back. He leaned up into her body, digging his face into her neck.

“You can.”

“You d–don’t unders–stand,” House tried to explain but his overwhelming broken emotions put up a good fight.

“Maybe I don’t, but I’m here because I’ll try anything with you.” Her voice was gentle but felt impacted, a little broken.

“‘Kay,” his sobs started to settle, tears still rolling.

“Now, tell me how you think you’re going to break me,” Cameron hedged her bets.

“Well, I,” House pauses to sniffle, “I just know what I’m like, I drive everyone away. I’m a narcissist, I manipulate people, I’m rude,” 

He pauses his list to look but at Cameron who’s eyes are also red, he makes her cry.

This is exactly what he meant.

“See, I made you cry. I was too self-absorbed to even notice you were crying. I’m a horrible person and I don’t deserve you.” House threw his hands up in the air, hitting the bed forcefully.

“Oh, come on,” Cameron drawled out dramatically, causing House to pause.

“You made me cry because you felt vulnerable enough to do that in front of me. You aren’t horrible, you’ve always treated me well. We wouldn’t admit that two weeks ago, but you have a soft spot for me.” Cameron explains, her hands resting on his arms now.

“Yes, we will have our ups and downs, but no one is going to take you away from me, not even yourself. I know more about you than you think, I know exactly what I’m in for, that’s half the appeal. I want to put in the work for us, because I want to keep us.” Cameron smiled at the end, trying to brighten House’s face up. He smirks slightly.

“Please don’t lock me away and tell everyone I ran off, you can keep me metaphorically, not in your closet,” House jokes, his normal demeanour reappearing in small bursts. Cameron’s smile widens infinitely.

“I’ll try my best,” Cameron moves her hands to cup his face, stroking the stubble texture under her fingers.

“I’ll always fight for us, Greg.”

Greg.

Tears reappear in House’s eyes once more.

“Oh man, what did I say? I’m sorry, don’t cry!” Cameron explains, returning to her frightened state from earlier.

“No, no, I’m–it’s fine,” House chuckles through his tears, his smile fades into a more serious expression. Fingers still stroke his beard tentatively.

“I just, I think you found my nickname.”

“Greg?”

Greg.

It sounded so beautiful coming from her mouth. Like his parents knew that this stupid name would one day sound so refined and perfect coming from Cameron’s lips.

“God yes,” he sighed out, bringing his lips to hers in a soft but passionate kiss, her hands unmoved from his face.

He pulled away, just so he could see her face, her beaming pride in her success.

“You know, as soon as I heard Carl call you Greg, I thought that might be your kryptonite. I kept it to myself to try in an impactful moment,” Cameron admitted, her pride still overtaking anything else.

“And the darling nickname?” 

“Just to eliminate the possibility of the soppy nicknames.”

House smirks, his proud demeanour clearly evident in the way that Cameron’s smile reciprocates. His hands travel to sit on her hips, moving slowly.

“You know,” House continues, the vulnerability and the uncovered nickname providing a new relaxed state for him, as if she had been around for years, traipsing around his mind, his home, his soul. It was exquisitely haunting.

“That strategic thinking, you’re more like daddy than you think,”

“Wow,” her face priceless, breathing shallowly.

House furrowed his brows,

“I was expecting a Cameron Special,” he replies to her one word.

Cameron followed in suit, her brows furrowing too.

“You know, when you go and do the naughty thing and it makes me oh so hot and proud?” He tones it as a question, but it really wasn’t. Just to brace the impact of the tension.

“I just, I didn’t realise how much that would affect me…” Cameron’s voice trails off, getting quieter as the confession grows louder.

House chuckled, his fantasy being arousing to her brought him arousal as well. He thinks this recycling of horniness might be a dangerous game to play.

“Yeah? I think it would be better if you called me that again,” he replies, his hands under her shirt, only rubbing at her waist still.

“Yeah,” Cameron replied, leaving enough silence to make it seem like she had finished her sentence altogether.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you daddy?” Bratty.

A groan voluntarily erupts from House, his head rolling back against the pillows behind him, his eyes squeezing shut.

“You’re going to have to get off me now, because if you want to wait until the third date to even reach second base, you’ve got to lock yourself in that bathroom for a little while so I can’t get to you.”

“Oh,” Cameron replies, her surprise at how much that impacted him made her move faster, slipping off of him. 

She quickly grabbed some new clothes to change into, rushing away into the bathroom next door. 

House sighs, finding his clothes on the floor, changing back into them, popping two Vicodin once his clothes are back on.

The clarity hits that he had cried in front of Cameron.

Cons: Not even Wilson has seen him cry and they’ve only been together for under a week, he hasn’t cried since his leg surgery all those years ago.

Pros: He was in his dream girl's bedroom and she was calling him his two favourite names.

Yeah. 

Definitely worth it.

Chapter Text

“Am I the only one who’s still stuck on the fact that House is dating?” Cuddy announces, standing up from her side of the desk, her eyes scrutinising Wilson and House.

“Why, are you jealous?” House inquired quickly, causing Wilson’s eyes to roll, “I mean you might have to punch on with Cameron if you really want me.”

“House,” Cuddy sits back down, halting his humorous tone with her exasperated tone.

“We need to be serious, can you actually work alongside her without me having to hire an HR department just for a team of four?” Cuddy’s question hangs heavy in the silence of the room, only the slight shuffle of Wilson’s blazer as he readjusts, looking at House’s expression.

“Yes,” House finally answered, looking at Cuddy with his head hung slightly lower than usual. 

Cuddy wasn’t convinced, sighing as she picked up the phone.

“Are we dismissed, Mrs Cuddy?” House felt like the constant questions from each party were more monotonous than the constant reappearance of his ass in this padded chair.

“No.” Eyebrows morphing into an expression House is very familiar with. He sinks back into the chair.

“Hey, can you come to my office quickly please? Thanks,” Cuddy only used this tone of voice when she really respected the person, their skill and emotional qualities.

House rolls his eyes, he doesn’t have to look far with the contextual clues to know who she’s just invited into the room.

Wilson clues on, gauging this from House’s slight clench of his jaw, the rough exhale that is forcefully pushed out of his nostrils.

The door clicks open, Cameron appearing in the room.

She scans the faces, all of them being familiar but not exactly comforting given that whenever House is in Cuddy’s office, it always ends up in the slight well of tears in someone's eyes, admittedly it’s usually hers. Or yelling, House and Cuddy like to yell a lot.

“What’s going on?” Cameron asks, finding her footing near the door, an escape plan in these scenarios is generally the best way to defuse.

Cuddy goes to open her mouth but recedes as House’s voice, gentler interrupts her train of thought.

“Come, sit on my lap Cams, we were just talking about you,” He smirks, the pungent sweetness coming from the rigid man knocks the wind out of Cuddy’s lungs.

“I’m sorry, what?” Cuddy responds, words jittery.

“House, we’re at work,” Cameron quickly follows Cuddy’s apprehension, squandering the flames. Her arms cross her body.

“Okay, I know who’s going to be the problem here,” Cuddy’s tone strengthens as her head slowly locks in the direction of House.

A small snicker leaves Wilson’s lips. He was originally called here by Cuddy to be her backup, but this was all so unfeasible. Never did he think he would be in this position, in this chair for a reason that wasn’t to stop his best friend from doing something so ridiculous that it would wind him up on the streets, begging for obround white pills.

“If you can’t handle being in a relationship and the maintenance of keeping work separate, then you need to break it off,” Cuddy stood up, her usual hostility towards House was applied.

“I’m not breaking anything off,” House partially taunts but Wilson knows better, the slight grip on the arm of the chair gives it all away.

“You’ve just demonstrated how inappropriate you intend to be at work,” Cuddy throws her arms up in the air, now looking in Wilson’s direction.

“You were supposed to help me out here!” Her tone incredulously high pitched.

Wilson stops himself momentarily, his reply will be something she doesn’t want to hear. It’s also best not to encourage House, even at the best of times.

“I, uh. I think she’s actually good for him.” He proposes the prospect to the room.

Cuddy looks unbelievably pissed, House is grinning like a little boy.

But Cameron looks intrigued, encompassed in Wilson’s every word. It’s the only reason he continues.

“Hear me out, okay, Cameron is really sweet, House is a bitter old cripple–”

“Hey, I can’t help my disability!” House fake-whined. Every other pair of eyes rolled, Cameron started to inch closer to House, standing by his chair.

“Anyway, they can help each other. Cameron needs to learn how to stand up for herself a little more and House needs to learn how to respect others boundaries. It’s a win-win, really.” Wilson finishes his explanation, his wide grin is tossed away by Cuddy.

“So help me God, how much did House pay you to say that?” Cuddy’s frown and flat tone made Wilson clear his throat.

“I didn’t pay him a dime, who do you think I am? If anything he would pay me so he could say that, wouldn’t you Wilma?” House’s stacking of questions made Wilson audibly sigh, his head shaking.

Cameron digests Wilson’s critique of her personality. She found it hard to stand up for herself sometimes, but it wasn’t that noticeable right? Her sigh followed Wilson’s, her mouth starting to open before she could restrain herself.

“I think Wilson’s right. I probably need to be sterner and House needs to be kinder,” Cameron adds on top of Wilson’s point, the fade of Cuddy’s frown makes a flutter in her stomach.

“Cameron, how do you really think this relationship is going to last?” Cuddy asks her, eyes unmoving from where Cameron stands. Cameron crosses her arms across her body now, the tensing in her back forms from the mixed bag of emotions that shook in the beating of her heart.

“He’s going to do something stupid, you’re going to be crushed and you’ll never work together the same again, especially after you’ve slept together multiple times,” Cuddy rattles off the information like she knows Cameron, like she understands the inner-workings of her and House like it were her own sacred possession.

Cameron adjusts her stance, her feet dig into the floor. The heat that radiates off her cheeks is the least of her problems right now.

“We haven’t even slept together yet, an–” Cameron begins, trying to compose her professional demeanour, squeezing at the skin of her own waist through her clothes. 

A loud scoff exits Cuddy’s mouth.

Adrenaline squanders the professionalism that it was marching beside.

“I’m sorry, is that funny to you?” Cameron bites out, swiping at House’s hand as she feels it graze her lower arm. Cuddy shakes her head lightly, a slight chuckle reverberates around the otherwise silent room. Cameron can’t even bear to see what Wilson and House are doing right now.

“No, I just think that’s impossible,” Cuddy elaborates, a refined cattiness emerges, “It’s House, of course he’s looking for sex, and you’ve been pining for House for ages, you would’ve jumped at the first chance!”

Cameron's thoughts are recycled into even more adrenaline, piling and testing the limits. The shuffling of House in his chair and Wilson’s attempt at speech reminds her of how she never stands up to Cuddy. The two men akin to the angel and the devil on her shoulder. Does she allow herself to continue the argument, or let someone stand in place?

She wasn’t afraid of standing up for herself now that she has gotten this far, it actually felt kind of nice. The adrenaline that coats her anxiety in a thick wall, blocking its view to the outside world. Plus, she acknowledges the amount of patience House has had holding himself back. She trusts his judgement.

If she was going to commit, it had to be combative, truthful.

“Are you kidding me? Am I just House’s pet to you?” Cameron spits out, throwing her hands in the air, moving herself to stand centrally between the two men’s chairs. Cuddy pauses, a blank expression turning into a live-wire.

“I’d more call you House’s stalker,” Cuddy smirked, her deviance made Cameron’s heart lull. 

Did she know about that night?

“You’re just jealous you don’t get to sleep with him first!” Cameron squeaked out, her choice of rebuttal was admittedly weak, but being blindsided by Cuddy’s implicit comment spun her.

“Really Cameron?” Cuddy’s arms returned to being crossed over her body, “House would’ve slept with me after two vicodin and one drink!” 

Cameron was kind of rusty at this whole back and forth thing Cuddy and House usually do. She wishes she was quicker, sterner, more creative. 

“Was he the one that took you to Carl?” Cameron exclaimed, thinking as quickly as she could on her amateur feet. Cuddy’s heated nature retreated slightly to make room for the dizzying comment. Cameron heard a slight murmur from Wilson, undoubtedly just as confused as Cuddy was.

“Do you even know anything about him? Because I do, and I’m not going to let some conniving little... bitch come in and mess it all up!” Cameron exclaimed so rawly that she didn’t even recognise herself, her own voice.

“Cameron!” Cuddy shouted, calling your boss a conniving little bitch probably wasn’t the best card to play, but they’re both knee deep in it now.

“No! I don’t care!” Cameron yelled, the rasping in her voice turned into her worst nightmare, the tremble of her chin, the sting in her throat. She can’t even yell without this happening.

“You come in with your tight and revealing outfits, and you playfight with House as if it’s going to draw him in. We all know you’re secretly weak, so grow the fuck up!” Hot tears surprisingly cooled her skin on her cheeks, the last words came out in such a tone that even she could feel her own pain. 

Cameron turned around, leaving everyone speechless. Wilson had a hand covering his mouth, House had his familiar distant look stamped on his face. The adrenaline pushed her towards the doors, but turned her around to put the nail in the coffin.

“Oh and, you don’t get room to comment on my life, you’re 39 with no partner and no family, and apparently no life!” 

The door slammed shut.

Her hands were so shaky that she headed directly to the differential room, trying to wrestle the adrenaline off of her frame. She started to make a new pot of coffee, her heart rate maintaining.

The look on House’s face. It was so devoid, so empty. She’s definitely fucked up, and that last line wouldn’t have helped at all. The tears that had dried were newly enacted by the new lot of tears that emerged.

Maybe Cuddy really did push them apart. The thought of losing House over her own stupid mistake pushed her back into the disheveledness of that night on House’s porch. Her hands shook uncontrollably, forcing her to put the coffee pot back down. Breathing resorted to whistly whimpers, a desperate need for air battling her thoughts of her mistake.

Her knuckles gripped the bench, trying to keep herself upright, legs slightly weak and wobbling.

“No, no, no, no,” she murmurs out repeatedly to herself, as if that was going to stop the tidal wave of panic that crowded her system, cramping her lungs. She had never had a panic attack at work, and not one of this size in years.

The whiny broken breaths came and went hastily, doing nothing to help her breathing, making her sound hopeless, pathetic. She couldn’t even demonise it if she tried, this was all her fault.

Skin touched hers abruptly, hands gripping at her waist and her shoulder.

All she could do is thank the contact, thrusting her back against their torso as she sank into the carpeted floor, her legs collapsing. She thinks they were sliding against the wall.

Slight murmurs of a voice was overloaded by her crazed gasps for air. Arms enveloped her as she curled up into the body, her arms grasped for anything, providing an awkward but touch-filled position.

Seconds passed as her gasps turned to sobs, sobs turned to normal breathing and eventually set her into a sound sleep from the pure exhaustion.

—

“What the fuck Cuddy!” House shouts, the sound of the door slamming echoes through the room.

“How was that my fault?” Cuddy returns the volume level, glancing at Wilson, hopeful for support.

“You know exactly what you did! Go to hell!” 

The second door slam of the event occurs.

All Wilson can muster is a sigh, following to the door.

He shuts the door respectfully.

House has already made it back to go to his office, he needs his red ball, the opportunity to ponder and study Cuddy’s manic behaviour already speaking to him in tongues.

He hopes Cameron has returned to the office, his hopes turning into truths as she sees the pale state she was in, the noise of her wheezy attempts at breath sending a signal of panic through his nerves.

She’s never told him that she has panic attacks, maybe this is new. Either way, he knows he has to act, and quickly.

He hastily grabs at her, her eyes not even meeting his, darting around, manically. His heart clenched impossibly tight as she leant back into him, her legs falling out from underneath her, the trill whimpers still unbreakable, haunting his eardrums.

House wraps his arms around her tightly, attempting to ground her. 

“It’s okay baby, I’ve got you, it’s okay,” House kept repeating to her lowly, but it had no effect, if anything it was helping him more than it was helping her.

She practically climbs him, her limbs wrapping around him in an odd fashion that looks uncomfortable. He doesn’t bother to ask if she’s comfortable, considering that she couldn’t even focus her eyes properly, let alone speak.

Dark, trembling and laboured breathing subsides into smaller sobs, slowly dissipating as he feels her muscles slowly loosening, melting into the slight rigidness he still carried in him. The normally paced breathing let him relax into the wall, his left shoulder feels quite bruised, but House doesn’t mind. Her eyes fluttering shut loosened the clench on his heart, his head resting back into the wall, holding her in his lap.

Wilson appears in the doorway, his eyes widening at the scene in front of him. Approaching the couple carefully, wincing at the position Cameron had managed to end up in, he sat down next to House.

“What… happened?” Wilson reluctantly inquired, whispering, his eyebrows were so morphed House thought they might tense up and fall off. 

“She had a panic attack, I think, I didn’t know she had them,” House’s whisper trailed off as he moved Cameron into a more comfortable position, stroking her hair lightly as she slept deeply. 

He slowed at the sheen of House’s eyes, a slight glaze overcoming the irises. Wilson’s heart thumped hard, the glaze turning into a droplet falling onto Cameron’s back of her blouse.

Great. Now Wilson gets to see me cry, what is wrong with me?

“I–I’m sorry,” Wilson muttered softly, taken aback by House’s emotion, his vulnerability in front of Wilson, let alone at the hospital. House quickly attempted to blink away the tears, he hated how soppy he was becoming recently.

“I–I don’t know, I just,” House starts his voice rough, looking up to meet Wilson’s eyes, “she couldn’t even focus her eyes on me, she like, collapsed to the ground.” 

House looks back down, staring at the half side of Cameron’s face that was visible.

“And the sound,” House’s tears reappeared, stronger than ever, two droplets joining the first on the blouse.

“Wilson, I never want to hear her like that again.” His voice came out strangled, like his mind tried to push the words back down his throat, vulnerability like a prized possession.

Wilson’s hand comes to rest on House’s shoulder, rubbing it gently. 

He really had nothing to say. What could he say?

Nothing would reverse that for House, nor for Cameron.

So he sits with House, who has fortunately collected himself well, staring at Cameron like it’s a riveting bonding activity. 

Wilson glances at House’s face and has to look away, it almost feels like an intrusion.

But he knows House needs someone here, and for however long he does, Wilson will stay.

Chapter Text

The stale dryness of her mouth morphs into the feeling of bigger arms wrapped around her, her back is mollified by the gradual lifting and falling of the chest it’s leaning against.

Cameron’s eyes remain closed, her groggy and slowed mind wasn’t doing her any favours.

House.

She hopes he isn’t mad at her. Though, the warmth of the embrace, the larger hands that enclosed hers gently, it really doesn’t feel like he is mad at all.

She slowly stirs, her hand leaving the safety to reach above her head, touching House’s cheek.

“Greg,” she mumbles out lethargically, hoping the nickname may keep him at bay.

The texture, it doesn’t feel right. The stubble is awfully smooth.

“It’s Wilson.”

“What?” 

Cameron brings her hand to the thigh next to her push her body up. Her eyes opening made her realise the weakness that plagued her limbs, the grainy feeling every time she blinked.

“Sorry, I just took over for House,” Wilson muttered apologetically, “I can move if you want?”

She really wants House here, to hold her. But after the attack all she craved was undiluted physical touch. Wilson said he ‘took over’ for House, which means House was clearly busy. She can settle for this.

“No, no, it’s–” Cameron’s hasty reply is interrupted by an invisible block in her mind, the lack of thoughts drained from her brain, “it’s good, stay please.”

Her hand came back down to squeeze his tightly, his hand instantaneously covered hers again.

She knew she sounded stupidly pathetic, but she’s sure Wilson will stay, it’s just how he is. Especially if it’s to help House out.

“Okay,” Wilson replied, but Cameron knew something else was coming, “Can we just talk like this?”

She thinks he’s referring to the awfully intimate position they’re currently in. 

Cameron knows Wilson’s kryptonite was a woman in distress, but it was something deeper than that. The way he held her hands, not just trying to get in her pants, not solely anyway. His sweet body heat, his cologne is a reminder of his own personality, his own thoughts and feelings.

How did it make him feel to see her in this state? Did he see her when she was having the attack? She definitely remembers that House was initially there, but maybe she missed Wilson. 

The normal heartbeat that vibrated through her shoulder blades was the indication to her that made her willing to have this conversation. 

“Yeah,” Cameron got out in a sickly sweet tone. Without the shell protecting her body, she was the pearl that was bid on by her mind repeatedly. The aftermath of an attack rendered her entirely dependent on anyone who was willing to rest their head on hers. 

Wilson slightly chuckles at Cameron’s nature, the usually reserved nature of her personality fragmenting off. He thinks this side of her is something only House has truly experienced outside of work, so Wilson honours the responsibility.

“First of all, are you okay now?” Wilson questions, searching for a simple answer as he tilts his head, craning into her cheek. His thumb glides back and forth against the smoothness of Cameron’s hand. 

The little details of Wilson made Cameron feel like the shell walls were building resistance to the outside world, her heart thumped in approval.

“I am,” Cameron replies lightly, watching Wilson’s thumb caress her skin, “I just have to warn you though, I feel really vulnerable right now.”

“Understandably so,” Wilson immediately responds, kicking her slight nerves out of the room.

Cameron’s head shuffles, turning to look up at Wilson, his compassionate eyes tearing into her soul, “What happened?”

Wilson brought a hand up to gently brush his fingers along her jawline, “You had a panic attack, I only found House in here later, you were in his arms.”

The light touches only reinforced the safety, like Wilson was creating a forcefield that couldn’t break. She knew Wilson and her treasured each other in their own subtle and tooth-rotting way, House being their branch. House knew they loved each other in their own faint but complex ways, how much they both cared for House.

House glanced at them through the window of his office, a whole-hearted grin reached his face before he could restrain it. He couldn’t get enough of the deepness of their interaction, how safe Cameron appeared in Wilson’s arms. 

Just barge past the elephant in the room and join them.

Was that a fat joke or an acknowledgement of the problem?

You decide, it’s your thoughts.

Innocent, drop the charges.

“House!” Cuddy yells, face appearing pink, her neck entirely red now. House assumes it’s the makeup she cakes on every morning.

“Are you even listening to me?” Her voice hasn’t lowered since they entered the room, even though he clearly alerted her to the fact that an exhausted and fragile Cameron slept in Wilson’s arms in the other room, his pointing quite hard to miss, considering his finger tapped on the glass with some force.

“Do I have to?” House asked, his sarcasm lost. Seeing Cameron in the state that she was, quite frankly, drained all of the social energy he had left in him.

“Are you kidding me? I’m your boss, you don’t tell me–”

“God, were Cameron’s instructions not clear enough, or do I have to do a rendition? I’ll–”

“She entirely overs–”

“I’ll have to borrow som–”

“Let me ta–” 

“No!”

Cameron’s head swept away from Wilson’s glance, noticing the thing House had to take care of.

The childish quality of the argument almost made her laugh, but House looked like he was really fighting for her in there. The warmth in her heart intensified.

“Hey, we could go somewhere else if you want?” Wilson offers, trying his best to appease her.

“It’s okay, I want to see this play out,” Cameron trails off as she hears the slightly muffled voices from behind the glass, the only other noise being Wilson’s breaths, his face slightly embedded in her chaotic sloppy hair. Her hand latches onto Wilson's arm, squeezing lightly to signify everything she felt in each others presence.

“House you are not going to put my fucking lipstick on!” Cuddy hobbled, her hands preoccupied removing her heels, chucking them carelessly onto the carpeted floor, "Who do you think will win in a chase?"

“I’m not actually going to, it’s for the bit, you idiot,” House rolls his eyes, the lipstick secured between his fingertips.

“Okay, I’ve had enough! You can have her, I don’t care!” Cuddy shouts, her voice too shrill for House’s liking.

“Yeah, I’m aware, that’s why I’m dating her, do you ever listen?” House rebuts, his eyes widened in surprise at Cuddy's stupidity. Though, he thinks his eyes have been wide while arguing with Cuddy more times than the amount of Vicodin his body has processed over the years. 

“Why do you have to date a woman who's over a decade younger than you? What was so repulsive about me, House?” Cuddy bites out, her arms now rigidly crossed, her confidence shrivled at the way House’s mouth drops slightly agape, his eyebrows fixed into a confused mess when he looks at her.

“Because she's not you! You will never be like her, she’s perfect!” House yells, the watery glaze of Cuddy and Cameron’s eyes both appear the same, the irises polar.

Cuddy’s mouth opens and closes recklessly, the speed in which she grabs her light pink stilettos akin to a cheetah. She leaves, entirely opposing her behaviour today.

A small whimper from Cameron cuts through the mime-like scene, Wilson sitting her up further, brushing the hair from her face, whispering in her ear attentively. His brows pulled into his second nature.

House hobbles over, sitting in front of the two, wiping the tear from her face with his thumb. The slight joy he gets from redeeming himself is quickly squashed by the redness in Cameron’s eyes.

“You called me perfect,” her voice is so wispy, angelic. Her state was completely irrelevant to how smoothly her voice rasped out in front of them.

House smiled, his hands cupped her face as Wilson held her tightly, “What, did you want me to lie, angel?”

The exuberant laugh that exited Cameron latched onto Wilson’s, the humour spreading to all three of them. Cameron’s yawn stifled the moment, her energy quickly utilised.

“Come,” House instructed, helping her and Wilson up, holding on tightly to Cameron’s hand as he led her through to his lounge chair in his office.

“Sleep,” House was favouring his shorter words, as he was emotionally enervated.

A lab coat flew at Cameron, her reflexes dampened but quick enough to catch the object.

“Use that as a blanket. I’ll come wake you up when it’s time to go home,” His instructions were simple and extremely easy on her. 

The door swings shut as Wilson and House exit the office, Cameron spreads the blanket out as Wilson flicks the light off on the way out. 

Though House rarely wore the damn thing, it actually smelled of his scent.

Cameron fell asleep relatively fast due to the helpful factor.

“She really likes you,” House starts conversationally, Wilson slows to match House’s pace as they approach the elevator.

“She really likes you,” Wilson parrots, his smirk contagious.

“Thank you, I’m sure she will remember that and be grateful for you, she knows you’re dependable,” House mutters, thanking people wasn’t his default nature.

“Of course, she means something to me as well, even if it is newly developed and small,” Wilson responds, trying to not pause on the fact that House was using his manners, his feet bringing him into the elevator.

“Man, don’t talk about your dick like that, we’ve been over this! Small does not mean inefficient in the end goal!” House taunts, returning to his original enclosure, positioning himself next to Wilson.

Wilson’s sigh is barely heard over the rolling of the elevator doors closing.

Chapter Text

A slight nod of acceptance, skin tacky like fresh primer. Monotonous stirring left to right, limbs free. The familiar roughness of slightly calloused peaks in the palms against her bare arm, feathery height accompanied the untamed flyaways.

Eyebrows pull into configuration, the two recognisable male voices keep her afloat. Her arm flails in the brisqueness, her fingers lead weights.

“Mmmphf…” The swinging motion, her neck letting her mimic the tragedy of falling.

“Shhh, almost there,” whispered gently.

House.

She misses him.

Her heart slightly twinges, head still hung gently congeneric to the coats that hung inside the hallway. Creaking of a door challenges her awareness, Cameron’s doors don’t creak. The dryness that appears in her mouth is more abhorrent than before.

“I want House,” Eyebrows still knitted tightly, the intense whiny quality to her voice stirs her own grounding, eyes unchanging.

His ribs hold his heart in place tightly, hugging them delicately. The corner of his lips curl up, her face residing in frustration turns him towards the intricately ragged feelings he felt with his first love.

“I am House.”

A jolt of shock pounds at him as her vacant arm comes up around his neck, her body magnetising infinitely close to his as a small but gripe grunt crept out of Cameron’s mouth. 

A gust of laughter presents itself, Cameron’s eyes flutter open, branching the connections with the tonal discrepancies.

“Hi Wilson,” the syrupy nature of her words enlarge both parties' smiles.

“Hi Cameron,” the man looking only at her face, which is perched on House’s shoulder as they approach the bed.

House sits, his epitome of a koala bear latched tightly onto him.

“Do you want to get changed?” House asks her, his breath brushing carefully over her ear.

“Yeah,” Cameron answered lazily, rolling off House to sit on the side of the bed, her feet dangling slightly off the edge. Unusual.

She examines the floor.

“Is this your room?” Cameron questions quietly, mind trapezing through the milky fog.

“Mhm, here,” House hums, throwing an article of clothing at her once again. 

She should’ve been better at this, considering she had practice, but it lands on the bed a couple of inches away. She twists her body, spine cracking slightly as she grabs the large shirt.

“We’ll just be out in the living room,” House informs a tad clinically, trying to drift abruptly from the thoughts of the latter in his own shirt. Her body drowning to fill the excess cloth, venery reading the words of tantalising devotions in his autobiography.

Wilson followed behind House, shutting the door gingerly.

The crinkling of the sheets fill her ears as she slides her stale and wrinkled clothes onto the floor. House’s musky pheromone tenfold stronger on the cloth as it brushes urgently across her face, he must wear this shirt more often. To say she was engulfed in it was an understatement.

The task that was once at hand fading in the rear view unrestricts her senses more clearly, now feeling rested, the graininess in her eyes is receding. The clink of a beer bottle cap falling to the marble of the bench reminds her of her next movement, her feet already ahead of her mind.

Brightness floods her vision, making her wince momentarily before adjusting appropriately. Wilson was moving around in the kitchen, House must be in the living room, barely in vision.

“Drink?” Wilson asks Cameron intuitively, fridge door already opened.

“Thanks,” she reaches into the fridge herself, grabbing another beer to add to the collection.

The heaviness in her limbs has receded, her spine elongating passively. Her need for the act of physical touch calming down, just lapping at the shore.

“What time is it?” Cameron scratches her scalp looking out the window, it looked pretty light out still.

“Uhh, six-thirty-ish,” Wilson replies, momentarily checking his watch.

“What? But I was on shift until seven!” Cameron exclaims, the panicked feeling from earlier leaves a droplet into the pool.

“I–” Wilson starts but is interrupted by Cameron’s absence, hearing a slight but mighty “House” coming from the living room.

“I still have thirty minutes of my shift left! Why would you bring me home!” Cameron squeaks, her eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed in the way that she ridiculed him for a terrible decision for a case.

House’s eyes hike across the familiar fabric, her tufts of brown hair splayed out roughly from the lacing and knotting the wind had crafted into the strands.

Scaling carefully, legs pale and thin, though her calves were beautifully defined by the running she does, he assumes. His eyes finally peak at the top of the mountain, realising that she does in fact look unhappy, as Wilson warned him about plenty before they arrived home.

“Don’t do that,” Cameron hisses, crossing her arms over her body, covering it as much as possible.

“Do what?” His first two words uttered felt soft but trick-filled. Not unlike House when it came to Cameron.

“Look at me like that when I’m trying to talk to you, you do know I just cussed out my boss and now I’ve been missing from work for the last–” Cameron pauses her rant to think about how long she must have been absent from work, not forgetting to mention the undeserved nap she had. Post-anxiety hit her like a hangover, the moments of the day piecing into place in fragments.

“The last, I don’t know, hour? Plus the nap, God why did you both let me do that! I must have been asleep for ag–” Cameron’s hand gets caught in her hair as the knotting makes itself known to her.

“We finished the last case about an hour after you fell asleep, Cuddy had disappeared after our run in and I wanted you to get the rest you deserve,” House’s voice was raised, but nowhere near the volumes it had reached earlier in the day. 

His direction was focused, looking through his lashes. If Cameron didn’t know better, she’d say he was turned on, buzzing. It robs her logical counterpart, leaving the vulnerable sector of her brain that listens attentively to her flesh and blood.

Cameron’s mouth swung open and shut like a stable door, the words she would have replied if it were anyone else swirled behind her teeth.

“Now sit, just chill out. Please,” House’s plea was cut out shortly, making Cameron sit down next to him quite quickly, beer in hand.

The speed in which his hand immediately comes up to rest on her thigh as the muscle splayed out on the couch solidified his impatience wasn’t directed for her. A sturdy but light squeeze was felt in her thigh. Following it, a loud exhale was mixed with the way his shoulders rolled backwards and down, neck piecing together perfectly with the back cushion of the couch. His eyes quaver shut, his hand still massaging at her thigh.

She flashes a small smile for herself, a victory won with no effort didn’t make it any less worthy of hearty celebration.

“Are you showing me how to relax, because I don’t know if I could exactly squeeze your thigh like that?” Cameron’s feigning confusion mixed with her now silky, effervescent fingers dragging across the span of his clothed thigh shook up a cocktail of coquetry in his mind. He refrained from licking the salt off the glass rim, he couldn’t drink. Not yet.

Settling for the safer choice, he evolves into laughter, letting out an amused chuckle, straight from the chest.

“Well that was resolved pretty quickly?” Wilson retorts at the couple, sitting down opposite them. His signature striped tie stuck to him loosely, the knot loosened, the physical symbol of life outside of the hospital space. 

This was all new to her, collecting the small details in her basket. Upgrading to a trolley may be in her foreseeable future, considering how she was already involved in Wilson and House’s spare time.

“Was nothing to begin with,” House replies bluntly, rubbing Cameron’s thigh, fingers painting the exposed skin thermally.

“Can we order food?” Cameron asks timidly, trying not to overstep the House and Wilson tradition. Though she was with House, she was not the original member, inducted to the hangout through a dazed and barely conscious state.

“Hey, she sounds like you!” Wilson blurts out in his flurry, Cameron imagines the grin on his face hasn’t changed since his childhood.

“I,” House emphasises, “don’t ask. I just do,” tilting his head down, looking through his eyes, the serious nature he feigned abolished by the meager giggle next to his ear.

“Pizza?” Wilson addresses the jury, who both respond with the verdict of a unanimous clearing.

—

House was eagerly watching Cameron’s eating habits. 

Now this may sound stupid to anyone else, but the thing about House is that he doesn’t care. It’s also crucial to Cameron for surviving his own habits.

He has three criteria, no one he has been close with has passed all of them before.

1. She eats slowly.

That works optimally for him. Gives him time to pinch something if he wants it. Wilson eats too fast, not enough time to decide what House wants to steal.

2. She eats a lot.

Even better. Means that she will order more to steal, she’s mentally healthy and she can keep up with him.

3. She has a wide taste for food.

Once House had a girlfriend in college that would only eat only pasta, no sauce, no butter, nothing else. Just pasta. She claimed it was making her skinnier. Everyone dodged a bullet with her not entering medicine. Probably has scurvy by now.

Cameron was not only open to trying the obscure order that he and Wilson had curated, but she was earning major bonus points for preferring the pizzas House favoured the most.

When she brushed her hair out of her face, tucking it neatly behind her hair. 
When she talked to Wilson about his new potential girlfriend who works in the ER, giving him little pointers, tidbits of advice that was curated to Wilson’s temperament.

It had such a quality that made him unable to look away. She slots in perfectly to his way of life, effortlessly.

The weeds that traced his legs lightly in lake water at the cabin in 66’. The breeze he can only interact with when he takes his bike up to 90 miles per hour on the freeway. When it reaches into his ribcage, thrashing his trauma around just to settle it with a parachute of an epiphany.

The wind wasn’t in attendance, but his realisation was. Just the sight of her cultivated the answers he would hunt for all his life, in the small thrills that left him in the potential of losing his way home.

She really was his dream girl.

He really derived that out of the way she chews food. 

You’re a damn idiot, Greg.

Chapter Text

The airy sound of a laugh brushes over Cameron’s hair, the strands tickling her face making her arm involuntarily brush her face hastily. A slight but annoyed filled groan follows.

“You drool,” House mutters, leaning over the side of Cameron’s body, pressing against her back, elbow propping him up steadily.

The exhaustion from yesterday still lingered, barely, but noticeable enough for Cameron’s head to feel bemused. More sleep is all she wanted to do, not talk.

“And I can now clearly feel your morning wood, now go back to sleep,” Her bitterness was resounding in every word, her hand reaching up and behind her to pat House’s cheek so the words left less of a sting.

“What if I just have a kink for drool?” House questions, skating on thin ice as his arm wraps back around her waist, still observing her like a bird would from above.

“Do you?” Cameron humours him saltily, now rolling over to face him, trying to push away the sensation of his cock. 

“No,” House replies, Cameron could already tell today was going to be a day packed full of sarcasm. 

Though, it meant he was in a good mood. He enjoyed the evening. Cameron can’t help but smile with a particular softness as his mood mixes with his irises exquisitely.

“‘Kay,” Cameron replied softly, now drowning in his ragged appearance, her head flopping onto the pillow.

Her arm and leg drapes over his body, pulling herself in closer, taking a big sigh out, her eyes closed again. House disarms, his elbow lets his body flop into the pillows again, her hand slowly but lightly scratches at her scalp.

Good, loving silence. Can’t get better than this.

“Cams,” House smashes through the silence in the room, timidly as to maintain some peace.

“What?” Cameron replies sharply, eyebrows now furrowing. She’s accepted the fact that she will not be sleeping any longer this morning.

“Um, I’m bored,” House states, his voice restrained to an almost child-like manner. Her heart tugged a little, a small smirk dragging her frustration away.

Cameron leans in and kisses him gently, her hand gently dancing across his face.

“Mmm,” Cameron hums softly into his mouth as the once gentle massaging of her scalp turns into small pulls at the roots.

House pulls away smoothly, his forehead resting against hers.

“Not so bored anymore?” Cameron asks, honey dripping in her tone. House knew how sweet she tasted.

“No,” House starts, gazing into her eyes, “but Wilson is still here and we shouldn’t tempt ourselves.”

Cameron hums in agreement, giving him a quick peck.

“Speaking of, does this count as a second date?” Her eyes filled with something less discreet.

“I’d say yes, because,” House lightly kisses her cheek and jawline, breath mingling with her skin, “I’m so curious, need to know everything all the time.”

“I know, but why do you say that in this context?” Cameron breathed out, the way House’s arm easily wrapped around her neck lightly, the bicep resting on her skin. It was enough to make her cry, luck was an impeccable thing.

“Because I’ve started to learn your habits and your stories, like the way your eyes scrunch up when you laugh, or that your real parent was always your grandmother.” House begins to explain, his head now resting impossibly close to hers, every syllable felt on her face.

“But I want to learn more, what you would sound like when I get you off, your reaction to everything we try,” House mutters in her ear, Cameron’s lips battling against her teeth to keep the skin intact.

“Like that,” House squeezes his arm slightly tighter, making her unable to move her neck. 

Well, there goes saving Wilson’s dignity.

The shallow breaths puff out delightfully, playing with his arm hair.

“When I got back to work that first day of us being together, you looked celestial,” House delivers in a half growl, reliving that damn lipgloss that coated her lips. What a privilege.

Cameron blushes at the fact that dressing herself affected House as it did for everyone else in the department.

“Tell me, you dressed up just for me? Put yourself in that little outfit just to tempt me?” House asks roughly, his lips barely grazing her ear.

Cameron remembers House’s fantasy, containing her smirk at the gift her mind has presented is a tough feat, but she manages.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Cameron looks into his eyes through her lashes, the doe within her creeping out slowly to play with the wolf. 

The slight opening of her mouth, hair framing her face perfectly. All he wanted was to hunt her down and give her everything.

House chuckles lightly in her ear, his arm tightening further, the welcome pressure made a relieved moan come from her mouth.

“Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

House marvels at how perfectly Cameron answers him, the words he wants her to say drip out delicately from her vocal cords without his guidance.

This has to be one of the best moments of my life.

“Mmm, you know exactly what I mean,” House replies, unable to stop replaying the moment in his head and it isn’t even over yet.

“Hmm, well, I did wake up earlier just to dress up that day. But who said that was for you?” Cameron replied snarkily, hoping he tightens his arm again.

“You belong to me and I belong to you, it has to be for me,” House demands, low enough so Wilson won't hear from the couch.

“Fine, I did it for you, now please, tighter,” Cameron states blandly, ending in an intricate whine that fuels the hardness in House.

He lets all the pressure go.

“No, give it back,” Cameron grumpily demands, House tuts.

“Good girls earn it,” House retorts, “Have you got any lipgloss on you, lipstick?”

“What?”

“Just answer the damn question, brat.”

Cameron can’t contain the giggle that leaves her mouth, relishing the moment like it will never happen again. 

“I happen to, yes, the lipgloss from that day, actually,” Cameron smirks, clawing herself over the bed, grabbing her pants from the floor, rummaging through the pocket.

The culprit of House’s desires is caught in her hand, the pigmented liquid in the clear bottle is enough for him to smile ear to ear.

“Put it on, lather it,” House demands, music to Cameron’s ears.

She immediately begins to, it’s sloppy without a mirror but it won’t matter soon.

“I remember my first thought that day when I saw you. I wanted to lick all of it off until your lips were raw,”

Cameron stops applying the lipgloss, her eyes wide in anticipation. She screws the lipgloss shut and tosses it onto the duvet.

Pouncing forward, Cameron clashes into House’s lips, grabbing at his bare shoulders with jittery force.

House laughs into her lips, kissing her for a little before detaching. He swiftly wraps his hands around her neck, pressing with slight pressure as to not entirely cut her breathing off.

The moan in return was angelic, everything he needed to hear. Different to the way that she whined and moaned for Chase. He sparks her veins, sets her alight, live-wired and so, so hot.

House groaned as he started to suck on her bottom lip roughly, the lipgloss sliding clean off where he slid his tongue across. Her pulse, erratic and racing where his thumb sat.

Her little whimpers and whines transported into his mouth as he ran his tongue sporadically across her top lip. His grip around her neck tightened.

“Fuck, Greg,” Cameron whispered, feeling her last ounce of self control drain with the pure bliss impacting her neck.

She couldn’t hold herself back anymore. So utterly horny that it might ruin her life.

Her hand reaches up underneath the large shirt, into the waistband of her underwear, delving smoothly into the wetness, shamelessly but furiously grinding her clit on the length of her finger.

A loud moan out gives her away immediately, House snapping back from her, his hands departing her neck, it already misses him.

“Hey.”

“That’s not a part of the deal,” House growls out earnestly, Cameron’s fingers slipping out of her panties, the shame washing over her as the air cooled the tackiness of them.

“I–” Cameron starts, a blooming pink rushes over her cheeks.

“Bad girl, disobeying your own rules,” House continues to ridicule her, his eyes filled to the brim with lust that makes Cameron want to sink into them.

A loud slap erupts in the room, hitting her partially exposed thigh.

“Are you learning quick enough?” House asks, rubbing gently over the red skin.

Why is he so perfect?

“Mhm, I’m sorry Daddy,” she mutters, embarrassment still flushing through her system.

“It’s okay sweet girl,” House grabbed her waist tightly, craving the glistening moisture on her fingers but urgently pushed the thought to the jail cell in his mind.

“What do we tell Wilson?” Cameron asks, the slap so loud she would be surprised if House’s neighbour doesn’t come over for a reunion.

“Nothing, if he wants to know, we can tell him, hmm?” House murmurs, deepening his gaze into her eyes.

She nods in agreement, rolling off the bed to go to the bathroom.

“No funny business in there, I need to pee too,” House mocks as she smirks, closing the door behind her.

Chapter Text

“Wilson,” House drawls out his whine, emphasis clearly required as the one who buys the lunch was unresponsive.

“What now?” Wilson snaps, rolling his eyes, House notices he let them look up for longer than normal. Probably asking a superior being to intervene.

“What am I supposed to do about Cuddy?”

The question hung in the air, dangling like the juicy carrot of complete disaster and terror above their heads. Who was going to bite first? House wonders if that makes the pair of them pigs, maybe horses. Him and Wilson would be pretty spectacular horses, except for House’s dud leg.

House raises his eyebrows at Wilson’s frozen demeanour, prompting any movement at all, let alone a response.

“What are you to do about Cuddy?” the dreaded female voice erupts from behind House, as he slowly turns to meet the familiar black curls and–

“Holy shit, you wore this to work?” House blurts out, his eyes unable to detach from her white blouse, buttons undone to a dangerous low – shadowing of a bright red laced bra underneath, peaking slightly past the dip in her collar.

“House, grow up,” Cuddy crosses her arms over her body, which only pushes her cleavage in further. The clearing of his throat made her smirk victoriously as he absorbed himself in her eyes again. He has Cameron, he doesn’t care what Cuddy is offering, especially after the tantrum she threw last week. 

Honestly, the outfit was too obnoxious, too obvious that she was trying way too hard to sway House’s reservations. She has to know he’s smarter than that.

“Fine, I don’t want to have to argue with you on every little thing. I’m calling a truce,” House proposes playfully, trying to not get weighed down in all the minor details of how this will all work between him and Cuddy.

“A truce? Where is House and where have you put him?” Wilson asked hastily from behind House, who rolled his eyes without turning around to meet the new conversationalist. Where was all this psychology a minute ago?

“Yeah, you’ve never called a truce on anything, ever,” Cuddy adds, still staring at him, the sheen of hope in her eyes about what the truce could signify for her overreaching.

“Well, usually I wouldn’t. But Cams cares a lot about what you think of her, Cuddy, God knows why,” House starts, the accidental slip of the nickname in front of Cuddy doesn’t make him falter, “You can hate me all you want, but give her another chance.”

Cuddy scoffs, again. She starts to walk away as House grabs his sandwich, limping after her as the lunch lady yells at him to actually pay for the food he eats. Wilson pulls out a crisp twenty, putting it on the counter in exasperation.

“Annoying little bastard,” the lady mumbles under her breath, opening the register drawer.

“Tell me about it,” Wilson replies, his palm cradling his jaw.

—

“It’s not her fault, just blame me,” House huffs out, his leg bringing a familiar stabbing ache that always accompanies exertion.

Cuddy is still fleeing gracefully, head held high but the powerful clicking of her heels against the hospital tiling forces a group of nurses scuffle out the way.

“Oh yeah, because it’s my fault she called me a bitch!” Cuddy snaps, head turned to House momentarily before watching the path to her office light up in front of her.

“She’ll apologise, okay, I can tell she feels guilty about it,” House admits, defeat tracing the action verbs. 

“A fake apology is exactly what we need here,” Cuddy mocks, tucking her hair behind her ear as her office doors appear in sight.

“It’s not fake,” House grounds Cuddy sternly as her hand reaches out for the door handle, causing her pause.

“Look, she just feels really protective over the whole relationship. She even made rules to make it all work. Cut her some slack, okay?” The light hits the bridge of his nose, making the shadow under his eyes appear even darker than they truly were. It still made Cuddy’s stomach turn.

She sighs. Wanting House more than anything has been her life for years, but the way he talks about Cameron, makes any excuse for her, even if it was true? He was in far too deep to even begin to reason with, this is how her life is in the present. The undeniable truth, unacceptable to Cuddy, but still pure.

The rising heart rate underneath her skin forces her teeth to grit, the tight feeling behind her neck causing goosebumps to pepper across the skin on her arms.
It’s all so immature, so stupid. If she could just grow a set and stop the tears over this relationship, she would never be in this position in the first place. 

She wants to be happy for them, she really does. But she always thought House would inevitably end up with her. They’d do IVF and have a child, buy a bigger property and still bicker like they have all these years.

Now he gets to bicker with the immunologist on his team that will well and truly outlive him.

She can probably have a child without IVF, it would be easy, simple.

Cuddy has to find someone else, and that stings like rubbing alcohol to the already opened wound.

In a way, she can sympathise with Cameron, if she finally had House after the years of pining for him, she would’ve done worse to herself in that office.

Maybe a mostly bubbly and cheerful girl, who takes care of House’s every move to make sure he doesn’t end up killing himself is what he truly needs.

“Fine. She doesn’t have to apologise. I wish I could be happy for you both, but it’s going to take me some time. I’m sorry,” Cuddy finally mutters out, her eyes darting to the floor as the door handle clicks, door shutting gently behind her as her potent perfume lingers in House’s nostrils.

“Well, that went better than expected,” House speaks to the air, mouth full of sandwich as he turns on his heel, hobbling back to the cafeteria.

—

“Well he’s gone to speak with her n-” Wilson’s sentence is interrupted by House plonking himself at the two person table, the obnoxious screech of the metal legs of the chair turning a couple of heads. As the chair was backwards, House leant against the back of the chair with his chest, crossing his arms with superiority over the two doctors in front of him.

“I… got Cuddy off our back,” House reaches out to his left, ruffling up his girlfriend’s face framing pieces, which earnt him a sharp tingling pain on the back of his hand.

“Please tell me you didn’t kill her, or do something stupid,” Cameron replies as House sulks momentarily over the slap.

“You kidding? It’s House, she’s probably buried six feet underground!” Wilson grins, giving a resounding clap for his own joke, Cameron still deadpan.

“No, we just talked, didn’t even yell. You would be so proud baby.”

A mock regurgitation sound came from Wilson, though Cameron smiled at the nickname.

“Don’t mock, you’re the one who was okay with other things,” House mischievously hinted, wiggling his eyebrows obnoxiously. 

Wilson choked on his salad, spluttering furiously, his face as red as the fire hydrant sitting on the wall behind him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Though Cameron usually had to feign innocence, her obliviousness was well and true.

House thinks of the irony of how the embarrassing conversation happened at this very table. He’s going to let Wilson handle this one, considering he hasn’t helped him out at all today.

“Well?” Cameron questions the two men in front of her, Wilson just recovering from his choking incident, House looks up with ditziness at the ceiling lights.

“Doesn’t matter,” Wilson sweeps over quickly, House is now reengaged in the conversation.

“Ah,” House tuts sharply, “Do you not want to?”

“Yes I do,” Wilson replies immediately, almost overlapping over House’s words.

House chuckles, “Then tell her!”

House strokes Cameron’s hair, it seemed really fluffy and light today.

Silence.

“Wilson, whatever it is, House has probably done worse, or told me worse.”

Gosh, they are like two little boys, I swear.

Wilson has literally held her in her panicked state, I’m sure whatever he s–

“After I walked in on you and House in the office that time House realised that I enjoyed watching– well not enjoyed but didn’t mind seeing that I happened to offer that if you guys wanted a third I would be more than happy– err not more than happy just happy like a normal amount of h–”

“Wilson, holy shit just calm down for a second, please?” Cameron blurted out, getting stressed just at the sight of Wilson’s panic.

Cameron knew the pair were staring intently at her, at her reaction, what she would respond.

So she hides herself, elbows on the table, hands making a sort of a shield around her head as she hangs her head lower.

Phew, she can think.

She can hear the muttering that turns quickly into whispered bickering in front of her as she absorbs herself into her response.

What the fuck?

Where did that even come from?

Okay, he’s definitely being serious. House better not have told him about my kinks, I swear.

Okay, pros? Wilson is definitely attractive, Wilson cares about the both of us, Wilson wouldn’t judge me. 

Cons? Will he be able to keep up with me and House? The stuff already proposed is pretty, well, unlike him at all. 

Although, the contrast of Wilson’s kinder rewards and House’s gruff punishments could make for an amazing night. I would be the centre of attention, since I’m the only woman. I would be able to tease them both into fucking me so hard I couldn’t walk straight the next day.

A big, unnerving array of goosebumps coats her arms, her hair standing up against her will.

Fuck, that is extremely hot.

“Whatcha’ thinkin’ about Cams?” House and Wilson both notice the incredibly obvious reaction displayed on her arms. 

The teasing laced in his voice caused her to stumble upon the fact that House could vaguely tell what she was thinking about.

“Shut up,” Cameron grunted out as she continued her careful considerations.

“W–oh,” Wilson muttered out in a whisper, the realisation dawned as to why House was mocking her.

Now the table was silent, the two men, who act like boys, watched Cameron like she was a monster truck at the shows they attended together.

Just don’t think about the fact that they’re looking at you.

Stop thinking about the fact they’re looking at you, knowing what you were thinking about.

For fucks sake, I can’t make my brain do anything, can I?

Okay, the sex would be great, correction, it would be amazing. I would probably give them both a run for their money and have to finger myself another time over to exterminate the horniness from that night. While they watch.

The throbbing she now felt, slightly pressing herself down firmly in the chair to push it away was probably too obvious to House and Wilson. The goosebumps reappear stronger than before, her mind clouded with complete objectification of the men in front of her.

Her hands uncover her face, her breath slightly shallow, House looks at her eyes immediately and smirks hard. Wilson just looks hopeful, completely unaware of how big of a giveaway her eyes are to her arousal.

“Want to share with the class?” House retorts, making Cameron blush harder.

“That’d be spoiling it for when it really happens, wouldn’t it?”

“Wait, so–”

“Yes, Wilson. I’ll let you fuck me, sound good?”

House laughs, hard. Like how he did with Carl. It makes Cameron laugh alongside him, his happiness too contagious to her system.

Now Wilson was the one blushing.

“Uh, yeah.”

Cameron grins. Wilson has such a kind heart, just like her. 

Sharing her innocence with him would be a walk in the park. With just a moan of his first name, she will have him hooked.

"So, Cuddy approves?" Cameron interjects, saving Wilson's integrity.

"Not exactly, she said she wishes she could but it will take her some time. Whatever that means," House replies, rolling his eyes at her response.

"Ah, okay. Well at least she wants to try?" Cameron proposes, Wilson still essentially cowering in the corner.

"Mmm, I guess. I hope she finds out about the amazing and spectacular threesome we are going to have. It'd knock her socks off!" House dramatises his words with sarcasm, earning a death glare from Wilson and another stinging sensation, on his shoulder this time.

House looks at Cameron, feigning pain.

"Not my fault you say stupid things, House."

Chapter Text

“So it’s the infamous third date tonight, huh?” Foreman wiggles his eyebrows teasingly at Cameron from across the desk.

She sighs, rolling her eyes but ends it with a smile that speaks multitudes.

It somehow got out about House and Cameron’s plans for their third date, which she isn’t mad about but it does feel kind of odd. People in this hospital talk like you would not believe, she thinks Chase overheard them talking about it yesterday.

In fact, a lot of people had been monitoring House and Cameron in the hospital, chattering exclusively as they walked past together. It’s not like they even hold hands or anything like the sort in the halls. Just the mere proximity of their bodies made the nurses scatter off to their friends to discuss. Cameron felt like a celebrity of sorts, but she knew it wasn’t really about her.

House hadn’t dated in years, not since Stacy anyway. Most of the staff in the hospital hadn’t even seen a tinge of softness in his eyes until Cameron was trotting along beside him. They maintained professionalism in the halls, in the differential room. As soon as they hit House’s office however, the honeymoon phase had barely begun, sex not even on the table yet but they were still hot and heavy. 

So when she heard the creak of a door while embracing the feeling of House's lips against her neck as he muttered how dirty their first time would be on Friday night, she figured it was one of the other members of the team. They didn’t immediately close the door as far as she could hear, House would’ve been the only one able to see the culprit as her body was turned away from the internal door. However, he may have been a little busy tasting the skin on her neck.

Foreman isn’t one to watch, would have no reason to watch if he intruded. Chase is too curious for his own good, and Cameron knows he would stick around to see just how annoyingly good House was at pulling small but powerful whines and whimpers from her lungs.

The riling excitement of her upcoming night clouds her thoughts entirely, compelling her to be entirely oblivious of the way Chase glares at her soppy expression.

“Yeah, third date tonight,” Cameron tries to stifle the elephant in the room, House walks in just as she speaks.

“Now now, you better not be telling them about my massive–” House’s sarcasm is interrupted by Foreman’s poking and prodding.

“But Alisha said you guys haven't even gotten past second base yet, is that true?” Foreman interjects with his burning question.

House’s mouth opens then shuts, he glances at Cameron to see how much he is allowed to disclose to the other workers.

“Oh my God, you haven’t! Man, I just lost twenty bucks, how do you have the strength?” Foreman laughs to himself as House looks like all the cogs possible are turning behind his eyes. House doesn’t really have the answer.

“Oh, respectfully, Cameron. I more meant House has no self-control,” Foreman clarifies, trying to mend the partially awkward moment, Cameron nods wordlessly, already understanding what he meant. She can’t really believe it either.

“Well, not that it’s any of your business, but–” House begins, clapping his hands together, animation trickling through his words.

“Can we actually focus on the case?” Chase blurts out, Cameron gives him a knowing look, stifling her laughter. It’s only just now hitting him that she is actually going to sleep with House.

“Sure,” Cameron replies nicely, turning to House for further instruction. Probably not the only time she will be doing that today.

“7 month old boy, seizures, loss of motor skills,” House lists out, the chirpy demeanour from before fading. God Chase was annoying.

“West Syndrome,” Foreman immediately replies.

“Only just started last night, doesn’t explain the deterioration of motor skills.”

“Infection?” Chase questions.

“Did I say he has been ill?”

“No but it’s a valid thing to ask,” Chase stands his ground crankily. House rolls his eyes.

“Tay-Sachs, has anyone checked his eyes? If there’s a red spot, we’re dead on the money,” Cameron proposes to the team calmly, unlike Chase and House currently.

“Extreme diagnosis, I like it. Let’s hope it’s not though,”

“No cure, yeah, I know,” Cameron tucks her hair behind her ear.

House is more than happy that Cameron hasn’t gone totally ditzy on him because of their relationship, if anything she’s actually been three times sharper than usual. His heart knocks at his ribs as a small glimmer of excitement glows in her irises at her correct diagnosis.

“Ok, go, get out of here, you know what we're looking for.” House responds, trying to drag himself away from how those eyes might affect him tonight.

He watches them all walk out, Cameron whips her head around as she walks out last, smirking cheekily at him as she puts some jaunt into it for him. White knuckles are juxtaposed by the brown wood of the cane as he stares shamelessly at her ass in the pair of tight office slacks.

His teeth grind as he refocuses on what he is supposed to be doing, the hobble of shame to his office isn’t any less embarrassing without people there.

—

“‘Kay princess, you ready for the best date of your life?” House asks, cheerfulness overtaking his tone, the teenager in him showing.

He shuts the door behind her, her pretty but casual outfit allows his eyes to linger for longer than Cameron expected.

“It’s just jeans and a shirt, babe,” Cameron replied, tone flat, expression brightening at how smoothly the nickname trickled down the stream.

“Hey, I like that one!” Cameron exclaimed, House’s sincere chuckle erupts in the room, stifled by his lips on hers for a quick gentle kiss. He spins her around so she can enter the home, her eyes already lit up by her surroundings. 

“I like that one too. Have a look around, I know you’re dying to after not being able to last time,” House gives her gracious allowance, and before he could finish his sentence she was off, scurrying up to the massive bookshelf that took up the majority of the living room wall. 

“Lots of history books?” Cameron asks him inquisitively.

“Yeah, I've lived in a few places, know a few languages. Want to go to more places someday.” He responds, Cameron’s heart skips when she imagines her and House travelling together, taking photos that will last forever.

“Health books obviously,” Cameron chatters to herself, running her fingers lightly across the spines of the books. 

Clatters in the kitchen register in her ears but don’t pull her away from the only two framed photos in the apartment sitting on the sideboard. 

The one on the left had a bronzed frame, Carl, David and Daniel were all taking a shot, it looked like it was in a nightclub, one of the hole in the wall type. Typical House, framing a moment like that.

The one on the right was in a black frame, House and Wilson, obviously. House was taking a selfie, Wilson was passed out in a booth of a club, two strippers waving an opened bottle of vodka under his nose to wake him, stroking his hair. House had a boyish grin and an obnoxious thumbs up. 

Cameron giggled to herself, House always bringing all of his loved ones into these situations, obviously. She wonders why he hasn’t asked her to go out with him yet, or even floated it as a proposal. They’ll have a threesome with Wilson, but going clubbing is crossing the line?

“Hey babe!” Cameron called out slightly, unable to draw her eyes away from the excitement captured in the frames.

“Yeah!” House replied loudly, the opening of the fridge faintly in the background noise.

“When are you going to take me to a club?”

“I’m sorry, what? Come here?”

Cameron’s legs drag her to the kitchen, the smell of superb food growing stronger. House’s back flexes as he uses the spatula in the pan, halting her train of thought, mouth watering over two subjects.

“Staring,” House turns around realising her absence of question is because of her wandering eyes.

“Mm, sorry,” Cameron trails her eyes up slowly to meet his eyes, smiling timidly.

“When are you going to take me to a club?” She revisits, leaning against the kitchen bench.

“Wow, that’s really what you said, I thought my brain was trying to fill in the gaps with what I wanted to hear,” he chuckles.

“What’s so outrageous about that? You took Wilson, Carl, David and Daniel, take me,” Cameron’s eyebrows furrow, her arms now crossing.

“I just didn’t think you would be up for that, but yes, I’ll take you, I promise.” House turns back around to the stove.

“I’m more than up for it!” Cameron squeaks out, her shoulders now tense and unmoving.

House turns back around to face her, her frustration very obvious. He raises his eyebrows at her rationality.

Okay, she has to admit, she was being entirely irrational. But she wanted to be in a frame in the house, in fact, she wanted her frame to be the biggest one.

“Sorry, I’m just a bit jealous,” she admits under her breath, sighing out as his face morphs into textbook confusion.

“Jealous that I took my friends to the club?” House asks, as if her jealousy was unwarranted.

“No, jealous that I don’t have a frame on the shelf, thingy,” she mutters out, swatting her hand in the air, forgetting the name of the furniture piece in her flurry.

“Owh Cams,” House talks to her like she’s a child throwing a tantrum, it doesn’t phase her because she really is acting like one. He holds his arm out to let her come towards him, she obliges quickly, sinking into the warm embrace.

“I want to have the biggest frame, in the middle, and I want it to be gold because I’m the best one,” she nuzzles into his chest as he lets out a small laugh, rubbing her back a couple of times over before letting her go. She sighs at the loss of contact.

“When we go, I’ll make sure to make you pose for the best photo, and we’ll put it on the sideboard, okay?” He reassures her with such ease that it feels dangerously natural for the both of them.

“‘Kay,” she agrees easily, no persuasion needed. She was going to be on the shelf sideboard thingy.

“What’re you making?” Cameron peers over House’s shoulder, holding on lightly with both hands to balance when she’s on her toes.

“Well, I’m making my signature dish. Only Wilson and Carl’s crew have ever had it,” House explains lightly.

“First lady to try the dish, I’m honoured,” she taunts lovingly, now settling on the flats of her feet.

“Yeah, it’s only spaghetti. However, it’ll change how you see pasta forever, I’m sure.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll be the judge of that.” Her arms wrap around his waist, as he works attentively on their food.

After a minute, House urges her to go sit down, so she obliges.

—

“Oh my God, that was amazing,” Cameron raves on, House seeming cocky before was not just a hoax.

“Yeah, well, it’s not a big deal,” he replies, trying to downplay the fluttering he feels all over from her sparkling compliments.

“It is! You’re really talented, House,” Cameron’s smile was so gorgeous he could jump right over his dining table.

“Thanks,” he mutters, being the centre of attention in a good light was very unusual, his lips pressed together, attempting to squeeze out the awkwardness he felt.

He stands up and takes the plates to the kitchen, loading them into the dishwasher.

“Hey Greg,” Cameron approaches timidly, standing shyly on the other side of the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?” House panics at her shy nature, entirely unlike her, especially in his own home.

“I kind of went out and,” Cameron breathes in, blush covering her face, “and I bought you something I think you’re going to like.”

My God, please tell me this has to do with our sexcapade, please.

“Mmm?” House manages to grunt out, “How about we reveal the surprise in my room?”

“Read my mind.”

House doesn’t think he’s ever limped so fast in his life.

“So I went to the mall, looking for something specific. I hope you like it,” Cameron is still very much in her shell, nervousness making her heart beat faster, hoping this isn’t too cheesy.

“I’ll love it. Whatever it is, I’ll love it.”

“That’s bold, you don’t know what it is?”

“Don’t have to, whatever you do I’ll love it,” His eyes lock on hers as they stand across from each other.

“Well, you’re going to have to unwrap it,” she toys with the hem of her shirt, lifting it slightly to give him a head start.

“God, you’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

“I hope not, we have some fucking to do this weekend.”

The starkness of her statement makes him clear his throat as his hands latch onto the cotton shirt.

He slowly pulls the fabric up, his eyes meeting the most of a gorgeous laced bra.

It’s azure blue.

He freezes momentarily, pupils definitely blown.

He pulls the rest of the shirt off, throwing it to the side of the room, his eyes unmoving.

She smiles slightly, all of her effort put into one sentence,

“Do you like it?”

House laughs to himself, immediately getting to his knees, unzipping her fly, undoing the button of her jeans as he yanks them down. She adjusts the laced panties to sit properly on her hips. The matching set slowed his thoughts, all the blood occupied by something else that was prodding into his jeans.

“God– I, Allison,” is all House could manage before grabbing onto her body so tightly, his lips eating away at all her seriousness.

The way her breasts sit just right, his favourite colour adorned all over her, covering very little of her ass as he gropes it, deepening the kiss, tongue in her mouth. It’s like she knew exactly who she belongs to, causing a groan out of his mouth.

Cameron practically rips his shirt off, his hands detach momentarily to undo his jeans, kicking them off. She detaches, House dreading this part of the relationship.

She drops to her knees, looking at the scar on his thigh.

“Don’t. You don’t have to–”

“No, let me.”

She plants soft kisses along the healed wound, taking her time as she strokes the rest of his thigh. House groans, her slight but affectionate touches seeing deeper into his soul than he wished. Why would anyone love this part of him?

The part of him that was removed but replaced with malice and anger. That made him snap at others, inconsiderate. His passion punted to the depths of the universe, only reemerging for his beautiful Cameron.

The girl who kissed every inch of the scar, like she had it to thank for everything good in this relationship. The girl who loved him for his scar, not loving him despite.

A slight well of tears in his eyes makes him try to accelerate the moment.

“Thank you,” he hangs his head to stare at the ceiling, blinking away the tears.

“I wanted to, always have,” she mutters, using his hips as support to stand back up.

“Now, what were we doing? I think this little outfit is meant to do good things for you, but I’m not sure Daddy?” Her feigned innocence makes him melt so hard he thinks he’s just sunk into the wooden floorboards. The sheen of her beautiful green eyes that only sparkle like that for him, only him.

“More than good, baby,” his lips meet hers once more, pushing her into the mattress as he crawls up to her neck, making blooming marks that got her more wet with every nip at her skin.

House sits back to look at his work, hickeys littering her neck. They’ll last days, just long enough to show on Monday. Everyone will know.

Fucking hot.

“Okay, so now what are we supposed to do?” Cameron asks curiously, panting on the mattress.

Her hair was splayed out perfectly, the perfect blue mixes with her pale skin to toy with House’s mind.

She fluttered her eyelashes gently, the way she was presented on the bed felt like a performance, like she was a sweet angel who deserved to be dicked down.

“This,” House grunts out as he grabs her hips, pulling her underwear off, tossing them to the floor.

“You see the mirrors on the wardrobe doors?” House growls out, sensuality coating his voice, causing Cameron’s grunt of agreement to be a lot whinier and sweeter than she expected.

“Watch you and I in it, the way I am about to absolutely devour your little cunt.”

Before Cameron could reply to the tantalising comment, House’s tongue got to work. He immediately circled her clit with the tip of his tongue, just enough to give her pleasure. Her hands grasped at his hair helplessly, as if to thank him for his service. She could see the way her jaw dropped open at the contact, slack as she saw the minimal movements of his head.

“I– ungh, Greg, fuck!” He pushes his tongue inside, getting to taste her entirely. The loud groan he lets out vibrates into her, causing her to arch off of the mattress.

Cameron tastes like everything he thought she would and more. It was so sweet and tangy, he would give up everything to just taste it all the time.

God, I’m so lucky.

The slick sheen gathers on his stubble as he keeps flicking his tongue inside of her, his hot breath puffs out onto her clit, adding an extra level of pleasure that she could barely handle.

“Please,” her whine was so soft but needy, he sped up his pace, adding a thumb to her clit, rubbing small circles into her wetness.

“Ah, mmh, Daddy it’s so–oo, good,” her words barely coherent, robbed by House’s tongue. All she was conscious of was the beauty of how her back looked as it arched off of the bed, the way House’s beard started to burn against her thighs as her orgasm neared, her legs unconsciously closing in on House’s head.

His groans into her pussy brought her dangerously close to the edge.

“I’m gonna, I’m gonna, c–, hah, mmm,” House didn’t need her to reiterate what that meant, smirking into her at his skills stripping away all of her rationality, her ability to function.

She tries to watch herself in the mirror as she orgasms, but the sheer wave of pleasure makes her shudder, eyes squeezing shut as her abs pull her off of the bed, her muscles tensing as her hands pull harder at House’s hair. Her moan filled with ecstasy dissipates, mouth hangs open but no sound escapes. 

She falls back into the bed with a louder flop, panting heavily as her hands unlatch from House’s hair, she stares into her own eyes in the mirror as they flutter. She already looks fucked out and they haven't even reached the main event yet.

“You taste,” House begins, looking her dead in the eye as he sucks his thumb clean, “so amazing, unreal.”

She blushes, not like she had any control over that but she knew that she did. His fingers graze her pussy once more, making a whimper escape Cameron’s lips as he holds them out to her.

“Taste yourself,” House ordered sternly, now standing at the end of the bed.

Cameron crawled forward slowly, making sure to maintain eye contact for the whole ordeal. His fingers entered her mouth as she swirled her tongue around the pair, getting all of her own juices off efficiently. He practically moaned at the sight, rolling his head back, unable to take her unbroken stare any longer.

“Now it’s my turn to watch you in the mirror, hm?” House asked rhetorically, he unhooked her bra with ease, sliding it off and throwing it to meet the other piece of the set.

“Good God, what did I do to deserve you Cams,” His tongue immediately meets her nipples momentarily, her tits not being the focus of this specific night but he has to dignify and respect them. With a set like that? He may as well get on his knees and start begging her to not leave.

“Endured, mph, decades without me,” she manages to get out through the small whimpers she lets out.

“True,” House responds as he unlatches from her nipple, grabbing her torso and roughly flipping her over, pushing her back down into the mattress.

“Now I get to punish you for not finding me sooner.”

There’s a specific gruffness, a rough tone in his voice that immediately makes Cameron stick her ass up in the air, her need superseding looking stupid.

“Daddy’s little girl is excited?” House coos, his hand resting on her ass, taking in the view of her helpless like this.

“Mhm, please fuck me, please,” Cameron pleads, flipping her head to the other side to at least see some of the show.

“You want to watch, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then watch this.”

His hand lifts up, smacking her ass loudly. The pain makes her push her ass back further, for another slap, for a finger, for anything.

“Don’t stretch me, just fuck me, fuck,” she bites out needily, impatience killing every fibre of her being slowly but surely.

“I suppose,” House mutters out sarcastically, quickly removing his underwear, his dick sprung out, red and leaking precum. He ducks over to the bedside table, grabbing out a condom, sliding it on impossibly quick.

He pushes into her with a slight force, bottoming out instantly. A loud moan comes from both parties, the perfect pitch of her higher, angelic whimper and his low, guttural moan taking control of both of them as her jaw opens once more, her face pushed into the pillows.

“Fuck you’re so wet, you adorable slut,” The nickname makes Cameron murmur out an obscene sentence.

“I’m your slut, your toy, just fuck me, I can take it, I swear!”

That makes House pull his hips back to slam back into her. Over and over, normal pace maintained.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, faster, mmh,” she mutters out, panting already.

House twists the length of her hair around his hand from the root, grabbing on and yanking as he picks up the pace. His other hand reaches around her to forcefully grab her chin as he pulls in and out of her hastily.

House pushes her chin to face the mirror, he leans over, fucking deeper into her.

“Look how, ngh, fucking use–less, you look,” House grunts near her ear, looking at her eyes in the mirror as they met his through the reflection.

“Taking my cock, mmm, like a good little bitch, my toy–fuuck,” he couldn’t help himself from letting go, his moans filling the room as well as Cameron’s.

The way his dick stretched her was so fucking intoxicating, slamming in her over and over as she practically yelled at the combination of the pain and the pleasure swirling around.

“Do you, ahh, know how many times I–mm, dreamed of this, Greg,” The volume of her voice alternating exponentially as she gets closer to her release.

“Did I fuck you this good, did I do this?” House growls before slapping her ass once more, watching in the mirror as his hand makes contact with the skin. 

“Ungh, God yes, more,” she grunted out, an animalistic attribute to her voice, the way she was now pushing her ass towards his hips.

He slapped her ass one more time, before using the free hand to grip her hip, moving them faster to their release.

“Shit, I’m c–coming, Greg please,” she yelled out, ending in a squeak as her walls contracted impossible tight, breaking the rubber band in House’s stomach. Cameron didn’t even know what she was pleading for, as her voice broke into the neediest of whimpers.

“Fuck, Allison,” he groaned loudly, cumming into the condom, burying himself in the infinitely tight walls, pulsating around the throbbing of his cock. He collapses onto her after he rides out his release, his weight and the oddly comforting feeling of his cock in her settles her.

He pulls out, throwing the condom in the bin in the corner of the room, Cameron already missing the weight of him. House quickly hops back into the bed, letting her snuggle up to his side, her head using his bicep as a pillow.

“You okay?” House asks, planting a kiss on the top of her head. He can sense her restlessness.

“Yeah, just need to pee, sorry, didn’t want to ruin the moment,” she replies, already getting up and entering the ensuite. She doesn’t bother shutting the door.

“That doesn’t ruin the moment Cams, you need to do what’s comfortable,” House responds, “actually, I probably need to go after you.”

“Copycat,” she snarks out, giggling at her own joke as she flushes the toilet.

“I am no cat, thank you,” House retorts, as he swaps places with her, the sink running through the plumbing in the walls reminds her that House’s neighbours on the left side probably heard all of that.

“Do you think the neighbours heard us?” Cameron asks timidly, waddling back to the bed. No kidding when House said that he wanted to break her. House smirks at her question.

“I hope so, that’s my goal,” he jokes, laughing at himself as he flushes.

“No, but I need to know because if I end up meeting that neighbour again, what will people say?”

“Wow, he must be really good?”

“House!”

“What? It’s funny and flattering, my two favourite traits,” he responds cockily, turning the tap off and joining her back in the bed, curling into the same position again.

“Whatever, I’ll just assume they did,” Cameron exhales, content signified in the breath.

“I really enjoyed that,” Cameron breaks the small moment of silence.

“Me too, who would’ve thought two doctors would understand human anatomy well enough to have earth-shattering sex?” House mocked, but his sentiment was sincere.

“It really was that good, huh?” Cameron asked rhetorically, both of them knowing the answer.

“Better than when Wilson and I did it!” House exclaimed extravagantly, purely making Cameron roll her eyes.

“You do realise you’ll be able to say that soon right? That you and Wilson have done it, not the better than me part,” Cameron clarifies.

“Yeah, I know. Nothing could be better than that pussy of yours, wow,” House actually sounded taken aback, blown away.

“Mmm, your dick just fits perfectly, better than I imagined,” Cameron reaffirms House, who chuckles next to her.

“That’s what she said, literally.” 

“Dumbass.”