Little Changes, Big Possibilities By Ardin
Disclaimer: I don't own House or anything related to it. I sure wouldn't mind having my very own Robert Sean Leonard though.
Spoilers: Takes place immediately after the events of the third season episode "Lines in the Sand"
"All change is bad. It's not true you know."
She had been trying to tell him, to explain to him and herself. Using those nine words which meant nothing and everything to tell him about a change. Not one he should make, but rather one that she was making.
Though really the change had been happening for months, tiny little things shifting to give her a whole new view of things. So it wasn't so much that she was changing as she was accepting what had already changed and finally readying herself to act on it.
She was telling him goodbye. Telling him that, while she still would always look up to him as a brilliant doctor and a good teacher (even if his methods did leave a lot to be desired), she was no longer interested in him in a romantic way. That she had moved past loving him.
Later, after the flooring guys had left, she sits at her desk pretending to answer e-mails or finish paperwork. In reality she is waiting. Waiting for House to stop gloating over another great save and go home. And as she waits, she thinks.
She attempts to pinpoint the exact moment when things had changed; when her interests had shifted away from House and onto his best friend. After two hours of contemplation the best thing she can come up with is that there wasn't any single moment when she looked up and suddenly noticed Wilson. It had happened over months, maybe even years. So slowly that she can barely even recall it in her memories.
For so long they had been the only two members of the Greg House Fan Club, appreciating and respecting him for the most part even if the urge to kill him did occasionally surface, that it seemed only reasonable that they would gravitate towards one another.
At first their entire relationship had centered around House: tag team coercion to get him to see patients, gripe fests in the cafeteria after his more insane days, and shared eye rolls at his arrogance and ego. Wilson had been her teammate as they struggled to keep him under some semblance of control, or at least from killing anyone.
But over time that had changed. House was still a main reason for their interaction, but other topics slowly began to creep into their conversations. Their tag teaming took on a new level of fluidity and familiarity. Eye rolls were replaced by friendly smiles and pleasant joking and lunch conversations transformed from bitching sessions into real discussions.
And still, despite everything else, it was the smallest thing during the course of the previous few days that had entirely changed the way that she consciously thought about the oncologist. They had been in the lab analyzing the samples from the biopsy. She had taken his place at the microscope, eager to see for herself what he had spotted – liver cells in the lymph system – and he was standing behind her looking over her shoulder.
She hadn't noticed at first how close he was; too busy running theories in her mind, trying to anticipate House's next questions and have an answer ready.
But then House had blazed out with barely a word and she and Wilson had been left on their own. And he was still standing too close. Suddenly that was all she could think about: the little bit of his body heat that bridged the inches that separated them, the slight increase in his breathing, and the way that his eyes had shifted from the monitor to the back of her neck, burning her skin even as she tried to ignore the feeling.
It had taken her several long moments to work up the courage to glance at him over her shoulder, but when she did the look on his face made her heart rate increase exponentially. He had a mixture of longing and hope painted across his expression and he had just started to lean towards her, his eyes shifting to her lips as he moved, when her pager had sounded, calling her back to her job; back to the real world.
The only times she had seen him since, she'd barely been able to meet his eyes and his single attempt at a joke had fallen flat between them.
And as she sits, hours later, in her office, with its newly replaced carpet and currently contented boss, she wanders what would have happened if her beeper had gone off a minute, or even ten seconds, later.
The banging of a cane on a glass wall and a shout startle her out of her daydreams and she looks up at House questioningly.
"Go home! We're done here."
She smiles slightly and nods. Shuffling papers on her desk as thought tidying up before leaving, she watches him make his way out of his office and down the hall towards the elevators. She waits several minutes to ensure that he has actually gone before heading down the corridor herself.
She stops outside Wilson's office, takes a deep breath and knocks lightly, barely waiting for a reply before opening the door and stepping inside.
He looks startled at her entrance, but gives her a small grin and gestures to his couch, inviting her to sit.
"On your way home?"
She gives a small shrug, glancing briefly at the offered sofa before choosing to remain standing, "House just took off, so…" She lets her voice trail off, not really sure of what to say next; what else there is to say.
Wilson releases a small sigh at her response, relieved that wherever this conversation is heading the other man will not be around to intrude. Signing one last discharge slip, he sets his pen down, stands – stretching a little after so long in his chair – and moves around his desk to sit on its edge in the space House had cleared earlier. His eyes are firmly on Cameron, attempting to figure out what she is thinking and feeling, as he speaks.
"I'm sure he's feeling quite self-satisfied at the moment, what with solving a case and beating Cuddy all in one day." He smiles widely and shakes his head at the lunacy that is Greg House.
She nods in agreement, "It's been an interesting couple of days." Her words are accompanied by a short step forward and the sudden lack of space between them – his knee almost brushing her thigh – leaves him in no doubt that she isn't talking about the case.
Unsure of how to properly respond he stays silent, their connected gazes seeming to heat the room several degrees and his left hand drifting unconsciously from the edge of the desk to her waist. Minutes pass before he attempts to speak again.
"Cameron, I-ˮ
He's barely managed to get her name out when her lips descend on his. It hardly comes as a surprise, what with the almost incident in the lab and the awkward tension since, but still the sudden feel of her soft lips on his own and her hand grasping at his tie confuse him and he sits still in shock for several heartbeats before he responds gently to her kiss.
For an unknown span of time they are lost in each other, everything else disappearing in the light touch of her tongue to his lower lip and the feel of her hair on his fingertips as he cups her cheek.
He's barely begun to come to grips with what is happening and is infinitely far from wanting it to end when she pulls away from him slightly. Her gaze studies his features for a minute before she speaks.
"Are you ready to go home?"
He smiles widely at the many possible meanings of her question and gives her an answering nod before standing and once again pulling her against him and kissing her deeply.
Their tongues tangle fervently for long moments before he breaks away. Quickly gathering his jacket and briefcase he opens the door and offers her his hand.
Together they make their way through the mostly silent hospital and out into the night.