A/N: "Not a creature was stirring …" was written for the 2007 Secret Santa Ficathon at HouseCameron.
It is a story of the two most important relationships in House's life; his friendship with Wilson and his love for Cameron.
A sincere thank you to my dear friend, jellybean728, for being my beta - you're the best!
My Recipient: niicelaady
My Challenge: 1. House/Cameron, in new or established relationship, grow closer when Wilson is hurt.
2. Setting unrelated to work, author's choice.
3. Cameron learns a secret about House and Wilson's relationship
Disclaimer:I do not own House, M.D., or any of its characters, nor do I profit from this story.
Not a Creature was Stirring …
Chapter 1
Deck the hall with boughs of holly … Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la.
'Tis the season to be jolly … Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la.
"You know … if I hear one more fa-la-la-la-la, I think I'll barf," House grumbled.
"And what are all these people doing here, anyway? I can hardly move."
Although it was only ten o'clock in the morning, the Princeton Mall was packed to the rafters. The men wended their way through the bustling crowd, finding it increasingly difficult to walk two steps without being rammed by a stroller, kicked by a whiney kid or jostled by a pack of unruly teenagers.
"They're doing exactly the same thing you're doing House," chuckled Wilson.
"Yea, but did they all have to wait until Christmas Eve to do their shopping?"
Wilson stared at House, astonished by the utter absurdity of his remark.
"What? I'm a doctor. I was busy saving lives. I have a good reason to be here," House said defensively.
"You and your team haven't had a case for two weeks. You didn't have to wait until the last minute to get Cameron's present."
"Harrumph," House grumped, while trying to dodge a woman who'd stopped suddenly to answer her phone. "Quit nagging and help me find something nice."
Wilson thought for a moment.
"You know … all you really have to do to make Cameron happy, is to tell her that you love her."
House sneered, "You're an idiot, Wilson. She knows that already."
"How does she know? Have you told her?"
"Not in so many words."
All Wilson could do was shake his head. "I'll take that as a 'no'. I don't understand you, House. Chase is gone, you two have been dating, successfully I might add, for a month now, and for some reason she still seems to love you. What are you waiting for?"
"I'm waiting for the right time, do you mind?" challenged House.
"Well, don't wait too long, my friend. Somehow, moments have a way of passing you by."
Wilson sensed House's patience had reached its limit.
"Okay, no more lectures. Let's get your shopping done so we can get out of here.
What would you like to buy for Cameron? Clothes, jewelry, perfume, lingerie?"
House's eyes lit up. "I kinda like that last idea …"
Wilson grinned. "I knew that would appeal to you. Follow me."
oOoOo
Wilson sighed with dismay when they reached the entrance to Victoria's Secret.
It was packed with holiday shoppers; giggling teenagers, frenzied housewives and hapless husbands and boyfriends without a clue what to buy for the women in their lives.
"Maybe we should try another store, House. It's awfully crowded in here. I don't think we'll find anyone to help us, " Wilson suggested.
"Once again, you underestimate the power of the handicapped. Follow me."
House's cane became a battering ram as he forged ahead, eliciting "ows" and "ouches" from the milling crowd.
He poked and pushed his way to the front of the store, with Wilson bringing up the rear.
"Excuse me, cripple coming through. Excuse me, mind the cane. Ooops … did I hit you in the shins? I'm so sorry."
The fact that no one dared to question his rudeness amused House to no end.
"May I help the next person in line?" a saleswoman asked, addressing the throng of customers.
"That would be me!" House asserted, as he butted in line, oblivious to the dirty looks and curses from the shoppers behind him.
"Yes, sir. How may I help you?"
"I'd like to buy a Christmas gift for my girlfriend. Something pretty," he said. Then lowering his voice to a whisper he added, "and sexy."
"Certainly. What size is she?"
"She's somewhere between Keira Knightley and Angelina Jolie."
"Well, how tall is she?"
"About this tall," House said, holding his hand beneath his shoulder. "Wait a minute … she wears high heels a lot, so she's probably only this tall."
House lowered his hand.
As a "why me" expression began to cloud the clerk's face, Wilson jumped in. "She's 5'5" and weighs about 110 pounds."
The clerk breathed a sigh of relief and flashed Wilson a grateful smile before turning to House once more.
"Thank you. And her bust?" she asked cheerfully.
"A little less than a handful. Wait, does it matter what size my hands are?"
"Do you know her cup size?"
House stood there for a moment with his hands in front of Wilson's chest, trying to visualize the size of Cameron's breasts.
"Cut that out!" Wilson shouted, swatting frantically at House's hands. "She's an A or B cup, at the most."
House glared at Wilson. "You shouldn't be looking at Cameron's breasts … they're mine!"
"Well, they may be yours, but you don't have a clue how big they are, do you?"
"Sure I do. They're … they're … they're …" he said, his voice trailing off to a whisper.
Wilson shook his head and looked at the clerk apologetically.
"I think that I have all the information I need. Now, what would like to buy for your lady?
A bra and panties set? Pajamas? A beautiful nightgown, perhaps?"
"A nightgown," House said decisively.
"That's always a good choice, especially when you're a little unsure of her size."
"Short or long?"
"Short," House said.
"Long," Wilson corrected.
"What now?" House demanded.
Wilson pulled him aside and said in hushed tones, "House, you haven't slept with Cameron yet. Don't go nuts buying her see-through nighties and marabou-trimmed baby dolls. That will come later. Go for elegant and classy. Imagine what she'd like you to see her in for the very first time."
House paused, then agreed. "You're right." He turned to the clerk. "I'd like something long, elegant and classy," he said confidently.
"Do you have a favourite colour? What colour is her hair?"
"Well, I love her in red and she's a blonde."
At least I know the answer to one of her questions …
"Red's very Christmassy, that's a good choice. But if you don't mind, there's a special gown that I'd like to show you first."
She returned shortly with a chocolate brown satin sheath draped over her arms.
"This gown is the epitome of elegance. It's sleek, sophisticated and very sexy. Notice the spaghetti straps?" she asked, before turning the gown over so that House could see the back. "They're trimmed with Swarovski crystals and criss-cross here in the back. What do you think?"
House licked his lips as he imagined Cameron in the backless gown. "I'll take it!"
"Very good, sir. The colour will look stunning with your girlfriend's hair. Shall I gift wrap it for you?"
"Yes, please," House replied, very pleased with himself. "See, Wilson? Shopping's not so hard if you know what you're doing."
"I can see that, House. You're quite the shopper."
"Thank you," he said, pushing his way out of the store, a pink shopping bag clutched in his hand.
Wilson could only smile.
oOoOo
Two hours and several presents later, House had finished his shopping and he and Wilson were enjoying a late lunch in a small deli restaurant in the Princeton Mall's food court.
"They make a mean Reuben, here," House said enthusiastically, "we'll have to remember this place, huh, Wilson?"
"Yes we will." Wilson smiled at his friend, amused at his quest for the perfect Reuben.
"What are you smiling about?" House asked suspiciously.
"Nothing, really. I know it's silly but I can't wait for tonight. What time should I pick you up?" Wilson asked.
House set down his sandwich and took a sip of his beer.
"I've been meaning to talk to you about that, Wilson. My plans have changed. I'm not going to be able to go with you this year."
Wilson's face fell as he asked, "Why not?"
"It's Cameron."
"Cameron?"
"She came by my office last night before I left, and invited me to over to her apartment tonight.
She wants to cook a special Christmas Eve dinner for me … you know, do all that girlie stuff …"
Wilson looked down at his plate as he tried to think of a way to salvage their plans.
"Okay. Hey, I know, we can just postpone things a bit. We'll go after dinner."
House squirmed awkwardly in his seat. "The thing is, Wilson … I want to spend Christmas with Cameron this year. Not just Christmas Eve, the whole thing. We've been getting really close and I think tonight … well, tonight might just be the night, if you know what I mean."
"You think that she might ask you to spend the night with her?"
"Yea, I do."
"I see." Wilson shoved his plate to one side, his meal barely touched.
"Awww geez, Wilson, don't do that …" House said, his voice dripping with exasperation.
Wilson knew what he meant, but he didn't care. "Do what?"
"Don't try and pull a guilt trip on me. It won't work!
What do you expect me to do? Choose you over Cameron?" House asked, his brow furrowed, staring at Wilson.
"You know what? I do." Wilson threw his napkin on the table.
"You could have been honest with Cameron and said we'd made plans.
Hell, you could have even invited her to come along.
But noooo, you just cast me aside like an old, worn-out shoe."
"You know how important this evening is to me, House.
And then, to add insult to injury, you have the gall to wake me up early, so that I can drive you to the mall, on the busiest damn day of the year to do your Christmas shopping."
"I didn't think you'd mind …" House said quietly, astonished at Wilson's anger.
"That's your problem House – you don't think! You never do! It's all about you, all the time!
I don't even know how you were lucky enough to get another chance with Cameron after all the heartache you've put her through over the past three years. You're the luckiest bastard alive to have Cameron even look at you!"
"I know that … that's why I don't want to disappoint her," House exclaimed, leaning forward across the table to emphasize his point.
"But you're willing to disappoint me, aren't you, House?" Wilson said sadly.
House hated guilt.
It was a crippling emotion, more crippling than his infarction.
His reaction was to attack.
To hurt, lest he be hurt.
"I don't know why you're making such a big deal over this anyway.
You're Jewish, in case you forgot. It's just Christmas. We can get together some other time," he hissed.
Wilson stared at House incredulously.
"I can't believe you said that. You know why this is such a big deal for me."
"Oh for cryin' out loud, Wilson, grow up!" House shouted. "He's gone! Get over it!"
House knew he had gone too far the minute he spoke.
Wilson got to his feet and reached for his wallet.
"Maybe you're right, House. Maybe I have been wallowing in my grief for too long.
I think it's time we both grew up. And we might as well start now."
"Grown-ups pay for their own food and arrange their own transportation.
Here's a ten," he said, throwing a bill on the table. That's for my lunch. Call yourself a cab, I'm leaving!"
"Wilson … I'm sorry … please … don't be mad," House begged self-consciously, aware of the stares they were attracting from the other diners.
Wilson turned to House as he slipped on his overcoat.
"Ever since I've known you, you've been cruel to everyone who cared about you.
I chalked it up to your pain, your personality, your insecurity and your loneliness.
I convinced myself you didn't mean to hurt me, but I was wrong. You meant every word you said.
I always forgave you. But that … was unforgivable."
"As far as I'm concerned, you can go to hell … tell Cameron I wished her a Merry Christmas."