The first time House holds her hand, Cameron thinks that she might cry. It's a funeral, so that wouldn't really be out of place, but the smiling through her tears just might give her away. They sit side by side in a very old church listening to a preacher drone on and on, extolling the virtues of a doctor who had, in reality, exceeded even House when it came to bitterness and rudeness.
He's brilliant though and, as far as Cameron can guess, played mentor to one Gregory House. Maybe there's more to the story, maybe less. House isn't saying either way and if Cameron has him alone for two hours with no patient to distract, she's not going to waste her time on who taught him the fine art of sarcasm.
He walks her out with a hand on the small of her back. She can feel it through the thing silk of her blouse and it sends warmth spiraling through her. She looks at the damp grass and tries to distract herself, because atheist or not she is still not comfortable with getting aroused at a funeral.
"You're being nice to me," Cameron points out, leaning in. He stiffens and she thinks, not for the first time, that she always say too much around him.
"Don't get used to it," House says. "You just make me look good."
She bites her lip. She's not quite to the point of writing the dictionary on it, but she has learned a thing or two about House-speak. "Okay, fine, buy me dinner."
"What?!"
"I'm doing you a favor. That means you owe me."
"I think gainful employment is enough of a payback," he says. "Besides, I'm the one doing you the favor. You're so hung up on me that you'd take my dog to the vet if I asked you to."
"You don't have a dog," Cameron says.
"My rat, then."
"Steve's still alive?" Cameron says, raising an eyebrow. "I didn't know rats lived that long."
"Yep, still kicking." House lets his hand fall from her back as they get into her car. He takes the driver's seat and motions for her keys, which she hands over with rolled eyes. "Why, you in the market for a pet rat?"
"You wouldn't give up Steve," Cameron says. "You're attached."
House shrugs. "As far as company goes, he's got one up on you. He doesn't talk."
"He also doesn't have boobs, so I've got one up on him."
"Touche." House gives her an almost appreciative sidelong glance.
Lunch is surprisingly pleasant. Probably, Cameron thinks, because House is distracted by the loss of someone who has obviously in some way impacted his life. She shouldn't be capitalizing on his grief, but maybe he's impacting her because she doesn't feel that bad, really.
"I don't feel like going back yet," House says. "Let's go see a movie."
"You have clinic hours this afternoon, don't you?"
"I would never shirk my responsibilities to the ailing public." House puffs up his chest. "Except for this one time, because I know how very much it would mean to you."
He's more of a bastard when he's cornered, Cameron thinks. She remembers Vogler and Tritter and all the times that Cuddy has tried to pin him to a wall. She thinks of all the times that the clock is running out and he's all cruel wit and bright eyes and brilliance. There's none of that now. He's relaxed, almost, as they wait in a short line for movie tickets and bicker over junk food. He makes fun of her hair and tries to talk her into sneaking into a second movie when the first one is over, before the first one even starts.
"Oh, my God, how does Wilson do this?" Cameron moans, but she's grinning.
"He stopped letting me talk him into playing hookie years ago. That's why I needed someone young and naive." House says and walks away. He leaves her to pay for the food.
When the movie is over, he wants ice cream.
"You're worse than a three year old," Cameron says. This time, she drives. He sits in the passenger seat and mocks the musical options on her ipod before settling on Bob Dylan.
The cd was her ex-husbands, but Cameron doesn't say anything about that. She just hums along with idon't think twice, that's all right/I and wonders if he knows how to play this on his guitar. She prefers listening to him play piano to guitar, not that she often has the chance to hear either. She heard him play the piano during the savant case, but the guitar she's only seen in his house.
"No ice cream," she says, drawing the line. "It's past four. Chase and Foreman have to be wondering where we are."
"No," House says, "Notice how they haven't called or paged us? They're enjoying the day off as much as we are."
"Did you just admit that you're having fun with me?"
House makes a face. "Well, compared to a root canal or clinic hours, just about anything is fun."
Cameron grins. "You had fun."
"You do remember the funeral this morning?" House points out. "Was that so fun?"
Cameron's stricken. She actually had forgotten.
"I really am sorry about your mentor," Cameron says, circling back around to the reason for the day trip as she swings her car into House's parking spot.
"Wasn't my mentor." House says.
"Friend?"
"Nope."
"Wait, what do you mean? You didn't even know this guy?"
"Never met him in my life."
"What? I don't... how.... iwhy/i?" Cameron throws her hands in the air. "Wait. Wait. Was this a Idate/I?"
House's mouth drops open in feigned shock. "You think I took you to a funeral on a date? Man, you must think I'm pretty twisted."
She shakes her head and fights a smile. "You are twisted."
"But you like me." He smirks and uses his cane to push open the front door to the hospital. "Funny how that works, huh?"