Title: Integro Attrecto
Author: JusticeHouse
Pairing: House/Cameron
Rating: PG-13 for language
Summary: A late night discussion between House and Cameron. Set after Autopsy but before No Reason. Slightly angsty, slightly romantic. Lots of dialogue.
Author's Note: This is my first House fic, please be nice. If you don't like the thought of House and Cameron together, you might want to leave. Just an FYI, I haven't seen all of the second season (sort of missing the middle) but am catching up thanks to FOX running the repeats. Anyway, if any continuity is messed up, that's why. I'm also going on the assumption that the 'cancer kid' (no offence to anyone, I had cancer as a teenager) did get to House (notice that he was eating more candy and less Vicodin after that episode).
It was just after 11pm as Cameron walked past the Diagnostics conference room. In the dim light, she could see House in his office, stretched out in his chair, leg propped up. She hesitated at the door, not sure if he was asleep, passed out, or just thinking. Noting the absence of any liquor bot6tles, she entered, then stopped as the sound of a vaguely familiar classical piece filled the air.
Cameron glanced around, seeing the file and test results of their latest patient lined up on the floor next to House's chair. The patient was stable, for now. And that's the excuse she'd use if he caught her. But she took a few more precious minutes to study his face. Most people looked peaceful in their slumber; House looked pained.
"Stop hovering, Cameron."
She gasped, then responded, "How did you know it was me?"
"For one thing, Foreman and Chase would never have stopped to check on me."
"I could have been Dr. Wilson," she countered.
"Well, unless he's started wearing flower-scented cologne . . ." House hadn't moved and until his last comment his eyes had remained closed. Now they pinned Cameron, "Why are you in my office?"
"I thought I'd let you know that Josh is still stable."
"Yeah, except I already knew that. Why are you here?" he repeated.
"I . . . I was on my way out. I saw you and thought you'd fallen asleep going over the chart. It's after 11, you should go home."
"What are you still doing here? It's Friday; don't you have a date? Some pitiful, hard luck case who needs you to make it all better?"
"You really are a piece of work. I was finishing up my clinic charts."
"Oooh, Little Miss Perfect is behind in her charts?" His usual sarcastic wit was dulled by the ache in his leg.
House still hadn't gotten up, Cameron noticed. Usually, he paced as he taunted her. "That generally happens when I have to do your paperwork as well as my own." She moved out of his line of sight, curious to see what he'd do.
He shifted to face her and she caught the fleeting look of agony that crossed his features. As he opened his mouth to speak, Cameron interrupted him before his could start.
"Is your leg bothering you?"
"It always bothers me," House quirked an eyebrow at her. "You should go home. It's after 11," he threw her words back at her, trying to divert her. He should have known better.
Cameron ignored him, "When's the last time you took some Vicodin?"
He heaved a sigh and grimaced as he shifted again. "If I tell you will you promise to go home?"
"Maybe." She held his gaze until he looked away, not something that happened often.
"Lunch," he mumbled under his breath.
"That's more than eight hours! Since when do you go that long?"
"I've been trying to cut back."
She looked at him in disbelief, "Since when?"
"About six months," he said, defensively.
Thinking back Cameron realized that she hadn't seen House popping nearly as many pills. Instead he'd been eating suckers. "Six months," she thought. Aloud she said, "Andi got to you didn't she?"
"Andi who?" House pretended not to know who Cameron was referring to. Though the truth of it was, that little girl had shown more courage than the average clinic patient with the stomach flu.
"Fine. What dosage are you down to?"
"40mg." House actually looked pleased with himself. "Ten milligrams four times a day. Last dose is 30 minutes before bed."
"Why not take some now? It'll kick in just in time, right?"
"Even I'm not stupid enough to take a pill this tired and on an empty stomach. I'd probably hit some drug dealing asshole out on the sidewalk. No big loss there, but the paperwork's a bitch."
"I . . . I could drive you. If you want . . ." Cameron trailed off.
"No."
"But you could take your pill, get some relief . . ."
"I can't."
"But why?"
"Damn it! Do you have to know everything?" House snapped.
"Sorry. I'll just go. See you tomorrow."
"Cameron!"
She stopped at the door, ready to leave, but waiting to hear him out.
"I'm an addict," he said softly, hesitating before he went on. "I know that. You know that. I also need those pills to do my job. For those two things to coexist, I have to have control. And that means that there are four times and only four times when I take those damn things
"Could you turn around? I hate talking to the back of a person's head." House needed to see her eyes as he finished.
She complied but made no movement toward him.
"I have to control this, Cameron. Do you understand?" It bothered him that he wanted her approval so badly but he ignored the feeling, waiting for her response.
"I understand."
House was surprised at the slight tremor in her voice. And as Cameron came closer, he could see a faint glimmer of tears on her face.
She didn't say anything else, just continued forward. When she reached him, she knelt, picking up the files and placing them on his desk. Then she was by his thigh, hands descending.
House watched until they were almost upon him, then hissed, "Don't."
Cameron ignored him, her hands gently massaging the damaged leg. She could feel the scarred tissue through his jeans and it made her want to weep anew. She glanced up as he moaned, but his eyes were closed again.
House let the noise slip from his lips, caught halfway between pleasure and pain. Cameron's hands were a balm to the fire in his thigh, able to take away at least some of the endless pain. It had been so long since he'd let someone touch him there . . . anywhere really.
The Ipod went through Baba O'Riley, the theme from Star Wars, Can't Always Get What You Want, and a few others Cameron couldn't recognize. Neither knew how long they stayed there. Then her hand slipped and ended up way too close to his crotch for either of their comforts.
House's eyes snapped open and Cameron pulled her hands away.
"Any higher and I'd have to pay you for your services," House regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.
"Bastard," she muttered as she hastily got up.
House lurched to his feet, glanced quickly at his cane on the other side of the desk and just as quickly realized that if he went for it he'd lose her to the hall. And there was no way in hell he was going to make this into a public display.
"Cameron!" She took another step, hand on the door now. "Allison!" The use of her first name certainly got her attention. He made it to her; face her, balancing his weight on his left leg. "Don't go."
"Can you think of onereason that would keep me here?"
He dropped her gaze, choosing to stare instead at his Shox.
"You can't can you?" Cameron flung the door open, knocking House off balance in the process.
He grabbed her shoulder to regain his equilibrium and let go when he felt her tense underneath his fingers. As she pulled away, he said softly, "I do like you."
House was still studying his sneakers as Cameron whipped her head around, incredulous. "What did you say?"
"God! You're not going to make me repeat myself are you? I'm close to my quota of sentiment for the day."
She ignored his sarcasm seeing it for the defense mechanism it was. "I just want to make sure I'm not hearing things." Cameron paused, "Look at me and say what you just said."
Reluctantly, he lifted his cerulean eyes to meet her green ones. "I like you."
"Ok. Grab your stuff so I can drive you home."
"That's it? No 'I knew it'? No declarations of undying love?"
"Let's take it one step at a time."
Fin