A/N: This was a guest requested theme after I asked for something a little more lighthearted upon finishing my 'Deal' fic. I hope you enjoy, and please comment :)

"I'm impressed."

"Yes, I do tend to have that effect on others."

"Clearly my praise was not directed towards your modesty."

"Clearly. What is it directed at?"

"You're wearing a shirt. And it's ironed."

Brown eyes sparkle with good humor as the oncologist goads his friend for the first time in what is promising to be a very fruitful night of sarcasm. Following House over to the makeshift bar set up in the lunch hall, he rolls his eyes as the graying doctor graciously allows him to pay for their drinks before taking a seat up on one of the tall bar stools.

"They've not done a bad job this year, actually."

"Wouldn't know; I have so far been lucky enough to avoid Cuddy's fundraisers."

"What's to avoid? Cheap drinks, good natured gambling, a live band... Not to mention the young nurses from paeds strutting about in skimpy little dresses..."

Leaning forward and pointing to one such specimen clad in a sinfully short silver concoction he waggles his eyebrows comically. House rolls his eyes but gives the young woman an appreciative audience as she walks out the room, admiring the way her heels appear slightly beyond her capabilities, causing her ass to move sweetly from side to side.

"I swear, that unit views nights like this as though they were still in high school."

"Apparently they're all vying for the attention of that junior surgeon that just started; Knut or Cunt... Something like that."

"I'd lean towards guessing it's the first. Where's your surgeon anyway? Are the kids coming?"

"So far as I know. As you said; cheap drinks, music and babes."

"I'm sure Cameron will be thrilled."

"One can dream."

Chuckling amiably, Wilson knocks back his drink, placing the empty tumbler on the table. Filching his wallet out the back pocket of his suit pants, he raises an eyebrow at House who nods absentmindedly.

"Sure. Make it a double. I'm gonna go clear some room."

"Lovely."

The oncologist shakes his head with a grin as he watches his friend make his way slowly towards the bathroom, his awkward gait slightly more pronounced due to his dress shoes. Turning towards the bar, he lets out a low cry of surprise as his empty glass collides with an on-comer's shoulder. Stepping swiftly aside, he recognizes his assailant's long hair easily and grabs the younger man by the arm.

"Chase!"

"Huh?... Oh hey, Wilson."

"Hey, Wilson."

"Hi."

The older doctor smiles as the rest of House's team appear from behind the young surgeon; Foreman looking particularly suave in a black smoker's jacket and Cameron's eyes glittering at him pleasantly as she peers over the blond's shoulder.

"Can I get you three anything to drink? I'm headed to the bar."

Chase shakes his head regretfully, explaining that he's on call should they be needed, while Foreman smiles and requests a beer, glancing back towards Cameron who asks for the same.

"Coming right up."

They watch as Wilson battles his way through the small crowd that surrounds the bar, sidling off towards the corner so as to move out the way of those attempting to dance.

"I didn't think you were even that keen on beer?"

Foreman regards Cameron quizzically as sharp flecks of light cast off the horrendous disco ball suspended from the ceiling play over their bodies.

"I like it well enough. It's easy, and wine's a lot more expensive."

"Jeez, Cameron, you are seriously the worst girl."

The brunette glances up at Chase as he shakes his head in a burlesque portrayal of disappointment.

"Why...?"

"You're supposed to use your feminine wiles to get what you want! Not settle for what's 'easy'."

"Ah, yes, what on earth was I thinking? When I have all these feminine wiles everywhere!"

She laughs up at him pleasantly, her cheeks rouging just a little. Foreman joins her; the pretty immunologist possibly the last person he can imagine playing the role of seductress.

The two's amusement is lost on their colleague however, as he simply grins down at the brunette, inwardly wondering how in the hell she can be quite so naive as to her appeal. His thoughts are greatly enhanced this evening as his young colleague seems to float about the room, clad in a divine flash of crimson.

Chase isn't alone in his thoughts. As Wilson searches the room for the whereabouts of the small team he finds himself doing a double-take when his eyes linger appreciatively on pale flesh and glossy curls. Realizing the subject of his current fantasy stands between two men who seem disconcertingly familiar, he shakes his head warily and blinks away any impure thoughts firmly. Making his way over with five drinks balanced precariously in his hands, he nods his gratitude to the young brunette as she steps forwards and takes the two beers from him carefully. Holding out a cold glass of coke to the blond in exchange for a nod of thanks, the oncologist places one of the whisky tumblers on a small table to their right before sipping from his own.

"House is here already?

Foreman enquires, gesturing towards the fifth drink that sits unclaimed.

"He rode with me; I figured it was the best way to assure his presence."

"Sly."

"Well... You know me."

Wilson grins as the younger three respond to his sarcasm with pleasant laughter. More often than not, House's bickering and griping about his team has him secretly thankful he doesn't hold a role as a member of the faculty staff, but this feeling is usually brought into question when he himself encounters the three young doctors; finding their company to be altogether rather pleasant.

Perhaps a better overall reaction is gained when you don't litter them with comments about their race, intelligence and size.

Just a thought.

"So, did you manage to force House into a suit as well?"

The brunette's tone is causal, but she is instantly greeted with knowing smirks from either side. She's oblivious to this however, as her attention remains directed towards Wilson, but the oncologist finds himself cracking his own grin of amusement.

"I might have... Why ever do you ask, Dr Cameron?"

"Just wondering as to the appropriate level of respect to give you."

Chase and Foreman laugh teasingly, in no way convinced by Cameron's blasé response. Turning to her with twin expressions of amusement, they begin goading their female counterpart vehemently.

"Yeah yeah, deflect all you like, you're just dying to see House in a suit."

"Uh, I have seen him in a suit. I actually bothered going to those seminars we were supposed to go to when we started."

"And you loved every second of it..."

"I did. They were very informative."

"Ha! Does it make it easier to imagine the two of you playing out some romantic love scene? Is House your Heathcliff?"

"No."

"Why, Dr Cameron! I do believe you're blushing!"

"I am! You two are highly embarrassing!"

"How's that flat, taut tummy now?"

"Will you shut up?!"

"Ooh, temper temper, Allison!"

"I mean it!"

"Guys. Stop."

The oncologist interjects with a smirk, pointing over towards the door where the man in question enters sullenly. Chase and Foreman regard their boss briefly, before simultaneously glancing back at the brunette and letting out ill hidden snorts of laughter.

"Ow!"

The blond yelps as a skinny elbow makes contact with his chest while Foreman moves swiftly aside to avoid a similar fate.

House scours the room irritably for his friend, head thumping a little with the epileptic haze of tacky lighting. Finally spotting Wilson's obnoxiously white jacket, he limps over, at first paying no attention to the oncologist's company, but rather relishing the thought of the whisky that will be there waiting for him.

Closing in on his friend- and, more importantly, his drink- he notes his small, dysfunctional little gang chatting away merrily. At least, he notes one of them. Mouth opening in a hateful display of idiocy, he regards his youngest protégé with a sense of curious disbelief. He has known Cameron for what feels like a decidedly long time- has even had her accompany him to several dreaded weekend seminars- and often finds her perplexing, and yet, never all that surprising.

But now...

He supposes 'surprise' may not be the best word for it after all. He doesn't care to search for a better term however, as they all veer dangerously towards the inappropriate. Crystal blues roaming the immunologist's silk endowed form, he frowns uncomfortably as certain parts of his anatomy seem suddenly less interested in what would be considered acceptable thoughts one should harbor about their employee.

"House."

"Hey."

"House."

He nods as they greet him, raising an eyebrow at the curious blush creeping across the brunette's pale cheeks and the mischievous glint in the boys' eyes. Retrieving his drink from the table, he knocks it back easily, wondering what kind of things one is supposed to say when faced with a bunch of people they see every day and yet still don't really know.

Well, no, that's not strictly true. You know them, you just don't particularly like them.

"So when does all the fun start, then?"

"I think they're just finishing setting up the game tables now. The band should be starting soon too, it's almost ten."

House nods as green eyes remain momentarily fixed on the clock in the far corner, noting with begrudged appreciation the way the brunette's lashes line her eyes sootily; not used to witnessing Cameron wear anything more than tinted lip balm whilst at work. Clearing his throat, he offers his friend a devious smile, teeth bared wolfishly.

"Ready to lose all your money to me?"

"You're all talk."

"A fool and his money will soon be parted."

"Then get ready to eat light for the next couple of weeks."

House laughs, eyes twinkling as he regards Wilson in amusement. The oncologist turns to the younger three, raising an eyebrow and offering a smile.

"Are you guys playing?"

"Is there a poker table?"

"Over there."

"Then I'm in."

"Me too."

Chase and Foreman nod, heading in the direction their boss points. Turning back to face the others, Chase regards the brunette amiably.

"Want me to teach you how to play?"

"I know how to play, I just don't want to deal with playing with you two."

"Only because you know you'll lose."

Cameron shrugs, sipping at the remains of her wine.

"Yup, I probably will. I'll play later if you guys move over to black jack."

"Fine. Wilson, you coming?"

The brunet shakes his head, smiling.

"Not my game."

"Whuss."

House rolls his eyes, following his two employees over to the card table, making a small detour on the way to order fresh drinks.

Turning to Cameron, the oncologist smiles pleasantly, nodding towards her now empty glass.

"Refill?"

"Sure."

"Same again?"

"... Could I get a glass of wine instead?"

"Of course you can. What color?"

"Red please."

"Want to wait here?"

"It's cool, I'll help you carry."

He nods amiably and she falls into step beside him as they make their way over to the bar. Leaning over to yell over the starting notes of the band that has taken up the makeshift stage that plays the focal point to the room, Wilson places his order with a redheaded waitress. Glancing back towards the brunette, he spies her listening politely as a young man with soap opera worthy locks talks into her ear, his hand resting on her bare shoulder. She nods as he speaks, raising an eyebrow before blushing and shaking her head. He persists with whatever it is he has to say, but her long curls continue to tumble as she disagrees. Accepting defeat, the young man gives her shoulder a squeeze and leaves with one final word muttered against her cheek.

"Who was that?"

Wilson leans back to ask loudly over the low thrum of a base guitar. He hands Cameron her wine and she smiles brightly, stepping forward so that she can speak closer to his ear.

"Knutz. He's on the surgical team."

"Ah, the new guy?"

"Yeah."

"Everything okay with him?"

"I think so, yeah."

"But not with you?"

"Huh?"

"You didn't seem impressed with whatever he was saying?"

"Oh. No, it's nothing, he just wanted to know if I wanted to get some experience with the surgical team."

"I bet he did."

She shrugs, regarding her wine awkwardly.

"I don't know. Anyway, I stand in on surgery all the time with our own cases."

"...Well, you don't want too much on your plate."

"Exactly!"

"Do you dance?"

"...I..."

The oncologist grins at her companionably, feeling a little foolish in his request, but eyeing the numerous people swaying around to the music cheerfully. The brunette takes a sip of her wine before placing it down on the table by which they'd previously stood, returning his smile and offering out her hand.

"Sure. I'm not very good though."

"Hmm, somehow I doubt that."

"How so?"

"House says you're an ex-cheerleader?"

"Does he?"

"Is he wrong?"

"No... I just wasn't aware he knew that..."

"It's House. He knows all. Actually, what's more likely is that he simply decided to presume you were a cheerleader until proven wrong."

"I'd rather he presume I was something with a little more substance..."

"Relax. His visions of you as a cheerleader will be predominantly positive, I can assure you!"

"I doubt it. If it's what I associated someone with, I'd just assume they were shallow and a little on the dumb side."

"Ah, but you're not a man!"

"Men should grow up..."

"Hey, I'm just the messenger! I have to say, though, you're not very cheery about your cheerleading!"

"Very funny. I never much liked it. I wasn't exactly what you'd call 'cool enough' to be be on the squad, but I used to go to gymnastics classes as a kid so they kind of needed me on the team for competitions."

"I see. You were a gymnast? Can you still do any tricks?"

"...Yes. Why?"

"Well, if you don't like House thinking of you as a cheerleader, tell him that. But be careful; his head might explode."

She giggles huskily, eyes glittering with good humor as the older doctor places a hand gently at her waist and begins to lead her around with admirable enthusiasm to make up for his lack of refined skill, neither of them aware of the blue stare that follows their movements icily.