Disclaimer: You can keep it. I don't even want it anymore.
A/N: This story saw the light of day in the heat of the exam season when my monitor quit on me. Darn capacitors. -.- Besides being forced to study with the help of my notebook (otherwise known as a headache-trigger), I had no access to any of the files on my computer. And during one sleepless night I got frustrated enough to get my notebook and write a one shot, since Until Death was out of my reach.
The story is unbetaed, so I hereby proclaim that all mistakes are mine and mine alone.
Ask No Questions and Hear No Lies
The ER was quieter than usual. This would have surprised her were it not just two days after a full moon. As unbelievable as it sounded, there really was something to it. The nights when the yellow orb shone with all its might always brought havoc with them. And just as inevitably, they'd be followed by a spell of almost peaceful days. Cameron always thought of it as a nature's way of maintaining the balance. She usually wasn't one to believe in such things, but she grew to enjoy this regularity. It had a comforting feel to it; knowing at least a small part of what the future would bring.
Speaking of unpredictability . . . The flag ship of the term just casually walked into her view, self-importantly strutted behind the nurses' counter where she was currently working on her pile of patients' files, sat down on the unoccupied chair at her side and plopped his feet on the counter.
"Why are you still here?" she asked with a little more hostility than she intended.
The charting and yet another night shift, even though by her own choice, were starting to get to her.
"Gee, what got your thongs in a twist?" House asked, theatrically lifting his eyebrows.
Cameron put down her pen and the file, rubbing her face with her hands.
"Sorry," she murmured, "Just tired."
House quirked his eyebrows. "The werewolf curse was two nights ago. What are you tired for?"
She lifted her gaze to meet his. "Some of us actually work even when we're not forced."
"And some of us think that some of you are crazy."
Cameron huffed and shook her head. "You would."
This was their spiel now, the lines came as easily as if they had been rehearsed. Each knew where to strike; how to match the other tit for tat without a moment's thought. All in good humour.
It was safe. Perhaps too safe, and House wouldn't have been House if he hadn't decided to rock the boat just a little.
"You know what I think?" he asked and, without waiting for her reply, immediately revealed his thoughts to her, "I think this has something to do with your impending wedding."
Cameron gently shook her head, more out of disbelief that he would go there than out of disagreement. But then, this was House.
Failing to evoke a response, he continued, "Finally coming to your senses?"
The question came out with that comic twist that he was so keen on imposing on weighty inquiries to make them seem less threatening. It hardly ever worked. Certainly not on that day.
"I'm looking forward to the wedding," Cameron replied firmly. Perhaps too firmly as it bordered on defensive.
House merely pierced her with his gaze and shrugged. Other than an odd joke here or there, this topic was out of bounds between them.
A weighty silence followed while Cameron observed one of the doctors stitch up the sole patient in the ER, and House leaned back in his chair, taping his fingers against his thigh.
Suddenly, words flew out of her mouth – the words that were occasionally on her mind, but that were never intended for anyone to hear, least of all him.
"Why did you never sleep with me?"
His tapping immediately stopped, and Cameron froze out of sheer mortification. She didn't dare to look at him. While half of her hoped that he'd simply ignore the question, the other half really wanted to know, no matter what the answer would be.
"We can fix that right now if you want," he finally said.
His answer comforted her – deflecting a personal question with a joke. Only now did she dare to look at him and smile as she answered, "No thanks."
He shrugged nonchalantly. Another long pause followed before House spoke, "Sure this isn't cold feet?"
"I'm sure."
"Then why do you want to know?" His curiosity seeped through even though he was trying to conceal it. She knew him better than that.
It was her turn to shrug. "Just curious."
Another pause – this time a singular mix of companionable silence and growing tension.
"Didn't want to rob the cradle."
"I'm pretty sure you've slept with hookers much younger than me."
"True." He smirked, but immediately grew serious as he saw her expression.
A sigh escaped his lips before he spoke again. "We both know that if we ever did sleep together, you'd get all mushy and everything, and eventually you'd resent me for it and it would end with: 'I can't work with you anymore.' I just figured it's not worth the trouble."
Cameron was unsure how to react to that. Maybe it really was as simple as that, but a part of her refused to believe it.
"You've never been tempted?"
"Of course I was. In case you've never looked at yourself in a mirror . . . you're smoking hot."
She couldn't help but smile at that. It was as good a compliment as anyone could get from him.
"Still, you've never tried. . . ."
"Neither did you."
The words caught her off guard – there was a hint of raw sincerity to them that she only rarely heard in his voice.
"Would it have made a difference?" she asked, afraid of his answer.
He glanced at his sneakers, studying them intensely for several seconds, before he looked back at her. "I guess we'll never know."
His words and his clear gaze began to weigh down on her, and there were so many questions running across her mind that craved answers, but before she had the chance to voice any of them, the ER that had been silent for the entire night suddenly came to life with a rush of movement and noise.
Everyone's attention was captured by a young woman with a chest wound, who was being wheeled in. Cameron jumped to her feet, but looked at House one last time before she rushed off to help the woman.
The next time she turned around, he was no longer there, but when she retook her seat, the patient having been sent off to surgery, she found a note inside one of her files.
If this was you wanting to have one last go at fun before you chain yourself to the Brit (yawn), then give me a ring. I'll be more than glad to help.
She read the note several times over and then crumbled it, throwing it into the trash.
A/N: I'd like to keep this as a one shot as not to lose the structural integrity. But if you need a happy ending, feel free to use your imagination.