Houseguest
Gregory House had one thing on his mind as he limped up the driveway and one thing only- Vicodin. Why did the pain have to be so damn bad just as he was getting home?
"Damn it." He continued muttering under his breath even as yanked out his key, shoved the door open, and slammed it behind him. Today had to be the day that he ran out, and the clinic just happened to not have any on hand at the moment.
He swore again and hobbled over to the bathroom. Downing a couple pills, he sighed in relief and collapsed on the living room sofa, pulling out his Gameboy. No sooner had he finally gotten comfortable then the doorbell rang.
"Go away," he yelled, and closed his eyes. Why the hell was someone ringing his doorbell at one a.m.?
A muffled voice came from behind the closed door. "It's me."
"I said, go away."
Allison Cameron hesitated for only a fraction of a second before ignoring him and entering anyway.
House tensed up immediately. "Don't you understand English?"
"Not your kind," she replied cheerfully, coming to stand over him next to the sofa. "How are you feeling?"
"Annoyed." House's blunt comment was accentuated by the glare that followed.
Cameron didn't seem fazed in the least bit. "Are you hungry?"
"No."
"Yeah, you are," she decided, and wandered into the kitchen to find something to make.
House continued with his video game, figuring that if he ignored her, she would leave.
"House, you have nothing in your kitchen!" Cameron sauntered back to him disgustedly. "What do you eat?"
"I eat at the hospital."
"Eww…"
"Since when do I have to run my eating habits by you?" he growled.
"You don't," she answered perkily. "I just asked."
God, that woman irritated him. Irritated the hell outta him and fascinated the hell outta him. House groaned. Her nosiness never ceased to infuriate him, but then the way she moved… He shook his head angrily. He wasn't going to go there.
"Something wrong, House?" Cam inquired sweetly.
"Leave."
"Why?"
House groaned again. "You're bugging the shit out of me."
"Good. You deserve it after being such an ass to everyone else at the clinic."
Damn. She bought it.
He stood up unsteadily, and she automatically reached out a hand to help him. He swatted her hand away. "I don't need your help."
For some reason, this time her face showed her hurt. "Okay." She stepped back. "I'll see you tomorrow." Without looking back, she headed for the door.
He sighed. I really didn't want to have to do this…"Would you stop and listen to me for a minute?" he snapped.
She stopped abruptly. "What do you want, House?"
"Well," he drawled, rolling his eyes in annoyance, "If watching me play my Gameboy is so amusing to you, by all means, make yourself at home." Point made, he turned around and limped back to the couch to continue playing.
He listened for the sound of her footsteps receding out the door, but instead, he heard cupboard doors slamming in the kitchen, then the microwave beeping. Moments later, Cameron appeared in front of him, hands on her hips. "You like popcorn, right?"
"What does it matter? You're still going to make me eat it."
She rolled her eyes and went back to the kitchen. Three minutes later, he could smell the butter from where he was sitting. "Finally," he muttered. "If I hear another 'pop' in my life it'll be too soon."
"Pop." Cameron tossed a popcorn kernel at his head. "Pop." She held the bowl full of the greasy snack in his face. "Want some?"
House made a gagging sound, and she glared at him. "Shut up."
"Make me."
She had no idea what made her do it, really. She had made up her mind for what seemed like the gazillionth time that she wasn't going to like him anymore. So what in the world possessed her to kiss him, she sure as hell didn't know.
"I think," she gasped, "I should go."
Shit.
House shifted slightly. "What made you come to that brilliant conclusion?" he cocked an eyebrow at her, smirking at her utter discomfort at what she had just done. Sarcasm was the only thing he knew of that he could use to cover his surprise… and… elation… if he was willing enough to admit it…
She jumped up and bolted for the door.
"Wait," he commanded, his tone leaving her no choice but to comply. "Come here, Allison."
His use of her first name rendered her stock-still and speechless. She felt paralyzed, confused, everything spun around her in an endless web of uncertainty.
"Come here," he repeated, cursing his leg for the umpteenth time. "Now."
"I- can't-" She turned ever so slowly, antagonizing him with her deliberate movements.
He hated being antagonized.
As soon as she came within two feet of him, he reached out and seized her waist, pulling her closer, and eventually onto the couch with him; partially in his lap.
"Greg…" her voice was barely above a whisper. "I really should-"
She was cut of by the feel of his lips on hers, softly, sweetly, gently. Wonderfully.
"Greg, I- ah…" she groaned when he kissed her again, harder this time, more passionate. "Jesus, Greg."
"You… are my houseguest, which means," he nuzzled her neck, "I will treat you like one. For example," he glanced out the window. "It looks like it might start to get cloudy, and if it's cloudy, it might rain, which could cause you to be in an accident…" he trailed off and kissed her once more. "And that would not make me very happy."
"House, you're never happy." She couldn't hold back her laugh.
"Are you mocking me, Dr. Cameron?" His ice-blue eyes twinkled with mirth.
"Mmm," she snuggled up into the comfort of his broad chest. "Maybe."
A/N: Please review!