A/N: I know it's a bit short, and I think I've messed with my own timeline a little bit, my apologies! This may be too fluffy…I'm in a fluffy mood tonight, but I'm taking a leap of faith here. I promise I have a storyline, and if my muse is nice I may get chapter one posted before I have to head off to work. I'm making dedications to my faithful reviewers: ariz33, theshowpopper, whoKMH, House Calls, HouseLuvr, weirdlittlemeg, and everyone else I know I've forgotten; you guys make this all worthwhile, thanks so much for the support, and please excuse my caffinated personality, I love y'all!

Disclaimer: I don't own House or Breakfast at Tiffany's…but I have them on DVD

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I'm thirty years old, Cameron thought. I shouldn't be acting so silly around him, not after everything we've been through the past three years. What she and the butterflies in her stomach didn't know, was that House sat not twenty feet from her in his office, thinking nearly the exact same thing as he spoke to Wilson.

"She makes me feel like I'm seventeen again," he said with a frown, looking pointedly at his friend.

Wilson leaned forward across the desk, snatching up the pen that House had been fiddling with. "House," he said with authority in his voice, "maybe that's a good thing." He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips in the way he always did, and waited for the truth to smack his best friend in the head.

House jumped up from his chair with a smirk. "That's an excellent idea, Jimmy!" Leaving Wilson thoroughly confused, he strode into the conference room.

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The trip back from Cameron's mom's funeral had been like moving through fog. She had surprised him by acting awkward after he'd said those three words to her, kissed her. She hadn't said it back yet. She had been mostly silent on the plane, and he'd accepted that. He'd taken a risk by telling her how he felt, and for once in his life, he was prepared to accept her response, either way. Still, he was relieved a little that, as she stared out the window, she'd let his hand slide over hers.

I thought this was what I wanted, but now I'm not so sure, she had thought to herself during the flight. Can I really let go? All this time, I thought it was him, but it was me.

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After leaving Cuddy's office with the plans official, House headed down to the clinic to fulfill his end of the bargain. A couple of extra hours were actually worth something with this new, brilliant idea. Or maybe he just wanted to see Cameron smile again. Either way, nobody would be the wiser, and he still had a reputation to uphold. He smirked to himself as he scribbled out a prescription to his last patient.

"Five-fifteen P.M, Doctor House checks out, write that down," he gestured to the sign-in sheet in front of the nurse.

"Better watch out, Dr. House," the nurse said to him with a half-smile, "Keep this up and people might think you're actually doing your job."

"I'm working on a new strategy," he said absently, and limped out the front door.

GHMDGHMDGHMD

Cameron arrived at his apartment later that night, butterflies still in her stomach. It had been four months since he'd nearly died, and the time they'd spent together since then had made her feel alive again. But ever since he'd kissed her, told her he loved her, she had started second-guessing herself again. For so long, all she'd wanted from him was the truth, and now that she had it, she didn't know what to do. She hated herself for leading him on. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before knocking.

"Come on in," House searched her eyes for a moment as he held the door open. "I have something for you."

"House, I…" They'd spoken at once, and she let out a nervous laugh. "You go ahead."

"Well," he started, raising his eyebrows and crossing over to the piano bench; "Cuddy has decided it would be a good idea to throw another fundraiser this year. For…Halloween." He lifted a black garment bag off the bench and held it out as Cameron slowly moved through the room. "So I took the liberty of procuring a costume for you." Now he had a slight smirk on his face.

Cameron gingerly sat down on the bench and took the bag from him. She pulled the zipper and let out a small gasp. It revealed a black, scoop-necked cocktail dress and another smaller bag looped around the hanger. She looked up at him with wide eyes. "Tiffany's," she whispered.

"The costume you always wanted to try on," he said as he carefully sat down next to her. "Go ahead, open the bag."

She forgot everything she'd come over to say as she opened the smaller bag, which revealed all the necessary accessories. She smiled slowly as she pulled out the contents. A big, gaudy pearl necklace and tiara, long, black gloves and a pair of sunglasses. She set each piece atop the piano and laughed. "You've even remembered the cigarette holder!" She narrowed her eyes. "So, Fred, does this mean you'll be dressing up as well?"

"Well," he replied smugly, "All I need to do is find a dusty old suit, I'm sure Wilson knows where I can get one."

"You'll have to shave," she replied with her eyebrow raised. "Do you think you can handle that?"

"I'll do anything for free candy," he said matter-of-factly.