Title: It all started with a pair of tickets.

Summary: She wanted to go fast.

Disclaimer: House MD belongs to FOX and affliates. I'm just having a little fun.

Author's Notes: I got the idea for this while I was watching S1 of House. Sports Medicine has always been one of my favorites. TI think this story has the potential to be more than a one-shot, but I'll leave it up to you.

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"Hey."

House looked up from his PSP to find a blonde Allison Cameron leaning against the door frame to his office door, then his attention was turned back to his handheld game,

"Sorry, you don't work up here," A few more whirs and beeps emitted from his game; House's brow furrowed then relaxed as his thumbs flew over the buttons, "You're downstairs. More blood, more guts, more crying, and it's mind-numbingly boring," he pulled a face as the game bleeped its end. Setting the electronic on his desk, he swiveled the chair so he faced her, "You can't miss it."

Cameron gave him a smirk, feigning a disappointed sigh, "Fine, I'll just go back to my mind-numbing boredom, and won't even ask you if you want one of these," removing her hand from her scrubs pocket, she dangled a pair of passes on lanyards from her index finger, "Damn, I guess I'll have to find somebody else. Dang it."

Peering at the laminated cardboard rectangles as they swung like pendulums, House extricated himself from his chair, limping around his desk, "Hey, are those-"

"Monster truck tickets?" Cameron glanced from him to the tickets and back, "Yeah, they are. It's too bad though, that you're not interested," she heaved another phony disappointed sigh, "Oh well."

"I never said I wasn't interested," House blurted, pulling her back into his office by a hand on her wrist when she made to leave. Cameron smiled; a real cat-that-ate-the-canary-smile.

House inspected the passes, asking with the usual indifference, "Why don't you take your boyfriend?"

"My who?"

"Y'know, the wombat with the ambiguous accent and the perfect hair. I'm sure he'd appreciate the finer points of a loud arena, watching trucks crush stuff. It's cathartic, and he could use a little revitalizing."

"Listen House," she evaded his question, side-stepping it with practiced ease, "I love monster trucks. You turned me on," she paused there, merely for his wide-eyed reaction, "To them, and I thought you'd want to come."

Cameron could feel House looking at her, searching her. She tried to appear nonchalant, but it was slipping, "I'll get you cotton candy."

He seemed to consider this, waving the passes in his hand, "These good seats?"

"We could die," she answered promptly, remembering his own proclamation a few years before, "You want 'em or not?"

"Fine," House conceded, playing the whole thing like it was a huge imposition, but in actuality, his reaction was the complete opposite, "But I expect hot dogs. And a super-sized slushie. None of that wussy regular size."

"Of course," Cameron remarked reverently, "Because real men only drink big gulps."

House was surprised again, but he recovered nicely "Exactly. Only sissies and babies can't do the dew."

Snickering, Cameron pried the passes from his fingers and tucked them into her scrubs shirt pocket, "Okay, great. Pick me up at seven."

"Pick you up?" House snarked, trying to recapture the upper-hand in the conversation, "You're the one orchestrating this little-"

"Bring your bike," Her saucy smile threw House completely off-balance again, "I want to go fast."

With that, she left the diagnostician's office without a backward glance; leaving House to thoughtfully return to his chair.

He picked up his PSP, but as his thumb hovered over the START button, a genuine smile curled at his lips.

She wanted to go fast.

Ooooh boy.

He'd show her fast.