Title: Missed Opportunities
Summary: A chance discovery makes House realize just how much he has allowed to pass him by.
Disclaimer: I don't own House, or any of his friends and colleagues. A jar of pickles, though – that is mine. Yum.
Author's Notes: Set one year after the events of Honeymoon, but no specific spoilers. My first House fanfic, so please be kind. Oh, and I'm British, so if I'm butchering the American language, let me know.
It happened entirely by chance.
He was sitting in a toilet cubicle in the men's room – not really a urinal kind of person, truth be told – when he heard the door swing open and two unmistakable voices bounced loudly off the tiles.
"How long d'you think it'll take, then?" asked an Australian voice – Chase. There was the sound of a fly being undone.
"She doesn't have a lot of stuff, so… three hours? Four, at a push." That was Foreman.
Chase huffed. "Not the actual move. I mean the relationship. How long will it take before they break up?"
There was a pause. Then Foreman scoffed in what sounded like disbelief. "You're kidding me. You have to be."
"What?"
"You still want to get in her pants? After years of never getting anywhere… you're still lusting after her? Jesus…"
"Give it a rest, mate – I gave up on her ages ago. Not that, you know, I'd turn her down if she was ever interested, but… No, look, my point is, they've been dating for what, four months? And now they're moving in together? It's a disaster waiting to happen!"
"Or you could just be happy for her. I am. She's finally found someone who appreciates her, and she obviously likes him a lot – doesn't that count for anything?"
"Yeah, all right." Chase sounded sullen. "I don't see why we have to help out, though – isn't this what removal guys are for? Personally I've got better things to do with my weekend than load boxes full of Cameron's stuff into a van."
House sat up a bit straighter.
Foreman laughed. "Not even if the boxes contain her underwear? And don't pretend you haven't thought about it." He switched to a falsetto attempt at an Australian accent. "'Oh, what rotten luck, I've dropped the box and everything's fallen out.' Don't even think about it."
"As if I would!"
"You would."
House shifted and managed to knock his cane over. It landed on the tiled floor with a loud clatter, and the two men quieted. After a few moments, Foreman cleared his throat. "House?"
House swore inwardly and said nothing.
"House, I know it's you. I can see your cane on the floor."
House sighed. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it's bad manners to peep under the stalls?"
"In some circles it's also bad manners to eavesdrop. Get out here."
He grimaced, and yanked his pants up, flushing the toilet and unlocking the door. Foreman was standing outside, looking unimpressed. "Oh, get over it, Foreman," he muttered. "I've done worse. In fact, eavesdropping is one of the nicer things I've done recently, as you're well aware. So. Did I hear you correctly – Cameron's moving in with someone?"
Foreman glared at him. "Oh, no. No, no, no. You don't get to be pissed off, OK? Yes, she's moving in with someone, but you… you had your chance with her. You blew it, and now you have to live with it. End of story."
House raised an eyebrow. "Wow, one of your wilder deductive leaps – I just love the way you take something tiny and blow it completely out of proportion. It's so Mulder." He shuffled over to the sink and began to wash his hands. "So who's this boyfriend, then? She hasn't mentioned him before."
"Yes, she has," said Chase with a hint of smugness. "To us. Not to you. You'd just belittle it the way you belittle everything else."
"Ooh, fighting talk from the Aussie. Why don't we settle this over a nice game of cricket?" He straightened up, and turned to leave.
Foreman blocked his path. "Don't you dare screw this up for her. I mean it – you did a lot of damage to her, but she's over you. Finally. So just let her be happy, let her get on with her life."
"What makes you think I even care?" House shoved past him out into the corridor.
But that was the thing – he did care. He'd never admit it to Chase or Foreman – hell, he had trouble admitting it to himself – but he cared. Cared that somehow he'd managed to completely miss the fact that Cameron had got over him, that she'd been dating someone for the last four months and he hadn't even noticed… that she was apparently moving in with the someone this weekend.
He cornered Wilson in his office. "Did you know that Cameron has a boyfriend?"
Wilson blinked. "Uh… well, there were rumors…"
"Oh, right, and you never asked her."
"Why would I? We're not exactly close. If I'd thought you'd be interested, I would have, but you're not." Wilson's eyes sharpened just slightly. "Are you?"
House rolled his eyes. "I get enough drama from General Hospital, thank you. I don't need to overdose by finding out about people's personal lives." He frowned. "That said, she's about to move in with him, whoever he is."
Wilson's jaw dropped. "You're not serious? But she said the other day that she wasn't sure…" He trailed off, and looked suddenly wary.
House gave him an evil smile. "Not close, huh?" He shut the door to Wilson's office firmly, and sat down. "Start from the beginning."
- - - -
"His name's Mike," Wilson began, "and he's a plumber-"
"Oh, God," House cut him off. "I'm pretty sure I saw this episode of Desperate Housewives, so can we skip ahead to the part where we find out that he killed someone?"
Wilson gave a heavy sigh, and ploughed on resolutely. "They met through one of Cameron's neighbors – an old woman, I think… her pipes burst, she didn't want some stranger coming into her apartment while she was alone, so she asked Cameron to be around, blah blah blah, and that was how they met."
"Dreamy," remarked House.
"He asked her out, she said yes… it's all very standard as far as romance goes."
"So they've had sex? They've discussed their exes, they've said those three little words?"
Wilson shook his head. "I don't know exactly. We talk, but we don't talk that much. Knowing Cameron, though… I can't see her moving in with someone for anything less than love." He looked at House. "So where do you fit into all of this? You going to stop her?"
"Nope." House stood awkwardly. "It's her life. Let her make her own mistakes."
"That's what you think this is – a mistake?"
"I wouldn't know if it is or isn't. What I'm saying is that she's perfectly capable of dealing with these decisions – and their consequences – on her own." He hobbled towards the door.
"I see."
Something in Wilson's tone made House turn back. "I assume you have some insight you'd like to offer into my twisted psyche?"
Wilson shrugged. "No insight. Just the facts. You heard that Cameron was moving in with her boyfriend, and the first thing you did was come to me to find out more information. Doesn't that say something to you?"
House pulled the door open. "It says that I need a new gossip bitch – preferably someone who'll tell me everything and not ask stupid questions."
"It says that you're interested, and it says that you care."
House rolled his eyes. "If he breaks her heart, that's my desk she'll be sobbing over every morning."
"A-ha!" Wilson leapt from his seat triumphantly. "So you don't want her to get hurt!"
"Yes, actually, I do. I'd like to see her spirit destroyed in a blaze of glory. Call me when it happens." He started down the corridor.
Wilson watched his progress. "On a scale of one to ten," he called after him, "if she lived happily ever after with that guy and you lost any chance you might have had to be with her – how much would that bother you?"
There was no reply.
- - - -
Foreman was lugging a large cardboard box marked 'Stuffed Toys' towards the van.
Chase was sprawled apathetically on the lawn.
Cameron was sitting on the curb with a sheaf of papers, squinting in the sun and scribbling things with a pen. There was a dark-haired man standing behind her, observing.
Mike, House presumed.
He tossed a handful of nuts into his mouth and crunched down loudly.
He was sitting in his car across the street, watching The Move take place. It occurred to him that if any of them looked up and saw him, it could raise some interesting questions, none of which he'd want to answer.
Cameron said something to Mike; he disappeared into the back of the van for a few seconds, then popped out again. Probably checking which boxes were still to be loaded on.
Congratulations, Greg, he thought to himself. Yet another relationship down the proverbial drain, and you can't even blame any limbs this time. Quite an achievement.
Cameron got up and went over to Chase. She stood over him, her hands on her hips, and poked him in the side with her toe. He seemed somewhat reluctant to get up and help. House found himself to be somewhat sympathetic – an odd sensation, to say the least.
He couldn't believe she hadn't even told him.
That was what got him the most, out of everything. She hadn't breathed a word. Not about her relationship, and not about the fact that she was about to make a commitment to this guy.
Had she thought that he'd make fun of her? Or had he simply become so unimportant to her that such things slipped her mind?
He somehow thought that he'd prefer her hatred to her indifference.
Across the street, the final boxes were stowed away in the back of the van, and the doors were shut firmly. Chase and Foreman headed towards Chase's car, while Cameron took one last look at her apartment building. Then she turned to get into the van.
As she did so, House could have sworn that her eyes passed briefly over him, and he felt a mild leap of panic in his chest.
But she was already behind the wheel, pulling the door closed, not looking in his direction, and he decided that he must have imagined it.
Seconds later the van pulled away.
House sighed and glanced at his watch.
If he drove fast enough, he might get back in time for the repeat of General Hospital.
Author's Notes: I haven't yet figured out how to get these two together without having House go all soppy, so until I do, I can't write any romance. If anyone has any tips, please let me know.