Summary: Four people that think that House may like Cameron. You know, that way.
Author's Note: Slighty inspired by all the "Five Times" fics in the "Office" universe.
Four
Wilson
He stands in the office for a full ten seconds before he realizes he's going to have to speak first.
"House, what the hell are you doing?"
The normally immaculate room is torn apart from the bottom up-papers are scattered across the floor, drawers are strewn open, and his best friend is peering under the desk.
"Taking a shower."
Wilson rolls his eyes. Oh good. He's in one of those moods. "House, we need to talk."
"Have you seen my yoyo?"
"Is that rhetorical?"
House sighs and gets up, which is good. Because it's hard to yell at someone if they're busy. Looking for toys. "What?"
Wilson ignores the fact that his friend's eyes are scanning the room and takes a deep breath. "I just saw Dr. Cameron," he says, and studies House's expression for any sign of what happened.
House lowers himself into his chair and starts spinning his cane in his hand. It's always been more of his more annoying habits, a truth that Wilson has never failed to mention. It's distracting and childish, and they both know he does it just to be irritating.
He succeeds with astounding accuracy.
"Uh huh."
Wilson glances behind himself just to verify that she girl isn't about to walk in and watch as he destroys her trust. But, really, House is his best friend, and if Cameron wants to there work longer than one day, things can only improve if he gets involved.
"She was crying."
House glances up, and Wilson can tell that the man is surprised. "You're sure it wasn't Chase?"
"Oh, you're hilarious."
House squints in annoyance. "She was actually crying?"
"There were tears. I figured we could skip the 'deferential diagnosis,'" Wilson snaps. He waits for a reaction.
"Are you going to tell me," House asks, "or am going to have to beat it out of you?" He nods at his cane for better imagery.
"You tell me," Wilson answers. He steps a little further into the room and crosses his arms. He likes to feel intimidating when he's moonlighting as House's conscience.
House doesn't answer immediately. Wilson watches as his friend rubs his beard, props his feet up on his desk, then returns them to the floor. Such an outward display of guilt is new and Wilson fights the urge to call him on it.
"She was wrong," House eventually says.
Wilson waits, and when his friend doesn't elaborate, he prompts him. "About orange soda? Because I don't care what you say. It's sweeping the nation with its zesty goodness."
House eyes him. "You sound like me."
They're interrupted by the glass door swinging open, and the entrance of a girl with wavy brown hair, and pursed lips. There's nothing to give away that fifteen minutes ago Wilson found her sobbing on the stairwell between fourth and fifth. She's carrying something in her right hand but it's too small to tell what.
"Dr. House," she says, testing the words. There's the clue. Her voice shakes just barely.
He doesn't answer, just shifts eyes to study her. Then he raises his eyebrows. "Is there a problem, doctor?"
"No, sir," she lies. She doesn't even glance at Wilson.
"Then why are you here," House asks. It's anyone's guess as to whether or not he actually expects an answer.
Apparently Cameron decides that he does. "I just wanted to stop by and tell you that you are completely right about me." Wilson doesn't miss the sarcasm. "I'm nothing more than an inexperienced moron who… How did you put it? 'Must have slept my way through medical school.'"
Wilson turns in shock to his best friend with a full intention to say something, but he's stopped short by the admiration in his friend's eyes.
"Oh, and by the way," Cameron continues, "I found this outside. I thought I should drop it by on my way out."
She sets the yoyo down with a loud clatter, and it only takes the men two seconds to realize that the string has been cut off. The slight victory reflecting in her eyes leaves no doubt as to who committed this act of violence against the object. She's turning to go, when a deep voice cuts through the room.
"I'll see you tomorrow morning, doctor."
Wilson watches as the girl stops short, stiffens, clears her throat, then answers firmly, "Yes, sir."
When the door floats closed behind her, Wilson beings to laugh. It's loud, louder than he's laughed in a long time, and off House's face, he laughs harder. Finally he gains his composure and says, before he can stop himself, "You like her."
When House doesn't answer, he gets up to go.
Cuddy
It's only 11:15 when he decides to take a lunch. He can't keep sitting in that room watching Cameron stare at him with doe eyes. He needs air.
It's because of this that he makes the rather colossal mistake of going downstairs to eat. The cafeteria usually doesn't interest him, but if he eats the lunch that he brought, well, he can do that upstairs, and that would defeat the purpose.
It's insane the lengths that he's going to, in order to avoid her. If she'd just loathe him like everyone else, this wouldn't be a problem.
"What are you doing down here?" Cuddy's voice startles him out of his thoughts, and he realizes that he's trapped. He's already gotten his food and is in line to pay behind four patients. He doesn't feel like dealing with this today. His knee has been especially painful, but he can already tell that he's going to add a headache to his symptoms.
"If I say 'eating' can we avoid the usual banter," he returns. He frowns deeply at the woman taking obscenely long at pulling out her purse. He's tempted to pay for all the food if it would get the line moving. With his luck, though, Cuddy would whine about him using his discount for the public, and he would be subjected to an even longer conversation.
"You always eat in your office."
He's already used the "state the obvious" joke for the day, so he remains silent. Which is apparently a mistake, as she steps closer to eye him. "Aren't you working on a case," she asks, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
He shrugs vaguely. "Everyone has to eat."
Cuddy stares at him, which sucks because he has to watch as her eyes go from uncertainty to clarity, quickly. "You're hiding from Dr. Cameron." The accusation annoys him more than he thought it would, because it's accompanied by a self-satisfied smirk.
"I'm not hiding from my employee," he says. Inwardly, he beats the women in front of him to death with his cane.
"Right. So then explain why you're here."
"It's lunchtime, there's food," he argues. "It's not rocket science, Cuddy."
There's a brief silence until she says, "You know, Wilson says that you have feelings for her."
He pays, and then rushes to get away.
Foreman
Foreman has only been a member of Dr. House's team for about ten days when he decides that the man is mentally insane. A jerk, he realized at day two, but insane…Well, that takes longer to diagnose.
Foreman actually considers himself an excellent judge of people, and if he's right, Cameron is completely in love with her boss. He has no idea why, and sometimes, if he's not really busy, he speculates a little bit. House is old, rude, self centered, and sometimes cruel. Cameron is beautiful, kind, considerate and self sacrificing. She's a little too Care Bear for his taste, but it's not as though House is the best she can do.
One day he overhears one of the nurses offering to set up her, and he's surprised when she agrees. He tells Chase, and they discuss it briefly before an impromptu deferential diagnoses. Apparently they are both very interested, because neither hear the door open. It's by coincidence that he happens to look up, and see House watching them, apparently listening. The man's eyes are dark with confusion, and, if Foreman is as good as he thinks he is, a twinge of sadness.
But maybe he's crazy, because Chase doesn't seem to notice at all-he simply changes the subject a detailed description of his worst blind date ever. Chase doesn't even notice when House passes him the black marker and sits down to watch them work.
Still, just to be sure, he doesn't even mention Cameron for the rest of the afternoon.
House
He doesn't like to mention it to Cuddy, but sometimes, when he can't sleep, he drives to the hospital, and goes to his office for an hour or so. He doesn't tell Wilson either, actually, because he likes to avoid conversations that include words like, "symbolize" and "can't let yourself be happy."
(Well, that second one is five words, but still.)
That's why he's utterly and completely shocked to see Cameron sitting on the floor outside his office at one in the morning.
"Hi," he says, his voice rough from exhaustion.
She looks up. "Hi."
He pulls out his keys, and lets the pair of them in. "I'd offer you something to drink, but the options are slightly limited."
She smiles, and shakes her head. "I'm okay anyway."
"Well, that works out."
With that, the room falls silent for nearly three minutes. He uses the time to collapse in his chair and turn to face the window.
It's her that finally speaks. As if there was any doubt.
"Do you have feelings for me?" she asks.
He feels a strange sensation erupt in his stomach at the earnestness in her voice. "Didn't we already have this conversation? Today, no less?"
He hears the weariness in her voice, but doesn't look at her. "I know." She doesn't argue, which he supposes is a good sign. But he listens to her approach, and rest her hands on the back of his chair. Her pinky fingers brush lightly against his neck. So lightly he shouldn't notice. But he does.
He turns to face her, almost scared of what she'll see. His eyes move to hers and catch them.
"What do you want me to say," he mutters, his voice so soft that he's sure she cannot hear him.
For just a moment, she doesn't move. Then "Nothing, I guess," she answers. And she leaves.
When she's gone, he drops his head into his hands and sighs.