It's a quiet Wednesday when Stacy finally manages to get around to grocery shopping at her local supermarket. New Jersey's not exactly known as the land of fine foods but she knows that just off of the corner of 32nd street there's a quaint little market with sales on the best tasting mock French bread that she's ever consumed and the twenty minute long drive was well worth it. She's perfectly content to go those few extra miles for bread that's soft and warm but a golden crusty exterior that would be heavenly dipped in fondue.
Fondue. Stacy thinks with a smile as she wheels her shopping cart along. She'll make fondue for dinner. Mark was always complaining about her cooking being predictable and even she has to admit that she's tired of the same green bean casserole or pulled pork sandwiches that she's been making at a rapid fire pace. Hell, she even knows that Mark hates casserole and pulled pork and that his favorite food consists of the Italian variety. She doesn't even know why she buys green beans or cream of mushroom soup anymore except that these items directly correlate back to a time when the person she was cooking for loved casseroles and pulled pork and would constantly whine if she made anything different.
Maybe that's why she finds herself pushing her shopping cart towards the canned soup area, daintily picking up a few chicken noodle soup cans and a some cream of mushroom soup as well. Just as she's ready to wheel away, she hears a distinctly feminine squeal followed by a playful slap; now, Stacy was never one for eavesdropping and she felt embarrassed for not walking away sooner but the squeals had now suddenly become giggles and Stacy simply didn't feel like missing out on seeing a happy couple walk by. After all, she and Mark weren't exactly on the best of terms at the moment and the man that she'd rejected one too many times had finally stopped picking up her calls and, well, Stacy Warner needed to see something cheerful and if she couldn't find it in her own life, she'd settle for a viewing of someone else's. Memories from her youth she thought silently.
Remaining perched in her little hiding spot of unwanted soup cans, Stacy could make out a slim brunette figure walking by, pushing a grocery cart whilst a large and distinctively masculine hand gripped her waist.
"Greg, stop!" the voice managed out, slightly breathy from laughter and tinted with exasperation. "If you keep this up we're going to get thrown out of the supermarket and I guarantee you that is the one line that you absolutely cannot cross!"
"Ooh, I'm shaking in my boots," another voice replied and Stacy froze on the spot. Her knuckles whitened as her grip on the cart tightened considerably; she forced herself to push down the surprise, relief, and strangely strong sense of jealousy that she was now feeling creep up her spine. Straining her ear, Stacy struggled to hear the rest of the conversation. "You wouldn't care if we were thrown out or not," House continued, "you're just worried somebody's going catch you doing the act that is going to get you kicked out." his voice was smug and Stacy could just imagine that infuriating smirk on his perfectly stubbled face, could picture that gleaming cockiness present in the baby blue of his eyes and the bitter waves of nostalgia hitting her had never hurt more so.
"Well," the female voice countered, "that wouldn't be such a problem if you didn't insist on having sex in every public space you can find! God, it's like you want the people around you to have some degree of voyeurism."
House snorted. "What kind of person would really be so interested in buying fruit cups that he would miss the rather improper sounds coming from your mouth? You're a loud one, you know that?"
Cameron flushed bright red as she gently whacked House's shoulder again before leaning back comfortably onto him as she pushed the shopping cart. The two of them couldn't even get through a day of grocery shopping without some oddity coming up.
In the darkened corner of the supermarket, Stacy Warner could feel bile rising up in her throat and she knew it was not from the foul scent of the leaking tomato soup can. It pained her, it really did, to see the man that she loved and perhaps still does love slip away into the arm of another. And not just any other, Stacy thinks with a hint of bitterness, the beautiful and young immunologist with the gleaming brown hair and clear blue-green eyes that seem to sear right into House's soul. Stacy's not blind. She sees the way he looks at her - it's affection mixed with amusement and a snarky sense of confidence that almost shadows the deep sated love that he carries in those sky blue eyes of his.
Unclenching her jaw, Stacy manages to peek a little further to see the two have completely bypassed the soup area in favor of the dairy section - with House picking up a quantity of cherry Greek yogurt and dumping it into the cart. Stacy frowned momentarily, remembering with distinct clarity that House had never been the biggest fan of yogurt, let alone Greek. Her puzzlement barely even had the chance to build before she saw the pretty young brunette give him a kiss on the cheek in thanks.
So that's it, Stacy realized, he'd picked up the damn yogurt for her. And he even knew the flavor she wanted! Gritting her jaw, Stacy continued to spy on them as she quietly pushed her cart over to the area of exotic spices and dried basil leaves, hiding away behind a few milling shoppers to see where the two would head off next. Vaguely Stacy was made aware of how much of a sneak she was being but this was just one thing she had to know.
Had House moved on? And for how long? Did he really love that cherub faced doctor of his or was it all just a compensation act he was putting on for himself? Did he think of the young immunologist as nothing more than secondary or had she truly wormed her way into his frozen heart? The answers themselves outweighed Stacy's sense of self preservation and she strained on, desperately trying to hear what they were trying to say.
"What are you doing with that?" House demanded disdainfully, plucking up the pack of goat cheese that Cameron had plopped into the cart.
"Buying goat cheese," she retorted, taking the roll of soft white cheese from his hand and placing it back in. "Believe it or not, cheese is actually beneficial to you and your health."
House sneered. "Bacteria infested puddles of pasteurized milk are hardly anything to rave about, Allison, you of all people should know that."
"If you're talking about that incident in the Italian restaurant - "
"What other incident would I be talking about?"
" - it was just because I was catching the beginning of the flu - "
"The flu whose symptoms didn't show up until after you'd consumed whatever rabbit food you'd ordered, doused with that digesting crap you have the audacity to call cheese."
Cameron rolled her eyes. "You're the one who enjoys processed as hell fake yellow American cheese."
"Exactly," House retorted, voice dry with triumph. "American cheese. I'm a patriot at heart. You're a goat loving Swiss herder."
"So you consuming American cheese makes you a patriot and enables you to be a hypocrite?"
"No," House drawled out, his voice slow as if he were speaking to a five year old, "I'm saying that I can do whatever I want because it's within my constitutional rights."
The brunette's exasperation now bordered on amusement as she struggled to contain her laughter at House's antics. "And I can't exercise my constitutional rights because…?"
"God, don't you listen to me anymore?" House cried in mock distress, "I told you - you're a goat loving Swiss herder. No land of the free for you."
This time, Cameron didn't even try to hold back her laughter as she nudged him with her hip and the two continued along the dairy isle. "Hand me that almond milk, will you?" she said, gesturing to the blue and yellow Almond Breeze carton that House wrinkled his nose at. "Oh, come on," Cameron said, rolling her eyes, "the almond milk's deadly poison isn't going to suddenly leak out of the carton and seep into your dermis."
"Obviously, Cameron," House replied, hoisting up the offending carton of milk and placing it into the shopping cart. "Cartons aren't living things. Duh."
"I'm engaged to a genius, aren't I?"
"Consider yourself lucky." House smirked as he tightened his grip around her waist and the two made their way from the dairy isle into the produce section with House mocking the battered shape that the pineapples were in.
From her vantage point, Stacy could still see the tops of their heads - more specially, the top of House's head - and she could feel her throat closing in around her. Years of living with House made her acutely aware that she was on the verge of a panic attack but at this point, she couldn't even bring herself to care.
What. The. Fuck.
Stacy couldn't believe her ears. Fiancé? She practically moaned inwardly, the were getting married? Gregory House, commitment phobic medical genius was actually willingly and…happily going to tie himself down? And to who, Stacy fumed, none other than his too pretty little piece of lobby art that should have stayed lobby art! Biting down hard on her tongue to keep herself from screaming out, the dark haired woman gave a harsh tug on her shopping cart, forcing herself to the dairy isle. She knew for a fact that House would have to be swayed by more than just a pretty face with some brains to match - he'd need someone stubborn, witty, charming, and strong as hell to put up with the shit he pulled. From the little that Stacy knew about House's youngest and prettiest subordinate, she'd come to the conclusion that the girl was nice - a little too nice - and she was overly kind and empathetic, investing her heart in all situations. She was a believer in happy endings and sweet smiles and she liked to take care of people.
If she were honest with herself, Stacy never really thought too much of the young brunette simply because she figured House would never even go for her. If anything, Stacy considered her biggest competition Lisa Cuddy. That woman was the type that House would go for - tough as nails, witchy when desired, hardworking, stubborn, and confident to boot. It also didn't hurt that the administrator was in her late thirties and still had perky as ever breasts which she showcased every chance she got. No, to Stacy Warner, the shy and sweet young immunologist with the long brown curls and rosy cheeks was nothing more than a pretty face to keep House amused when things got boring at PPTH.
She didn't expect House to go and get himself engaged to the girl.
Allison Cameron wasn't right for House, Stacy had decided when she'd first seen her. But then why was it that it was Allison Cameron who could make him laugh so warmly, smile so brightly, and seem so much more content than she ever did? From the little that Stacy had witnessed, the amusing and somewhat snarky banter that the two had exchanged seemed to flow as easily as a creek did on a summer's day. House was still House but he seemed…happier. A little bit more at peace. And the girl, Stacy noted bitterly, wasn't nearly as much of a pushover as she'd thought she was and never once during the entire conversation did Allison Cameron stutter, stammer, or look like a twelve year old schoolgirl bumbling in front of her first crush.
No. What Stacy Warner had just seen was a beautiful young woman who was strong and caring, with a heart three times too big, sure, but who lightened the air around her and made others happy.
She made House happy.
And as much as Stacy wanted to claw her eyes out, she couldn't deny the relief she felt knowing that House had someone to love - and be loved by.
A/N: Like? Hate? Leave me a review so I'll know!