So I was watching Half-Wit and it suddenly occurred to me that it was actually somewhat unrealistic that House never had sex with Cameron. He's a guy, after all. With a penis. So I wrote this. If the idea of Hameron sex totally repulses you, I suppose steer clear. But I think you all know me well enough to know that Huddy will triumph in a satisfying (I hope) way. (If anything, it's Cameron fans who will be pissed. Luckily, none of them read my fics.)
Please be gentle. If I'm going to keep feeding your fic habit (and mine) I need to come up with new wrinkles.
When House lost a patient, he tended to get obsessive—even more so than usual.
It was 11 o clock on a Tuesday night and he was still staring at this guy's file, trying to piece together where he'd gone wrong. The autopsy had confirmed myeloid leukemia, when he had treated for aplastic anemia. The diseases presented similarly. He'd given this guy a blood transfusion when he should've been blasting him with chemo.
He scratched his head, replayed the differential in his mind. Foreman had suggested myelodysplastic syndrome. Chase had suspected immune thrombocytopenic purpura. Cameron had waited to see what House thought before she gave her opinion. Shocker—she agreed with him that it was aplastic anemia.
He put down the file and putting his head in his hands. Crap.
"Hey," a woman's voice said.
He looked up: Cameron.
"Hey yourself," he said. "It's late. What are you doing here?"
"Checking on you," she said. "You okay?"
"I'm fine."
"You don't look fine. You look upset."
"I'm not overjoyed that I killed this guy. But I'll live. Unlike our patient."
"You didn't kill this guy."
"He had a treatable disease that I didn't treat. The sign on my door says that I'm the one who's supposed to treat him. Who you gonna blame? His tax attorney?"
She gave the patented Cameron concerned face.
"You should get out of here House. There's no point in sitting here stewing all night."
"I like stewing. I'm good at it."
"You're not the only one who's depressed, you know. I am too," she said.
"Congratulations."
She squinted at him.
"C'mon. I don't know about you, but I could really use a drink."
House reached into his desk, pulled out a half-drained bottle of scotch.
"Too late," he said.
"Mind if I have some?" she said boldly.
He looked at her.
"I prefer to drink alone," he said.
"You prefer to do everything alone," she muttered.
"And you're just noticing this now?"
"I just thought maybe we could, I dunno, take some comfort in each other."
"No thanks," he said.
He saw her bottom lip begin to tremble. Great. Just what he needed.
"You can be a real jerk sometimes. You know that?" she said. And she stormed out.
He watched her run away for a few seconds, then sighed. Got up. Yelled her name. She pretended not to hear him—like a spoiled teenager. She was going to make him work.
He followed her into the parking lot.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to be hurt your feelings."
Somehow, the fact that he cared enough to follow her into the parking lot emboldened her.
She took his hand, began circling his palm with her fingers.
"I just wanted to make you feel better," she said. "You should take comfort in other people some time."
He looked down at her hand, scowled.
"What are you doing?" he said.
"Comforting you," she said. And she guided his hand under her shirt. He was now touching her bare waist.
"Cameron. . . " he warned.
"Let me comfort you," she said. Now she was guiding his hand onto her stomach, then to the very top of her pelvic bone.
"Cameron. . ." he said. But he was losing his focus.
"I want to . . . be there for you," she whispered. And began to grind up against him. She was a beautiful young woman, literally throwing herself at him.
"Let's go to my place," he breathed.
"My place is closer," she said.
And they both hopped into their cars.
The first minutes of the drive, his thoughts were something scintillating along the lines of: Flesh, breasts, pussy, want.
But the more he drove—and as his boner subsided—he began to realize what a horrible mistake this was.
Of course he thought Cameron was pretty. Of course he wanted to have sex with her.
But he'd known that Cameron was in love with him for quite sometime. He had never acted on it, for, well, a myriad of reasons but mostly because he liked her. She was a good girl. Sensitive. She couldn't handle the rejection. Counterintuitive as it might sound, he was too fond of her to fuck her.
He considered not going to her place at all, but that struck him as a chump move: He'd just tell her their little grope session was a regrettable mistake—and call it a night.
But when he got up to her apartment, she answered the door—naked.
Oh for fuck's sake.
"You should really put some clothing on," he said.
"Why? You don't like what you see?" she said, rhetorically. She had a pretty girl's confidence.
He tried not to look at her but couldn't help herself. She was beautiful. Maybe a little too skinny, maybe not voluptuous enough for his taste—but creamy and supple and soft. Fuckable.
His boner was coming back.
"This would be a horrible mistake," he said.
"Why," she said, slowly walking toward him. "Because you don't love me?"
She kissed him.
"Right," he said.
"Because I'm too sensitive?" she said, kissing him again.
"Right," he said.
"Because you'll hurt me?" she said unbuttoning his jeans.
"Right," he said.
But now he was kissing back, shoving his tongue in her mouth, groping her ass.
"Try me," she said. And she reached between his legs.
#####
The sex was good enough, as sex went. Cameron was more interested in sharing a meaningful connection, House was more interested in getting off.
And predictably, afterward, bold seducing Cameron was gone, replaced by needy Cameron who wanted to cuddle.
House squirmed away, got out of bed. Started searching for his jeans and shoes in the dark.
"I gotta go," he said.
"Why?" she said, pouting a bit.
"Because I don't do sleepovers." He had found the jeans, pulled them on, along with his right Nike. Now he was anxiously looking for the left.
"We both have to be at work in 5 hours," she said. "It's silly for you to go home."
Thank God—the left Nike. He put it on, grabbed his cane that he had hung on the bed post.
"I'll see you there."
He started to leave—saw that her bottom lip was trembling again.
He limped up to her, kissed the top of her head.
"Thanks," he said. "You were . . .great."
######
Cuddy could hardly believe it when House volunteered for clinic duty the next morning, but he made up a plausible lie—that after losing his patient the previous day he wanted to treat some people who weren't dying—and she bought it.
At lunchtime, he found her in the cafeteria. Slid into the booth across from her.
"Thanks for buying me lunch," he said.
She didn't even bother to look up. "I didn't buy you lunch," she said idly.
"The tab I just started in your name says otherwise."
She rolled her eyes, ignored him.
He surveyed her plate for something to steal—everything was annoyingly healthy. He grabbed a baby carrot, just out of habit.
She continued ignoring him.
"Like the getup Cuddy," he said, taking her in. "The Executive Slut department of Barney's really suits you."
She continued to eat her salad.
"I said Executive Slut department," he said, slightly hurt. "You got nothin'?"
She looked up.
"Sorry," she said, humoring him. "And where do you shop? At the I Never Want to Get Laid Again department."
Ironic in light of last night.
"Seriously, what's wrong?" he said. He sensed that her heart wasn't in their usual sparring.
She sighed.
"If you must know, I'm thinking about the State of the Hospital speech I have to give next week. There have been a lot of layoffs and budget cuts. It's been a tough year."
"So you're, what? Worried about it?"
"Yes, House. I'm worried about it. "
"You're just trying to get me to tell you how great you'll do."
"Right. Because you're the first person I turn to when I want a self-esteem boost."
"Seriously? You'll kill it. The staff loves—"
But he stopped talking and looked up because he sensed another presence. Cameron.
"Can I talk to you?" she said, her voice quavering.
House looked at Cameron, then looked at Cuddy.
"We're kind of in the middle of something," he said.
Cameron swallowed hard, blinked back a tear.
"Okay. . maybe later?" she said.
"Definitely," he said.
He turned back to Cuddy.
"As I was saying . . ."
But there was a look of complete disgust on her face.
"What?" he said, biting into his burrito, trying to act innocent.
"You idiot. You slept with her," she said incredulously.
"No I didn't," he said.
"House, she was practically in tears. Her bottom lip was trembling."
He put his head in his hands, groaned.
"Okay, so I slept with her."
"You moron!"
"Tell me about it."
"Why would you do something so idiotic? On top of the numerous HR violations you've committed, this could jeopardize your relationship with a valuable employee."
"Ugh. I know. In my defense, she threw herself at me."
"House, she's always throwing herself at you."
"This was less subtle and involved her standing in her apartment naked."
"What were you even doing in her apartment?"
"I, uh, went there to have sex with her."
Cuddy glared.
"But! But. . . then I wasn't going to. I was all about the self denial. I was like frickin' Siddhartha. And then she answered the door naked….Cuddy, have some mercy."
"What? You have no control over yourself?"
"Naked!"
"What are you, a caveman?" She put on a caveman voice: "Must put penis in vagina."
House buried his head again.
"Something like that," he said. "Ugh. It's a disaster. I can never run a DDx again."
"You should've thought of that before you slept with the Princeton Plainsboro prom queen."
"As we've firmly established, I wasn't thinking with the thinkin' part of my anatomy. So what should I do?"
Cuddy shook her head.
"How should I know. . .do you actually like her?" She was afraid to hear the answer.
"You mean like like her?" House scoffed.
"Yeah."
"Of course not. I mean, I like her as a friend, I guess. As an employee. But no, nothing beyond that."
"You're such a jerk."
"You're not helping."
"I have no advice for you, House. Just deal with it. Because I don't want crying jags and scenes from a high school production of Splendor in the Grass playing out in my hospital."
"Thanks for nothin', Cuddy."
#####
He decided to man up and talk to her.
He found her in the lab with Chase.
"A moment of your time, Cameron?" he asked.
She followed him to his office.
He closed the door behind them.
He pulled a small box of flowers out of his desk drawer. They looked like the kind of flowers you might buy hastily in a drug store—because they were.
"These are for you," he said.
Cameron looked at them.
"What am I . . . your secretary?" she said.
He looked down.
"Last night was. . .great. Truly. Thank you for it," he said, in a voice that sounded rehearsed—because it was.
"And you never want to do it again," she said.
"Right."
"Because you don't love me."
"Right again."
There was a pause.
"Why not?"
"Why not? It doesn't work that way Cameron. There's no explanation. You either love somebody or you don't."
"You could still fall in love with me."
"No, Cameron. I can't."
"Did I. . . do something wrong last night?" Her hurt voice again.
"No. I told you. It's not you. It's me."
"So last night meant absolutely nothing to you."
"I never said that."
"Yeah, you kind of just did."
And she threw the flowers in the trash and walked out.
#####
House flopped onto the couch in Cuddy's office.
"Well, that went well," he said.
"You talked to her?"
"Yeah."
"And. . .?"
"She's not happy with me."
"But no more sex?"
"No more sex."
"You never should've slept with her to begin with."
"I think we've firmly established that."
Cuddy shook her head, looked at him musingly.
"I'm disappointed in you, House. I always thought you were a man who liked a challenge."
He looked back.
"I am."
Where was she going with this?
Cuddy gave him a somewhat dirty look.
"I find that when two people don't succumb to sex right away, it's hotter in the end," she said.
And when he left her office, he literally had to go find the nearest bathroom to beat off.
#####
Cameron moped around for a few days and then decided she wasn't out of the game yet.
She had gotten the idea to seduce House from an article she had read in Cosmo, "Taking the Bull By the Horns: Why Sometimes You Need to Make the First (and the Second) Move on a Man."
The article said that some men were shy, or scared and that sometimes the woman had to be the aggressor.
And damned if it hadn't worked. All these years she'd been mooning over him, it had never occurred to her to just grab his dick and go to town.
(It was like being around House made her so insecure she forgot something she had taken for granted all her life: Men wanted her.)
And she didn't care what House said. She had felt a connection between them that night. It wasn't anything he said, or even did, for that matter—just something she sensed.
She was convinced House really was in love with her—he just didn't know it yet.
####
It was the day of the State of Hospital Address. It was a big deal—the entire medical staff attended, plus the board and even the press.
House watched Cuddy from the audience, marveling over how impeccably put together she was. She looked great, of course—her hair, clothing, makeup all perfect. But it was more than that. He knew for a fact that she was nervous—that she had practiced the speech in front of the mirror several times (she even showed House a few sections she was insecure about). But you would never know it by looking at her.
She glided through the auditorium in her Louboutins, stopping to shake some hands, share a few jokes with some board members. The crowd seemed to part—Red Sea-like—as she strode through. She was gorgeous, powerful, the mistress of her domain.
He was imagining himself slowly removing her power suit, when he heard a voice.
"This seat taken?"
Cameron.
It had been a week since their regrettable hookup and things were slowly beginning to return to normal. He still caught her staring at him from time to time, but what else was new? She seemed to finally accept that what had happened was an isolated incident.
He nodded at her in greeting.
Cuddy began her speech. Predictably, she was killing it. She was everything to this hospital: Mother and father. Cheerleader and coach. Chief executive and chief nurturer.
He watched her every motion, in a little bit of awe
Suddenly, he felt Cameron's eyes on him.
"Oh my God," she whispered, like something incredibly obvious had just dawned on her.
"What?" House said. He was annoyed that she was interrupting Cuddy's speech.
"You're in love with her," Cameron said.
He felt his face turn red.
"Keep your voice down," he hissed.
"You won't even deny it."
"Please shut the fuck up," he said.
"I'm such a fool," she said.
And she got up and stormed out of the auditorium.
Everyone noticed, of course.
Cuddy lost a beat for a second, gave the tiniest "I'm going to kill you" look at House, and continued talking.
######
House limped into Cuddy's office and began a slow clap.
"The Gettysburg Address, the St. Crispin's Day speech, and your PPTH State of the Hospital."
"No thanks to you," she muttered.
She had kicked off her Louboutins and was stretching her legs and he had a sudden urge to massage her feet—boyfriend style.
He focused back on the conversation.
"Sorry about that," he said.
"Cameron's little drama queen moment was the talk of the staff."
"We're doctors," he said lamely. "She could've been responding to a page."
"She looked upset."
"An upsetting page."
"I thought you said you took care of it. That there wouldn't be anymore scenes."
"I did," he said. "At least, I thought I did."
"So what happened. And why in the middle of my speech?"
House bit his lip.
"She thought she figured something out," he said quietly.
"Figured out what?"
"It's stupid."
"Try me."
He gulped a bit.
"She said that I'm. . .in love with you."
Cuddy had been rubbing her temples with her eyes closed. With that, her eyes popped open. She stared at him.
He looked back at her. It was the closest he had come to a declaration of love in 20 years.
She bit her lip. She allowed herself to admit that what she had been feeling was not administrative disapproval or concern for the wellbeing of the hospital. She had been jealous of Cameron because she wanted House for herself.
"You wanna come over to my place tonight?" she said softly.
"I thought you'd never ask."
#####
There had been a glass of wine, some awkward small talk. They both knew why he was there.
"Let's go to my bedroom," she said in the most seductive voice imaginable.
He wanted to be the one to undress her. The one who took her from his boss to his lover.
"Come here," he said.
He slowly removed her clothing: First her heels—he gently massaged and kissed her feet. (He wasn't a foot guy. But Cuddy's feet made him a foot guy.) Then he peeled off her jacket, her silk blouse, her skin-tight skirt. He folded the clothing neatly, reverentially on the bed, which made her laugh.
She was wearing a beautiful black lace bra and thong. Because this was what she wore–to work. The woman was sex incarnate. She had the most incredible body he had ever seen.
"God, you feel so good," he said, fondling her. (Touching her was like touching the sun—something hot and beautiful and previously unattainable.) Breathing heavily, he kissed her stomach and pulled off her panties.
He put his face between her legs, inhaled her scent, began lapping at her pussy.
Feeling her vibrate underneath him, knowing that his tongue was making her gently moan and spasm—it was the ultimate turn-on to him. He thought about how many times he had fantasized about this. But it was real—and she was sweeter, hotter, wetter than his wildest imagination. He briefly feared that he would come before entering her. But he measured his breath, controlled himself.
Her moans turned to gasps and her gentle spasms became bucks and she came like a tidal wave beneath him. He had never felt such a sense of erotic accomplishment in his life.
He slid inside her and she took control, rolling on top of him—knowing just how fast and how slowly to ride him, as if she could read his mind. She'd bring him right to the edge, then slacken her pace—then, when she saw he was about to explode, she rode him faster, harder. When he came, he made a strangled kind of inhuman noise—part groan, part grunt, part yelp. He had become the caveman Cuddy had accused him of being. It was a total loss of control.
Afterwards, he wrapped his arms around her, held her tightly, stroking her hair.
"You're an amazing woman," he whispered in her ear.
"You're not so bad yourself," she replied.
And they both fell asleep.
#####
Sunlight streamed through the curtains in Cuddy's room. House yawned, stretched, reached for her.
But she was gone.
Shit.
He limped into the kitchen. Looked at the clock. It was 10 am. Of course, she had left for work hours ago.
There was freshly brewed pot of coffee—set on a timer for 10 am—and a slice of homemade banana bread on a plate for him with some gourmet jam.
There was also note.
"I stand corrected. Fucking your employees CAN BE fun. See you at work.-C."
He took a bite of the banana bread—and laughed.
######
Toward the end of that day, Chase found Cameron alone, sitting by herself on one of the hospital benches.
He sat down beside her.
"You okay?" he asked.
She shook her head in a distracted sort of way.
"I've been better."
It had just taken one look at House this morning to know that he had fucked Cuddy last night. A woman knew these things. And if there was any doubt, later she had seen Cuddy—she looked glowing, ripe, as though she had just been plucked.
"Wanna talk about it?" Chase asked.
"Not particularly," Cameron said.
"Sometimes it helps to take comfort in a friend," he said, coaxingly.
She laughed dryly.
"I've heard that before," she said.
"So. . . can I buy you dinner tonight? You can talk about it. Or not."
"That would be nice," she said, half-heartedly.
"Good. On the bright side, House is literally in the best mood I've ever seen him in today. So take advantage of it while you can."
Cameron glared at him, stood up in a huff, and stormed away.
He watched her, in shock.
"Was it something I said?" he said out loud.
THE END