THANK YOU MARLOU FOR THE BETA. The real version is over at my LJ and at the HouseCameron community. Thank you Mosseley... WHOOPS!
The forecast called for snow. A lot of snow. Six to eight inches continuing after midnight, making the roads virtually impassable, not that people in New Jersey could really drive in the first place, but the snow would just make it worse.
The ER would be overflowing with MVAs and no one on staff was looking forward to that; that meant they would have to sleep in their offices.
Dr. Gregory House had been tossing his oversized gray and red tennis ball back and forth between his palms, yelling at anyone who entered his office to just leave. He was in the middle of a mental war, attempting to unravel a patient which tended to be a drawn out process, resulting in him becoming even more egomaniacal than usual. The tell-tale creases graced his forehead, proving to all those who entered that he was in deep thought and to steer as clear as they possibly could.
It was five past eight when Wilson sauntered through the door and dodged the curveball that House sent flying at his head.
"And the cripple can still pitch."
House leaned back in his chair, feet propped on the desk, file in his lap. "And to think, I call you a friend." For a moment he was upset that he hadn't managed to peg Wilson directly between the eyes, but when he saw the Heineken in his friend's hands that urge wore off.
"What's with the beer?" He asked even as he grabbed the bottle from Wilson's hand and popped it open. He felt as if he were being rewarded for something when he took the first long gulp of the beer. The way it tasted when it hit his tongue tasted as if he assumed termination of clinic duty might.
Wilson rolled his eyes, a practiced gesture and plopped himself down in the chair across from House. The two sat there in companionable silence for a few moments. "They were wrong," Wilson muttered, glancing at the dark green of the bottle, looking as disinterested as ever.
"Who was wrong about what? The diagnosis?" Another long swig of beer, "Me?"
"No," Wilson said, leaning over in the chair to grab the discarded tennis ball. "The weathermen... it's eight inches already." House sat up in his chair and glared at his friend and then at the window. "Looks like I'm sleeping in my office," Wilson finished flippantly. He tossed the ball up in the air a few times and glanced forward. "Looks like you will be too."
House scoffed and gently maneuvered his legs off of the desk. "You just called me a bad driver."
"No, I'm saying if I can't drive in this, there's no way in hell I'm letting you drive in this." Such a friendly gesture. It was true, House was a pretty bad driver to begin with, but given his leg and the incredibly inclimate weather he was a pretty large danger to himself and anyone else who was on the road.
He bit his lip for as long as he could but eventually he had to pop a pill to kill the dull throbbing that had started up behind his eyes. "Well," House said, his voice lilting almost optimistically. "This just, you know, sucks completely."
Wilson chuckled and drained his beer, holding up the empty bottle for House to see. "Come on, we've got more down in oncology." Wilson stood and gestured with his head to follow him.
Foreman, Chase and Cameron sat in the break room, all three with their shoes off, setting up a rousing game of Life they had stolen from Pediatrics. The initial guilt for the theft wore off as the colorful paper money was passed around. "I wanna be orange," Cameron stated as she shoved a handful of fresh, buttery popcorn into her mouth.
The wind screamed against the windows of the hospital making it's presence fully known. Cameron glanced outside and admired both the majesty and intensity of the white flakes fluttering to the ground in sheets. She'd always admired snow; it was cold and somehow made the entire world, everything around it... positively silent and gorgeous. It could have been Harlem in the height of a drug war and would still have looked peaceful in a white blanket of frozen precipitation.
Chase tossed her the little plastic orange piece and laid his head on the cool table, eyes droopy and red. "And what is the reason we're not down in say, the morgue sleeping off this double shift?" He placed a little blue man in the passenger seat of his tiny green car and closed his eyes.
"Because," Foreman reasoned, fighting with his little blue man and his little yellow car. "We're giving the guys down in radiology and surgery a break." He finally manage to place his man in the car and grabbed some popcorn himself. "No one new in, no one new out, not in this weather."
As if hearing his words, the weather shrieked out, racing past the windows in a brilliant show of white ice.
"Spin," Cameron ordered Chase and they began their game the loud 'tick, tick, tick' of the wheel resonating in the sleek quiet of the gray room.
There were two other doctors in oncology, Dr. Amanda Sciaraffa and Dr. Derek Meany, both of whom were watching an episode of Seinfeld on someone's laptop, chuckling every now and again, taking bites from their enormous oven-baked deep dish pizza. A mushroom fell off of one of the plates and onto the floor, creating a dull, quiet thwack that drew both House's and Wilson's attention.
It looked appetizing, but both House and Wilson were more interested in their beer. Besides, there wasn't anything left to eat, whatever was edible had been snatched up by over-worked doctors in their haste to nourish their starved stomachs.
Late night television offered up no good viewing possibilities and House toyed with the idea of snatching the laptop from the two doctors and running. Well, hobbling away as fast as he could. That would take too much effort he reasoned and laid back in the comfy chair, listening to Jay Leno's inane monologue about Republicans.
"I guess Bush is a prick today too," House muttered, killing off his third beer, placing the empty bottle next to the other ones. Wilson nodded, cracking open his fourth Heineken, "True."
"Why aren't we upstairs?" Wilson asked absent-mindedly, glancing over at his friend briefly. He'd seen House's three doctors enjoying themselves, playing games, eating actual food which Cameron wisely usually kept hidden.
"Because," he drew out, taking Wilson's beer from his hand. "You have alcohol down here. And..." There was a pause in his speech and the laugh track queued up on the television. "If we went up there, we'd have to play Life. And you know how much I hate life."
"Get drunk at a stag party, lose one turn," Foreman said, slapping his hand down on the table. "Is it sad that the fictional me is on the board, living it up, getting wreck and laid and I'm stuck here with you people," he said, glancing directly at Chase. The man shot him an amused look in return and reached out to spin the dial.
Cameron chuckled and retrieved two more cans of Diet Pepsi from the refrigerator. "I'm hurt," she jested, placing a can in front of the Australian. "Perk up, Robbie, you skipped college this time around. Don't you wanna see what this new direction brings you?" Her tone was gracefully flirty and he pick up on it, smirking and quirking an eyebrow. "Don't have to shell out a hundred K to start your life."
Chase laughed and cracked the can. "I'll have my girlfriend knocked up by turn five, just you watch." The snow continued to pile up against the window, blocking out the glare from the sodium arc lamps outside.
Foreman made a joke about pesky semen and went off to take a leak.
Another twenty minute of listened to the large-chinned Bostonian speak with Chris Kattan and House was making his way to the elevators, leaving Wilson asleep in his chair, mouth slightly open. He didn't actually want to go back to his office and face what he amusingly deemed his coworkers, but he had nothing better to do. The cafeteria staff had left for the night and the aroma of pizza had made him incredibly hungry.
When he stepped off of the elevator and turned towards the Diagnostic ward, the scent of freshly popped popcorn assaulted his nostrils. Ah, the young people and their junk food. He followed nose around the corner and was assaulted with laughter, three sets of laughing voices.
Through the streaked glass of the room he saw Foreman grabbing both Cameron's arm and his own stomach, laughing hard just as the other two were doing. Chase was pointing at Cameron and biting his lip, chuckling slowly as the woman cried tears of mirth. "Too good," she shrieked as House made his way slowly into the room. No one heard him over the sounds of happiness.
The older man watched the three share their moment, waiting for someone to notice him. Foreman was the first to do so, his voice full of amusement as he spoke, "'Ey! We thought you were gone." Chase and Cameron both turned around, their smiles falling just a bit when they saw him.
"I want to be, but alas, Mother Nature foils us all again." The three stared at him. "I come bearing beer," House finally said and held up the six pack. "Don't take this as a sign that I actually enjoy your company, my actual friend has fallen asleep and drinking alone is never good."
The three young doctors glanced back and forth at each other.
"So," House said, glancing at his feet then back at the group. "Deal me in."
House sped along in his little red car, stopping briefly to be deemed an entertainer and to get married. He placed his little pink peg in the backseat of the car, saying that she'd just nag him about the directions anyway.
After he'd had his home destroyed in a hurricane, Chase made a particularly funny remark about insurance and doctors and House laughed, actually laughed, a full throated toothy chuckle that took them all by surprise. When he was through he attempted to disguise his surprise with himself by shoving a mouthful of popcorn into his mouth.
Cameron's mouth twitched as she tried to stave off another wave of laughter but it didn't work. The brunette flashed her teeth at her boss and grabbed his arm, her face a mask of surprised amusement. "You actually laugh?"
"Amazing," Chase drawled, sipping his second beer. "He's a human being."
House's inner demons shouted down the better part of his brain, the part that told him to let go, if only for one evening.
His leg throbbed a bit to remind him that he wasn't normal, that he had a large shortcoming. But the way she was looking at him, all smiles and mirth and just plain lovely life, he had to smile. He had to laugh.
And when he did, they laughed too. "So," Foreman began, noticing that the cardboard six pack holder was lacking in all six bottles of beer. "Did you see any more of these down there, or is Wilson bogarting the good stuff?" Four sets of eyes glanced at one another before House smiled again.
"Who's going stealth and nabbing the other one from Wilson's office?"
Again, the four sets of eyes glanced around at one another, three pairs lingereing to long on Doctor Foreman, causing him to chuckle, shake his head and decline. After a few moments of silence Cameron stood and instead of slipping on her stilettos, made her way to the door in her stockings.
She stopped at the door, her hair slipping over her shoulder as she looked back at the four men. "If I don't come back in ten minutes I've managed to tunnel my way out of New Jersey." The three men smiled, but House was the only one to admire her quickly retreating form.
Finally, he turned back to his colleagues before they could catch him in his soft voyeurism. "So, anyone else think it's somewhat depressing that Cameron is winning Life?"
Sometime around three in the morning, Chase fell asleep on the gameboard, knocking over what was left of the six pack. The shattering of the bottles woke him up suddenly and Foreman helped him stand. "I'll get it," Cameron said and began cleaning up the mess.
"We're uh, gonna go up to the ICU and grab one of the beds," Foreman said, stifling a large yawn with the back of his palm. "You coming Cameron or are you gonna bully him into Chutes and Ladders?" Chase laughed and yawned just as his comrade had.
"I uh," she looked up from her bent position among the shattered beer bottles. "I might be up later, thanks." With that, she went back to cleaning up the shattered glass.
The duo nodded and glanced at their boss. "What about you?"
He simply shook his head and ambled off into his office. "Good night," Chase muttered, but House said nothing back, simply walked over to his large yellow-white chair and flopped down. Cameron watched them leave, sending them away with a sweet little goodnight smile and tossed the glass shards into the waste basket.
Once she was done with that, she stood and glanced around the room, as if she had missed something. She hadn't of course, she just didn't know what to do with herself. She could sleep, but something within her was too keyed up to rest.
She walked in a slow circle, looking at her nearly naked feet.
Finally, she decided it was better to get some rest than to do nothing and made her way slowly over to House's office, her nylons causing her to slide a bit on the cool floor. Her hand gripped the glass surrounding his office and she swung herself forth, into his range of view. "Goodnight," she uttered quietly, cordially and waited for him to lift his head.
He did after a moment and regarded her with a tilt of the head. "You're..." Truly, he wanted to say goodnight, but the words wouldn't seem to form. "Really... gorgeous." He said as if he were diagnosing a sore throat, as if it were a run of the mill thing for him to say. His eyes were droopy and she could tell he was both basking in the lull of vicodin and just a bit tipsy and maybe, just maybe, romanced by the magic of the weather.
Her brow furrowed as deeply as his usually did. "I uh... what do I say to that?" Cameron asked, flexing her toes against the floor, feeling something strange like butterflies flare up in her stomach.
He shrugged, one that came from deep within his bones. "Whatever you want to, I suppose." There was a pause in his speech and he looked towards the window, the white snow seemingly gray in the low light coming from his office. "A woman like you, I bet you think snow is pretty romantic."
Their eyes flitted together as his mouth turned into a wry sort of sad smile. "Snow is harsh and cold, unforgiving, and still people find it romantic. I've never understood that."
Cameron's bones settled against the glass wall and she crossed her arms over her chest, watching the flakes fall while considering his words. "I think it's the quiet. The quiet and the anonymity of it. Makes people feel like they're the only two
people on the planet." She blinked. "Like you're in your own little snow globe and nothing can touch you. I love the winter; snow globes are just winter, year round."
"Snow globes can shatter."
"Yes," she amended quietly. "They can, and that's why you have to treat them with care."
"I'm asking," he began brushing off her snow globe comment and pushing himself out of his seat to stand before her.
"Because I'd like to kiss you now, but have something to blame it on."
Cameron blushed inadvertently and smiled just a bit. Of course he would want something to blame it on, it was so like him, never wrong, never taking real responsibility for his actions. "Well," her voice was low and flirty. "There was all the beer, and yes, as you pointed out, the romance of the snow. Now that's two excuses you could use."
He nodded and without all of that useless preempt, all that talk of what if and beauty, he kissed her. It was deep, a kiss driven by passion, fueled by unleashed desire. She was pleasantly surprised when he thrust his free hand into her hair, his other hand letting go of the cane to wind around her waist. This was that free feeling that she had longed to grasp for such a very long time. There would be that moment that he would pull back and realize what he was doing but for the time being he seemed content to be drowning in her lips and tongue.
She was as soft as he expected and smelled of baby powder and cinnamon. It was too much, too much softness for him to pull away from so he had to sink into it, be engulfed by her and soon he was. Cameron's hands came hesitantly to his face and tuned down the tenor of his kisses, brushing against his lips with care.
"It can shatter remember?" Cameron murmured against his lips and felt him nod. "Slow." And then somehow, she was the one that was in control, the one who was in charge of the entire situation.
They kissed for a few moments longer, knowing that no one was likely to happen by his office; this wing of the hospital was virtually deserted at this hour on normal night, and on a night like this...
A thought came to Cameron then and she pulled away from the haven of his lips. "There are twenty doctors here tonight, five are on duty, fifteen are sleeping." Her hand trailed up his chest and his eyes followed its movement. "Seven nurses, three attendees in the ER... fifty-three patients, all tucked in..."
House was stunned that she had remembered all of that, but continued to listen and feel her warm touches on his body. "What are the chances that I can undress you and show you what I'm really made of?"
"I suppose... I would like to discover if you really are as uptight as you look." House murmured, walking over to the front wall of his office and shutting the blinds. "For instance, does you underwear match like a good girl's would?"
Cameron smiled devilishly at him and watched as he shut the blinds on the other side. "What makes you think I'm wearing underwear in the first place."
House's hand movements still in the process of shutting the blind. "You're kidding."
Her little pink tongue snaked out to lick her lips. "Why don't you find out?"
At that moment he was frozen to the spot, so she walked to him. Her hand slipped through his hair while he found himself battling internally with wanting to stop what was happening. Their lips met again and suddenly he didn't care about ramifications or implications or much of anything but getting Cameron out of her damned clothes.
Her body pressed against his, something inside of her snapping all of a sudden, and she latched her lips to his neck, snaking her right leg around his left. "If this happens, and you-"
"Shut up," he grunted, stumbling backwards to his large chair, sitting down with a quick wave of pain. "Just, let me," and he kissed her as she maneuvered herself delicately onto his lap. Fingers played over skin and bone and lips as if she were a Stradivarius and he was performing a symphony.
Her blouse was the first to go, pooling on the floor next to them. The swell of her chest enticing him and he leaned in, brushing his cheek against her, irritating the skin just a bit, leaving red marks behind. He kissed them away, delighting in her little squeal when his mouth fell to her body. For her part, she couldn't get enough of touching him, skating over his neck and shoulders, tangling in his hair, toying with his ears.
Cameron shifted a little and began toying with the buttons on his shirt, attempting to slip the buttons through the holes but he batted her hands away, pulling his face away from her for a moment. "Next time," he rasped and returned to the hollow of her throat, kissing there.
She did want to touch him, feel his skin, kiss his chest, but with the way he was kissing her, he couldn't really muster up the strength to care. She was plastered to his body, his arms wrapped tightly around her back and she toyed with the fantasy of him never letting her go, but just for a moment.
Even as his tongue skated over her collarbone, his hands were working the button of her pants open, maneuvering her zipper down. She gasped, as though she didn't know he was going to do it and their eyes met, both pairs heavy lidded and clouded with lust. She too brought her hands into play, squeezing down in between their bodies to the front of his trousers.
Cameron leaned in, her breasts tantalizing him as she bent down and bit his earlobe, undoing his pants. "If we're going to stop, we should stop no-"
Again, he stole the words from her lips with his, pushing her off of him just far enough to get her pants off, but she stood instead and pulled them off in one smooth motion, leaving her clad in his chilly office in only her bra and panties. "Liar, you weren't commando," House said as he too stood and removed his pants.
"Ohhhhh, but the look on your face," she teased and stepped towards him.
House sat back down on the chair and watched as she climbed, lithe and catlike, over him. His palms immediately went to her back, stroking up and down, reveling in the smooth skin, in the warmth of it. He tilted his head up and captured her lips.
It was the eye contact that was really getting him, she kept looking at him, gazing at him to make sure that they were still on that same page, that they both wanted what was about to happen.
"God," she half rasped, half muttered when she felt his hand slipped around her waist. His groan was deep and frustrated when he clumsily pushed his boxers down on his thighs.
Her hand, warm and small, snaked down to guide,
The two of them stilled; Cameron gasped and allowed her eyes to slip shut. House was at a loss for what to do, his actions over the last half an hour catching up with him, his actions rushing to his head in a hurricane of logic. Dear god he knew he should stop but when his hands fell to her hips and she began to move, he was lost.
Her hands clenched on his shoulders. She looked pretty damned amazing on top of him, that he could admit. What he didn't want to admit, what he truly did not want to believe was that she was stirring up something within him, something that he hadn't felt in a long time. Something other than mere desire.
Cameron licked her lips and sloppily leaned in for a kiss. House was more than eager to acquiesce, allowing her tongue entry into his mouth almost immediately, kissing her with as much passion as he knew how to properly express.
Suddenly, they were both pulled under, gasping with the force of their emotions.
Unable to hold back, they moved together, realizing truly what was happening.
House watched as she bent to retrieve her pants, her backside tempting him once more. He watched her grab her shirt and then stood, working out the stiffness in his neck. He hitched his pants back up, awkwardly and watched as she gathered her nylons off of the floor. Their eyes met awkwardly and then darted quickly away. He hobbled over to his desk and sat down, covering his face with once hand, sighing reluctantly.
"What was that you said about 'next time'?" Cameron uttered quietly as she buttoned up her shirt, allowing her gaze to slip to the floor. For a moment, she felt like it had all been a mistake, especially when he retreated to the other side of the room. Shaking her head, she pushed the hair out of her eyes, running her fingers through the sweat on her brow.
House lifted his eyes to hers and she almost believed she saw a ghost of a smile toying with his lips. "Next time..." He began slowly, fumbling with the correct words to say. "We'll just... do it right."
With that, Cameron smiled, said goodnight and went to find a bed to sleep in leaving House at his desk to ponder over what the hell had just happened.
The next morning, after taking a shower in the locker room, Cameron came down to the office finding Chase and Foreman already stirring sugar into their coffee.
"Tea?" Chase held out a cup to her and she took it thankfully. "Oh," he continued, sitting up from his slouching position.
"This was on the table for you when we came in."
Chase tossed her the small snow globe, one with Princeton-Plainsboro stuck amidst a whirl of fake snow. Cameron smiled quickly and looked up from the little trinket.
"Who's it from?" she asked, taking a seat next to Chase.
He shrugged and held out a small slip of paper. "This was under it."
Cameron opened the note and caught the laugh that was threatening to spill from her. 'Snow melts,' it read. 'Learn to love spring and autumn too.'