Remember my OC, Joy Medina? She's back--as a matchmaker.
This fic is set around the same time as the Act Your Age episode in Season 3.
Blind Date
It started on a Saturday at the wedding reception of a mutual friend. After Cameron over-toasted to the couple's future happiness and broke one champagne flute while tapping a teaspoon against it, right out of the blue, she confessed to her friend Joy about the sex deal she made—then broke—with Chase. In reaction, Joy nearly sprayed Sprite and lemon all over a distinguished middle-aged couple sitting across the table.
Several back thumps and dribbles later, Joy carefully brought some dignity back to herself as much as possible before grabbing Cameron's arm and a table napkin from the table and dragging her off to the ladies' room. Once inside, Joy surprised her slightly intoxicated friend with a hoarse declaration: "You need a friggin' matchmaker."
Grasping the edge of a deep, transparent glass sink for support, Cameron asked thickly, "Huh?"
Joy ignored that while she placed a handkerchief under an open tap. After wetting it considerably, she squeezed out the excess water and dabbed a corner of the cloth on her bared shoulders and covered bosom. "Specifically, setting you up on a blind date," she said calmly. "I think that's the term used nowadays—duh! Obviously, you were never meant to wear the widow's weeds for very long, hon. You have to hook up with someone who's not working at the same hospital as you. You need a man in your life again…"
Cameron groaned. "I am not ready to fall in lo—"
"Did I say 'fall in love immediately'?" Joy cut in sharply. She was still looking at herself in the mirror, rubbing hard on the upper right corner of her black Monique Lhuillier knock-off dress. "Obviously, I don't expect you to fall head over heels with the guy, but at least consider him. Yeah, I have a bachelor in mind for ya, and don't you worry: he's quite easy on the eyes and feminine senses."
It was now Cameron's turn to snort as the door to the ladies' room opened. "You're a plastic surgeon…"
"Who specializes in reconstructive surgery, and no, he's never had anything done," Joy butted in. She glared at an elderly woman wearing an atrocious shade of violet, who had stopped mid-way to the middle toilet to give Joy and her attempts at cleaning up a sanctimonious sneer. The older woman huffed and shuffled into a stall.
While Joy had her stare-off, Cameron slurred on, "...of course he's going to be easy on the eyes; it'll ruin your reputation if you set me up with some Quasimodo."
Cameron started to snicker hysterically, thinking hazily that it was the funniest joke she could come up with. This made Joy pause at her task in order to turn the cold tap and soak her hands under it before she flicked her wet hands over her friend's face. Cameron yelped as the icy droplets hit her face.
"Better than slapping you, you lush," Joy muttered, walking towards the hand dryer. "So, are you game?"
Cameron shrugged, wiping her face while Joy shook her hands under the dryer. "What have I got to lose? I'm already a hot topic over at the nurses' station, and my boss makes fun of me for going out with Chase."
"Is that a yes?" Joy asked, turning around to face her friend.
Cameron nodded.
The next thing Cameron knew, there was an ear-splitting squeal that made her wince. The old woman in the stall made loud tsking noises.
"I'll send you a picture of Denny tomorrow!" Joy gushed. She brushed away imaginary lint off Cameron's royal blue formal dress, whipped out her cellphone and ushered her slightly sobered friend out the ladies' room so that she could get some privacy for the call.
---
On Tuesday, after checking House's stack of e-mail and snail-mail, Cameron opened her own inbox and found an e-mail from Denny Winchester. Cameron marveled, as she had done countless times, on what her friend could do. When Ligaya "Joy" Medina said that she'll have a name for Allison Cameron by Monday, she delivered (in a matter of speaking) on Sunday.
Joy had prepared Cameron Sunday night; she sent Cameron an e-mail with an attachment of Denny's picture. Even Cameron had to admit—to herself, for now—that Joy knew how to pick them; the adorably-named Denny had wavy black hair, beautiful chocolate-brown eyes, and a broad, handsome face made even more appealing with a sensuous smile and dimples.
The dimples did it; Joy knew her so well.
From what Cameron could tell from the picture—Denny was standing next to Joy, and both were raising mugs of beer in the air—her potential date was about as tall as House, but with a more muscular frame. The longer she looked at the man, the more she started to like the idea of being paired up with him.
According to Joy (from the e-mail):
"He's an ophthalmologist and operates his own clinic with his brother-in-law, who's a dentist—don't ask. In the summer, he coaches basketball to a group of 12-year-olds and does the occasional charity doctor thing every year—you know, free check-ups and stuff. Obviously, he's available, or I wouldn't have tried to pair him up with you. He broke up with his last girlfriend about a year ago. The picture I attached here was after we celebrated a common patient's recovery from a nasty car accident. I helped Dr. War fix the guy's face, and Denny removed a piece of debris from the guy's eye. Juicy, ain't it?"
Grinning broadly, Cameron opened the e-mail from Denny. The grin morphed into a genuine "o" of awe—Denny proposed taking her to dinner at a five-star hotel twenty minutes away from the hospital on Friday night.
"I have heard a lot of good things about you from Joy. Hope to find out more about you in person. Can't wait for Friday night. Want me to pick you up at work or meet you at the Yankee Doodle Tap Room?"
Cameron wrote back: I know the way to the Nassau Inn. I'll meet you there before 8PM. Allison
Cameron clicked on "Send" with a flourish and a soft "Yes!", twirled around on her swivel chair—and came face-to-torso with House.
"Somebody's perky," he said in a tone that wasn't mocking—but knowing House, she knew it wasn't long before he launched one of his barbs. And he didn't disappoint her: "So, who are you screwing around with now? Is it Foreman, Wilson, or—dare I say it?—Cuddy?"
Buoyed by her upcoming "blind date", Cameron amassed the remainder of her calm and replied coolly, "Even if I was 'screwing around' with somebody new, I wouldn't tell you." As she spoke, Cameron logged out of her e-mail account and cleared the history and memory of the laptop as nonchalantly as she could without arousing House's interest. The remnants of her pride would not allow House prying into this aspect of her "moving on" phase.
Sitting at the other end of the conference room table, Foreman shook his head, fighting to keep a grin off his face. Sometimes, Cameron made him proud instead of making him cringe. Overall, he was glad Chase was given House's Clinic hours right now…
House reacted to Cameron's nonchalance with a raised brow, and then gave her laptop a speculative glance. Damn, Cameron thought.
---
The week flew by quickly. It had been pretty eventful, what with treating a little girl blossoming too quickly and filling her medical chart with symptoms more common to a senior citizen. Then, her brother had to be admitted, right after admitting he had a crush on Cameron and was openly hostile to Chase. When Cameron related to Joy over the phone about the boy squeezing her ass, Joy made a hysterical combination of snorting, choking, wheezing, and laughing. Cameron paused in front of her closet, wondering if she should call 911 for Joy, until her friend managed to collect herself.
"Are you—hee hee hee!—are you going to press charges against the kid for sexual assault?" Joy asked hoarsely before laughing like a maniac again.
Cameron just rolled her eyes; she had her cordless phone sandwiched between her left ear and shoulder as she held up a dress for inspection. "Nah—his copping a feel and biting Chase were results of too much testosterone in his system. Turns out his dad was using an 'enhancement' cream in mass quantities while making out with his kids' teacher. He was oozing so much testosterone, he passed it on to his kids whenever he touched them, and it resulted in making their hormones go wild."
"Testosterone, huh?" Joy muttered, and Cameron could hear Joy making an obnoxious slurping sound, followed by a very loud gulp. "I understand how it would affect the son, but the girl? Wouldn't testosterone make the girl sprout hair on her chest or make her ten inches taller?"
That made Cameron frown. "That did cross my mind, but that's how this girl reacted to the testosterone." Cameron dropped the first dress she held up and picked out another one from her closet. "Man, I am getting all kinds of nervous about this date, and it's not because you set me up with Denny."
"Is it because of the venue?" Joy asked. "I know it's pretty classy: Denny's uncle is a shareholder at the Nassau Inn, and naturally, he gets some perks when dining there…"
"No!" Cameron cried, dropping the second dress and picking out another one from her closet. Without giving a closer look at the dress, Cameron dropped it with its fellows and walked towards her bed, sitting gracelessly down on it. "It's my boss…"
"Oh no," Joy groaned.
"…I can't help but feel he's going to sabotage the date, somehow. I heard from the nurses that he did the same thing weeks ago to Dr. Cuddy when SHE was on a date, and he messed around with Wilson when he heard that he took Cuddy to some play."
On the other end of the line, Joy did some eye-rolling of her own. "Did you tell him about your date tomorrow?"
Cameron sighed. "I didn't, but I think he's going to find out anyway. That's why I asked for an early leave on Friday from Cuddy. Told her I had an important dinner with a—friend."
Joy sniggered. "I just hope you don't get called into a case tomorrow. And as for your boss…"
---
While Joy and Cameron plotted, somebody inside the Department of Diagnostics was burning the midnight oil.
House was surprised at Cameron's finesse at dodging his questions, but he was even more surprised at the way she held her own. He suspected that it had something to do with her request for an early time-out this Friday and whatever it was inside her e-mail inbox.
He tamped down the gnawing suspicion that Cameron really was getting over him…
His fifth attempt at hacking into Cameron's e-mail had worked (Cameron really shouldn't use HIS name as part of the password, or leave her laptop in the conference room). He rubbed his hands in triumph and began to scan the contents of her inbox. He selected two of the most likely messages: one from a Medina, J. and the other from Denny W.
When House was done reading the e-mails, he started breathing deeply in and out…
Note: Nassau Inn is a real place in Princeton. :)
