Taming House

Because some people seemed vaguely interested, this here is a sequel to 'Dancing.' You probably don't have to read it, because the events in it are inferred pretty clearly in this fic, but it's quick and easy, and hey... you'd make a sad little fan fiction writer very happy if you did. Oh, and thankyou inordinate amounts to Randa05, Angel, wynntay, AN, Baba O'Rielly, Damaraand JoRacer, for giving me almost instant gratification, and pretty much making me grin like an idiot for the rest of the day.

Cameron was avoiding him. Not in the traditional sense either, so there was very little he could do about it. That was, little he could do about it without the whole hospital eventually finding out what had taken place in his office that night, late, when everyone else had gone home.

Cleverly, she didn't try to take days off work. Anything affecting her work, and as her immediate superior, he had an instant handle on her. Her plan was simple yet effective. She simply made sure she was never alone in a room with him. Patients, nurses or other doctors, whenever he encountered her, she was always chaperoned.

The fun thing were her intentions. House knew she wasn't avoiding him out of some sense of humiliation, or because she was afraid it would happen again. If he had anyone to bet with, he would have laid money on the fact that she was really rather eager for it to happen again. But Cameron, being Cameron, had to complicate things. She always did. Around her, patients suddenly became people.

House tore his thoughts away from past errors in treatment, because that way led to melancholy that would last until banished by nearly half a bottle of whiskey. Cameron. She was what he was thinking about. Not that he hadn't been enough over the past few days.

At first, he had thought it would be incredibly easy to last out her game. He was a master of self control, and after years of no intimate contact, how hard could another few weeks be? She was young, she would seek him out soon enough, give up on her hopes for some sort of deeper relationship with him. And that was the whole crux of the question. The little minx was using the juicy carrot of mind blowing sex to tempt him into something that was ultimately a bad idea.

For someone that seemed so deliciously innocent most of the time, she certainly knew how to tease. Just that morning, Wilson had succeeded in persuading him to take on another case, and so he and his team had been gathered around the whiteboard, listing potential conditions. House was no amateur at body language. His finely honed skills of perception worked two ways- not only could he read other's body language and subtle signs, but he could control his own. He used that power to allow absolutely no suspicion to enter the minds of Chase or Foreman.

Cameron went one step further. Not a twitch of the eyebrow betrayed her as she gazed at the scrawl of symptoms with concerned eyes. The first morning after their tryst, House had been worried that she would give the game away by stuttering or blushing or refusing to meet his gaze. Instead, she remained the perfect picture of normality. Unfortunately for House's suddenly charged libido, she was also managing to give incredibly subtle hints of seduction.

To make sure he was looking at her, she would suggest a possible illness, then shift ever so slightly in her seat or lick her lips, innocently keeping his eyes as he was forced to give plausible reason why her suggestion was wrong. It sorely tested his mental capabilities, as the blood was determined to start pooling somewhere else. To compound the issue, she would be the first one out of the room ahead of Foreman and Chase, seemingly eager to start diagnosing.

To simply page her to his office would firstly arouse suspicion, however minimal, and would secondly be equivalent to admitting defeat. She had to come to him. The trouble was, he was near desperate to feel her body up against his again, feel the way she shuddered at his touch.

Limping into his office, House paused for a moment as the door closed, sighing. Having assigned the three members of his team to their various tasks he had retreated, knowing from experience after the first few days that any attempt to catch Cameron on her own would only find her in earnest conversation with Foreman, in the middle of a busy corridor.

To his extreme disbelief, he was actually cracking. The single memory embedded into his brain; her warm body pressed to his, her heart beat speeding at the feel of his hands… it was driving him slowly but surely insane.

Shaking himself out of his daze, he continued to his desk, thinking hard. He needed a plan if he was to survive this. Any method to stop him cracking, or to get her to do so. House was getting very sick of cold showers.

Sitting at his desk, he carefully leaned the cane against the edge, then turned to the computer. Writing up medical reports was something he could do with little concentration, especially since they were always proof read by a second source. He frowned in thought as he began to type, sharp mind already picking at the problem.

To be continued…