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Chiropractic Bills
"Ohh..." Cameron moaned, sending House's chair back a few feet as she stood. She pressed one hand to her neck, her eyes squeezed shut in pain.
Wilson glanced up from his sandwich at her break from their companionable silence. He was waiting for House to come in, as he assumed Cameron was as well. "Are you all right?" he managed around a mouthful of tomato.
Her nod was accompanied by a telling grimace. "I snapped my neck getting into Elle's house," she said, referring to the team's patient from a few days before, "I had to climb in through a window."
"No Foreman then?" Wilson joked. She smiled slightly and shook her head.
"Nope. House has decided I'm a big girl now and I can handle the breaking and entering on my own." She rolled her sea-green eyes and tossed the pile of junk mail she had been sorting into the trash.
Wilson pushed himself up from the shiny table and beckoned to her. "Come here," he said.
She kicked the chair back into its proper place and stepped towards him. He motioned for her to turn around and when she did, he slid an arm around her waist. Startled, she quickly pulled away. "What are you doing?" she cried out.
"I took a couple of chiropractic classes last summer," he said by way of explanation, turning her by her shoulders so that her back faced him. He brushed her hair out of the way and pressed his fingers against her neck. Her eyes fell shut as he gently massaged the porcelain skin. The musky scent of her perfume filled his senses and he grit his teeth in an attempt to stay focused.
"Take a deep breath," he murmured, "And let it out." As she let out the air, he snapped her neck and she relaxed against him.
"Wow. That is amazing!" Her hand came up to her now-pain-free neck and she twisted around to look at him. He tried for a grin but as their eyes met, he took in a sharp breath. His arm still held her tight to him and he could feel her warmth through the bits of thin material that separated them. Her gaze flicked to his lips for a brief moment and her own unwittingly parted. For a flash, the world stood still. They both leaned in, their breath growing more rapid.
The bang of the door slamming shut broke them apart. House leaned dramatically against his cane, mirth filling his expression. Cameron spun out of Wilson's arms, wrenching her neck in the process. She gasped at the sudden return of pain and glowered at her boss. "I am suing you for chiropractic bills, House!" she growled as she made an angry exit.
"What are you doing fraternizing with my employee?" House demanded in a feigned, official tone. "Although I must admit I'm surprised it took you this long to try and pull her into a coat closet." Wilson rolled his eyes.
"Get over yourself, House." Wilson gathered the remnants of his lunch and dumped them in House's arms as he left the room, trying desperately to remember why he had been there in the first place.
--
Cameron stood outside the maternity ward, her hand pressed against the glass. She smiled as her current favorite baby woke from her mid-afternoon nap. A tap on her shoulder brought Cameron out of her reverie.
"Wilson!" She bit her lip. "Umm, what are you doing up here?"
He gestured to the bakery cart. "The biscotti lady has a crush on me so she gives me a discount."
Cameron couldn't help but laugh as she glanced back at the grey-haired old woman. "Emily gives everybody discounts," she countered, her eyes sparkling.
He shrugged. "Don't deflate my ego. House does that enough for everybody."
She grunted, setting her jaw. "Speaking of House..." He raised an eyebrow, prompting her to finish her thought. "He really does have bad timing, doesn't he?" She cleared her throat.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced to his shoes, kicking aimlessly at the industrial carpet. "I've always thought so. By the way, um, how's your neck?"
She warily reached a slender hand up to rub it. "I think it's worse than it was this morning." Knowing her eyes were boring into him, he looked up to meet her halfway – brown on blue-green. He took a tentative step forward, reaching for her shoulder. She willing turned her back to him so he could work a little of his magic.
Electricty sparked between them as he slowly wrapped his arm around her waist. His lips brushed against her ear as he repeated his earlier instructions in a low whisper. Relaxing, she rested her head against his shoulder and he buried his face in her dark hair. She shifted in his arms until they were mere inches apart. They leaned in, a mirror of their earlier actions. Even as their lips touched, her arms were already around his neck and his hands slid beneath her labcoat, taking in every bit of each other.
And, in the background, the biscotti lady smiled.