Taking a sip of his coffee, he stopped dead in his tracks and stared down at Cameron, "Is that my jacket?"
She looked down at herself uncertainly, as though she had not made the choice to put on his jacket, and instead it had attached itself to her. "I, uh—" she paused, unsure of how to justify herself, least of all to her boss, "—it's 1 in the morning and only 3 degrees outside, I didn't really prepare myself for this weather, and I thought that since I was going to be sorting your mail and files for potentially the next three hours, there was no point me sitting here and shivering, I didn't really expect you to come back at this hour, I figured you'd given up and gone home for the day. Not that that is a reasonable explanation for why I'm wearing your jacket, I'm sorry I'll take it off." Her words trailed away as she reached to pull off the jacket.
"Relax, it's fine." He was surprisingly calm, meaning she could relieve the breath that she'd been unaware she was holding. "You look cute in it anyway," he said with an exaggerated wink. She rolled her eyes, hoping that would mask the blush growing in her cheeks.
House walked to where the pretty, young doctor was sat at his desk, wearing his jacket, sorting his mail, and placed his cup down, resting his cane at the foot of the desk. He leaned over, feigning interest in what she was doing, her hands expertly separating folded sheets of paper and placing them into colour coordinated and labelled files.
After a few moments of silence, he taunted, "Rumour has it, I make you nervous."
She looked up, startled briefly, before arching an eyebrow, "Let me guess, this came from either Chase or Foreman?" She set down the stack of letters in front of her.
He leaned forward, resting his elbow on the desk and his chin on his palm, "Not. Telling."
Cameron rolled her eyes, "Well, whatever response feeds your narcissism better." She hoped he didn't notice the tremble in her voice, she couldn't disguise it any better, not with how close his face was to hers. "What do you want, House?"
"I came back to look over the case again, something's not right."
"Our current diagnosis and treatment are working. He's getting better."
"I just don't believe it's the full story." His voice was low as his eyes connected properly with hers. She looked tired, he noted, the dark circles under her eyes were more prominent than usual. As his piercing stare drifted towards her slightly-parted lips, he licked his subconsciously. She shifted, readjusting his jacket on her shoulders.
"You look nervous."
She was quick to respond, "I'm not."
He leaned closer, and spoke slowly, "Then why is your breathing so shallow?"
Her eyelids fluttered closed. "Cameron," he murmured as his lips touched hers. It was brief, soft, and, he was right, absolutely nerve-wracking.
She pulled herself backwards, not allowing herself to get too caught up in the moment, "Have you made your point? Are you satisfied?"
He stayed where he was, "Point, yes. Satisfied, no."
"Am I just a game to you?" she whispered.
He looked away. "No."
"Because you can't mess me around like this, House, there is only so much I can take."
"I don't want to mess you about, I just want…" he sighed, "I don't know."
"Exactly House, you don't know. That's not good enough for me, that's why we will never be something. I don't want to get hurt."
He sighed and righted himself from his leaning position on the desk, "You don't look nervous anymore."
"I'm not, never was, I'm just tired." She returned to the stacked paper and folders in front of her, deftly flicking through what was left.
"Go home. This can wait." His voice was firm.
"I've started, I might as well finish it," as she spoke, her eyes didn't leave the desk.
"Come on," he swiped the papers and the folders from in front of her, "I'll drive you."
Reluctantly, Cameron stood up and smoothed down the back of her trousers. The thin black fabric clung tight to her legs. He noted how baggy his jacket was on her, how the hem rested just beneath her ass, how she had to push up the sleeves in order to see her hands. House couldn't help but stare. He leaned over to toss the papers onto the table, before grabbing his cane in one hand and reaching into his pocket with the other. He pulled out his car keys and dangled them off his left index finger, letting them jingle slightly.
"Ready?"
"This is stupid, my car is in the car park, I need it to get into work tomorrow. Plus, you never did look over the case, that's why you were here."
"I'll come and get you in the morning," as he started walking towards the door, he continued, "besides, I did what I came here to do. Coming?"
She rolled her eyes and sighed, stuffing her hands into the pockets of his jacket— she'd forgotten she was wearing it— and followed after him.
The ride in the lift was silent, accompanied by the tension of the fleeting thought through both of their minds that 'maybe I should just slam on the stop button and devour you here and now.
The car journey was equally as silent. Cameron had hoped for, at least, the low murmur of the radio, but was met with nothing. She sat, back straight, eyes forward, arms crossed in her lap, but her mind was elsewhere. He had kissed her. He had kissed her. And she so desperately wanted it to happen again. Not just once though, not just on the lips. She wanted forehead kisses and cheek kisses, neck kisses, kisses that left marks. She didn't care that he wasn't a romantic, she loved him all the same, asshole personality included. But she knew he wasn't capable of a relationship with her, she would just get hurt.
It was nearing two in the morning by the time they reached her apartment block. They sat in the car with the engine off for a minute or so before someone spoke.
Cameron broke the silence, "I should probably head in." Her voice was low and, was that hesitance he sensed?
He gave one curt nod and undid his seatbelt, "Let me walk you to your door."
"No, no, it's fine. No point in you hurting your leg for no reason."
"I don't mind."
"There's no need honestly." She fell silent again. Lowering her voice, she added, "Because if you get that far, I don't think I can let you leave."
"Maybe I don't want to leave."
"I… don't think that's a good idea," she unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned forward, reaching to remove his jacket.
He leaned over and pulled it back onto her shoulders, "Keep it on. It suits you."
She reached for the door handle, turning around to look him in the eyes once more for the night. He kissed her on the cheek, as his stubble brushed against her soft skin, she wondered if he could read her thoughts.
"Good night, House," she smiled as she stepped out of the car.