Title: That Kind of Girl
Author: MissMouseMD
Rating: K+ (one bad word, but it's not really bad, so I think I'm okay)
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.
A/N: Spoilers for No Reason. My inner House/Cameron shipper has manifested itself in this story. I apologize in advance for any out-of-character-ness.I always have trouble writing House's dialogue.Enjoy!
When he wakes up, she's sitting there.
Just as she was in his dream. She's curled up in a chair, asleep. Her finger still marks her page in the book she's reading.
He coughs once. She does not stir.
He coughs again, louder this time. She bolts upright with a gasp. She drops her book and it slides across the floor.
He squints to read the title.
"Pride and Prejudice"
He smirks.
She's gotten up out of her chair now, and she's standing by his bedside.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like I got shot."
She looks like she doesn't know whether to laugh or not. He can tell by her red rimmed eyes that she's been crying.
Figures.
She appears to be that type of girl. The kind that weeps over nothing, and marries a nice guy and moves to suburbia. The kind who ends up with 5 kids and a dog.
But something about her doesn't quite fit the archetype.
Because that kind of girl doesn't go to medical school. That kind of girl doesn't marry a dying man, and fall for her gruff older boss.
He looks up at her. She should be checking his vitals, making sure there's no infection.
Instead, she's just staring at him. Her lips are parted, slightly, and he wills himself not to stare.
Funny how she can still be beautiful after spending twelve hours asleep-in a chair, no less.
"Well? Aren't you going to make sure I'm not dying?"
She looks taken aback at his harsh words. Perhaps she thought that mortal injuries would soften his demeanor. How foolish of her.
But then, her lips curl into a smile. A small one, at first, but soon she's laughing, almost hysterically.
He can't help but wonder if she's mentally sound.
It strikes him that he's never really seen her laugh before. She looks so much younger. It scares him, and he looks away. He is painfully reminded of the fifteen year age gap.
"You're not dying."
He frowns.
"How do you know? I could be seconds away from cardiac arrest."
She's still giggling, a little bit.
"You're not going to go into cardiac arrest."
"Once again, how the hell do you know?"
The certainty in her voice bothers him. She's never been confident when she's around him, especially not when they're alone. He's not sure he likes this change.
Her voice lowers to almost a whisper. He has to strain to hear her.
"I know."
The look on her face makes him very glad that he's hooked up to an IV, because he's not sure if he could control himself, otherwise.
He stares at her, and the intensity of his gaze quells the last of her giggles.
Her eyes wide, she doesn't look away. He thinks for a moment that maybe he's still hallucinating.
When did she become so self assured?
When did she stop being a pushover?
When did she start invading his thoughts like this?
When did-
His thoughts are cut off when she leans forward and presses her lips on his.
He stares at her, speechless for possibly the first time in his life.
"I told you, you're fine."
With that, she turns on her heel and walks out of his room. He watches her leave, unable to think coherently.
Later, when his mind is cooperating with him, he mentally smacks himself for not coming up with a more biting response than an open mouth and an expression of disbelief.
He realizes now that she is not that kind of girl; that there is more in her future than carpool duty and never ending diaper changes. But still, he can't quite wrap his mind around her.
What kind of girl is she, then?
And when did she start making him feel like this?
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