File this fic under: I was bored, felt like writing, but didn't have inspiration. When in doubt, bash Cameron! - atd
Cameron noticed a tall man slumped over the bar and did a doubletake.
Long muscular back, slightly rounded shoulders, rumpled black tee-shirt. From the back it looked like. . .
But it couldn't be, right?
She stepped closer.
"House?" she said tentatively.
He looked up and blinked at her. Then he rubbed his eyes.
"Whoa. I've definitely had too much to drink," he said, almost to himself.
She sat down at the bar stool next to him.
"No, House. It's really me."
He wrinkled his nose.
"You moved to Virginia," he said, declaratively.
"I did," Cameron said. "I'm in town for a medical seminar. I'm surprised no one told you. I'll actually be spending a lot of time at PPTH."
"Huh," House said, looking back at his drink. He was already bored by the logistics of her visit.
"The more pertinent question is, What are you doing here? This isn't one of your usual hangouts."
She realized, immediately, that she had revealed too much. She wasn't technically supposed to know his usual hangouts.
"I mean, uh, the Four Seasons hotel seems a bit stuffy for you," she added hastily.
"I got kicked out of my house," he said, putting his head in his hands.
"Your house? You mean. . .your apartment? Like, a dispute with your landlord or something?"
He eyed her from inside his hands.
"No, my house. Well, my girlfriend's house."
Cameron felt a pang of jealousy at the mention of a girlfriend. It was ridiculous, she knew. She had been married—twice— widowed, divorced, and was now dating a promising new guy in Virginia. But her crush on House was unending, as was a nagging feeling of inadequacy since he'd never reciprocated her feelings.
"Your girlfriend?" she said, trying to sound breezily amused, as opposed to upset. "Do I know her?"
"Does anybody really know Lisa Cuddy?" House sighed, in a dramatic sort of way.
Cameron's face turned white.
"You. . .and Cuddy?" she sputtered. "Are dating? Living together? I'm. . .shocked."
Shocked was the wrong word, actually. She had always sensed incredible heat and chemistry between those two. She had managed to convince herself it was strictly adversarial. Because the alternative—that House was sexually attracted to his ball-busting boss and not his adoring protégée— was too painful. (Even dealing with the Stacy thing had been easier to rationalize. Stacy was the love of his life, from a time before his pain and misery made him too bitter to love. But if House could love Cuddy. . .what did that say about her?)
"If you're shocked, you weren't paying close attention," House said. "Cuddy and I have been circling each other for years."
"I guess I always thought you were circling each other out of . . .mutual distrust."
"I trust her with my life," House said, in a self-pitying kind of way.
"Wow," Cameron said, still processing. "So how's it. . . . going?"
"Obviously, fucking great, since I'm spending the night at the Four Seasons."
Cameron realized that she was playing this whole thing wrong. Instead of being consumed with jealousy, she should see it as an opportunity. Back when her crush on House was at its most intense, she had often fantasized about meeting him at a bar, consoling him over some mutual grief (a lost patient perhaps), having the comfort turn to sex.
Okay, so House being depressed because his girlfriend (his girlfriend Lisa Cuddy, no less) kicked him out of the house wasn't exactly what she had in mind. But it was something. It was 11 pm. They were alone together in a hotel bar. If she could get him worked up enough, maybe he actually would take comfort in her.
She started cautiously.
"So what happened?" she said, sympathetically, scooting her bar stool ever so slightly closer to his.
"I took the runt to an amusement park," House said gloomily.
"The runt?"
"Her kid. . . .Rachel."
"She kicked you out because you took her daughter to an amusement park?"
"I may've forgotten to mention it to her."
"That's hardly a major offense."
"I may've fed the kid too much cotton candy and she was up all night, yacking."
"But still. . ."
"I also may've left my phone in the car and Cuddy may've panicked and called the cops."
"Oh. . ." Cameron said. It was slightly harder to accuse Cuddy of overreacting under the circumstances. But the idea here was to be totally on his side.
"So that's what she does? Kick you out every time you do something wrong?"
"Actually, yes," House said. "I was sort of hoping that once I sold my apartment and moved in with them this pattern would stop. But apparently, she knows about these things called hotels. And Wilson's couch."
"Why didn't you go to Wilson's?" Cameron said.
"I wanted to be alone," House said, in a slightly accusatory way. "But no such luck."
(This was only half true. Wilson was actually out of town visiting his parents.)
"I could go, if you want," Cameron said, defensively.
"No," he said, eyeing her. "You can stay."
"We don't have to talk about this if you don't want to," Cameron said.
"It's okay," House said. "Console me."
Cameron felt herself blush. Could he actually read her mind?
"She must be a tough girlfriend. I mean, Dr. Cuddy has always been a ballbuster," Cameron said.
"That she has," he said, almost fondly.
"So how long do these little banishments generally last?"
"Depends on the size of the offense," House said. "Kidnapping might actually be a two nighter."
"I have to say it, House. It's hard to imagine you two being together. She's so. . .uptight. You're such a free spirit."
"Trust me, she's uninhibited in all the right places," House said.
Cameron cast her eyes downward.
"Overshare?" he said, taking another chug.
"I just feel like maybe she forgets that she's not your boss at home. Isn't banishing you from her bed a bit like forcing you to do clinic duty?"
"Much, much worse," House said.
I get it! You two have an amazing sex life! Cameron wanted to scream.
Instead she said, "She's trying to change you. And it's working. You seem . . . different."
He squinted at her.
"Different how?"
"I don't know. Tamer. More domesticated."
She had studied House long and hard enough to know that this line of conversation would bug him.
"I'm getting drunk at a bar," he growled. "I'm not cutting coupons."
"You're moping. Pining even."
"No I'm not," he said, defensively.
She shrugged.
"Okay, if you say so."
He frowned.
"I'm the same guy! So maybe I'm trying to be a good boyfriend. Is that so horrible? It's not like the old me was such a fucking walk in the park. . ."
"I liked the old you," she said, smiling coquettishly. "And I'd never try to change him."
"That has always been your primary character flaw," he said, smiling back.
Cameron bit her lip in a way she hoped was seductive.
"You think my admiration for you is a character flaw?"
"Admiration?" he said with a smirk. "Is that what we're calling it these days?"
She bat her lashes at him. She was excited. They were making real progress here. Almost engaging in flirtatious. . .banter.
"What would you call it?"
"Naiveté," he said.
Shit.
"I thought you were going to say I had the hots for you," she said.
"Yeah, that too," he said, pounding his glass on the bar. He wanted a refill.
"Keep up," he said, noticing her half-filled drink.
She inhaled a bit. He wanted her to get drunk! Was it possible he wanted the same thing she did?
She took her drink and gulped it down with a flourish.
"Two more," House told the bartender. Then he raised his eyebrows. "The last time you got loaded, you had a life-changing hookup with Chase."
"And now I'm here with you," she said.
"Does Chase even know you're in town?"
No no no! She didn't want to talk about Chase.
"Not unless Cuddy told him," Cameron said. "I'm surprised she didn't tell you I was coming. Do you think it's possible she has some lingering feelings of . . .jealousy toward me?"
House gave a small, unintentionally cruel laugh.
"No chance," he said.
Cameron flinched the tiniest bit, then recovered.
"I don't know House. I think Dr. Cuddy keeps you on a short leash."
"No one is keeping anyone on any kind of leash," he said, annoyed. Then he scowled.
"I gotta take a leak," he said.
When he got back to the bar, he steered the conversation away from Cuddy and got Cameron to talk about her new job ("satisfying"), her new boss ("dull compared to you. . .but who wouldn't be?") and her new boyfriend ("not as pretty as Chase . . . but who is?") and then last call came and went and the bartender told them it was time to settle their bills.
"I got this," House said, grabbing Cameron's bill. He gave her a sincere smile, "I'm glad I ran into you tonight." Then he looked her over approvingly. "You look good, Cameron."
Now she knew it wasn't her imagination. Not "it's good to see you." But "you look good." Complimenting her, as a man. He was drunk; she was tipsy (okay, more than tipsy.) He wanted her.
He paid the bill and they got onto the elevator together.
"What floor?" he said to her.
"Eleven," she said.
He pressed the button for the eleventh floor. And then, curiously, he pressed the fifteenth.
The door opened on the eleventh. She looked at him, expectantly, waiting for him to follow (or tell her to stay).
Instead, he kind of pat her on the head—like she was dog.
"Guess I'll be seeing you around the hospital," he said. And the door closed on her face.
#####
She lay in bed, restlessly, trying to figure out where she went wrong.
It had all been going so well.
Planting the seeds of rebellion in House by accusing him of being kept on a short leash.
The flirtatious banter.
The extra drinks. . .
You look good.
Is it possible he was just being a gentleman? Waiting for an invitation to her room? Was he expecting her to make the first move?
It wasn't that she thought she was going to become House's girlfriend (well, probably not). She just wanted one night, as he had once so memorably boasted, because "no woman should die without knowing the feeling."
It was 2:15. It was possible that House was already asleep.
But that was a chance she was going to have to take.
So she picked up the phone. Dialed the front desk.
"Gregory House's room please," she said.
He answered after one ring.
"I didn't wake you, did I?" Cameron said.
"Wide awake. What's up?"
"I was wondering if you had any, um, antacid?"
He chuckled.
"A little too much reminiscing tonight?" he said.
"I guess so."
"I probably have some Alka Seltzer for you. Or there's always vicodin."
"House! You're back on vicodin?"
"That was a joke."
"Oh."
"Come up and get your meds, lightweight. Room 1507."
#####
She changed into a pair of striped pajama bottoms and a form-fitting navy blue tank top, (no bra), put on slippers and took the elevator to the fifteenth floor.
She expected him to be in his pajamas, too, or—a girl could hope!—shirtless. But when he answered the door, he was still wearing his clothing from the bar. A black graphic tee with a pair of jeans. He was at least barefoot, though.
He handed her a bottle of pills.
"Here ya go," he said, smiling tolerantly.
He wasn't going to invite her in? She peered into the room. The bed was still made. A bottle of open bourbon was sitting on the nightstand.
"Got anything to drink in there?" she asked.
"You don't need any more booze. You're borrowing an Alka Seltzer!" he protested.
She shrugged.
"I'm not sleepy."
He looked nervous for a second. He suddenly seemed to notice her tank top.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," he said.
"What? You would deny an old friend and colleague a nightcap?"
She liked the word nightcap. Made her sound sophisticated. like she was in a Noel Coward play.
"One more drink," he said finally.
She came in, eagerly, and watched as he poured her some bourbon.
"Ice?" he said.
"Yes, thank you," she replied.
She sat on the edge of the bed. It was a single, not a suite. A queen sized bed, no couch.
She raised her glass.
"Too. . .naiveté," she said.
He shrugged, sat down next to her, and they clinked. They both drank.
He was so close to her, their arms touched. She could smell him. She became fixated on the ropy muscles of his arms, his beautifully tapered fingers on his glass.
"House?" she said, almost a whisper, scooting toward him.
"Yeah?"
"Why do you think you and I never hooked up?"
He rolled his eyes.
"Christ, I knew you were drunk!" he said, scooting away.
"I'm not that drunk," she said, grabbing his hand.
He stared at her hand, accusingly.
"Cameron, we've been through this," he said, yanking his hand free. Then he muttered, under his breath: "It's like déjà fucking vu."
"I'm not asking you why you could never love me. I'm asking you why we never hooked up."
"Because I liked someone else!" he said.
"No," she said, stubbornly. "Not always. You didn't always like Dr. Cuddy. You were in love with Stacy first."
He shook his head.
"Cuddy and I have a lot more history than you think."
"I know. You went to med school together," Cameron said.
"Right."
"So?" And then it dawned on her. "You hooked up? Back then?"
"Bingo."
"So you had the hots for her the whole time?"
"Basically, yeah."
"But. . .you kissed me!"
"Um, revisionist history. You kissed me in an attempt to broaden the definition of swapping bodily fluids."
"And you kissed back."
"I'm a man, not a monk. Of course I kissed back."
"So we could. . . kiss again," she said softly.
She leaned toward him, allowed her lips to sensuously graze his.
He popped up, as though he had just touched something hot.
"No!" he said sternly. "Actually, we can't."
"Why not?"
She heard herself whining a bit. She felt desperate, pathetic. But it was too late now. She was already all in.
"You know why not," he said.
"I don't see Cuddy anywhere," she said. "I just see two consenting adults."
"I love my girlfriend," he said. "And she loves me back."
"She has a funny way of showing it," Cameron said, indicating the hotel room.
"That, young lady, is none of your business."
Cameron shut her eyes tightly, still in denial.
"But what if you didn't have a girlfriend?"
"What if the sky was orange? What if the mini bar was free? It is what it is, Cameron."
"No," she said, stubbornly. "I get that you're not going to cheat on Cuddy, okay? I get that. But what if you were single? Then might you. . ."
"No," he said.
"But why?"
He gave her one of his sincere looks. The kind that crushed a little piece of her heart.
"Because I wouldn't want to hurt you," he said softly.
"But what if I was a complete stranger? What if you didn't know me?"
"You're not the type to pick up a complete stranger in a hotel bar," he cracked.
"What if I was?"
"Are you asking me if I saw you in a bar and we were both single and you had a completely different personality and I'd never met you before would I want to have sex with you?"
"Yes," she said.
"That is a very convoluted hypothetical."
"House!"
"Okay, yes. Under those circumstances, Cameron. Yes, I would probably want to have sex with you."
She felt ridiculous, but strangely heartened.
"Thank you," she said.
######
Cuddy was in her office the next day doing budget reports, but her mind kept drifting to House. She hated when they fought.
Of course, she had overreacted. She had been in a blind panic when House and Rachel didn't come home after school. Calling the cops probably wasn't the most rational move, but what else was she supposed to do? House wasn't answering his phone! What if he and Rachel weren't even together and she was wandering the streets alone? Or what if they were together, but both dead in a ditch?
("Oh . . . fuck," House had said, when he saw the boyish looking cop in the living room, taking down Rachel's description —"brown hair, big blue eyes, last seen wearing a pink skirt and a yellow Princess Leia tee-shirt"—on a notepad.)
Rachel had been sticky and wild-eyed and yes, puking up cotton candy and jelly beans when they finally got hom ("Mama, my womit is pretty!"), but she'd had a great time. She was flush with excitement over her big day, her special private adventure with House.
Cuddy shook her head. He was impossible, but in his own way, he was really trying. And she missed him. Her bed felt so empty last night.
She was having this somwhat tender thought when she heard the clearing of a throat.
She looked up.
Chase was standing there, his arms folded, looking pissed.
"Why do you look like my 3 year old when she's about to have a temper tantrum?" Cuddy said.
"Why didn't you tell me that Cameron was going to be in the hospital for this seminar?" he shouted.
"First of all, don't raise your voice like that to me," Cuddy said sternly. "And second of all, I assumed you already knew."
"Well, I didn't," Chase said huffily (but quietly). Then he started to say something, but stopped.
"What?" Cuddy said.
"So should I assume that you also knew that House and Cameron spent last night together at the Four Seasons Hotel?" he blurted out.
Cuddy snorted.
"Don't be ridiculous," she said.
"Am I?" Chase said. "So you're saying House was home with you last night?"
"No," Cuddy said, hesitating. "He was at the Four Seasons."
"Surprise surprise," Chase said.
"That doesn't mean that anything. . ."
"I have a friend who's attending the seminar. He saw them sitting together at the bar."
Cuddy gave a dismissive laugh.
"That still doesn't . . ."
"And then he saw Cameron leaving House's room at 3 a.m."
Cuddy blanched.
"It's impossible," she said, almost to herself. "House wouldn't. . ."
"Did you kick him out yesterday?"
"Yes but. . ."
"We both know that Cameron has had the hots for him forever. And if he was angry enough at you. . ."
"I don't believe it. . ."
Was she being naïve? Would House really cheat on her? With Cameron, no less?
"Believe it," Chase said. "It's basically my worst nightmare come true."
######
A few hours later, Cuddy was at the front desk, looking over some admission forms.
"Ask me why I can't listen to Vivaldi anymore," House said, materializing beside her.
She ignored him, kept looking at the papers.
"Because I hate the Four Seasons!" House said, disappointed that she wouldn't play his riddle game. He squinted at her. "Wow, rough crowd," he muttered.
Then he pulled his hand out from behind his back. He was carrying a single white tulip. He handed it to her, with a courtly bow: "For m'lady."
She took the flower, but put it down on the desk.
"Do you know how many rooms I had to raid before I could find a flower beautiful enough to steal for you?" House said, still smiling.
"House, I'm busy," she said, finally.
He slumped his shoulders.
"I want to come home," he said, jettisoning charm in favor of naked desperation. "I miss you. Pleeeeeeease."
She rolled her eyes a bit and started to walk away, leaving the flower behind.
"I'm taking that as a no," said Nurse Jeffrey, who had been watching the whole scene.
House ignored him.
"Hey!" he said, following her quickly. She didn't turn around.
"Hey!" he repeated, more loudly this time.
She finally stopped, glared at him.
"I'm sorry, okay? I'm still trying to get the hang of this parenting thing. I screwed up. Lesson learned. I will never take Rachel anywhere without your approval again. I'll sign forms. In triplicate. I'll get a GPS tracker on my phone. Are you really going to make me spend another night at that intolerable hotel?"
"I don't know, House," Cuddy said. "Sounds like you enjoyed the hotel last night."
"What? I was miserable!"
She folded her arms.
"So, was Cameron miserable with you?"
He started a bit.
"Wait. What? How do you even know about that?"
"So you don't deny it!"
"Deny what? What exactly am I being accused of here?"
"A friend of Chase's saw her leave your hotel room at 3 in the morning."
House's mouth dropped open.
"That's technically true but it's not what you think. . ."
"What the hell was Cameron—or any woman for that matter—doing in your hotel room at 3 in the morning?"
"We bumped into each other at the bar, we had a few drinks. Reminisced. Then she came over to borrow an antacid."
"An antacid?"
It wasn't until Cuddy repeated that back to him that he realized how ridiculous it sounded. Of course, in hindsight, Cameron didn't need to settle her stomach. She was just looking for an excuse to come to his room.
"Nothing happened," he said, quickly.
"No, of course not."
"Cuddy, you know nothing happened," he said, pleadingly.
"Maybe it didn't but I can't even look at you right now," she said—and she strutted away.
"Shit," House said, under his breath.
"That went well," Nurse Jeffrey said, smelling the tulip in his hand, as he strolled by.
#####
Most of the next day's seminars were at PPTH. The weather was nice, so Cameron decided to take her lunch break outside, on a bench. That's when Chase saw her.
She gave a tentative wave as he walked over.
"Hi," she said, guiltily.
"Thanks for telling me you were in town, Cameron," he said.
"Sorry," she said. "You're right. I should have."
"Yeah, you should have."
"Well, we're seeing each other now," she said, with false brightness.
She thrust half her tuna fish sandwich toward him.
"Peace offering?"
"Not hungry," he said, waving it off. He sat down beside her.
She gave a weak smile.
"So how are you?" she said.
"What the hell happened last night between you and House?" he said.
"Nice to see you, too, Robert," she said.
"I'm serious, Cameron."
"Nothing happened!"
"Bill Hartwick saw you come out of House's room at 3 a.m."
"That's . . . true."
"And you want me to believe that nothing happened."
Cameron looked at him. His hair was shorter than the last time she'd seen him and there were a few almost imperceptible lines on his previously unmarked face, but he was still as blindingly beautiful as ever. Until Chase, she had never been with a man as pretty as she was. She tended to like her men a little more rough around the edges, like House.
"Nothing happened. And frankly, it would be none of your business if it had."
"You expect me to believe that you were alone with House in his hotel room at 3 in the morning and nothing happened?" Chase demanded.
Suddenly, she felt shame creeping up over her. Yes, nothing had happened. But not because she didn't want it to.
"House, uh, hit on me, but I turned him down," she lied.
"I'll kill him!" Chase said.
"No," she said hastily. "It wasn't his fault. I may have accidentally sent mixed signals. I was consoling him. He was depressed about his fight with Cuddy."
"So he . . . what? Kissed you?"
"Nothing. Barely that. A tiny kiss and then I told him he'd had too much to drink and I needed to go back to my room and we called it a night."
Yes, it was a lie, but it was a harmless lie, she reasoned. She just really couldn't deal with telling Chase the humiliating truth.
He sighed.
Then he got up from his bench.
"It's just so bloody perfect that you come to Princeton and spend the night with House instead of me," he said.
"Chase, don't be like that. Talk to me!"
"Whatever," he said.
#####
That night, Chase and Cuddy met for drinks at Sullivan's to exchange notes.
They sat in a corner booth. Cuddy sipped a martini. Chase had a Guinness.
"What did House say?" Chase said.
"That nothing happened," Cuddy replied.
"And you believe him?"
"Call me crazy, but yes, I do. What did Cam say?"
"That nothing happened but. . ." his voice trailed off.
"But what?"
"She said that House hit on her."
Cuddy almost choked on her martini.
"Hit on her?"
"She said that he was sad and she was consoling him and he may have misread the signals."
"And you believe her?"
"Umm, not sure. For as long as I've known Cameron, she's carried a torch for House. So suddenly she gets her big chance to sleep with him and she. . . says no?"
They looked at each other.
In unison, they said: "They slept together."
Cuddy put her head on the table.
"I feel sick," she said. "I feel physically sick."
On instinct, Chase reached out, put a hand on her shoulder. He began to slowly caress her shoulder in a way that was too intimate to just be friendly.
She looked up, gave him a somewhat quizzical look.
"What are you doing?" she said.
"Comforting a friend," he said. His hand moved from her shoulder to her neck.
Cuddy grabbed his hand and yanked it off her.
"Well, stop being so damn friendly!" she said.
He held his hands up in a "don't shoot" kind of way.
"Sorry," he said. "I just thought that . . . since they did . . .maybe we could. . ."
"So your logic is, because my boyfriend and your ex had sex we should, too?"
"Yeah," Chase said sheepishly. "Something like that."
"Are all men pigs?"
Chase shrugged.
"Pretty much, yeah," he said.
"Let's make one thing clear, Chase. You are very sweet. And very pretty. And we are not having sex."
He gave a little laugh in defeat. Then he contemplated her.
"But why didn't we? I mean, I get that it's not happening tonight—I'll try to manage my crushing disappointment. But why do you think you and I never hooked up?"
"Because you're an employee!"
"House is an employee," he said pointedly.
Cuddy thought about it for a second.
"Because. . .you were always pining after Cameron and I was always pining after House," she said truthfully.
Chase gave a sad chuckle and put his arm around Cuddy in a friendly way.
"We're quite a pair, huh?"
######
"When the cat's away, the mouse shall play, it seems," Nurse Jeffrey said to House, cornering him in the clinic.
"I have no idea what that means," House said, grouchily.
"Your girlfriend was spotted getting very cozy with Dr. Hottie Chase last night at Sullivan's."
House scowled.
"Bullshit," he said.
"It's the talk of the hospital," Nurse Jeffrey said. "I'm surprised all of your friend didn't tell you. Oh wait, I forgot. He's out of town."
"Hilarious. . .What exactly are people saying? And be specific."
"That they were sitting in a corner booth and Dr. Hottie was caressing her arm."
House felt his blood begin to boil.
"I'll kill him!" he said.
"Oooooh, how dramatic. A duel! Just don't mess up his face," Nurse Jeffrey said.
#####
It was the last day of the conference. Since PPTH was the host hospital, Cuddy was forced to schmooze some bigwigs from the seminar.
That was how she found herself at the Four Seasons Hotel that night, buying four visiting doctors—all world-renowned, all highly respected in their fields—a round of drinks.
She expected to see House already bellied up to the bar when she arrived, but he was nowhere to be found.
She breathed a sigh of relief.
Maybe she had dodged a bullet.
But about halfway through their second round of drinks, the waiter handed her a note on a folded cocktail napkin.
Puzzled, she opened and read it:
DID YOU FUCK CHASE?
Her face went white. She turned around. House had managed to slip into the bar without her noticing him. He was glaring at her, his arms folded.
"Excuse me one second," she said.
She marched up to him.
"Are you out of your mind?" she hissed.
"It's a simple question," he said.
"One that I will not dignify with an answer," she said.
"I'll take that as a yes," he said.
"You've got to be joking," she said.
The four doctors were now giving her curious looks. She lowered her voice, put on her poker face.
"Just…stay put, behave yourself, and we'll talk when I'm done. Can you manage that?"
"I'll try my best," House said, churlishly.
"Try harder than that."
Cuddy walked back to the table.
"Sorry," she said breezily. "A case of mistaken identity. Very mistaken."
After another round of drinks, she managed to lose them. She finally made her way to the bar.
House had lost a bit of his edginess. His shoulders were slumped. He now just seemed sort of broken.
She sat down next to him.
"Grey Goose martini, not too dry, two olives," he ordered for her, mechanically.
"Sorry about before," he said. "That was. . .inappropriate."
"Ya think?"
"I'm losing it, Cuddy," he said. "I'm actually going crazy with jealousy here."
"I didn't fuck Chase," she said, firmly.
His eyes widened.
"You swear?"
"Of course I swear! I don't want Chase."
He studied her face.
"I believe you," he said, after a second. "And for the record, I didn't fuck Cameron."
"Then what was she doing in your hotel room at 3 in the morning? And don't tell me borrowing an Alka Seltzer."
"The truth is, I think she. . .wanted to have sex with me but I turned her down."
"She says the opposite," Cuddy said.
"What?"
"She told Chase that you hit on her and she turned you down."
"And you believed that?"
"Actually, I didn't believe either of you. I assumed you guys had sex."
House looked at her incredulously.
"Why would I have sex with Cameron when I'm madly in love with my girlfriend?"
"Don't sweet talk me, House. It's not your style."
"I'm not. Be reasonable. Cameron threw herself at me for years. Suddenly I decide I want her when I'm in a happy, monogamous relationship with you?"
"I did kick you out," Cuddy acknowledged.
"Which sucked. A lot. But that doesn't change how I feel about you."
She looked down at the bar. Shrugged.
"Cuddy, look at me."
Reluctantly, she turned to him.
"Nothing could change how I feel about you. You know that. Nothing."
"And nothing could change how I feel about you," she admitted, softly.
"Then what the fuck are we doing here?"
She gave him an adorable smile and wrinkled her nose: "Having a drink at the Four Seasons Hotel before we go home?"
House broke into a huge grin.
"Actually," he said. "I have a better idea. I have the room booked for the night. Hotel rooms are hot. And besides, I really want to be able to listen to Vivaldi again."
She laughed, gave him a tiny kiss on the lips. Unexpectedly, she began kissing him harder, her tongue darting in his mouth. They hadn't had sex in three days. Desire was welling up in both of them. House pulled her toward him, his hands on her face, her back—all over her.
"Put her drink on my room tab," he breathed, and he practically dragged her toward the exit.
######
"Fifteen floors is too many," House moaned, his arm draped around Cuddy possessively, as they walked through the hotel lobby. Then he whispered: "Let's fuck on the elevator."
"Ahem," a woman's voice said.
They looked up.
Cameron and Chase were standing in front of the elevator, looking rather cozy themselves.
"Oh . . . hi!" Cuddy said, embarrassed.
"Hey," Chase said.
Chase man-nodded at House, who man-nodded back. (They had narrowly missed each other at work, avoiding House's intended duel. Now it all just seemed so silly and unnecessary.)
"So what are you doing here?" House said to Chase, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm just, uh. . ." Chase started.
"Borrowing an antacid?" Cuddy said, and she shot a knowing look at Cameron, who looked to the floor.
They all got into the elevator together.
"Eleventh floor," Chase said.
"Fifteen," House said.
And both men smiled.
THE END