This is my first House fic! So... yeah! Review, whatever. This definitely isn't my best, but i just wanted to give House a try. The italics are generally song lyrics.

Disclaimer: I do not own House, Call it Off by Tegan and Sara, or any other super familiar names.

Backstory: Not in a legit point in time. Post season 4, early season 5, however, Cameron and Chase have a thing going on now, she lives with him... they're dating.

I wont regret saying this

This saying that I'm saying

Inhale. Exhale. That's all it took. Just a natural expansion of her back and ribs, as her diaphragm overflowed with unholy air. Even outside his domain, it reeked of him. Everything that was him. Her blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, tracing the outline of her delicate frame.

The one he seemed to admire so often.

She pinched a few strands of hair, lifting it up just above the slight bridge of her nose. Where did her auburn locks go? Now she felt transparent. Her pale skin blended with that of her light hair, leaving her feeling like cellophane. So see-through, that her vivid green eyes gave away her emotion instantly.

She lifted up her frail hand and let her fingers rake against the door lightly, toying with the idea of actually facing him. Her eyes bore into her own shoes, feeling self-loathing arise. Why had she come? Why had she deliberately thought of embarrassing herself for no reason what-so-ever. She was far from intoxicated, and there was no point in pretending that... Cameron was never a good liar. She was no longer on his team, so feigning an emergency for a case was out of the question. They were barely even friends. Finally, as her hand was centimeters away from the door, it swung open, causing her balance to shake, as she tumbled forward, just saving herself before she hit the floor.

"Creeper." he scoffed, with one hand especially dependent on his cane, the other slid against the door frame, "I was wondering when you would finally knock."

"You..." was all she could utter, as she fell slack-jawed.

"Is there a point to you being here?" Now he sounded genuinely perturbed. Cameron's eyebrows knit, and her tongue ran across her professionally whitened teeth.

"Did I interrupt you fucking Cuddy?" she blurted. Instantly she snapped her jaw shut, pursing her lips hard enough to leave bruises.

"You want in?" he offered

"Can we talk?" She pleaded

"Why?"

"Because my life is beyond messed up. And you're the most fucked up person I know, so...maybe we could talk about it."

"I only talk to Wilson"

"From what I hear, he's not much of an option right now" She seethed envy, and in a sense, depression. Even when there was absolutely no one... there still wasn't enough room for her in the picture. There would never be an empty square inch for her in his hell of a life.

Is it better than keeping my mouth shut?

House stood, paralyzed, obviously hurt by her bitter remark. What did it matter, though? He'd thrown more low blows than she could count. She deserved a few.

That goes without saying.

"Stand inside. Just don't touch anything. I don't want it to smell like a baby prostitute when you leave"

"Very funny."

"I wasn't joking." Her eyes were drawn to the ceiling fan, watching it whip around in circles. Slowly, her flushed tongue, slid across her upper lip. House looked away, digging into his pocket, finding his Vicodin. He eyed his small handful of pills, reading the light engravings, or the printed letters. Before continuing his analysis, he popped it into his mouth.

"How's life without Wilson?"

House's eyes rolled into the back of his head. There were video games to play, soaps to engross himself in. With a small smirk her bit, "You're not here to make small talk. Just say it. I dont ha-"

"I love Chase." His smirk faded.

"I'll find a way to tell God for you." he murmured bitterly, adding a sarcastic edge to his crackled voice. He limped over to his couch, before he sprawled out, digging in between the cushions to find his gameboy.

"That wasn't so hard to say? Was it?"

"Say it again, and then you'll know" he replied, only half invested in her catharsis.

"I love him. I do, I love him."

House's arm twisted, he leaned his entire body to the right in order to save his virtual car from crashing. A grunt erupted from his throat as his last life was lost.

"So why are you telling me?" he slurred, still fixed on his alter-life in the video games.

"Because I can't tell him."

Call, break it off

Call, break my own heart

He snapped it shut, his eyes meeting her for the first time. Really looking into them, not past them, which he'd become so accustomed to. Cameron stood completely isolated, in the middle of the room, arms folded protectively against her chest.

House hoisted himself up, clutching onto his cane. He hobbled over to her, feeling weaker than usual. Maybe it was the lack of food, since he'd skipped a few lunches. Maybe the shock just overwhelmed him. Maybe he was actually happy, and that feeling was foreign to his body. But probably not. He stood plainly before her, trying to read her eyes.

Scared.

Shocked.

Unsure.

Overwhelmed.

Pensive.

Alone.

Lustful.

Sinful.

"What kind of underwear are you wearing." he asked matter-of-factly.

"What the fuck, House?! I'm here spilling my guts out to you, hoping you would understand...and help me."

"That's bullshit Cameron, don't expect me to believe that. I don't help. You know that. You were expecting to come over here, share your sob-story, and expect me to be jealous. Right? Right? And then, when you subtly hint that you don't love him and he's still a defense mechanism to get over your life-long crush on me, you want me to get lost in your eyes and kiss you. And you want me to mean it. You want me to make love to you, and scream your first name. You want to tell me that you love me. You want me to tell you to end it with him. You want a fantasy, or some crap like that. You're an idiot."

He expected her to murmur a quick "I should go", and then exit swiftly, hoping to hide herself from any more embarrassment.

Instead he got an, "I don't love you. You conceited, son-of-a-bitch, manipulative bastard." Each word was painstakingly slower than the next. Burning her lips and tongue.

He shoved her against the closest wall, and began tasting her.

Raspberries.

She tasted his tongue that had marinated in beer. Probably one to many.

Raspberries and beer and teeth and tongue and lips.

All so messy and painful. He slammed her too hard against the wall. She bit his lip so hard it bled. He pressed down on her enough to leave black and blue marks on her lips.

All so ugly.

His hands grasped her hips, they fit into the grooves perfectly. More than he thought they would. Just like she knew they would. She broke away, looked at him directly in the eye and briskly walk to the other side of the room, wiping the residue off her mouth. The last bit of him. She froze at the kitchen counter.

Maybe I could've been something you'd be good at

Maybe you woulda been something I'd be good at

"No."

But now we'll never know

"Allison..."

"Don't call me that. You can't call me that. I'm not Allison to you. Even if we were something. How could you even consider doing something like that?!"

"Calling you Allison?" he faked innocence, something he'd always lacked. Even as a child.

He tuned out her rant and focused on the nape of her neck, trailing to her breasts, her stomach, hips, backside, legs, feet. Every inch of her. He was forced to memorize every inch of her. Who knew when he would touch her again.

"You had your chance!" she breathed minutes later.

"Oh, shut up. I don't love you." he despised even the thought, "don't give yourself that credit."

"Why?! Cause you can't love anyone other than Stacy? You can't trust anyone other than Wilson?"

"I guess not, huh?" he remarked

"I loved you."

"Wonderful. Want to reminisce." He picked up a half empty beer bottle from the side table and lifted it up to her, just before taking a sardonic swig.

I won't be sad but in case I go there everyday

To make myself feel bad

"Can you just sleep with me?" she asked bluntly.

"What?"

"I want to know what it feels like."

"Shut up. No wonder you dressed like a whore tonight" he rejected, though his mind tossed around the thought.

There's a chance I'll start to wonder if this was the thing to do

"I should go" There it was. There had to be at least one of those in this conversation.

He halted her with his cane.

"Don't do this to your personal Steve Irwin." he advised.

I won't be out long

But I still think it's better if

"I'll be back in half an hour." she informed

He sighed. Completely biased, he let her leave.

You take your time coming over here

I think it's for the best.

It gave him time to think, and imagine her with him.

Once wouldn't hurt.

At least, it wouldn't hurt him.

And that's all that mattered

27 minutes later, a stiletto heel bashed on the door. He opened it.

Cardboard boxes filled with useless crap. Clothes, toothbrush, pens, certificates. Behind the boxes, a petite chest instinctively rose and fell.

"You're not moving in." he stated.

"I know. I'm moving out."

"We're not having a relationship."

"I know." she replied with confidence, prepared for this statement. She dropped the boxes on the floor.

Call, break it off

Call, break my own heart

"I expected you to dress up. Catholic school girl outfit, cheerleader, firefighter...there are so many options. You're not nearly as sexy as I thought you'd be."

Though, rather than turn her away, he pounced on her like before. Only harder and uglier, meaner and less forgiving.

But that's how it was with them.

Maybe I would have been something you'd be good at

Maybe you woulda been something I'd be good at

Three or four rounds later, House's fatigue set in.

He collapsed on the bed, his hand encircling her waist, pulling her in tight.

"What are you doing?" she whispered

But now we'll never know

"Going to bed. Do you want money or something?"

She just stood up, and hooked her bra on.

I won't be sad

But in case I go there every day

He hadn't gotten a chance to memorize that part of her well enough.

Oh well, he'd be sure to memorize next time.

To make myself feel bad

"Stay the night." He offered in a nonchalant manner

She looked into his eyes, expecting some pathetic Bambi look. He just gazed at her, looking at her face like he did at work. Like he did when there was nothing between them. Like he did when there was.

There's a chance I'll start to wonder if this was the thing to do.

She shook her head, so it vibrated slightly, mimicking her cell phone. "No, it's cool. I was never a fan of 'morning after' scenes anyway."

Start to wonder if this was the thing to do...

END