Pairing(s): Hameron, somewhat anti-Chameron. Sorry, Chase fans; I hate the pairing. ^^;
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Simple, sweet and to the point.
"What do you mean, you don't remember anything? We're in Vegas, House! Vegas!! What the hell happened last night?"
"Sorry. I told you before; I can't remember. 'Do have a bitch of a headache, though. Oh no, wait. That's you."
Allison Cameron tapped her slender fingers on her throbbing temple, trying to sort through her muddled mind. She felt the beginnings of a migraine coming on, yet didn't dare ask House for Vicodin. He'd already taken two that morning, and one of them had to be able-minded for awhile. He had made it perfectly clear it wasn't going to be him as they sat on the sidewalk out in front of the sleazy motel they'd woken up in, having already cracked open another beer. "Didn't you say you had a hangover?"
He nodded, taking a slurp of his beer. "Yup. And you know the solution to this problem?"
"… More beer and Vicodin?"
"Right on, kiddo. You catch on fast," he smirked at her over the rim of his bottle, and she shook her head at him.
"Okay, do you know where your motorcycle went?"
He shrugged. "It was stolen, I guess. 'Parked it right here. Wonder how many thousands of people here know how to hotwire a motorcycle?"
"So you do remember!"
He sighed. "Only some things. I remember that, and the fact that you were a lot less annoying last night."
She froze. In her mind's eye she was pinned up against the door of a room, running her hands through his thinning, grey-brown hair as he simultaneously left a trail of kisses on her collarbone and dug through his jean pockets. He growled in frustration, and she fisted her hands in his hair.
"What's wrong?"
"I… Can't… I think I lost—"
"What?"
"I think I lost the key. Help me look for it."
Cameron growled in response and began digging through her purse. Her nerves were standing on end, and everywhere his lips touched burned like fire. She knew she was very drunk, and her blurring vision did nothing to aid her search through her jumbled handbag. Finally she got fed up with it and tossed the purse on the floor. Her driver's license, a bottle of pills and several miscellaneous makeup containers tumbled out, and before she could bend down to search for the key he held something up. "Found it." As annoyed as she had been, she couldn't help nibbling at his ear as he unlocked the door and left her bag outside. The next morning it and its various contents were gone.
You've gotta help me out
It's all a blur last night
We need a taxi
'Cuz you're hung over and I'm broke
I lost my fake ID
But you lost the motel key
Spare me the freakin' dirty looks now
Don't blame me!
"Idiot," she muttered, sitting down beside him on the sidewalk. As they passed, pedestrians didn't spare them a single glance; people sitting on the sidewalk looking angry and lost were probably very typical in their world. She buried her face in her hands, feeling embarrassed that she was even here. Being a successful female doctor, she should be at home in Princeton, doing her job, raising the standards for female workers everywhere. Instead she had let her stupid female emotions get the better of her, and now she was stuck in Vegas with no obvious out, sitting beside the man she loved to hate.
"You really have room to talk, Cameron," he replied hotly, throwing her a sidelong glare. "All our money was in that bag, along with my motorcycle keys. You were just too lovestruck to go back for it before seducing me, huh? Couldn't resist. I can't say I blame you, though. Any woman would have done the same."
"If I remember correctly, you weren't complaining a bit," she responded quickly, ignoring his last comment and sending him an equally piercing glare of her own. "And you were the one doing the seducing in the first place, remember?"
"Hey, why don't you shut the hell up and put your money where your mouth is?"
"Say what?" Cameron replied hazily, sitting in front of a slot machine. She had been talking to herself for the last five minutes, trying to decide how much she really wanted to gamble for a chance at the jackpot. She had completely forgotten about House until she heard his voice in her ear, and she shivered at his proximity. He was close, too close for comfort.
"I said, shut the hell up and bet it all. The jackpot is over four thousand dollars. If you can hit it right, that four hundred in your hand will look like pocket change. I've got a hunch. Put it all in."
"House, are you sure…?"
"Trust me. I've gambled a lot in my lifetime, and my hunches are always right," he whispered, leaning closer to her. His arms were wrapped around her middle now, and he could hear her breath hitch as he continued, "When you win, though, I expect something in return."
"Like what?" She replied, voice wavering as she stuck the rest of her money in the machine. His voice was husky and low, and was growing sexier by the minute. Her mind futilely tried to gather her up, trying to backtrack to Princeton and to everyone she left behind. This was only supposed to be a business trip, she thought, and Chase had been unhappy about her going with just House alone. She didn't understand why he was soooo—"Ohhh," she moaned under her breath as he bit down on her exposed shoulder. Hard. She was glad she'd picked the black dress to wear.
"You'll find out," he hissed against her skin as he pulled the lever on the machine. The cogs went around and around and around, but she hardly noticed as he nibbled on her neck. One, two, three.
She'd lost.
"Oops."
"Eh, you were practically begging me to do something. Your dress was more revealing than Cuddy's work clothes are," he replied as he took a swig, picturing one of his boss' various, low-cut 'just business' tops. He glanced at his companion, and ultimately decided she'd look much better in the shirt than Cuddy did.
"Well, it doesn't matter what happened last night, because it didn't mean anything," Cameron replied, standing up. Turning to face him, she held out a hand. "Come on. We've gotta go win our money back."
"But mom!" He whined, comfortable with his spot on the concrete. She gave him a cross look, and he continued, "We have no money. How are we going to win back all our money with nothing? I guess you could take off your shirt, we might get a couple of bucks if you dance—"
"You're going to go to the ATM and get out that hundred Wilson loaned you last week," she replied, smirking as his face lit up with surprise at her words. "I know you don't do anything with half of the money you borrow from him, so I've been keeping tabs."
"Touché, young grasshopper," he replied, clasping her hand and allowing her to pull him up. Unfortunately for him, she spotted something on his hand that made her gasp in shock, releasing his hand. He crashed back down to the ground as she yelled, pointing an accusing finger at him.
"What the hell are you doing wearing my engagement ring?!"
You wanna cash out
And get the hell out of town
Don't be a baby
Remember what you told me:
"Shut up and put your money where your mouth is"
That's what you get for waking up in Vegas
Get up and shake the glitter of your clothes now
That's what you get for waking up in Vegas
Why are these lights so bright…?
Did we get hitched last night?
Dressed up like Elvis
Why am I wearing your class ring?
"Damn it, Cameron, why the hell did you let go?!" He roared, massaging his sore bottom. "If I end up with any broken bones during this little business trip, I'm making damned sure you get the bill."
"Answer me, House! Why the…" Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of her own left hand. On her ring finger was not the silver band Chase had given her; no, it was on House's. On hers was a thick silver ring with a jewel stuck in the center of it. The words around the jewel were worn and difficult to read, yet throughout her high school career she had been presented with the offer of wearing one of these multiple times by multiple, faceless boys. Cameron knew instinctively what it was. "Wh… Why am I wearing your class ring? House… Did we get… Were we married last night?" She closed her eyes and suddenly was standing before House and a Chinese man in white robes. House was dressed in a sequined suit reminiscent of Elvis, and over her own face hung a thin, white veil. The Asian man was talking, but in her haze she couldn't hear him speak, and suddenly she was swept up in House's arms, swapping spit without a care in the world.
Now, opening her eyes, she turned to the building they stood before. "Chong Wedding Chapel," she breathed, unable to believe her eyes. She had known she was getting married soon, but not in Vegas and definitely not after a five minute ceremony. Glancing down, she saw his piercing blue eyes boring into her. And definitely not to this man. He broke eye contact with her to reach into his pocket. He came up with a cell phone, and suddenly warning bells were going off in her mind. "What are you doing, House?"
"Calling Wilson, of course," he replied, and she paled as he opened the cell. "He'll never believe what happened!"
"No!!" She cried. Lightning fast, she snatched the phone out of his hand and held it up in the air, as far away from the man on the ground as she could manage. "He can never know! No one is going to know about this, you hear?"
He raised his eyes suspiciously, and she could swear he was mocking her. "The phone was dead, anyway. I forgot to charge it before we left."
Don't call your mother
'Cuz now we're partners in crime
Don't be a baby
Remember what you told me:
"Shut up and put your money where your mouth is"
That's what you get for waking up in Vegas
Get up and shake the glitter off your clothes now
That's what you get for waking up in Vegas
Sighing, she handed him the dead phone and plopped down beside him. "House, what are we going to do?" She asked desperately, burying her face into her hands. "We have no phone, no transportation, and we just got hitched when Chase and I are having our wedding in a week! What do I do?"
Instead of answering, House struggled to his feet, leaning on his cane for support as he popped another pill. At least he still had his cane and Vicodin. They were the only things he had left from last night. Taking a deep breath, he began to walk away from her down the street, looking in the various shop and store windows. She looked up and, finding that he was leaving her, scrambled to her feet. "House! Where are you going?"
"You said we needed money, right?" He grunted, opening the door to a pet shop and going in.
You got me into this
Information overload, situation: lost control
Send out an SOS
And get some cash out
She followed him into the pet store to find him standing at an ATM. The machine spat out what appeared to be four one-hundred dollar bills, and then a receipt. He crumpled the receipt up and threw it on the floor, then limped over to the door. Without a word he handed her half of the money. She looked up into his face. His eyes were unreadable as he said, "Let's go get our money back. Then you can go home and forget all about this." He brushed past her and left the shop. She vaguely noted the cashier, a young, pimple-faced boy was watching them with interest, but she ignored him as she turned and followed House out of the door. Something he had said bothered her.
"House!" She cried, jogging to catch up with him. He was standing on the sidewalk, hailing a cab down. Holding the door open, he waited for her to get in. She stopped before him, trying to discern the odd look in his eyes. "What was that for?"
"What?" He asked, feigning innocence as he waited for her to get in the car. Inside the taxi, the driver muttered something in a different language, possibly Mexican. As annoyed as the man sounded, Cameron didn't make a move to get in the car.
"What did you mean by 'forget all about this'?"
She watched his eyes, guarded as they were, hoping for some sort of indication that he was surprised by her words. He shrugged, looking away from her as he said, "You said you wanted to marry the wombat, right? That's what I meant. As far as I'm concerned, this never happened. Get in the cab already, woman! Jose is getting restless, and you know how they get when they're angry." The Mexican in the car muttered more of what sounded vaguely like obscenities directed at the diagnostician.
After staring at House momentarily, she pushed him out of the way and leaned into the car. "Sorry, but we're going to have to take a rain check," she told the man, who then directed his obscenities at her as she slammed the taxi door shut. He sped off, his tires leaving black marks on the street.
After watching the cab zoom off, House turned back to her. "Well, what the hell was that for? The closest casino is fourteen blocks away, and you're seriously misguided if you think I'm going to walk. You have absolutely no respect for cripples, you know." He tried to sound snarky, but his voice just sort of deadpanned as they stood there, he avoiding and she staring at him, trying to figure out why. Why he would bring her all the way to Nevada, marry her, get her drunk and sleep with her, and then decide that it meant nothing. Typical House. She suddenly remembered another portion of last night, and her mind set into motion a devious plan only House could have thought of.
We're gonna tear up the town
Don't be a baby
Remember what you told me…
Remember what you told me…
"Do you remember what you told me last night, House?" She asked, putting on a wide, innocent expression as she looked up at him. He glanced down at her, raising an eyebrow at her.
"Umm… No? If you remember, Doctor Cameron, I was completely drunk off of my ass, so pardon me if I don't recall whispering sweet nothings late in the night."
"It wasn't late," she replied, shaking her head at him, a smile playing across her lips. "In fact, it was before either of us got too drunk. We had just gotten into town, and I asked you what this business trip was about. You set the whole thing up so you could get me away from work, didn't you?"
He didn't respond, only massaged his skull without looking at her. She could tell he was uncomfortable, but she pressed on, intent on finding out if he really meant what he'd said to her yesterday. She didn't know why she wanted to know so badly, but the need was there, and she couldn't help it. Just like every other time she had been with him alone, she jumped in without thinking, because something had always felt right with him. When he rejected her, she'd buried those feelings deep within her and decided to give her coworker a chance. She tried to convince herself that she loved Chase, and that he was the one she wanted to spend her life with. However, every time she would come into contact with House, she felt like she belonged.
"You told me that you 'messed up' three years ago, and that this trip was your chance to redeem yourself. You said I should just 'Forget about the wombat for a little bit' and just enjoy myself with you, didn't you? You planned this to happen! The marriage, the hotel, even the money!"
"Well, technically I didn't plan on losing all of the money," he responded lightly, rubbing on his forehead with his free hand like he did when he had a particular difficult case to diagnose. "I actually thought you were going to win the jackpot last night. So much for that hunch."
She laughed and, riding on the wave of ease his response had brought, wrapped her arms around him in a tender hug. She felt him tense up immediately, and began to pull away. She was pleasantly surprised when he wrapped his free arm around her, returning her embrace in a gruff, one-armed hug. Laughing again in relief, she murmured, "You knew I didn't really feel anything for Chase all along, didn't you?"
"Not really," he murmured, surprising her. She looked up at him in surprise, and he continued. "I was actually convinced you'd started to feel something for him, for a while. I figured it out when Wilson told me that you were having doubts about your relationship."
"Wilson told you? Damn him, I told him that was confidential!"
He laughed at her disapproval and, while she was still thinking about what a dirty rat Wilson was, he swooped down and pressed his lips against hers. She gasped, surprised, and then responded to him, ignoring the taste of beer in his mouth. They stayed like that for a while, uncaring if the world saw them or not. They were lost in the taste of the other's mouth, and while Cameron didn't particularly like the taste of beer, once she got past that he tasted strangely like butterscotch. She pulled away after a while for lack of air, and as she gasped he leaned down to her ear.
"Wanna go back to the room? I've got it reserved for the whole weekend, Mrs. House."
She gasped at her new surname, and then sighed as she leaned against him, reveling in the warmth of his body. "Sure, House. Let's go."
"Shut up and put your money where your mouth is"
That's what you get for waking up in Vegas
Get up and shake the glitter off your clothes now
That's what you get for waking up in Vegas
That's what you get, baby
So, there it is, a crappy Hameron songfic to Katy Perry's Waking Up In Vegas. All I ask is that you don't flame me too badly, okay? This is my first attempt at a House, M.D. fanfic, so don't expect too much lol.