CHAPTER TWO

Fifteen minutes had slowly passed and Cameron was sitting in the restaurant staring at an empty wine glass that had twice been filled. She was alone. As the clock ticked away, she became angrier. And the angrier she got, the more she drank.

By nine o'clock she pulled out her cell phone and dialed House's home number. There was no answer. She started to punch his cell phone number and just as the ringing stopped she heard, from a voice above and beside her, "Sorry. He's not home. He's got a hot date with a hot doctor…"

Cameron looked up and found herself gazing into the deep-blue sea colored eyes of Dr. Gregory House. She slammed the phone shut, placed it back in her purse and leaned back, crossing her arms across her chest as House took a seat. Immediately the waitress came to the table and asked if he'd like another Scotch then if Cameron wanted another glass of wine.

"Another Scotch?" Cameron quipped as the waitress walked away.

"Uh, yeah, well, er, while I was waiting for you I helped myself to a few at the bar." House answered.

"While you were waiting for me? I've been here since 8:20, House." Cameron fumed.

"And I've been here since eight – needed something to calm my nerves. I was enjoying the entertainment, though."

"There was no entertainment."

"Yes, there was. Seems there was a lobster boiling that was extreeeem-ly fun to watch."

The waitress came by with their drinks, they ordered their entrée and she left.

Cameron leaned forward, staring intently at House. "Answer me this, House…" House swallowed hard, sipped his Scotch then nodded his head. "Where in the hell did Theobald come from?"

House instantly relaxed and his shoulders lost their tension. "Great-Great Grandfather served in the Civil War in the 9th Michigan Union. He was killed at Chattanooga."

"Ah, okay. Well, Theobald certainly fits you!"

Narrowing his eyes at her, a smile slowly crossed his face. "Okay, I deserved that."

There was silence between them for several minutes. Cameron kept peering out the window and House kept peering down her blouse. Finally, he could take it no longer. "Why do you want me, Cameron?"

She turned to face him, her face tense. "Why did Stacy want you, House? There must have been something there she liked."

"Maybe, but for the life of me I can't figure out what it was," he answered honestly.

"Come on, House. You are more likeable than you give yourself credit for."

"Likeable? God, I hate that word."

"Yeah, well, get over it. I'm not asking you to marry me. I am not even asking you to bear my children…"

"Good, because I don't think it works that way."

"Smart ass. All I'm asking is…"

The waitress arrived with their entrees, placed them in front of them, asked them if they wanted anything else then left. House dug into his food but Cameron stared at him for a minute.

"All I'm asking is you give me a chance. Is that too much to ask?"

As his right eye flinched, he chewed his food as he contemplated what his next move was. "No, it's not," he simply said. "As we've said before, what do we do now?"

"Let's see…we go out once a week. Dinner, a movie, whatever."

She finally started to eat while it was his turn to stare her down. "Fine, but you pay."

She rolled her eyes as she sipped her wine before she said, "I wouldn't expect anything less from you, House."

DATE TWO

The night they left Elle Château, Cameron felt like she'd won the battle, but still had to win the war. She didn't get any sleep when she got home. She was scared. She didn't have another job lined up yet, and the only alternative she had was to work at Princeton General until something happened – whether she got another job outside N.J. or things with House turned out in her favor.

House walked with a bounce in his step, er, limp. He sat on his couch for hours when he'd gotten home, and it was well past one o'clock before he went to bed. But he didn't sleep right away. He was torn between what he wanted and what he was afraid would happen if he did get what he wanted.

For the both of them only time would tell.

The following week, House was in his apartment debating over a black t-shirt, grey jacket with black jeans or a grey t-shirt, black jacket and blue jeans.

"Dates suck. No wonder I don't go out on them much," he said out loud to an empty room.

He pulled his cell phone, dialed an auto number and spoke into it, "I need you here."

Cameron, on the other hand, was ready. She'd chosen a red blouse and black skirt with a revealing slit on the side of her leg. She looked over the newspaper trying to decide on which movie she wanted to see; there weren't any she particularly liked to see, but there was a new Robert DeNiro movie she thought House would like.

House was supposed to be at her place at eight, and it was just minutes before when there was a heavy rap on her front door. She jumped a bit before she took a deep breath and walked to the door. Holding her breath instead, she pulled the door open.

Standing against the door jam, was House, who was wearing a navy blue jacket, light blue t-shirt and blue jeans; and although it was dark outside, he was wearing sunglasses. The thing that caught her attention was the fact that both the t-shirt and jacket were pressed, as well as the fact that he looked like he'd just gotten a trim. And what he was holding in his left hand. She stood staring at him in silence.

"What's your problem?" House asked, knowing exactly the effect he was having on her.

"Are those for me?"

House rolled his eyes, stepped beside her closer than he had to, and said, "No, the flowers are for the waitress. Thought maybe I wouldn't have to tip her."

Cameron closed the door and turned to look at House. "I'll get a vase."

House put the flowers on a box that was labeled 'bedroom' and looked around her room. There was still a lot of packing she had to do, and it piqued his curiosity.

Cameron walked back in with the vase, but instead of putting the flowers in it, she stared at House; he stared right back behind dark glasses.

"You look…nice," she finally said. "Wilson iron them?" she asked with a smirk.

"No, but he picked it out for me."

"Uh huh."

"Then he ironed them."

Cameron smiled and seemed to relax a little. "There's no movie I really want to see. Whatever you want to see is fine."

"Great. There's a new movie down at Murray's Movie Theatre…"

"NO! You are NOT taking me to a porn movie!"

"Oh, calm down. I hear Robert DeNiro's movie is right good."

"Okay, fine."

Cameron grabbed her sweater and headed for the door. "Thanks for the flowers."

"You're welcome."

As they were walking down the hallway to the sidewalk, House asked, "Can we go to Murray's?"

"NO!"

"You're no fun," he quipped.

"Nope, I sure ain't."

"Where do you want to sit?" Cameron asked as they walked into the dark theatre as the annoying candy and popcorn people popped up on the screen.

House walked down about halfway and stood beside a man and a woman who stared silently up at him. "I need an end seat. Cripple, you know."

The man looked perturbed. "There are plenty of other end seats that are available."

"Yes, there are. Why don't you go find them?"

"House?!" Cameron admonished.

The man stood, cursed something under his breath, grabbed his date's friend and went down a few rows.

"See how easy that was?" House asked as he moved aside for Cameron to slip in.

"Why do you always have to be so rude?" she asked as she sat down.

As House sat down beside her and stretched his leg out a bit into the isle he said, "But we got perfect seats, didn't we? Besides, you know I'm rude. Guess that means this is our last date."

"Shhhh…" someone whispered behind them; they were ignored.

"I didn't say that," Cameron answered.

"Aside from being rude, I snore, too."

"I've got headphones."

"I drink a lot."

"I'll drink with you."

"I drool on my pillow."

"I have my own pillow."

"I fart under the sheets," House challenged.

"Would you two please keep it down?" the man chastised.

House turned around and snapped, "They're showing a clip of popcorn and sodas. Why don't you go get some and stuff your face?"

The man tuffed at House as he turned back around. "Actually, that sounds good," House said to Cameron.

"I want some M&Ms, House," she told him.

"Okay, here's the money. I want popcorn and Pepsi."

"Ugh," she huffed as she shifted past House, straddling his left leg just a bit longer than necessary. He looked down her blouse then ran his right hand up her thigh.

"Tease," he snickered.

"Oh, you haven't seen anything yet," she said coyly before she walked away.

This is getting more and more interesting, House thought to himself.

As they walked out of the movie theatre, House suggested they get something to drink. Cameron was all for it. They walked down to a bar at the end of the strip and went into Charlie's Pub, a favorite of his. Cameron caught a few patrons nod at House as they sat down in a booth. A waiter came by and asked what 'the lady' wanted. She asked for a White Russian but didn't ask what House wanted.

"They know what I like," he said. "And a White Russian is not a drink."

"Yes, it is."

"So, Cameron, tell me something," House offered. Cameron sat back confidently and prepared herself for the question. "What the difference between making love and having sex? The speed? Kissing on the lips? The positions?"

Cameron thought long and hard before she answered. "When you have sex, House, now I know it's been a while for you…" House's eyebrow rose. "…you just go through the motions. It's just a physical act, mechanical, unemotional, like a bad porno movie."

"Oh, some porno movies are so real."

Just then the waiter came back and placed their drinks on the table, eyeing House like he was a pimp or something.

"When you make love, your heart is in it," she continued. "Every touch, every kiss is electrifying. Both partners are into each other so much that time stands still."

"Where did you get that crap from?" House asked.

"Cosmo," she retorted. "Seriously, there is a difference."

"Hmm, care to show me the difference?"

"No, not yet."

Again, House's eyebrow rose with curiosity. "So, with Chase it was just sex; with your husband it was making love?"

"Exactly."

"So, you are telling me we have to be married before we can make love?"

"No, I'm not saying that."

They were silent for several minutes before Cameron asked, leaning in closer to the table, "House, I know you felt something when we kissed in your office. What was it?"

"Really? How do you know that?"

"Because you didn't stop me."

"A kiss is a kiss, Cameron. It doesn't mean anything."

"I think it did," she challenged.

"So what if it did?"

"Then it makes me happy," she said.

"Happy? I was happy – in my pants."

"I know you liked it."

"Yeah, I did."

"Were you surprised?" she asked bravely.

"No."

"You weren't surprised of the kiss or you weren't surprised you liked it?"

"Mmm, you like beating around the bush, don't you?" House asked.

"No, I'm trying to get a straight answer from you. Why are you afraid of me, House?"

"Phht, I'm not afraid of you."

"Then are you afraid of feeling something for me?"

House took a long, drink, savoring the liquor as it went down his throat. "I'm going to say this once, and I will never say it again: I do feel something for you."

House and Cameron left the bar right after midnight, and they were both feeling very relaxed, or drunk, as the case may be.

"Cameron, are you really pissed at me about the cancer thing?"

"At first I was, yes. I just don't understand."

"No, you don't."

House unlocked the passenger seat with his keychain but instead of opening her door he immediately walked to the driver side and got in. Cameron tuffed and got in the car.

Pulling out of the parking space House said, "Have you ever been in pain for an extended period of time?"

"Not physical pain, no."

"Okay, imagine you can't walk for three months. You dread getting out of bed to go to the bathroom. You can't stand to take a shower and you haven't taken a shower for days. You've got to go to work because there are patients to save, coffee to make for me…"

Cameron glanced over at him but didn't say anything.

"You find yourself not talking to people, shoving people away, even those that care about you and want you out and about. You need to hide. Hide from your friends, hide from work, hide from your…"

Not once taking her eyes off of him she asked, "Hide from what, House?"

"Hide from yourself," he said tentatively, but Cameron wasn't sure that was the truth or not. "After a while, you give up. You get tired of fighting. Every morning you wake up and you think you'll have a good day. But when you stand up, you can't breathe from the pain that shoots through your leg with every step you take."

Suddenly House grew quiet as he drove up to her apartment.

"Thanks, House."

"You're welcome," he simply said.

"No, I mean for opening up."

"Oh, that was from a report I read in AMA Journal."

Cameron smiled at him, leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Think of something for next weekend." She opened the door and was halfway out.

"Cam?"

"Yes, House?" She was bending over and exposed her cleavage. House smirked. "What, House!"

"Don't finish packing."

As House walked into his apartment, somewhat relaxed, somewhat tense, his phone was ringing. He walked over to it and saw it was Cameron's number. He smiled.

"Did you leave your underwear in my car, Cameron?" House asked as he sat down on the couch. He popped two pills into his mouth and leaned back.

"I wasn't wearing any," she answered. House began to choke on his words. "House, you okay?" she asked concerned.

"Yeah, yeah. Just watching a porno movie and this chick made an incredible move…"

"I just called to make sure you got home okay," she interrupted.

"Why wouldn't I have?"

"Because you had three Scotch's and you just got done popping your Vicodin, didn't you?"

House pulled the phone from his ear, looked at it then looked out the window before he relaxed again. "What makes you think I just took them?"

"Because you didn't take any before the movie, and you didn't take any at the bar."

"All right, Sherlock. I'm home. You can go to sleep now."

"Yeah, well, I would if I could."

"Oh, you're not tired? I could give you some patient files to complete."

"No. No work, House."

"What about phone sex?"

"No." A smile slowly crossed her lips.

"Okay, then, good night."

"House, wait."

"Ugh, what?" If House was honest with himself, he'd stay on the phone like he really wanted to.

"You said you do feel something for me. What is it, exactly?"

"Oh, crap. Did I open a door into the Twilight Zone or something?"

"Yes, you did. What is it you feel for me?"

House was silent for several moments. He ran his palm over his face and felt trapped. "I don't know."

"Well, you have a week to think about it." Cameron then hung up the phone.

God, he hated that woman!