Author's Note: Spoilers for Fetal Position.

Cameron glared at the phone, it's little display showing her smooth, cool skin, untainted, unblemished, an illumination of pixels. Her gaze tore upwards, spearing through Foreman.

"There's nothing on my neck!"

He nodded, grinning, "I know. But you thought there might have been..."

"Foreman-"

"It's none of my business, I know."

What the hell was she going to do now? House would hardly appreciate it if she flat out told Foreman, but leaving things as they were would probably just increase the already circulating gossip. Attractive female doctor refuses comment on relationship with older mentor. Sounds like a tabloid headline.

"Foreman, you can't tell anyone, please," she pleaded with her best puppy dog eyes, beautifully expressive. It was a bit low to manipulate him, but deep inside her secret heart, she almost hoped House's kisses had marked her for all the world.

Rolling his eyes, her colleague turned away for a moment, "I'll cover for you. Not for him." Grabbing his bag and heading for the door, he glanced over at her.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing? I know how much you care about him, god knows why, but to people who don't know the two of you... It could look bad."

She smiles at him, Brother Foreman, nodding, "Thank you."

His dark eyes test her for another minute before he nods back, stepping out of the office and strolling away. House would be so mad...

"This is a bad thing for me... how?"

She stared at him, slack jawed, going to speak when he cuts her off.

"I said I didn't care. Hell, my rep with Foreman's probably going waaay up."

Shaking her head, she leans back against the wall, still amazed at how casually he's taking this. He closes the space between them, leaning heavily on his cane with every step, until she is trapped.

"Why would I be ashamed of you? It doesn't damage me at all. But you..." His hands rest on her hips, "You could be sleeping your way to the top, for all everybody else knows."

Her eyes squeeze shut, cheek against his chest, why does everybody keep saying that.

"I should quit." Now he does look surprised, leaning back to see her better.

"No."

Feeling the statement does not warrant further clarification, he lets her go, moving to collapse on the couch in a very ungainly fashion. His hand goes to his leg, pressing against his useless thigh. She follows immediately, grabbing his vicodin off the coffee table and popping the cap, two pills tumbling into her hand.

"Here." He accepts them silently, closing his eyes as she takes over, fingers pressing against his scars through his jeans. He despises how weak it makes him, but she doesn't seem to care about that. Slumping in the couch, his head lolls back. It feels just a little better when she's doing this.

Out of the blue, he speaks, "What were we talking about?"

Cameron blinks looking at him from her position at his side, "Um, about us."

He nods, "Right. Why do you care what other people think of you?"

"House..."

"Will anybody important think any less of you?"

"No but-"

"Then it doesn't matter. I can't let you leave anyway. Do you know how much a hooker would charge to do this?" She presses down a little harder than necessary, causing him to hiss in pain.

"Be nice, or I'll start charging." Leaning in, she kisses over his rough cheek, "And I hear that hookers don't kiss on the lips."

He frowns, "That would be a waste," eliciting a smile and an incredibly whorish kiss. She had told herself that she wouldn't try and change him, but rewarding him for good behaviour was quite a different story.

It was late by the time she escaped him, driving home on autopilot. He couldn't be absent two days in a row, and the last thing she needed was Cuddy on her case for injuring the hospitals greatest asset. If that meant they had to take a night off, bad luck for her.

The apartment seemed lonely and foreign to her. Spending so much time at the hospital meant she had never really gotten attached but now it felt distinctly lacking. It was almost worrying how quickly she had adapted to House's presence, and now that it was gone, she couldn't help but feel out of sync with the world leaving nothing to do but sleep and go to work in the morning.

But sleep wouldn't come. The sheets were cold, clean, surgically precise. Just like House. Only the result of their union would be greater than the sum of its parts. Turning, she stared at the phone, willing it to ring, willing him to be thinking the same thing as she was.

He was. Sprawled beneath a different duvet, lamenting the ache in his leg, expecting her to burst through the door and tumble into bed. The palm of his hand pressed down against his thigh, visualising her and feeling the pain lessen, seeping from his mind. Why the hell did she have to leave, or at least why did she have to wake him to say goodbye. Goddamnit. It wasn't this bad with Stacy, why did Cameron have to be so different. Better. Throwing back a vicodin angrily, he descended into a restless sleep and awoke early in the morning surrounded by sheets damp with his own perspiration.

Walking through the carpark, she spied his car, already parked. It was almost eight, far too early for him to be awake, let alone at work. Did they have a case? No, neither Chase nor Foreman were in, and House was not in his office. Peeking out onto the balcony, she watched him staring out across the hospital grounds, morning sun scoring deep shadows against the wall behind him. Pulling the door open, she joined him.

"Good morning." His head flicks in her direction a fraction, frame stiffening.

"Is it?" He's surly, his leg must be killing him. She moves to stand close, looping an arm around his and resting her hand over his which is crushing the top of the wall in a death grip. Looking down into her face he instantly regrets his sharp words. What Would Wilson Do?

He frowns, "Bad night," knowing she has already forgiven him. Fingers spread, hers slotting neatly in between, he's glad she's here.

Leaning against him, she nods, "Me too."

"Whose brilliant idea was it for you to leave?"

"I didn't want you hurting your leg anymore."

He snorts, looking down at her, "I am capable of sleeping with somebody without sleeping with them, you know. Just because I choose not to restrain myself doesn't mean I can't."

"I thought you might like some space."

"You were wrong."

They stand in silence, his thumb stroking down the side of her hand faintly, eventually mumbling, "Sorry," under his breath.

Her smile is sweet, "Probably good that I put my overnight bag in the car then?" He just nods, letting her pull him around, eagerly collapsing into a slow kiss.

Pulling the envelope from his pocket, he eyeballed it. What on earth would he want to go to Vancouver Island for? Cuddy was fun to annoy, hell she'd be fun to do other less innocent things to as well, but she couldn't read him as well as she thought. Besides, he already had plans. At least the thick paper of the tickets was satisfyingly difficult to rip. However much she'd spent wasn't a total waste of money.

Easing down onto the couch, vicodin materialising in his fingers, he tossed one back, TV filling the room with ignorable noise.

Slipping in without him noticing, she observed for a moment, his attention devoted to the phosphorescent radiator before him. Acquiring a handful of cutlery, she takes her place on the couch, placing polystyrene take-out cartons on the coffee table, eventually nudging him.

He blinks owlishly, peering at her from eyes dark with contemplation, "Hmmm?"

"Hungry?"

He isn't really, but he nods, "Sure, I could eat."

Her smile is reward enough, "Thought so. It's Thai, I assumed you'd like it."

Nodding again, he leans back, watching her, short sleeved black blouse stretched tight across her body. She smiles as a hand tentatively presses itself against her back, gliding up her spine. Arching forwards she hums her approval, dinner forgotten, any contact feeling amazing after the self-imposed fast that is work. His fingers grip her collar, leading her up and into his arms.

Speaking quietly, his words are intimate and pregnant, "What are you doing for the next few weeks?"

She shrugs, "Clinic I guess. Nothing much to do without you around."

"Take some time off. We could go somewhere." Swivelling around, she eyes him suspiciously.

"You already have plans."

He snarks wildly, "Yeah, I'm totally the kind of guy who likes climbing mountains in my free time."

"No, I mean you planned this. You already know what we're going to do. You assumed I would agree and go beg Cuddy for some time off." Her voice is a mixture of exasperation, annoyance and adoration.

"No. I told Cuddy that you were underperforming and needed some time off. She agreed."

She scowls at him, "Gee thanks, that makes me sound really good. I'm sure Cuddy won't be at all tempted to fire me when she finds out about us now." Launching upwards, she strides angrily into the kitchen, returning with bowls.

Polystyrene screams as her fingers tear it apart in anger, "What do you want to eat?" That the food isn't freezing beneath her gaze is a miracle.

"You're mad at me but still going to feed me? I didn't know you took the Hippocratic oath so seriously." He's so good with words. Only he could make 'you're pathetic' sound like a compliment.

"Just because I'm mad at you doesn't mean I don't love you." The words were out of her mouth too fast to pull them back. Neither expected it and both accepted it as the truth without question.

He tries the truth too, "Cuddy's not going to fire you because she knows."

Her voice is incredulous, "You told her?" This was getting out of hand.

"No. Wilson has a big mouth."

"Of course," she sighs, abandoning the food again, slumping at his side, "Why is everything so difficult."

"I like difficult. Difficult means interesting."

Rolling her eyes, "Difficult means difficult." Dishing up a mixture of savoury delicacies, she hands him the bowl and fork, stealing mouthfuls when she can.

"So where are we going?"

He shrugs, "Thought about Fiji, but didn't know if sun agreed with your vampire complexion."

Elbowing him, she tries not to smile, giving in and sarcastically remarking, "Do you think I'd look good in a bikini?" When he starts to hum and ha in faux uncertainty she elbows him again.

"Bastard."

Nodding, he goes back to consuming the spicy sustenance she procured for him until it is pulled from his hands and placed on the coffee table. Swinging herself onto him, straddling his thighs carefully, she repeats herself.

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise."

"Just answer the question and you'll get your dinner back." Leaning in, she traps him against the back of the couch, sighing as she feels his hands on her ass.

"House?"

His stubble leaves streaks across her cheek, lips on her neck.

"You'll see tomorrow. Now shut up. I'm groping here."

Dropping her head to his shoulder, she lets out another mournful groan, the effect diminished somewhat by her squeak as his hand slaps hard against the rump of her jeans.

Author's Note: A huge thanks to my wonderful betas 0penhearts and ponks19. Without them this chapter would have been even more frustrating. Much love.