Chapter 6

A/N: I'm...not entirely sure what colour Cameron's eyes are, but I'm leaning on brown. And the fluff just continues, so if you don't like it, you might want to leave.

The answers the prince wanted had not been found, but there were plenty of other ones that had been. He knew…he knew now what love felt like, but he admitted it to no one, not even himself.

"This is it." Cameron paused outside a small restaurant, then pushed open the door. Chase didn't quite get the name before following Cameron inside. The place was empty enough for them each to spot a table. The started in different directions, Chase towards the window, Cameron towards a wall. Chase caught on quicker than Cameron and headed over her way. She put her hand on the back of one chair, and Chase scooted over and pulled it out for her.

She must have misunderstood, as Chase caught a flicker of annoyance as she sat in the chair opposite.

Cameron didn't smile when she handed him a menu. He opened it slowly, watching her eyes run across the page.

She had very pretty eyes, Chase decided, never having really noticed them properly before. Faint make-up lined them, drawing attention to the deep brown.

A faint crease appeared across her forehead, something Chase realised he was quite familiar with. It was always present when she was confused.

What would Cameron be confused about tonight? He wondered. Picking a meal wasn't that difficult.

"Chase?"

Chase put his menu down. Cameron was looking at him, and so was a waiter.

"Done yet?"

Flustered, he hurriedly scanned the list.

"Um…I'll have number 14."

The waiter wrote it down.

"I thought you didn't like fish."

Wondering how she knew that, Chase had another look down at the menu.

"Sorry, I meant 13."

The waiter didn't look at all riled, which Chase was grateful for, as he changed the order.

"Is that all?"

Cameron glanced at Chase before saying, "Yes, thank you."

After straightening out her cutler, Cameron looked up at Chase.

"So," she said, "enjoyed the second half?"

"No," Chase said plainly. "I couldn't understand a word of it."

Cameron laughed prettily, knowing that this time, it wasn't the context that went over his head, but the speaker's accent.

"I had cousins who spoke like that," she told him. "He was still difficult to understand though."

"I had an aunt who spoke like that," Chase said. "She loved to talk. She rang about once a month and I never had the heart to tell her I never caught a word."

Cameron smiled softly – Chase didn't know how one could smile softly or otherwise, but it seemed a fitting adjective. Perhaps it was because of eyes 'softening' with her lips.

Chase shook his head sorrowfully.

"She asked me once whether I was ok with just a card for Christmas. And of course, I didn't know what she said, so I…"

Predicting the rest of the story, Cameron laughed again.

"Poor Chase," she said teasingly. "How old were you?"

"About eight, I think."

"I think that was the year I didn't get anything from Santa," Cameron said thoughtfully. "I was so disappointed. Then my parents told me who Santa really was, and I wouldn't talk to them for all of three hours."

Chase snorted into his glass of water. He had started to take a drink, and was in the middle of swallowing.

An unpleasant feeling went through the back of his throat and into his nose. He started to cough, his eyes watering.

"Are you ok?" Cameron asked him, though Chase thought she didn't sound too concerned.

"Yeah," he got out, blinking away the tears. "I'm fine."

He spent a minute or so wriggling his nose, trying to get rid of the trickling sensation, feeling Cameron's gaze on him. He cursed himself for being an idiot.

Cameron pulled her handbag across her lap and rummaged for something.

She must've kept her bag neat, as she quickly found what she was looking for. She handed him a Kleenex, which he took and blew into.

"Three hours," he said finally, trying to restore some of the sanity that was present before. "Practically a lifetime."

"For an eight year old girl," she said seriously, "when you're not allowed to open your presents, three hours is a long time."

The princess, her affection for the prince growing by the day, realised she was feeling something more than friendship towards the prince, but was struggling to figure out what.

They had been late this morning (surprising, Cameron thought, considering they had both leapt out of bed when Chase's tiny alarm clock had woken them. Cameron had opened her eyes and just prevented herself from exclaiming when she saw Chase sitting up next to her) which was why they hadn't had a chance to request a room change at the reception. This was perhaps why they were having no luck now.

"I'll see what we can do," the smartly dressed receptionist said brightly, but then added, with a hint of doubt, "It's a bit late notice, though."

Cameron nodded politely and thanked him as he left the desk, hopefully to find someone who could help them. Chase was leaning casually against the counter, his arm over the top of it, gazing at Cameron blankly. Cameron was drumming her fingers on the counter top quietly, trying to ignore Chase, watching the receptionist talk to an annoyed looking, straight-backed man, who threw a couple of glances in her direction. An impatient sigh a curt few words later, the two were approached by a seemingly genuine smile.

"I'm so sorry to keep you waiting," and Cameron had to admit he did sound very apologetic. "I'm afraid there's no room available for you tonight. One will be vacant on Saturday. We could book you in for then, if you would like."

"We'll be gone by then," Cameron told him. "But thank you."

Chase peeled himself off the counter.

"That's that, then," he said to Cameron. She nodded dejectedly as they made their way to the elevator, Cameron still feeling the man's smile on her back.

"Oh, well," she said, pushing the up button. "As long as sleeping with me wasn't that bad…"

Chase remained silent. He had seemed edgy around her today. Not in a totally obvious way, but a noticeable one - she was fairly certain that, had they been back in New Jersey, House would've picked up on it almost instantly, but Foreman…actually, she wasn't sure about Foreman. She was never sure about Foreman any more - his eyes never seemed to meet hers, not even when he was talking to her. She was quite sure he didn't used to avoid eye contact. He had jumped, too, when she put his plate down on the table over his shoulder.

Back in their room, they were quick to get ready for bed. They were both quite tired. Cameron could understand her own sleepiness; doing nothing all but sit and listen wore her out. She wasn't quite sure why Chase was in the same state of mind, but concluded it was probably the same reason as her.

Lying in bed, Cameron could feel Chase, still totally unrelaxed, beside her. She decided that the only way to make him more comfortable was to bridge the gap they were trying so hard to maintain. She reached out a hand tentatively, searching for his underneath the blankets. He immediately recoiled when she came into contact with it.

"Sorry," she said automatically, drawing her own hand back into her half of the bed. Chase mumbled something along the lines of "It's fine," and they went back to being awkwardly silent, though they both knew what the other was thinking about.

After that, Cameron decided she didn't care whether Chase slept at all, but she was going to, so she did.