Here you go! A nice long chapter. Enjoy!

Drowning in Blue - Chapter Seven

She has changed outfits seven times before finally selecting a pair of cut off shorts and a light blue tank top. Her hair is pulled off her face in a ponytail, the faint stray wisps of bangs framing and softening her face.

Simple, she thinks. Too simple. Maybe she should add a necklace?

But if they are going to get dirty, simple is always better.

She wavers.

The lavender tank top...

But there is no more time to change her mind because a short beep calls her to attention.

He is here. Clearly, his outfit took less time than hers. He looks the same.

He watches her leave the building, taking the opportunity to run his eyes over her shapely legs while she puts her keys in her purse.

He tosses her a helmet and she slides behind him. This time, he doesn't have to move her arms around him. She molds against his back like a little Cameron-shaped tumor, all smiles.

"So where are we going?"

He doesn't respond, just kicks off and drives into the night.

/\/\/\/\

The bar that he pulls up to is crowded with bikes and cars. House eases into a parking spot next to a huge Harley, pauses, and then turns and parks next to a Beetle Bug.

"What? It's sensitive," he says as he detaches his cane from the side. She giggles and follows him inside. Part of her wants to reach for his free hand, but she stops herself.

Inside, the bar is smoky and hot. She feels at least three people brush very awkwardly against her before House grabs her, slips his arm around her waist and walks them to the bar.

"Excuse me! Pardon me! Sober girl coming through. Back off pal, she's mine."

She glows a bit at that.

"Whadda want?" says the exceedingly hairy bartender.

"Two scotches," House orders.

She turns her head to peer up at him quizzically.

"You seemed to like mine so much, I figured you'd want another one."

She blushes.

"So what do we do here?" She has to yell to be heard over the screaming crowd that seems to have clustered in the center of the bar.

"It's jell-o wrestling every Tuesday. Did I forget to mention that?"

"House! I am not wrestling another girl!" she exclaims, slapping his hand and reaching for her scotch.

"As hot as that would be, no. I don't share." The whiskey hits the back of his throat with a satisfying burn. Two Vicodin follow it down.

"You're wrestling me." He looks even more intimidating upside down.

She twists in his grasp to look him eye to eye and pretends she can't feel the curve of his muscles under his t-shirt.

"You're twice my size."

"Eat more."

"But then, you do have a bum leg," she says slyly, meeting his eyes over the rim of her glance.

He smiles slightly as the Vicodin kicks in.

"See? We're even. Of course, I won't go easy on you just because you're a girl."

"Care to wager on the outcome?" she ventures.

"What did you have in mind?" He tries to sound relaxed, casual.

"Oh, open bet."

"Allison..." his voice is low and the rumble against her chest is enough to make her knees weak.

"An open bet is a very dangerous thing."

"Danger? Hah! I live for danger." She isn't sure where that came from, but it makes him smile, so she doesn't care.

"You're on."

She watches as he limps away, holding up the money it takes to get in.

Fifteen minutes later, she is up to mid-calf in cherry jell-o. She wiggles her toes experimentally and is amused by the sensation it invokes.

"Five bucks on the crip," a voice behind her says.

"Are you kidding me? That chick will be all over him."

House grins at her, heavily favoring his left side. The "referees" wouldn't allow him to bring his cane in, so he was guarding his weak spot.

"Begin!"

They stand for a moment, each waiting for the other to move. Finally, she rushes him as best she can. Her bare feet can hardly get enough traction to move.

He laughs at her and scoops up a handful of jell-o.

"Don't you dare!"

"Cameron, I told you we would get dirty," he says as he hurls it towards her.

She shrieks as the cold slime hits her right in the chest. Typical.

"You are dead!"

She picks up smaller handfuls and throws them without aiming.

He ducks a particularly jiggly projectile and begins to slink towards her. By the time she realizes what he is doing, he is already behind her.

"Cameron..." he breathes, licking a bit of jell-o from her earlobe.

She shivers.

He dumps another handful down the back of her shirt. She screams again and falls against him, taking them both down.

She scrambles to pin him beneath her. The jell-o is just past his ears.

"You're too clean, House," she smirks, dumping jell-o onto his chest and rubbing it around.

His hands close around her wrists and she is pulled down so that his nose is barely an inch from hers.

"Open bet Cameron. You're about to lose."

"Wha-?"

Ignoring the muted pain from his thigh, he rolls them, pinning her hands above her head while rubbing jell-o up and down her arms.

"1...2...3! We have a winner!"

House grinned and stood, holding out his hand to help her up. When she has enough faith in her legs to hold her up, she follows him out of the pit and over to a corner.

A man, slightly buzzed, appears out of nowhere, holding House's cane.

"Here you go, pretty girl. Give your boyfriend back his cane," he says.

Boyfriend? She can't move her fingers to take the cane.

"Thank you," House says, reaching around her for it.

"No, thank you. I won free drinks for betting on you," he says with a laugh.

The easy rhythm they had fallen into seemed to have stopped.

Boyfriend...

"Come on, let's get cleaned off," he says, peeling off his jell-o soaked shirt.

She watches as he grabs a wet washcloth and runs it briskly over his hands and arms before moving to his chest.

She doesn't realize he is watching her too until it's too late.

"Like what you see?" he says with an exaggerated wink.

"I don't know. It's an older model," she replies, picking up her own washcloth.

"But very sleek and stylish."

She peels off her own ruined tank top, earning her a few whistles from the patrons. House scowls.

"Jealous?" she says, running the washcloth over her collarbone.

His eyes are very bright.

"Cameron," he says, limping towards her. "You mentioned an open bet..."

"Yes?" she breathes. At this point, she doesn't care what he asks. She just wants him. She wants to feel him, to fuck him and know him in every way a woman can know a man.

She can feel the heat of his body as he closes the last few fingers of distance between them.

"Cameron...you owe me a secret," he whispers smugly.

That's it?

"That's all you want to claim?" She's willing to sound a little shameless.

"For now."

"Alright, fine," she says dejectedly. "If you must know..."

"Actually, you started this," he points out.

"Fine! Whatever! If you must know, I am deathly afraid of cotton balls."

He tilts his head. "Cotton balls? We use those all the time in clinic."

"No, those are the pads. They're pressed, so it isn't as bad. I'm talking about the big fluffy nasty ones that cling to your fingers and get in your eyes and just UGH!"

He laughs. He is laughing at her.

Not your wisest move, Greg House.

"It's not funny!" she exclaims. "I hate them. They're evil, you know."

"Right. They're out to get you," he says, still chuckling.

"Damn straight."

For her embarrassment, she can't meet his eyes.

A finger under her chin brings her gaze back to him.

"Thank you," he says seriously, leaning in and brushing his lips against hers in a faint imitation of their first kiss. The gentleness of the gesture does nothing to diminish its power over her and before she can respond, it is over and House is pulling his shirt back on.

They dress in silence and thirty minutes later, she is standing on the sidewalk, watching him speed away.

At the stop sign, he turns and watches her enter the apartment building. With a sigh, he revs the engine and drives on.

Reviews are always appreciated. I hope everyone liked it! See you soon.