Sorry for the slight delay in updating; this was quite a slow chapter to write. I've made an effort to keep House as in-character as the plot allows!

Thanks once again for all of your kind reviews; nothing is more encouraging for an author than seeing that readers have taken the time to share their thoughts on your work. Keep them coming. :)

All the best,
-RGB


Cameron watched House as he unselfconsciously tore into his sandwich. They were seated at a small table near the window in the coffee shop just beside the park. It was lunchtime, and the place was just starting to get really busy, but they'd arrived at just the right time to get a table. Cameron had ordered a pasta salad, and House of course had the inevitable reuben.

I can't believe it's not even been 24 hours, she thought. Yesterday at this time she was in the cafeteria at work, and things were how they'd always been.

And it finally struck her: work. What do we do at work? Probably keep it quiet for a while, I guess.

She felt the cognitive dissonance of having two completely opposing opinions at the same time. On one hand she saw the sense of keeping it quiet; there was less chance of other people causing problems, and Cuddy wouldn't have anything to say about it.

But at the same time, she couldn't help but want to go public with the news. Even though Chase will do his hurt puppy face. Even though Foreman will tell me to be careful.

She realized that she could actually live with it either way, but what she was really interested in was what House wanted to do.

He'll want to keep it quiet. She was sure of it. But it wouldn't hurt to ask.

"Greg," she began, and he looked up, his mouth still full. "What are we going to do, you know, at work?"

He nodded, wearing a momentary expression of concentration, and swallowed the bite of sandwich before speaking.

"Well, a big part of it is dealing with patients. Somebody sick will come to the hospital. We'll do some differential diagnosis. You'll probably run some tests. I'll try to beat my best times on Mario Kart. We'll treat the patient, and they'll get better. It won't be lupus."

She gave him what he was fast realizing was her "frustrated but amused" smile. "I mean about... us. You know what I mean."

"Oh that. Right. Actually, I kind of assumed you'd quit and stay at home from now on," he smirked, and she crumpled up her napkin and threw it at him. He caught it effortlessly, and then threw it over his shoulder without even glancing behind.

"What do you want to do?" he asked, pausing for a moment and then grinning. "I'm kind of looking forward to telling Chase."

"You're impossible," she said, but she was smiling. He raised one palm towards her - OK, fair point - and shrugged.

"We'll play it by ear. I think I already got Wilson off my back, and I doubt Cuddy'll have much to say. Chase will do his best Antipodean pout and flick his hair, and Foreman will tell you be careful, biznitch. No big mystery."

She laughed out loud and simultaneously shook her head in a token show of reproachfulness. He was, of course, right. She was pleasantly surprised that he didn't seem particularly worried about whether people knew or not.

But then, that's House all over. This thought brought an unexpected flutter of nervousness about the working week ahead, though not of an entirely unpleasant kind.

She simply nodded at him and went back to her lunch, but not without noticing the thoughtful look on his face, and the vague smirk which accompanied it. The week ahead would no doubt prove interesting.


"OK, home please," said Cameron, as they approached the bike in the parking area. House raised one eyebrow lasciviously, and she shook her head.

"Not for you. I need a few hours to do some stuff around my apartment," - she put her hand on his chest when she saw his face fall slightly, "- but you can come over later, say around 7? I'll cook."

He smiled rather smugly at this, and she shouldn't help but grin. Men tended to enjoy the idea of a woman promising to cook for them. It was one of the universal invariants.

"Let's do this," he said, and handed her the helmet as he climbed onto the bike.

With the cane safely stowed, sunglasses on, and Cameron's arms securely around his waist, he started the engine and retracted the kickstand. He still wore the same self-satisfied expression as he guided the bike out of the parking area and merged into the flow of traffic.


The noise of the engine, and the fact that Cameron was wearing his helmet, precluded any possibility of conversation during the ride, and so House focused on his own thoughts.

This is easy. These things are never easy. So why am I not surprised?

The idea of getting back into a relationship had become distorted with the passing of five years; enlarged into something with so many variables and possible negative outcomes that for a long time it had seemed far easier to simply avoid adding that complication to his life. The prospect that something could begin as easily as this relationship with Cameron. with so little resistance, had never even entered his mind. And yet, it seemed to be something he'd known already. That was pretty interesting.

We've been dancing around this for a couple of years now, he admitted. Me as much as her. Maybe we got used to the idea a long time ago.

That made some kind of sense. The question was whether it would stay this easy. He had a feeling it would.

House shifted up a gear and the Honda gratefully surged forward. The big liquid-cooled 16-valve engine had plenty more to give, and the miles between the park and Cameron's apartment rapidly disappeared.


Cameron stepped off the bike. handing the helmet to House with a smile.

"Seven sharp," he said, and she nodded. After a moment she reached out and placed her hand over his.

"I'm really happy about this. I know it's going to work out."

He glanced downwards for a moment before meeting her gaze again, wearing his characteristic lopsided grin.

"I think so," he said.

She leaned in and kissed him, then with a brief squeeze of his hand she turned and went to the door of her building. She looked back to see that House was now wearing the helmet, albeit with the visor flipped up. Good, she thought.

He nodded a goodbye, and reached for the key in the ignition to start the bike, but was stopped by the sound of her voice.

"Hey, bring an overnight bag." Her face was as neutral as she could make it, but he saw her eyes flash.

He twisted the key in the ignition by way of response, and revved the engine twice in quick succession. Though he could no longer hear anything but the sound of the bike, he could see she was laughing, and blushing prettily.

She waved and he briefly returned the gesture as he engaged the clutch and pulled smoothly away from the curb. She watched the bike accelerate down the street and out of view, but she still stood looking off in the direction he'd gone for more than a minute before she finally went inside, still smiling.


Wilson clicked off the TV in his hotel room as he heard the sound of his cellphone ringing from the coffee table in front of him. Picking up the phone, he saw the caller ID on the screen: House. Raising an eyebrow without being aware of it, he flipped the phone open to answer the call.

"Dating Advice Service," he said. "My name is James. How can I help you today?"

"Do you do on-site consultations?" Wilson could hear the grin in his friend's voice even over the phone.

"She dumped you already?" Wilson asked, frowning slightly.

"I've always appreciated your faith in me," he replied with mock seriousness. "I just left her place, not seeing her til seven. Why don't you drop by? We can braid each other's hair."

"Probably the best offer I'll get today," Wilson sighed. "Give me ten minutes." He heard the line go dead and smiled wryly. He'd have to have a word with Cameron about teaching the man some better manners.

Or trying to, he though, and picked up his jacket.


Barely ten minutes later, House heard a familiar two sharp knocks on the door, and shouted "It's open."

Last night's takeout had already been cleared away, and he now sat with his feet on the coffee table. He barely glanced away from the hockey game on the TV as Wilson entered and took off his jacket.

House lowered the volume of the TV slightly as Wilson joined him on the couch.

"So," Wilson began after watching the hockey game for a few moments, "you and Cameron."

"Yup."

"Just since last night?" Wilson had wondered several times during the course of the day if so much could possibly have taken place in just one day.

"Yup."

Wilson briefly rubbed his temple with his right hand, and then turned to face his friend.

"What the hell happened?"

"Been asking myself that all day," House replied. "Basically, it went down like this: ..."


Wilson had barely interjected as House described the events of the previous evening, including what he had told both Eve and Cameron about his father. It took only fifteen minutes to bring Wilson more or less up to date.

"Wow," Wilson said, after a long pause. "I'm... not sure what to say. I'm sorry, about your father." He glanced towards House, who nodded without meeting his gaze.

"I'm still not completely convinced any of this is actually happening." Wilson's voice was quiet and contemplative. After a moment, he turned once again to face House.

"Do you want to talk about what happened with your dad?"

"Nope," House responded immediately, and then sighed. "Not today."

This time it was Wilson's turn to nod, glancing briefly at the almost silent hockey game playing on the TV.

"You're actually serious about her then?" he asked after another pause, and House looked round at him.

"Like Snap said, I'm serious as cancer."

Wilson glanced at him with a look of distaste, which was diluted somewhat by the small smirk on his face. "That's charming," he said. His face betrayed the fact that he was still getting used to this new state of affairs, and after a moment he spoke again. "You going to tell Cuddy?"

House grinned. "You think she'll be jealous?"

"Hardly," Wilson snorted. "But she will give you the talk. You know, the one about not letting it interfere with your work." Wilson paused for a moment as a thought occurred to him. "You're not going to keep this quiet, are you?"

House shrugged, which was as good as an admission in this context. "But don't you go running to Cuddy or anybody else. We'll let people know, somehow. Maybe I'll carve our initials into a patient."

Wilson laughed and shook his head. "Just give me some warning. I don't want to miss the show."

The two men didn't speak for the next few minutes, watching the hockey in a companionable silence. It was House who finally spoke, not looking away from the TV.

"Thanks."

Wilson glanced over at him. "For what?"

"For being so goddamn irritating for the last five years."

Wilson understood the sentiment regardless of House's offhand phrasing, and made a mental note to log this date in his diary. I never thought I'd see the day, he thought.

"You're entirely welcome," Wilson said, and House could hear in his tone that the message had been received.

There was another lull in the conversation, and they watched most of the remainder of the hockey game (uninterrupted, thanks to House's TiVo) with only occasional outbursts directed towards the New Jersey Devils.

When the game had finished, Wilson clapped his hands onto his knees and stood up.

"Time for me to begin foraging for dinner, I think."

House glanced at his wristwatch and shrugged. "I'm not eating for an hour or two. You're on your own."

"Indeed," Wilson sighed, and House grinned.

"What are you two up to tomorrow?" the younger man asked, and House blinked at the idea of now being part of a you two once more. It was strange, but not entirely uncomfortable.

"No idea," he replied, and Wilson nodded twice before replying.

"I'll probably go into work. Insurance reports for the month are due by Thursday. Anyway, enjoy your evening, and have a pleasant Sunday on my behalf."

House nodded and stood up, limping over to the door to show his friend out. Once Wilson had shrugged his jacket on, he joined House at the open door but didn't immediately go out.

"This is probably the best thing that's happened to you since... well, since you were last training for the men's 400 meters. I'm happy for you. And again, please don't screw it up."

House glanced downwards briefly, considering the other man's words. At length, he nodded. Wilson prepared to step out through the doorway, then hesitated.

House was momentarily taken aback when Wilson suddenly hugged him, but he recovered after a moment and clapped his friend twice on the back.

"Dude, gay," quipped House, but he was smiling faintly, and Wilson laughed and stepped back at last. With a final nod, Wilson turned and went out into the outer hallway, and House closed the door behind him.

House shook his head, but he was pleased. For perhaps the thousandth time, he reflected on how bizarre their friendship was.

He still cares too much, House thought.

That was true; indeed, House had long ago realized that he seemed to attract people like that. But it wasn't a complaint. He was always glad that Wilson was around, and he owed his friend more than he would probably ever admit. The cash for the bike wasn't even the half of it.

He put on some music and settled back down onto the couch, preoccupied with thoughts of the past few years, and also increasingly, the possibilities of the next few. By the time a further half hour had passed, he had fallen asleep.