Chapter IX – The Nurse Who Loved Me (9/12)

I'm taking her home with me all dressed in white
She's got everything I need some pills in a little cup
She's falling hard for me I can see it in her eyes

He knew as soon as he woke up that he wasn't alone in the room. More importantly, he knew who'd be there and he should probably request Cuddy to up his morphine, because he could still remember the way Cameron stormed out of his room earlier.

"You're awake," she pointed out the obvious.

He sat up, only to find several items on the tray next to the bed. "What are these?" he asked.

She bit her lip, "I, uh… brought you some stuff."

He rummaged through the pile: his Nintendo DS, his PSP, a pile of games (some he'd never seen before), and an iPod. "This isn't mine," he said, holding out the iPod. "What did you do, raid some rich kid's room in Oncology?"

She glared at him, "No… it's mine, yours didn't hold as much stuff, and you couldn't play videos. I put General Hospital and The O.C. on there, even though I don't really believe you watch The O.C."

He snickered. "I love Brian and Marissa."

"It's Ryan, and there should be at least two weeks worth of General Hospital on there to keep you busy. Plus I transferred all your songs—and I bought some games because you didn't have enough, so I figured—"

He frowned, "You're babbling," he pointed out. "Yesterday you were yelling at me, today you're buying me games."

She shrugged, "I went home, and I realized I had nothing to do; the only things, the only people I care about, are in this hospital."

"You can return to work immediately," he told her, knowing how much she loved her job, but she shook her head.

"I have two weeks off - paid."

"I just did that so I could try to keep you away from the hospital; obviously it didn't work, so it wouldn't be fair to keep you away from the job you love."

She shook her head again, "No, but that does raise an interesting point. How are you going to get rid of the investigation?"

"I'll talk to Cuddy, she'll dismiss it all."

"How can you be so sure?" Cameron asked him with her naïve eyes. "What if she believes you and I have been sleeping together, how could she allow me to stay on your team?"

He sighed, looking away. "Ahem, we, uh—Cuddy's a lot of things, but she's not a hypocrite."

When his eyes finally met hers, he saw realization slowly dawning on her as her eyes grew bigger and bigger by the second. "You and--"

He nodded, "It was a long time ago, long before Stacy… and then again for a little while after Stacy left," he admitted.

She pursed her lips. "I'd always—always suspected it, I think everyone does. But I--" she trailed off.

"Yeah," he said, looking down at the hospital blanket.

"Anything else I can get you?" She asked, standing up.

"Sponge bath?" he joked, then he realized how awkward it had sounded, especially considering he had no idea where they were sex-wise. He'd admitted to her that he'd planned on breaking things off with her rather than tell her the truth about the surgery, then she'd left being mad at him… but now she was back and bringing him things, and offering to take care of him, and he was sharing secrets with her about his past relationships.

Maybe he could blame it all on the morphine.

"Maybe later," she said with an eyebrow rising suggestively.

Well, what was her excuse?

"People are gonna talk, you know?" He told her as he played one of the games she'd brought.

She looked up from the book she'd been reading with a raised eyebrow. "About what?"

He met her eyes briefly, "About how the love-struck Dr. Cameron would not leave Dr. House's bedside for hours after his surgery."

Cameron shrugged, "Let them." She returned her eyes to her book, and the beeping coming from his PSP told her he was focusing on his game, but there was something still bugging her. "What were you planning to do about Chase and Foreman? How did you know they weren't going to tell me about the surgery? Or any of the doctors and nurses in this hospital?"

It was his turn to shrug.

She gave him a smirk, "You didn't really think this completely through, did you?"

He shook his head, "I figured I'd have two Cameron-free weeks to think about the small stuff."

She continued to read her book, trying to hide her amusement.

"Have you seen Mackie yet?"

"No, her blood pressure was all over the place, so they induced a coma; she'll still be out for the next couple of hours."

He nodded. "You know," he added, "I had never pegged you for a Catholic."

Cameron closed her book, looking at him. "I'm not; haven't been for a long time."

House's eyes did the squinting thing they did when they were trying to figure out a puzzle. "Since your husband's death?"

She laughed softly and shook her head. "Why do people always assume atheists are atheists because they're disappointed or mad with God?" She asked rhetorically. "I can't be mad at something I don't believe."

"And yet your best friend's a nun," he pointed out.

"She wasn't a nun in high school," Cameron replied.

House got something of a gleam in his eyes, "Tell me, did you guys wear uniforms?"

Cameron grinned, "Yes."

She watched with amazement as he bit his lower lip. "Do you still have it?"

Her only reply was another smirk.

5 Weeks Before

He wasn't going to lose this bet.

The lackeys had apparently decided that he'd taught them everything there was to know; when he'd started the differential, Foreman had scoffed at him and bet $100 that the 3 of them could figure this one out on their own in less than 24 hours.

All this because he'd made fun of their diagnoses; one would think they'd have thicker skins by now.

Of course, if they lost, he'd be $300 richer and each of them would be $100 poorer; if they won, he'd be $300 poorer and really pissed off.

Chase's idea, as usual, had been stupid from the beginning, plus his test would take at least 12 hours to come back, so he went home.

House knew his main concern would be Foreman and Cameron. Foreman was currently investigating the patient's home – except House knew exactly what the patient had, and it wasn't environmental; so Foreman was definitely brrrr—freezing.

Which left Cameron. Blood tests were definitely the way to go, and she was making good use of her 24 hours, because she was running every test under the sun; that was not good news for him, because sooner or later, one test would come back positive, and he'd be hitting Wilson up for $300.

"What are you still doing here?" She asked him, glancing at the clock that hung against the wall.

He shrugged. "We have a dying patient, Dr. Cameron. I could never sleep, knowing this poor soul can leave this hospital, and this world any minute," he lied affectedly.

She rolled her eyes and returned her gaze to the microscope.

House moved towards the stool she was sitting in, letting the hand that was not holding the cane graze just slightly against her hip. He heard her sharp intake of a breath and he smirked…

…this was going to be easy.

He stood just behind her, not caring that anyone who passed the lab's glass walls would see that he was past invading her personal space. He felt her stiffening up at his close proximity at work; this wasn't a quickie in the morgue or the storage closet, this was in the open, where anyone could see. Anyone working late, that is.

"Find anything?" He practically whispered against the nape of her neck. Her hair was up in an untidy pony tail, exposing her perfect, pale skin to him. He'd admired breasts, legs, ass, even the occasionally perfect taut tummy, but he'd never been aroused by the sight of a neck before.

Perhaps he was getting just a little too much into this, but he might as well have fun.

His free hand moved to the table in front of her, trapping her even further between him and the counter.

She shook her head in response to his earlier question, as she placed another specimen under the microscope; she was trembling slightly, to his advantage.

"You won't find anything," he lied. "You're looking in the wrong place."

She laughed, and her back vibrated against his chest. "I don't think so."

"How come?" He asked, emphasizing the last word just slightly.

She turned her heard towards him just enough to see him out of the corner of her eye. "Because you're here, -distracting me-, and that means I'm pretty close."

He snorted. "I'm not trying to distract you," he whispered, letting his tongue slide out for just a second to taste her earlobe. "If I wanted to distract you, however, I'd do this," he said as he leaned his cane against the counter and moved his now free hand to her knee. "And this," he continued, moving his other hand to brush against her breast through her vest, shirt and bra. She did always wear too many clothes; he should send her shopping with Cuddy one of these days.

His hand dropped to his side again, but his other hand stayed on her knee.

"It's not gonna work," she said with confidence.

"It won't?" This time, the hand on her knee moved to her inner thigh, about three inches away from her center. He nudged her head aside with his, so he could look at the microscope, that way if anyone was watching them, they'd think he was just supporting himself against the counter to look through the microscope.

He felt her eyes burning into him, and he met them just in time to see her licking her lips. He dimly realized that he was here to distract her, not vice-versa, so he moved his hand higher until he touched her. The heat from her core was burning through her slacks, and he knew she was wet already; too bad he couldn't feel it. He focused his attention on the area around her clit, circling with his index finger through the thin fabric of her slacks. Her thighs were squeezing against one another, trapping his hand between her legs.

"Are you sure you're not distracted?" He asked her hoarsely.

She nodded even as she bit her lip.

He realized she was aroused, but it was unlikely she was going to orgasm this way. He needed to switch hands, so he removed his hand (enjoying the way she moaned at the loss) and whispered in her ear: "Unbutton your slacks."

He then moved to bring a stool to her left side, as close as possible.

She stared at him, puzzled, as he turned on one of the LCD monitors on his left on and connected the microscope to it, so he could see what she was examining, all without having to actually look at her. To any passerby, he was just sitting dangerously close to his employee, watching as she examined specimens from their latest case.

Her lab coat gave his right hand the needed cover, so he moved to continue his assault. His chin rested on his left hand, propped up against the counter, barely paying attention to the screen in front of him. "Next specimen, Dr. Cameron," he told her, enjoying the way she squirmed against him as she switched them.

His hand found her as wet as he'd imagined; the position was still awkward, so he couldn't insert his fingers inside her as he would have liked to – he had to settle for only going in one-knuckle-deep. She tried to tilt her hips so he could go deeper, even as she continued to go through tests and dyes and samples, mechanically moving through them.

His efforts doubled when he realized she was closer to the correct test, and he hoped she'd orgasm before realizing the right diagnosis. She was biting her lower lip to keep quiet, and he could feel the tension in her thigh as it rubbed against his; his own erection was painful, and he wished he could just throw her on the ground and get himself off as well as her, glass walls be damned – but he couldn't, seeing as that would cost him $300 (and possibly his job).

"Brucellosis," she moaned as she came around his finger.

"Who's Bruce?" He asked, feigning innocence and he removed his hand from her. "I was going for 'Oh, House', I would've even settled for 'Oh, Greg', but if you're taking to calling other men's names while I'm making you orgasm in the lab, maybe it's time we rethink this."

"That's the diagnosis: Brucellosis."

He sighed, erection fading just slightly when he got another idea. "Don't tell the others and I'll take you out to dinner. In a real restaurant, with real people."

She smiled, making him think he had her but she just shook her head. "No way."

"I'll split it with you," he said. "You'll make $50 off it."

She buttoned up her pants and took her phone out, probably getting ready to call Foreman.

"Fine, you keep your $100 plus Chase's $100," he gave in.

A finely shaped eyebrow rose at him. "And dinner?"

He squinted, refusing to give in; but it wasn't just about the money – he didn't want to give Foreman and Chase the satisfaction of winning. So he nodded. "As long as we get out of here now," he said, pointing to the slight tenting in his pants before he limped out of the room.

It took her less than two minutes to catch up with him.