On our last day at the cabin, House said he wanted to just sit around and do absolutely nothing. I had dragged him into town several times over the weekend for sightseeing, and he was getting tired of having to behave himself in public. The prospect of vegging out with him was certainly appealing. I wanted him all to myself as much as possible before we had to return to work. I had no idea what would happen between us once we were back at the hospital, and I was trying not to think about it.

The morning was filled with exactly what House wanted: absolutely nothing. We skimmed through the bookshelves in the living room, sat on the porch swing and enjoyed the breeze, and made a half-assed attempt at completing a crossword puzzle. We finally ordered a pizza for a late lunch and started flipping through the hundreds of tv channels, not really paying much attention to any one show. The search was over, though, when we found a monster truck rally.

"Too bad we don't have any cotton candy," House said, waggling his eyebrows, as he pulled me against his chest and wrapped his arm snugly around my shoulders. I smiled into his t-shirt, surprised that he remembered that detail of the evening we spent together so long ago.

I would never admit to him that I hated monster trucks. I'm sure he knew it, though. But I would gladly suffer through any torture to be able to curl up with him on a couch and eat pizza and laugh at the silliness of the rally. Those moments were rare, when he dropped all pretenses and sarcasm, and just allowed himself to enjoy something as simple as a tv show at face value. I wanted to be able to see him like that more frequently now.

After we had finished stuffing ourselves with pizza, House scooted down on the couch.

"Come here," he said, and he pulled me on top of him, my body stretched out over his and my head resting on his chest. He cradled my head with one graceful hand and threaded his fingers through my hair.

"Am I squishing you?" I tried to shift most of my weight to his left side to protect his leg.

"Nope." The fingers of his other hand lazily drifted up and down my back. "This is perfect," he mumbled.

Occasionally his chest rumbled with a chuckle at the antics going on in the rally, but I blocked out the sounds of the tv and focused on the beating of his heart just underneath my ear. My eyelids grew heavier with each gentle stroke down my spine, and I allowed myself to drift off to sleep.

I'm not sure how long I slept. The sun was low on the horizon when I woke up, so it must have been a couple of hours. The tv was still on, but the volume was turned down all the way. Golden light seeped through the windows and bathed the entire room in a soft glow. House's chest rose and fell in the slow rhythm of slumber; his arm was still draped across my back, his hand resting at the base of my spine underneath my shirt.

Moving gingerly so as not to wake him, I lifted my head and gazed at his sleeping form. He would kill me if I ever said it, but I could only describe him in that moment as beautiful. His tousled hair, long eyelashes against ever so slightly rosy cheeks, dark stubble on his chiseled jawline, and perfectly kissable lips – he was gorgeous. I couldn't help pressing my lips to his softly. Even in his sleep, he responded to my touch. His mouth pursed and he kissed me back briefly before he sighed and turned his head.

I decided to let him sleep while I took a bath. I gently rolled off of him and stood completely still next to the couch for a second until I was sure he was still soundly asleep. He turned onto his side and threw one leg off the edge of the cushion and one arm over the back of the couch, but didn't wake up.

I made the bath as hot as I could stand it and added scented bath salts before slipping into the steaming water. I clipped my hair into a messy bun and leaned back so that the water covered me up to my neck. My eyes closed and my thoughts drifted to our return home in the morning.

This new side of House that had been revealed to me this weekend made me feel simultaneously elated and uneasy. I'd have to be an idiot to be anything less than thrilled with this development in our relationship. But I also knew exactly how fickle he could be with his emotions. He kept me in a constant state of perplexity at work, one minute searching my soul with a lingering glance and the next finding some arbitrary excuse to push me away. I often went home at the end of the day in a tailspin, not sure where I stood with him.

And now, I had no idea how House would react once we got back to the real world. I wasn't fooling myself; I knew we were both on an emotional high at the moment. It's easy to get in touch with your feelings when you're away from all the stresses of everyday life, away from people who know you and who might judge. The true test would come when our plane landed in Princeton and we saw each other in familiar settings, with the same familiar coworkers, going through the same familiar daily routines. I didn't want flowers and sonnets and romantic gestures. I simply wanted House to start treating me like his equal and his partner, rather than just a pretty piece of lobby art who occasionally managed to come up with a good idea or two.

My mind wandered back into reality when I sensed that I was being watched. I kept my eyes closed, but I knew that House was standing in the doorway, looking at me with fascination. I could always tell when he was watching me. His gaze could be so intense, so raw and focused, that sometimes I swore it was a palpable force on my skin. It used to make me uncomfortable, but now I welcomed the tingle in my nerve endings that indicated his watchful presence.

He stood there for a minute or two before entering the bathroom. I finally opened my eyes when he sat on the edge of the tub and dipped his fingertips into the water.

"You're awake," I said with a smile.

"I got cold without my Cameron blanket."

Something in his voice told me that this was not merely one of his sarcastic comments. I think he was speaking literally, which caught me off guard. He really couldn't sleep without my body next to his. In a complete role reversal, I felt like I had to make a suggestive comment to compensate for his seriousness.

"Mmm, don't worry, I'll warm you up." I sat up, ready to get out of the bath and get him into the bedroom, but he placed a firm hand on my shoulder. I searched his eyes. The gears were turning in that incredible mind. He seemed to be having difficult formulating his next words, so I placed my hand on his and waited patiently.

"I'm not good at this," he finally said.

"At what?"

"At, you know, this… talking… thing." I had never seen him struggle so much to complete a sentence.

"You talk to me all the time, House."

"You know what I mean." His hand slid down my arm and into the water before coming to rest on my knee. He stared at my kneecap, refusing to make eye contact with me.

I was pretty sure I did know what he meant. Before me sat the most articulate man I had ever met, suddenly at a loss for words when he tried to express his feelings. It was frustrating, yet incredibly endearing.

"Can we not do this while you're naked? It's distracting me."

"That's a new one," I mused. "You're asking me to put my clothes on?"

"Don't get too used to it," he said as he offered me his hand to help me out of the tub. He grabbed a clean, fluffy towel and wrapped it around me, pulling me close to him. "I promise you won't be wearing this towel for long."

We stood like that for a couple of minutes, my back against his chest, his arms wrapped around me, our bodies swaying together ever so slightly. His left hand fell away from my waist and I felt it move behind me. He was reaching for something in his pocket. I craned my neck to look up at his face, and his expression was earnest. Again, I waited while he gathered his thoughts.

I expected him to speak, but instead his lips grazed the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. Both of his hands were on my shoulders now, and suddenly he was reaching around and placing a thin silver chain around my neck, fastening the clasp with agile fingers.

I was so shocked by the gesture that I didn't even look at the necklace at first. Jewelry from House? Surely he wasn't turning into a sappy romantic on me.

"House, it's beautiful, when did you get – "

"You haven't even looked at it yet," he interrupted as I turned around to face him.

I held the pendant between my thumb and index finger and inspected it closely. It was a simple oval-shaped disk made of silver. On one side, the words "Primum non nocere" were engraved. The English translation was written in script on the reverse side: "First do no harm."

"The Hippocratic Oath?" I looked up at him quizzically.

"Very astute observation, Dr. Cameron," he said, not unkindly.

I could instantly think of a thousand reasons why House should carry a reminder of this sacred oath with him. He risked people's lives constantly in the name of science. I sometimes wondered if it was a game to him, or if he was indulging in some sick God complex. But why did he think I needed to wear the oath around my neck? I usually acted as his conscience. Indignation welled up inside me. How dare he suggest that I was a careless doctor who needed constant reminding of my duty to my patients?

"Exactly what are you trying to say here?" My voice was steady even as it conveyed my anger at his insinuation. "I'm a good doctor. If anything, you could stand to be reminded of this oath from time to time."

House sighed in frustration. "I told you I'm not good at this." He lifted the pendant from my collarbone, turned it over a few times. "Look, don't be so literal about everything. This isn't an admonition. It's a promise."

"I don't understand."

Graceful fingers brushed a strand of hair away from my eye, tucked it behind my ear. His eyes finally met mine, for the first time since he entered the bathroom.

"You know why I resisted this for so long? Because contrary to popular belief, I don't enjoy hurting people. And I could never live with myself if I hurt you." His features softened with an expression of immense sadness. "More than I already have, that is."

I cradled his face with my hands, forcing him to maintain eye contact. "I'm not fragile, House."

"That's become apparent over the last few years. But I still don't think you're fully aware yet of my capacity for fucking up a good thing."

"So I'm a good thing, hmm?" I said it playfully, but House paused and looked at me seriously.

"Cameron, you're the best thing that's happened to me in a very long time," he said as he wrapped his arms around me once more and nuzzled his nose against my cheek.

I was floored. For him to admit that to himself, let alone verbalize it, astounded me.

"I'm afraid I'll do something or say something to make you walk away," he said, barely above a whisper. As if saying it too loudly would make it a certainty. He pulled back slightly and picked up the necklace again, rubbed his thumb over it.

"First do no harm. You and I both know I'm far from perfect. But I can promise that I will do everything in my power to not hurt you again. I want to try to make this work. I… I want to be with you."

Standing on tiptoes to reach him, I pressed my lips against his in a kiss that spoke everything I felt for him. Emotions I wasn't ready to put into words yet. His promise was all that I needed for the time being. More than I could ask of him, really.

"House, we're already making this work," I whispered against his lips. "I'm yours, you know that, right?"

He breathed a heavy sigh, perhaps of relief, then nodded his head and deepened the kiss. His hands roamed across my upper back, leaving my skin hot and urgent for more. I pulled back from him, removed the clip from my hair, and tugged at my towel, allowing it to fall to the floor. He stared shamelessly at my body, wide-eyed with desire. God, I loved making him react like that.

"You coming?" I said as I walked down the hallway towards the bedroom, swaying my hips seductively.

"Oh my god, yes."

He moved fast for a cripple, only a few steps behind me until we reached the foot of the bed, where I abruptly turned around to face him. He stopped dead in his tracks and again looked me up and down. I had never felt sexier, standing before him completely naked, completely exposed to his unwavering gaze.

I craved his touch, needed to feel his body against mine. Our hands worked together to undress him – he pulled his t-shirt over his head and threw it across the room while I fumbled with his belt buckle and zipper. Finally, we were skin to skin. Those first few seconds of contact, of pressing our bodies together just to feel the heat radiating between us, were always such bliss that it almost didn't matter what followed.

House lowered me to the bed while we kissed deeply, and I whimpered when he nibbled my lower lip. We lay on our sides facing each other, content for the moment to simply explore each other slowly. I wanted to know every inch of him, to discover his most sensitive spots, to find out what would make him moan. Apparently, he had the same idea, because his hands were sliding languorously up and down my body, hitting all the right spots and making me lose all cognitive functioning.

With each sweep of his hand down my body, I felt him move closer to my inner thighs. I spread my legs for him, eager to show him how much he turned me on, how badly I wanted him. His fingers brushed against my entrance, spreading my wetness. He groaned at how slick I was.

"See what you do to me?" I said as I reached for him, wrapped my hand around his erection and thumbed the head. He bit his bottom lip, which was possibly the sexiest thing I've ever seen him do.

House broke our contact then. He moved towards the headboard, sat upright and cushioned his back with pillows as he pulled me onto his lap. I straddled him, hovering above him, kissing his face and neck as I rubbed my clit with his cock. A deep moan escaped his lips.

I sank down onto him slowly, using all the strength I had in my thighs to prolong the action. I wanted him to feel my warmth envelop him inch by excruciating inch. When he was so deep inside me that I could feel him in my stomach, I paused so we could savor the sensation. House rested his forehead against mine, and I could feel his rapid breaths on my cheek. He held my face in his hands, brushed his thumb across my lips, twirled a strand of my hair around his finger.

When he couldn't stand the stillness any longer, he began rocking his hips against mine, urging me to move. I raised up on my knees and sank down again and again, still working at a slow, teasing pace. His eyes slipped closed and his head tilted back.

"Open your eyes, House," I said breathlessly.

His eyes snapped open and met mine with intensity. We found a steady rhythm and moved together, never breaking eye contact.

"House…" I grasped his hands in mine and laced our fingers together, pushing against him for leverage. "Tell me your favorite part of this. Of us."

He grinned and squeezed my hands tighter. "I should've figured you'd be a talker in bed."

"I'm serious," I mumbled against his mouth.

"I have to pick just one thing?"

"Mmmhmm… Mmmm!" My answer in the affirmative turned into a moan as House sank his teeth into my neck, just hard enough to send a jolt of pleasurable pain through my nerve endings.

"That right there. That's my favorite thing." He disentangled one hand from mine and traced an invisible line from the base of my throat down my chest and around the swell of my breast. His finger gently squeezed my nipple and I gasped. "I love how sensitive you are to my touch. How expressive you are. How vocal you are."

His hand moved to my other breast and toyed with that nipple, teasing it into an impossibly tight peak. When he pinched it, the sensation shot straight down to my core, and I cried out his name as my inner muscles clamped down around him.

"I love hearing your moans and sighs, and I love knowing that I'm responsible for them. I love making you lose control." As he spoke the last sentence, his hips thrust up sharply against me, pushing in deeper than I thought possible. He moved so quickly and it affected me so powerfully that I collapsed forward against his chest, gripping his shoulders with white-knuckled intensity.

"Your turn, Cameron," he said as he wrapped his arms around me. "What's your favorite part?"

I stilled my movements briefly, ready to demonstrate. "You're the musician, it makes sense that you'd be attracted to the more audibly pleasing aspects of lovemaking. I, however, am more appreciative of visuals."

I sat upright and pulled off of him completely. His erection was mere inches away from my entrance, achingly hard and swollen, glistening with my wetness, twitching in anticipation. I wrapped my hand around the base and held him still as I rubbed myself against the head of his cock. His lips parted and he panted. A series of strained expressions crossed his face, each one more beautiful than the last. His brow was covered with a sheen of sweat, making his hair cling in damp curls to his skin.

"Like that," I said. "God, I never get tired of watching you. Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?"

He opened his eyes and a blush crept across his face. I made House blush. Once again, I slowly sank down onto him.

"Look at us, House." I squeezed the base of his cock gently, and I felt him swell inside me. "Look at how perfectly we fit together."

We both watched, observed with almost scientific scrutiny, as our bodies joined. When his cock had disappeared inside me completely, he let out a breath he had been holding, and suddenly we were moving with each other in hard, deep thrusts.

We were both close. A sense of urgency came over us, and House slipped his hand between our bodies. His thumb found my clit and rubbed in small circles, and I cried out. Fuck, he felt so good inside me.

"Come with me Cameron," he whispered into my ear. I placed my palms flat against his chest and rested my forehead against his, watching his face intently. I couldn't take my eyes off of him.

The pressure built up deep in my belly until finally it burst, washing over my entire body. I arched my back and House supported my spine with his hands. He thrust into me again and then he was coming too, hard and hot and forceful. I felt him spilling into me as he grunted my name.

We fell to the bed, bodies still joined, and we held each other as we steadied our breathing. Eventually he withdrew from me and I turned on my side so that my back was snuggled against his chest. He draped his arm protectively around my waist and pulled me even closer to him.

I felt his breathing grow slower and deeper, and I knew he was drifting on the edges of sleep. My hand reached up to the necklace still clasped around my neck. I no longer worried about what would happen to us when we returned home. I knew that House would still be a jerk, and would still frustrate the hell out of me at times. But he was a man of his word, and I trusted that he would make a genuine effort to treat me with respect. Even, dare I say it, with love.

His hand left my waist and covered my fingers on top of the pendant. He rubbed the pendant with his thumb, as if he were reaffirming his promise even in his sleep. I laced our fingers together, brought his hand to my lips and kissed his palm, then placed our joined hands over my heart.

I relaxed in his embrace and gave in to the heaviness in my eyelids. There was a lot to look forward to the next day. I was ready to go home with House and face all of the challenges of real life with him by my side.

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who stuck with this story despite the massive lag time between chapters. I had a hell of a good time writing it, and I hope you enjoyed reading it. Thanks also to everyone who offered advice, ideas, constructive criticism, and inspiration. I'm kind of sad to see this one go, but all good things must come to an end, right?