"What are you doing here, House?"
She inquires curiously as his shadow casts a distorted figure onto the communal landing, before being proceeded by the man himself.
He frowns as her voice alone seems only to feed his current anger; characteristically good-natured and full of intrigue rather than showing any signs of annoyance at being disturbed at this unsociably late hour. Regarding her irritably, he takes in her attire with a scowl; her slim legs bare beneath flimsy cotton shorts, with that ever-vexing gap between them that is somehow so ridiculously childish.
Frustratingly innocent.
Moving towards her silently, it registers as yet another point against her in his current state of mind that it is only when he towers- somewhat threateningly- over her that her polite smile falters; replaced by a quizzical look.
Nevertheless, she steps back and lets him in.
"House?"
"Why did you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Why did you tell Wilson you cooked me dinner?"
"I... Well... I mean, it just came up... I hadn't realised I wasn't supposed to..."
She adopts her own small frown as she turns to face him and closes the door behind them. Receiving no answer other than an angry glower, she asks uncertainly
"You came all the way here just to ask me why I mentioned last night to Wilson? Did you drive? Are you drunk?"
Her last question is fairly rhetorical; she can smell the alcohol on him from where she stands several feet away.
"Am I-... God, you really are insufferable, you know that?!"
Green eyes blink rapidly, and the pleasant curve of the blonde's mouth falls as she takes a step back, her ass hitting the door. House rolls his eyes; the hurt expression that crosses her sharp features nothing new. Sighing, he battles with himself as he realises he doesn't really have much of a clue what he's doing here.
I came because you've been plaguing my thoughts and conversations ever since that asshole took a stab at you- ha!- and I watched your oh so perfectly, innocently pink scrubs blossom scarlet, and some idiot part of me decided to lend a hand.
I came because I want you to get angry with me for barging in on your evening only to speak to you in a way any normal person would have long since despised me for.
I came because I want to know if the wine colours your tongue the way it does your lips.
Of course, he can't tell her any of these things.
Instead he simply out stares her.
"I... I was just asking... Look, it's getting late and I have to work tomorrow, as do you! Only I actually have to be there on time... So if you wanted something, or needed anything then that's cool, but... If you've just come here to argue about last night, then that's... Well, that's pretty shitty of you, really..."
'Pretty shitty'? And you're surprised, Dr Cameron? Do you possess any recollection of the past four years at all?
Despite his irritable internal monologue, House's shoulders droop slightly as he takes in the way she crosses her arms over her chest and eyes him warily; clearly upset but also defeated, and he can't help but wonder why he feels the constant need to do this to her.
Because she lets you?
Ah, there is that.
Sighing deeply, he looks down at his cane so that he doesn't have to maintain eye contact; addressing her gruffly.
"Wilson looks into things... I'd rather not receive lectures on my feelings towards you and how to deal with them."
"...Your feelings towards me?"
"Ah, they exist only in his head, Dr Cameron, before you go getting all gooey on me. Personally, I find you just about tolerable, bordering on annoying, but it has always proven rather difficult to shatter his delusion."
"Yeah, well, you didn't need to come all the way here to tell me that... Wilson asked me if you'd, uh, 'stayed over' after dinner... I told him no, before you ask... And to answer the question you seem reluctant to bring to the table: yes, I am fully aware that you're not interested in me... There's only so many times you can be told 'no' before you have to just grin and bear it or buy a bunch of cats."
He raises an eyebrow at this last part and she offers a small smile despite the animosity shrouding his previous words towards her.
And this is why people fuck you over, Cameron, because you goddamn let them.
Giving in to her obvious desire to sweep whatever irritation he currently suffers under the carpet, he looks around her cosy apartment theatrically, before glancing back up to meet arresting green.
"No cats."
"No."
"And yet, you're not grinning..."
"Ah, well it was a long time ago, and I've found another way of dealing with your heartbreaking rejection."
"Sleeping with Chase?"
A warning glance, but she says nothing on that particular little situation, opting instead to make her way back to the sofa and pointing to the half-empty glass on the coffee table.
"Wine."
This finally earns her a small smirk, and House limps a little closer to regard her pensively.
"Should I feel guilty that I have driven my ex-employee to drink?"
"It would be rather presumptuous of you to take all the credit... But even if that were true, it's not like you would."
"Your words hurt, Cameron!"
"I know the feeling."
Blunt, truthful, simple.
There is no anger in her tone, but nor is there any joviality, and he merely nods, accepting that it is what it is.
"So what now?"
She asks, taking a sip of Merlot as his crystal blues study her intently. She sits slumped back on the sofa in an oddly teenage fashion, and he ponders not for the first time how misleading her looks can be. At work, dressed smartly and donning a little makeup, she passes for about twenty-five, which is close enough. But, the few times he has come calling on her when on her own territory, he has found her clad in hoodies, shorts or jeans and barefaced, her resultant appearance unsettlingly youthful.
"What now?"
He repeats her question but offers no answer.
"Well... It's getting on for midnight, and I can tell from the way you're standing you're in p-... Walking back to yours may not be the best idea."
"You're off the clock; I don't need a doctor."
"No, but I'm allowed to express my opinion."
She shrugs, and he supposes that from anyone else such a statement would serve to irk him, but he is somewhat glad to catch a hint of backbone from her after the wounded expression she had offered him earlier.
"... Fine."
"You're welcome to stay here..."
"And after you just told me you were over me! Now you're trying to get me into bed for some hardcore S&M, you-"
"-Just the bed part, and I won't be in it, so you don't have to worry. This is a sofa bed."
"Yeah, you never struck me as one for bondage."
"Oh, I don't know. It's always the quiet ones."
Raising an eyebrow, House regards her curiously; not sure if this is her seemingly newfound sassiness showing through, or if she is simply stating a fact.
It wouldn't be the first time she has come out with a little nugget of information that has thrown him.
"If you ask me, if two people really trust each other, a threesome once every seven years might actually help a marriage."
"Oh?"
A grin, and a brief flicker of her tongue through her teeth, and he discovers that it is indeed tinged purple from the wine.
"One should never presume."
"No... I suppose one mustn't"
He smirks, her ostentatious wording tickling him, while his mind serves him up several less than professional images of the young blonde he pushes firmly aside.
Watching as she drags the coffee table into the corner with careful consideration of her hip, he tells himself not to stare at her ass when she bends over the sofa to pull out the bed with a few, deft yanks.
He is almost successful.
"Need help?"
She turns to roll her eyes at him; having quite clearly finished the job.
"How gentlemanly of you."
But her lips twitch with a smile, and she pads off into the corner to open up a narrow closet from which she pulls a blue quilt and cushion.
"I try."
"Hmm... Perhaps I have found the one thing at which Dr Gregory House is doomed to fail."
"Hey, I took you to dinner didn't I?"
"Mhmm, and I must say I'm mildly touched you didn't order me a happy meal..."
"Not that dinner. The one you were so keen on begging me out on before-"
"-Okay."
She stops him swiftly, offering him a weary glance, and he supposes he has jabbed at her one too many times in regards to her previous affections.
Well... At least for tonight.
"You know where the bathroom is..."
Red, red, red.
Have you cleaned up your scarlet idiocy?
Of course you have...
You're Cameron.
"I do."
"And before you insult me with the question; no, I will not be mentioning this little sleepover to Wilson."
Grinning at her suddenly irritable tone, House simply nods; secretly thankful that she seems set on leaving him to it as the beer is beginning to take the inevitable effect of making him drowsy.
"Just so we're clear."
One last snide comment, and he smirks as she rolls her eyes and turns for the bathroom; his gaze falling to her legs as she leaves.
"Goodnight, House."
"Yeah."
His answer is little more than a grunt, and she shrugs as she shuts herself away, leaving him standing alone in the middle of her living room.
And thank god for that; if Wilson only knew where I was right now, his head might explode!