Chapter 11: Getting to Know You

Cameron is amusing you as you both load the car for your weekend road trip. She has decided the best way to reset her clock with yours is to not sleep until a normal bedtime, and is currently bouncing around like the energiser bunny on speed thanks to a Five Hour Energy and a double shot of espresso. It reminds you of her younger self. She was more like this the first few months on your team. Always happy, energetic, smiling ear to ear.

You had changed that about her. She learned to put up the shield with you, to guard herself. Oh, she didn't really want to do it, but survival is a strong instinct. It was a lesson she needed to learn for the job, but some part of you regrets having to be the one to take away her naive view of the world. For the first year, you wondered if she shouldn't just be in a lab. Her connection to patients was too strong; her empathy overwhelmed her.

You have the same problem when you have a patient that you connect with. Their pain pulls you in and you start losing your ability to reason impartially, to take the risks necessary to be you. This is why you fight her. People say they need the human connection with their doctors, but what they really need is to be cured. Emotions cloud judgement, they have no place in a DDX.

Cameron is one of the few people who see that about you. Wilson gets it. Cuddy thinks you should get over it and start making more human connections. That is the real reason for the insane amounts of clinic duty; that and she loves the fight. Then again, you like the fight too. The rest of your team thinks you are a cold hearted misanthrope who hates people and only cares about the puzzle. Well, you do that too. But opening up to make a connection about someone whose life is in your hands overwhelms your ability to do the crazy things needed to cure them.

Her ability to figure you out was always frightening. But it created these moments with her that you could let your guard down and say things to her that you wouldn't to many other people. Wilson, Stacy, occasionally Cuddy might make the list, but it's a short list. You aren't good at opening up, but you are hoping she'll take the reins this weekend and you'll figure out a way.

As you pull out of her lot, she starts in on the conversation, still high on caffeine and B12.

"So, Gabe and Mariana are really excited that we're visiting them, and so are their boys. Mariana is a professional violinist and teaches Suzuki, and both boys play music as well. The eldest, Jonathan, is 14 and a very gifted cellist. He won some sort of youth contest last year where he got to play at Carnegie for some sort of festival. Tomas, is 12 going on 21, not so much into music, though they still make him take piano lessons. He'd rather spend his day on YouTube, the PS3, watching TV or generally annoying his big brother. He's the classic under achiever; bored in every class, but instead of making straight A's or trying to skip a grade he only does as much as he needs to pass and he's completely into girls already. He's totally a clone of Gabe."

"He sounds like my kind of kid." A lot, in truth. Between the moving between schools and the fact you were bored out of your mind, you made it a game to calculate the minimum amount of work you needed to do to maintain a least a C average. Homework was for chumps, and you kept your grades up by acing every exam. When you can score a perfect on your SATs and write masterful essays no one gives a shit about your GPA anyway. As always, your carefully planned laziness was happily reinforced.

Much like your job at PPTH, you've managed to manipulate yourself into a job where you have one patient at a time, but that one patient is the most interesting of the lot, and in general avoid all other boring work as much as possible. You consider this kind of genius-laziness to be an artform.

"What does your brother do?" See, that wasn't so hard. Ask a question, try to care about the answer.

"He's a penetration tester." You glance over to her with a questioning look. She smirks at you.

"So he works in porn?" Damn, now that would be a cool twist, but you are sure that is not what that title really means.

Looking pleased with your taking of the bait, she explains his profession more thoroughly. "He's a white-hat hacker, a cyber security engineer. In other words, he gets paid to see if he can break into computer systems by the people who own and build said systems. He exposes their weaknesses so they can close potential exploits to the system."

"God, that is so... Cameron of him. Gifted with bad ass skills and he uses his powers to keep people safe and secure." You shake your head in mock disapproval.

"Please tell me he at least hacks all of the best porn sites with his super hacker skills. Do you think he'd give me the family discount? I have some things I'd like to hack into at the hospital, and I am tired of paying that creepy IT kid to bypass the firewall for live sex chat." In truth, it would be cool to have someone other than that still pimple ridden kid to deal with. You are sure that one visit from mistress Cuddy would break him and your free rein on the internet at work will end swiftly and violently.

"Yeah, well if the internet had been a thing when he was in highschool, I am sure that is exactly what he would have done with his skills. As it was, he used to just use me as a human shield to hide anything he didn't want our folks to know about. He's seven and a half years older than me, so he basically conned me into hiding his secret box of bad stuff in my closet, because he figured that was the last place Mom or Dad would look for it. He had his fair share of Playboys and even a few Hustlers in there. As well as some cheap whiskey, his weed and dirty letters from his girlfriends."

You can imagine sweet little pre-ten-year-old Allison, with her insane moral compass, being convinced by her big older brother to help him out. You wonder if she knew what was in the box at the time. For some reason you imagine she'd have run straight to mommy and daddy, but maybe you weren't the first person to teach her to bend the rules for team loyalty.

"I knew I missed out by being an only child. I usually just hid my porn, booze and weed in the air vents. I think Mom knew and just looked the other way, but when Dad found the stuff..." You leave the sentence open ended. Honestly not sure you are ready to suddenly have that conversation. Lucky for you the timing is good, and Cameron is distracted by your diverting her car onto your street.

"Hey, are we stopping by your place?"

"Yeah, I need to pick something up for the trip." You say as you park on the street in front of your apartment. "You can come in. It might take me a few minutes to find what I'm looking for."

As you open the door to your apartment, you smell food cooking. What the fuck? "Someone is here." You whisper to her, cautiously. "Stay here, I'll check it out."

"Shouldn't we just call the police?" As she reaches for her cell phone, you shake your head no.

"Well, they're cooking, which is a really interesting way to rob a place. Let me check it out. Besides, we'd probably be shot by now if whoever this is was violent."

"House! You're finally home!" A familiar voice calls from inside and you enter to see your old roommate from Mayfield holding a spatula and wearing an apron.

"Alvie? What the hell are you doing here, in my apartment... cooking?"

"When I left Mayfield, I went back to the old neighborhood. You know, you shouldn't leave the bathroom window unlocked."

"Yeah, thanks for the safety lesson. Why are you here?"

"Like I said, when I went back to the neighborhood, I found out immigration was looking for me. So I decided to visit my old buddy House!" Alvie slaps you on the shoulder with his free hand earning a scathing look from you. Then his focus turns to Cameron, who has been quietly observing your interaction thus far. "And who is the babe? Hey are you two playing house? Ha! Get it? Playing House!"

Same old Alvie, you think as you are sure your facial expression drips with annoyance and a flash of anger. Making a quick introduction, you continue your questioning.

"This is Cameron. Cameron, Alvie. Alvie, Cameron. And you're cooking because?"

The amount of energy radiating from this guy was amazing. You hold your ground, still steaming at his intrusion and more or less ignoring Cameron.

"Hey, I'm no freeloader. I figured I'd make you dinner to say 'thank you' for letting me crash at your place. I made some the last two nights. I was starting to think you might never come home. But here you are!"

"And you need to get out." Emphasizing the statement by pointing to the door, you then feel a hand on your arm, and you turn your attention to the woman behind you.

"Excuse me guys, I don't mean to interrupt, I need to talk to House privately for a minute." Cameron nods her head toward your hallway as Alvie answers.

"Sure thing, mamacita. I need to get back to the kitchen anyway. Wouldn't want anything to burn."

Cameron drags you back to your bedroom and shuts the door behind you. "So uh, who's this Alvie guy? He mentioned Mayfield. Was he a patient there?"

"Yeah. He was my roommate." You roll your eyes. She laughs.

"Oh my god. That is hysterical."

"I'm glad my time in the mental hospital amuses you. That's very un-Cameron of you to be amused by the pain of others."

Raising her brow at you, "You wanted me to be less of a teddy bear." then questions you seriously. "Is he a dangerous person?"

"No." You dismiss, with a sigh. "Just crazy and really fucking hyper. But harmless."

"Then just tell him to stay for the weekend, and you can sort it out when we get back. It's not like you're using the place and we don't have time to deal with this and make your appointment. So either you need to call Nolan and we postpone our vacation, or you need to just be a friend and let him stay, then deal with his immigration problems when we get back."

"Why the hell should I help him deal with any of his problems?" Whining, you ask her incredulously.

"Because for whatever reason, he thinks you're his friend and that is what friends do." God, she is the female Wilson.

"Oh, you'll be all teddy bear for a total stranger, but me…"

She steps closer to you, and drops her voice to speak more seductively."You don't want or need a teddy bear. Other people do. I'm just giving people what they need."

Entering her space, you lord over her using your height to show your dominance. "I need oral sex. Right now." Two can play this game, and with her, you generally win.

"You already tried that line when I was your boss for the day. Didn't work then either."

No, but it was fun.

You step even closer, letting your bodies touch, and bend your lips down to her ear and whisper "You thought about it though. It could have been really hot."

"You would have ran, well limped, away if I had gone for your zipper." She's talking a brave front, but pressed to her chest, you can feel her body's response giving her away.

Stepping away you go for the win. "You'll never really know, now will you? And who says I referring to receiving it."

With that, you open the door and head back to the livingroom to deal with Alvie.

"I can't believe I had to go through all of that just to get a record from my own apartment!" Alvie was infuriating. You fear for your apartment, but Allison was right. It was easier to just let him crash there and deal with it later, than to let his surprise visit distroy your weekend. But you are damn glad that you had a reason to stop by now. Who knows how long he may have been there without your knowing otherwise.

"Yeah, so what's the story with the record." Allison asks as she inspects the album cover. "Why did you need it for our trip?"

Smiling, you think back to a happy memory from your youth. You like road trips. Something about being in a car and not having to make so much eye contact makes it easier to talk about things. This story is also a very good memory, so it makes for a good icebreaker anyway.

"This was my first ever Dr. John album and we are going to see Dr. John on Saturday. I nearly wore it out learning to play all of the tunes on both piano and guitar. This ended up earning me my very first blow job, so there is a lot of sentimental value attached.

"I'm hoping to get him to sign it after the concert. Actually, I am counting on my hot girlfriend to use her flirtation skills to make sure that happens. Hot chicks get backstage so much easier than middle-aged fanboys."

"Nice to know I bring some intrinsic value to our relationship." She says as she places the record on the back seat. "So spill it. You can't mention your first blow job in passing and not give me the whole story. This is our getting to know you weekend."

She took the bait. Why wouldn't she, you do have a rare smile plastered across your face because of the memory.

"I was fifteen, she was eighteen. I was living in Japan at the time and she was my language tutor. I was a very quick study and she was a fine, and I do mean FINE, teacher. She came to our home early for our lesson once. I was in my room practicing guitar along with the record. Mom let her go on up to my room, and she let herself in and listened for a little while. I was really into it in that moment, and had my eyes closed and the music was turned up loud; I didn't even know she had come in.

"Next thing I know, she is kissing me. It was a shock and I opened my eyes. She put a finger on my lip to keep me quiet, took my guitar away then sat in my lap and started kissing me again. I was fifteen, so you can imagine the whole experience gave me a pretty instant hard-on. When she felt it, she got the most amazing look on her face and the next thing I know, I am getting sucked off to my favorite record by my incredibly hot, incredibly Asian, Japanese tutor. I think I lasted all of thirty seconds. But god, what an amazing thirty seconds."

It was. You had always had the hots for her, but you'd had no idea she felt the same way. She didn't love you or want to date you, but you were a willing object of lust and curiosity. You had the advantage of being an exotic foreigner. You were smarter than the guys her age and your stature made you look older and unlike most of the other military brats, you took the effort to master her language. The guitar playing just sent her over the edge.

"Mom knocked on the door maybe two minutes later with drinks for us. I turned completely red when she asked if we were having a good time. I can't lie to my mother; I shut down. She just smiled and left the door open on her way back out."

Even thinking of it now, you can feel heat in your face. It is a strange power your mother has over you.

"You're actually turning a little red now talking about it. Now that is priceless!" She is enjoying teasing you and raises the back of her hand to stroke your flushing cheek. Flashing an annoyed sideways glance in her direction, she takes back her hand, still pleased with your reaction.

"Parent's catching you in the act is the worst. My last high school boyfriend and I got caught with his hands up my shirt by my mother. Thank god it wasn't Dad! I would have died of embarrassment, and my boyfriend would have died of fright."

"What did your mother do?"

"Looked shocked, then embarrassed, then just turned around and walked out with a 'Sorry.'"

"Wow. She didn't care if the two of you just got right back to it?"

"I was eighteen and about two weeks away from going to college. I think she thought if she hadn't taught me what I needed to know by then, there wasn't much she could do once I was out of the house. And come on, she had to know she'd ruined the moment."

Yeah, there is nothing that kills off an erection like your girlfriend's mother walking in on you. Unless she's a MILF and wants to join in. That would just be hot.

"We'll that is not a very exciting story. I told you my first oral sex story, tell me yours."

"Giving or receiving?"

Saucy girl.

"Though I am happy you took the time at some point to master the skill of giving, let's go with receiving. Hopefully by one of your girlfriends."

You can see her rolling her eyes and smiling at your typical dirty humor. "You're not going to let that one go are you?"

"Nope. 'Cause it's hot." A guy can dream.

"We'll sorry to disappoint, the first person to go down on me did infact have a penis, which he was born with."

"I was sixteen, he was sixteen. He was my advanced biology partner. We were discussing the female orgasm. He started making jokes about how with every other part of the anatomy we had studied to that point, our teacher had us find it and palpate it on our partner. 'Of course we stopped with the fun parts.' So I asked him, what was stopping him now. He had a diagram and a willing partner and that it was all in the name of science."

"Seriously! You're wicked." You'd seen her work over Chase in the lab a few times. They didn't know you were around, and she'd talk about sex in that matter-of-fact way that gives women power over men. She would act innocent and tell them that men should be able to handle it when a women talks about sex, but all women know better. It's a power play.

"Yes, I can be. It didn't hurt we were a little high at the time and that I was really horny because my best friend was constantly telling me about how awesome her boyfriend's tongue was. I was tired of waiting for 'the right guy,' my partner was cute, and smart and I trusted him. We joked all of the time about needing to practice so we didn't suck when the real thing came along. I just decided we should stop joking and get to practicing.

"We were at his house; it was a Saturday. I think his mom secretly wanted us to hook up, so she was always leaving us alone to study. She went out to get her hair done; we stayed home and played doctor. He made a very… thorough examination. I am surprise the screams didn't wake the neighbors. I had no idea it would be like that." It's her turn to blush, you notice as you glance at her.

"Wait, didn't you ever give yourself an orgasm before that?" You ask.

"Nope. I mean, of course I touched myself before that and had some sort of enjoyment from it, but nothing like that. He went on a full out clitoral onslaught. I didn't really even know about my clitoris before that class. My circle of friends weren't the most sexually active. We were all pretty focused on academics. So once my friend told me about her experience, and we started talking about the anatomy of it in school, I was suddenly very interested in this mysterious part of my body that I hadn't discovered."

Placing her hand on your crotch, she gives you a playful rub. "Too bad you weren't my teacher. I would have liked earning extra credit from you."

"Damn, you're a bad girl." You say as you grab her hand, and place it back on her side of the car, but not before thrusting against it once for good measure. You need to drive, and you are too old for driving while coming.

"Spank me later." An excellent order, is issued from her lips.

"You can plan on it." A promise is given in return.

"How about the first time you had real sex?" You should probably change the subject, but you're on a roll, why stop now. Besides it's kind of hot thinking of her that young and horny.

"I was in college, nineteen and toward the end of the first semester of my sophomore year. Again, a friend. I had a couple of girlfriends who were head over heels in love with their first and it totally fucked them up mentally when they broke up. One of them even dropped out of school for a semester. None of them seemed like the overly clingy type before hand. So I decided maybe it would be better to just get the experience out of the way, so I wasn't overwhelmed by the falling in love part on top of the sex part.

"We were both biology majors and had made out a few times after study sessions and at a couple of parties. He was an amazing kisser and knew all of the places on my neck that could turn me into a wet mess. He did have one quirk. He didn't go down. Said it was a cultural thing."

"Was he the culture of gay!?" You question, not able to believe that any straight man doesn't get off on eating pussy. "Going down is one of life's greatest pleasures. It's a serious turn on."

"He was black. Apparently that racial stereotype is somewhat true. At least in my experience. Or maybe I was just unlucky. I always wondered about Foreman and Hadley. I mean, I imagine it has to be something of a requirement for a bisexual woman." She makes an aside, before continuing her own story.

"Anyway, he was very talented otherwise, and let's be honest, we weren't a couple, so there were other places I could get that. So one night I told him I wanted to lose my virginity and get it over with. So we talked about everything for a while and we agreed to do it.

We had sex a couple of more times, but we were cautious of getting too emotionally involved. I was actually very good at not getting too emotionally involved, before I met my husband. That experience changed me."

Now things are starting to make more sense. Chase never seemed to fit the pattern you had made for Cameron until now. She falls in love with broken men. Now you know she has sex for sex's sake with her study partners and workmates as a general rule. Two sides to the coin.

Her mentioning her husband again peaks your curiosity about something that has always puzzled you, but you have never felt comfortable to broach the topic until now.

"Why don't you ever use your dead husband's name? In all the times you've mentioned him, you've never once called him by name."

She is silent for a moment, looking out the passenger's side window at the passing landscape.

"It's… it's just painful. I went through a long period where just saying his name would land me in tears. I guess I got in a habit of avoiding it. Now it's second nature to just call him 'my husband'."

Her reasoning is followed by another long pause. Taking a deep breath she tells you "His name was Brian Anderson."

You thought she might cry next, but instead, you glance over to see her smiling. Obviously caught up in a memory. You take your right hand from the steering wheel and reach over to take her left hand from her lap. As your fingers intertwine with hers, she shares her thought with you.

"I told him there was no way I was going to be Allison Anderson. I hate names that are also alliterations. Not sure why. Just a pet peeve of mine. So I kept my maiden name."

Another answer to a question you hadn't been comfortable enough to ask before. And definitely not an answer you would have thought of. You do have to admit, it was an interesting quirk.

"Were you going to take Chase?" You had actually teased her about being Dr. Chase once. In fact, the thought amused you more than it should.

"I seriously considered it. But we both thought it would be weird at work, since everyone uses our surnames even in casual conversation. I think if people at work called us Allison and Robert, I would have been ok being Allison Chase. But it would have been really weird being Chase and Chase. That just sounds like a bad lawfirm. I thought about dropping my middle name or hyphenating so it still made sense to be Cameron at work, but I would have ended up with an alliteration again. Allison Cameron Chase. Not going to happen."

Allison House. No alliteration there. Unless...

"Does your middle name start with an H?"

"Very funny, House." Uh, oh. You weren't trying to make a joke, but your past actions just screwed you.

"It's a legitimate question. This is our getting to know you weekend, and we are actually having a conversation about something other than sex or work now, which is the whole goal." You defend yourself with logic and reasoning.

"You hired me, you should know from my application that my middle name is Elizabeth. Or at the very least you should know it starts with an E." She, makes a good point. But you didn't read that part of her application because you were honestly distracted by her stunning looks the whole interview.

"You're giving me way too much credit with names. You do remember I didn't know Thirteen's real name for almost a year, right?"

"Don't tease me House." She's having none of it and she's calling you House. This is what you get for teasing her about her affections for six years. An honest thought, any normal boyfriend might have, must be some sort of trick coming from you.

"Greg." You correct her. She is developing a pattern of when she calls you House versus Greg. At work, or around acquaintances you're House. When she's annoyed or pissed at you, you're House. When you are alone and enjoying one another you've become Greg. You like being Greg with her. You haven't been Greg with someone for a long time. Prostitutes don't count.

"We're not at work and I'm not trying to tease you or piss you off. I'm not proposing either. The topic just came up and it made me curious. Whether or not someone would take my last name isn't something I've thought about for a long time."

Since Stacy, really. She took Warner, she probably would have taken House. You never got to ask.

"Were you ever engaged?" She asks.

Well, you did sort of lead yourself down this path. You've put up so many walls with everyone, openly belittle marriage as being an antiquated institution, and equate healthy marriage with something impossible. You may even believe it, but you still can't help wanting to be wrong and wanting to be loved. Cameron once told you 'ignorance is bliss', concerning marriage. You've never enjoyed being ignorant of anything. It's just a lot of potential hurt you open yourself up to.

You think back to when you were young. Still as impulsive as you are now, but not afraid of love. You hadn't been burned by it enough times yet. It was still all passion and hormones, a ticket to adulthood and freedom.

"When I was sixteen, I tried to run away with a girl once, with the intention of eloping. I was still living in Japan and tired of my father. I fell in love with a girl in school who also just wanted the hell away from her parents. We planned the whole thing out for weeks. I confided the plan to my best friend at the time. We got about fifty miles away before getting caught. My friend totally freaked out when we went through with it and told his parents, who called mine, who called hers.

"I never got to see her after that night. I got sent back to the states to live with my oma. I ended up in a prep school for boys until I graduated."

"I never saw you as a Romeo type." Interesting, she thinks that. Impulse control has never been one of your strong suits. But then again, you've also avoided serious relationships like the plague since she's known you.

"I'm not suicidal enough for that." Playing her statement off, you continue "It wasn't like we had much of a shot at making it, but it felt amazing to take control of my life for a few hours. She was my first. And you're right, falling in love with your first can fuck you up when it doesn't work out."

Giving her hand a little squeeze before you reclaim it, you return it to the wheel to make a sharp turn. You find yourself wanting to tell her about Stacy, wanting her to know that you've thought about marriage for yourself in the context of an adult relationship.

"I also picked out a ring for Stacy, but I never got to ask her. The infarction happened before I could ask, and there was no way I was going to ask while I was in the hospital. Then everything fell apart, and… you know the rest of that story."

Reaching across the console she lightly pets the hair on just above your ear. Your eyes are still on the road but you feel her gaze on you as she gently runs her fingers over your hair. It is a soothing gesture, her way of thanking you for opening yourself to her.

"I've never even told Wilson that." You tell her honestly. No one has known until now.

"I'm glad you told me." She says, just as you pull the car into a parking spot. Time for another layer to be peeled away for her. Time to meet Nolan.

"Well, we're here."