"Alright. I'm making an executive decision."
"Really? What's that?"
Cameron raises a brow, but her expression remains otherwise serene; a small smile touching the corners of her lips.
House supposes this may be one of the reasons he feels the need to put a stop to the way things are headed; before they get out of control.
Before they get too pleasant...
He has spent the better part of the evening with his backside resting against the countertops of the blonde's kitchenette while watching her go gingerly about making them dinner; moving every now and then to reach for anything on a higher shelf. She hasn't had to ask him to do so, he has simply observed her casually, handing her the salt, the plates, the basil without any verbal request. Her tentative movements have intrigued him; every now and then expecting her to retire to the comfort of the chairs surrounding the table with the request that he finish her mission to feed them, but he supposes it stands true to character that she has created a fresh puttanesca sauce from scratch, despite the noticeable sensitivity to her side.
He had brushed off the few bumps of her hip against his while moving within the narrow space as purely accidental, much as his fingers occasionally touching her side had been purely in the interests of navigating around her in a quest to remain leant delinquently out of the way.
Now, offering Cameron a small grunt, he reaches across their empty plates- only the faintest smears of pasta sauce visible on either one- and removes the half-empty wine bottle from its place beside her fork.
"No more of the good stuff for you."
She sighs in response, resisting the childish urge to pout at him, her eyes bright as she watches him take a greedy swig from the bottle and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.
"... You realise this is my apartment, right?"
Her tone is irritable, but he knows better than to take any notice. For one, he has little interest in her mood-swings, for another, it's Cameron; she'll never truly begrudge him anything.
You shouldn't take advantage of that little notion... What if one day she proves you wrong?
Impossible.
And even if I were wrong- which I'm not- what would it matter? It's not as though I care what she thinks...
In the end, he simply shrugs in response to the blonde's bitter inquisition, but his expression softens slightly when she continues to regard him cooly.
"I trust I don't need to explain the ramifications of combining alcohol with painkillers, Dr Cameron?"
"I've had one glass!"
"And a gin and tonic, which is plenty."
She sighs as he smirks at her with smug superiority but doesn't argue back; feeling inexplicably flushed that he should look out for her in such a way- even if just for his own amusement- and decides she doesn't wish to ruin the moment.
She can always rely on House to do that.
"So, who's Mindy?"
"Who?"
"That's what I was asking you? Who is she and why do you hate her?"
"I don't know who-"
"-At least, good old Dom seems to think you do."
"Dom?... Dominic?! How do you-"
"-Passcode on your phone, Cameron: rule 101."
"What the hell?! You snooped-"
"-I did nothing of the sort, the message was on the screen when I opened it."
"Why would you do that?!"
"Well, after the little accident incurred by mine, I was simply being resourceful."
"You had no right to use my phone!"
"Well, it's a little late to bicker about that now... So... Who is she?"
Sighing, the blonde sits back in her chair; the fact that her hand moves to rest at her hip not going unnoticed by House. Nor the way her eyes flicker longingly to the bottle.
Despite his earlier warning, he leans over and tops her glass up with a few fingers of merlot, an eyebrow raised in question.
"My stepmom."
Cameron shrugs as though bored by the topic, but the tic to her jaw does little to aid her plight in this little pantomime.
House remains silent, knowing she will continue unless goaded.
"... She married my dad when I was two. I don't hate her, I just don't... We don't get on. She's Dominic's mother."
House frowns, rubbing at his jaw pensively.
"I knew you had a brother, but I was under the impression he was older than you."
"He is."
"Then... I may only be a doctor, but something doesn't add up there?"
"How observant of you. Almost as observant as the kids and the mothers at school were on the topic."
"Ah."
"Mindy's not a bad person-"
"-You say that about everyone-"
"-She could have put her foot down about dad taking me in and she didn't... But... Okay, so all the things you said to me when I asked you why you hired me? All that crap?... Well, Mindy is of a similar opinion, only in her eyes, the fact that I 'buried myself beneath books in the plight to become a socially inept know-it-all' was more of a negative thing. In fact, she took it pretty personally... She's a pageant coach."
"The world peace stuff doesn't appeal to you? You surprise me."
"Oh, it does. Vapid girls getting herded up on stage just to say those empty words, however, does not. Also, I didn't have any talent, as I was frequently reminded, so I guess it was a case of failure from the very beginning... Who knew being pretty could be such hard work?"
Cameron laughs lightly at this, but it is a harsh sound, and House watches her intently over steepled fingers.
"And now?"
"What do you mean 'and now'?"
"Now that you're not a little girl in a garish frock, but a student of medicine who has worked beneath a man of myth, a man of legend, is she-"
"-Is she happy for me? Is that what you want to know? Is she proud of me?"
"Well?"
"I don't know... It's hard to tell really, because most of the time when I see her, she's a little preoccupied fretting over the fact I remain unwed... And I'm almost thirty!"
The blonde opens her mouth in mock horror at this and House rolls his eyes, absentmindedly noting the way her lips are tinged slightly purple from the wine.
He imagines her tongue is, too.
Sighing uncomfortably, he wonders if he is required to comment on what Cameron has just divulged to him. If so, he has no idea what to say; adept at cutting sarcasm, but suffering from the strange notion that now is perhaps not the time.
He decides to just go with what he knows.
"Actually, you're closer to twenty-five."
"I'm sorry?"
"If we're rounding off your age; you're closer to twenty-five."
"I'm twenty-seven."
"Yes, but it would be rounded up to thirty at twenty-seven and a half. It's only June."
She does some quick math, telling herself she shouldn't be so surprised that he knows when her birthday is. He would never congratulate her, but he knows. Of course, he knows.
"Oh good, that still leaves me some time then."
House chuckles dryly at the mocked sincerity of her words, watching as she tips back the last of her wine.
"Lock up your sons and daughters, Allison Cameron's on the prowl!"
She almost chokes on her wine at this, glaring at him accusingly through watering eyes as she attempts to reign in her coughing.
"House!"
He smirks wickedly, though his eyes flash down to her hand as she holds it once more to her side.
"I should leave; evidently I provide far too much comedy for one still healing... And you should get some sleep."
She rolls her eyes and pushes herself up carefully, stacking their plates and bringing them over to the sink to soak while House slips away to empty his bladder before he leaves.
Red.
Red.
Red.
It's not that he had forgotten the macabre scene in her bathroom, but when he switches on the lights, his breath still catches in his throat.
Things could have gone so wrong...
If Chase hadn't-
-If Chase hadn't stopped by, she would have called the hospital. She's not an idiot.
Gaze flickering to the scalpel lying in a small pool of crimson has him begging to differ.
Despite preferring to do his business sitting down when in the privacy of the bathroom, he opts to stand.
This way, he can turn his back to the tub and its hateful offering.
Zipping up and flushing, he limps back into the kitchen to find Cameron wiping down the countertops; long hair tumbling over the excessive folds of the hoody much too large for her.
"I'm going to go."
"Alright. Thanks for helping with dinner."
"Do you mean eating it? Because the cooking was all you."
"Yes, but I would have been plateless."
She smiles, and he finds his mouth working of its own accord before he can help it.
"Call me if you need to..."
The beat of silence she leaves before answering only serves to make things worse.
"... Thanks... Have a good night."
Offering a curt nod, House slips quickly from her apartment.
Before he can say anything else moronic.