Disclaimer: Available at Chp. I :)

Cameron's heavy lashesfluttered. She blinked, opening her eyes against the muted sunlight. She stretched, moaning softly, rolling from her right side onto her back and flinched.

Pain.

She lay still a moment, letting her mind clear; letting the events of last night rise to the surface.

Her throat was dry, her head pounding.

Easing herself up onto her elbows she looked across the large, cluttered room.

"Where am I?" she whispered softly.

Faintly, music was playing. Sinatra?

She folded the navy blue duvet from her legs and slid off the large bed.

She knit her brow slightly, noticing the t-shirt she awoke in.

"The Rolling Stones?" she puzzled softly, pinching the soft, faded black fabric between her fingers.

She drifted down the tan hallway towards the music.

In the middle of a dimly-lit living room sat a baby-grand piano.

Cameron stood in the entrance way, leaning against the wall for support, watching him play— slightly more disheveled than usual in the clothes from last night, eyes closed, swaying gently to the rhythm of the soft music.

She smiled, remaining silent, taking in this rare experience.

His eyes opened suddenly and he ceased playing, his gaze instinctively trained on her.

Without a word she walked, slowly, painfully, towards him.

She faltered slightly as she reached him and gripped the piano to steady herself. House caught her hips and pulled Cameron gently to him.

"I woke you" he said at last, his voice quiet and distant.

Cameron shook her head and regained her balance, resting a hand on his supporting arm.

"No".

Her cheeks had regained some of their rosy hue.

"What time is it?" her voice was husky. She could feel the warmth of his touch through the thin fabric of her slacks.

"Almost eleven". His voice was equally gruff.

Gazing into his eyes, Cameron's lips spread into a rueful smile. He released her then and stood, grasping his cane and wandering towards the open kitchen.

"Sit down." He waved a hand vaguely.

Cameron bit her lip.

"You play?" she questioned absently, making her way to the worn, brown leather sofa.

She eased herself onto the seat and rested her aching head against the soft leather.

"No" came the response from the kitchen.

"It came with the place".

He emerged, cup in hand, and moved towards her.

He shrugged, "Thought it looked cool— decided to keep it."

He extended a steaming cup of coffee to her.

"Cream, one sugar" he said.

Cameron smiled, surprised.

"Yes. Thank you".

She brought the cup to her lips, watching as he sat himself on the coffee table in front of her.

"How do you feel?" he asked seriously.

"Worst hang-over of my life" she answered, holding the cup to her, absorbing its' warmth.

House knit his brow and smirked.

"I though you never partied?"

"Not anymore" she toyed.

He raised his expressive eyebrows, leering playfully.

"Reeeaally?"

Cameron laughed softly.

"It was a long time ago" she smiled.

Houses' face fell in mock despair.

He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind her ear, eyes soft. He caught himself.

His face froze into an unreadable seriousness as he turned her head to the side gently.

"No bruising" he muttered, inspecting her neck.

He dropped his hand to his lap.

"I'll check your side a little later".

He rose, stiffly, and drifted back towards the kitchen.

Cameron relaxed against the sofa and sipped her coffee.

"So..." she began strangely.

"This is your place".

A kettle whistled in the next room and a dish clattered.

"I'm pleased to see your cognitive skills are intact after that ordeal" came the response from the next room.

Cameron smiled and inhaled the rich fragrance of her beverage— he had known how she took her coffee. The revelation simultaneously astonished and thrilled her. They worked together, yes, but she never once considered that he might have paid the slightest attention to the way she takes her coffee...

House returned, offering her a second mug.

Cameron stared, confused.

"Um... I don't think..." she began.

"Chicken soup". He set the cup down on the table before her.

"Closest thing I have to 'real food'" he said lamely.

Cameron smiled softly.

"Thank you, but... I'm not, really..."

"Drink it" House ordered.

"It's been hours since you've eaten anything."

His words were kind, but insistent.

"This" Cameron thought "is exactly what everyone wishes his bed-side manner would be".

She set the coffee cup down and retrieved the second mug, drinking its' warm contents as she was told.

"What am I doing here?" Cameron asked, her mind struggling to detangle the muddled events from the previous night.

Across the room from her, House withdrew a pill bottle from his pocket and swallowed a number of vicodin.

"You don't remember?" he questioned, a fleeting look of concern billowing past his blue eyes.

Cameron shook her head and sipped the chicken soup.

"No. The last thing I remember..." she paused for thought, "is you putting me in your car. I thought you were taking me home?"

She looked up at him.

House shook his head, leaning forward on his cane with both hands.

"You were in shock. You could barely lift your head."

He looked into her worn green eyes.

"You were in no state to stay alone" he finished, their eyes holding across the dim room.

"Besides" he blinked, forcibly severing the connection between them,

"I think we lost your keys".

Cameron thought, willing herself to remember.

"I..."

"You were" House said suddenly, "awake when we got here. At least, I thought you were".

Cameron looked at him.

"What? You think I carried you up the front steps?" He scoffed.

"And... I just gave you the t-shirt. Your sweater is ruined."

Cameron blushed slightly with down-cast eyes. The room fell silent. Considering, Cameron wrinkled her brow.

"Where did you sleep last night?" she questioned softly.

Bluntly- "You're sittin' on it".

Cameron blinked, guilty.

"I'm so sorry" she breathed, barely above a whisper.

"You must be in pain this morning".

She was disheartened that she had caused him such discomfort after all he had done for her.

"I'm always in pain" House assured her.

"Besides, you have officially slept more in my bed than I have in the past two weeks".

He smirked and tapped the big screen television set as he crossed the room, coming to sit at the far end of the sofa from her.

"Tivo- a blessing and a curse".

Cameron smiled softly at him and set her cup down. She leaned back against the smooth leather and closed her eyes.

She could feel Houses' gaze on her. When she fluttered her lashes open, his face was turned away, towards the inactive television screen.

"You're still pretty worn out" he rose, gather up the blanket that lay on a nearby chair.

He covered her carefully.

"Rest. I'll take you home when you're able."

He turned to leave. Cameron forced herself upward, craning her neck after him.

"No. Please" she stammered.

"I've troubled you too long as it is. I'll just call a taxi and..."

"I still want to check that gash in your side" House cut her off sharply.

"Rest."

He turned, looking intently at her. She nodded, once, almost imperceptive.

The corner of his mouth twitched before he turned and left the room.

Entering his bedroom, Houses' eyes fell on the place where Cameron had slept— the imprint of her body almost lingering on the rumpled sheets.

Shaking his mind free of such nonsense he approached the arm chair nearest the bed and sank down heavily into the real place he had spent the night.