Summery: Just
read…
Spoilers: Up until "Control"
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: You know I don't own it! I play.
Looks like I am going to die a bitter, lonely old man, House thought as he saw the headlights come toward him.
Cameron saw the car coming at him. Then she saw him struggling to get up. Petty arguments be dammed. He needed help.
She darted to where he was, grabbed House by the arm and pulled him as hard as possible. He landed on top of her just as the car passed by. The whole process took about 2 ½ seconds.
House leaned up on his elbows so he could glance down at Cameron. A look passed between them: Truce.
"I think you dislocated my shoulder. You're stronger than you look."
"Are you okay," she asked, concerned.
"Taken down by a pothole and a mere slip of a girl. I'm fine. My ego is not."
She smiled. "I guess we're even now… for that thing in the bar."
"Hmm."
"House?"
"Yes?"
"Can I get up?"
They both got to their feet and brushed off their clothes. Cameron went into the street, bent down and picked up something. And again. And again. She turned around and offered the pieces to House.
"I'm sorry."
He
took what was left of his cane from her. "Well, if he couldn't
hit me, he could crush my cane." His leg was throbbing, so he
reached in his pocket to grab his Vicodin. He shook the bottle.
Empty. How the hell did he not realize he had taken the last one? It's called being preoccupied with the infuriating, yet lovely
lady doctor next to you, he thought to himself.
Cameron was looking at him questioningly.
"I'm out."
"Are you in much pain?"
"Have you ever been stabbed with burning hot pokers?"
"I guess that's a yes."
"Resounding. Thankfully I have more—and a spare cane—at home."
"Where did you park?"
"I didn't. Wilson drove."
"Where is he?"
"He… left."
"He left you here alone? Why?"
"Because I told him to go. He was being a bastard."
"Learned from the best, I'm sure."
"You're hysterical."
Cameron saw him grimace in pain and felt guilty again for not making him more comfortable. "Here, you can lean on me. We'll hail a taxi and I'll help you back."
"I can take care of myself."
"House, you can barely walk."
"And you should know when you're not wanted." He was feeling ashamed, humiliated because of his weakness.
"Well, now, this argument sounds vaguely familiar." She put her arm around his waist. "Tough. You're stuck with me."
Funny how a near death experience can change things between people. Funny how Cameron's arm felt like it belonged there.
They were silent the entire ride to his place. When they got there she helped him in and led him to the couch to rest.
"Wait… I need to get the Vicodin."
"Just relax. Tell me where it is."
"Bathroom. Above the sink." He closed his eyes and leaned his head back.
Cameron wandered down the hall to the bathroom. She peeked in one doorway. Study. Next one. Bedroom. She resisted the urge to go poke her head around in there. Finally, she found the bathroom. If she couldn't snoop around the bedroom, she got the next best thing. The medicine cabinet. She opened it up. "Bummer," she muttered. Toothpaste, toothbrush, razor, shaving cream and Vicodin. How boring.
She came back out and lobbed it onto his chest. "All yours."
House didn't even open his eyes. He popped open the lid and swallowed two of them. Sighing in relief, he said to Cameron, "Why don't you make yourself useful. Go over to the stereo and put on some music."
"Please?"
"Please, what?"
"It wouldn't kill you to ask nicely, you know."
"Okay. Would you please make yourself useful and put on some music?"
He laughed as he heard her grumble under her breath.
She crouched in front of his extensive CD collection. What to play, what to play… He had everything from The Beatles, to Marvin Gaye, from Crosby, Stills and Nash to Weezer, from Classical to Rap. Talk about a guy who appreciated music. She finally decided on Ryan Adams' Gold.
"Ahh. Good songwriter. Doesn't get enough recognition." House's eyes were still closed and his head tilted back.
"Mmm. Yep. One of my favorites." Cameron crouched down in front of front of him. She took his right ankle in her hand and started palpating it for any tenderness and swelling.
"Heyheyhey," he said, eyes popping open and head flying up. "What on earth are you doing?"
"I'm checking to make sure you didn't do any other damage when you fell. You already limp, so I couldn't tell if anything else was wrong."
"I told you before, I'm fine." He tried to manually move his leg out of her grasp.
Cameron placed her hands on his chest and pushed him back. "Just sit down and shut up."
"Cameron—"
"No. I don't want to hear it." She went back to the ankle. "Doesn't look like you did any damage to it in the fall. There's no bruising apparent. Does it hurt when I press around?"
"No."
"You have a little blood on your jeans. Looks like you scraped you knee when you fell, though."
"Is mommy gonna put a band aid on the boo boo?"
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'll clean it up." Then she bit her lip.
Cameron knew she shouldn't do what she was going to do next. It might embarrass him, make him angry. Hell, it might embarrass her. But she had to check.
Her hand moved up his leg to his thigh.
House hissed in pain. "What the hell are you doing?"
"I told you, just checking to make sure you're okay."
"Yes," he said removing her hands. "You don't need to check that. It's always painful."
She reached back down. "I know. But the pain should be centered in this area," she said palpating the rectus femorus. "And I touched you here," she continued pressing against the vastus lateralus. "Am I correct? The damage is to the front thigh muscles, right? So why does it hurt over here?"
"It radiates," he said through his teeth.
"Right," she said, standing up and brushing off her hands. "That's the way you're going to be."
He looked away.
"Fine. Take off your pants. Now. Or I will take them off for you."
Author's Note: I don't know exactly what House's injury entails, so I just made up where I think the damage is. If I'm wrong, sorry! Rectus femorus top part of the thigh. Vastus lateralus outer part of the thigh