Disclaimer: I own nothing... sigh...
A/N: This is a long time coming. I have been wanting to write something for a long time, but with graduating, spring classes, working two jobs, running a small, local charity, and publishing a project I did for school, I've been a little preoccupied. A note/warning: this fic starts out a little slow, but I assure one and all that it is a necessary precursor to the House/Cam angst that is to come so please bear with me.
Personally, I feel I have developed my writing to better reflect the characters, thus, less dialogue, and more description. At the same time, I think this piece may be more true to form and more 'angsty' than my earlier pieces. Then again, I might just be nuts so, please do let me know what you think. This will be longer than my other works (at least, that's the working plan) and will be House/Cam directed angst. As always, I hope you enjoy:)
Dr. Allison Cameron drifted through the glass doors of the meeting room, early, as usual. She was dressed in a well-tailord, charcoal Chanel Suit with thin, pale pink pinstripes-- almost too light to descern; her chestnut tresses were pulled into a loose knot at the crown of her head, forcing a few rogue tendrils to poke out. She checked her watch and dropped her shoulder-bag on the nearest chair before drifting to the coffe-maker.
Cameron opened the dark roast and inhaled its' fruity odour with a soft look of pleasure on her face. With the water poured, the quiet bubbling and perking of the coffee machine filled the silent room. Turning from the machine and back towards her bag, Cameron stopped. House was seated, almost dejectedly, in his office chair in the adjoining room. Cameron checked her watch again-- 7:36am.
"What could he be doing here?" she muttered.
Moving towards her bag, Cameron tossed a furtive glance over her shoulder. House had yet to look up-- she wondered if he even registered her entrance into the room. He looked exhausted; crestfallen-- as if he had been seated in that chair since Friday.
Cameron removed a notebook from her bag and set it on the table top before moving to the back of the room to deposit her satchel in her 'cupboard' and remove her crisp, white lab coat. The rich scent of caffine filled the room. Cameron laid her coat over a chair back and closed her ivy eyes, inhaling the intoxicating fragrance. Opening her eyes, her emerald gaze flickered over the foloron image of House through the glass wall.
"What could he be doing here already?" she wondered again.
Biting her bottom lip decisively, Cameron strode to the coffee machine and poured a cup, adjusting it accordingly with milk and sugar. Holding her breath, she slipped silently through the adjoining door and paused, steaming cup in hand, to gaze at her silent employer, dainty eyebrows creased in a vague frown.
House did not look up from the point, somewhere in the middle of his desk, where his gaze was intently focused. Cameron moved soundlessly towards his hunched figure and set the cup down on the desk top before stepping back, almost cautiously. House blinked and rubbed his temples before picking up the cup and swallowing a large mouthful, his eyes never falling on the provider.
A soft moan escaped his throat and he blinked again, harder, and shook his head of whatever thoughts were obviously plaguing him.
"Thank you" he said at last, voice low and gravely.
Cameron nodded and crossed her arms over her stomach.
"You're in early" she said in as light a tone she could muster. It was more of a question.
House leaned back in his chair, brining the cup to his lips once again. He swallowed, briefly fixing his gaze on the woman before him. Her head was tilted to the right slightly and there was a look in her eyes he wasn't quite certain of-- concern? pity? He decided he didn't want to know.
"Yeah, well-- insomnia is a bitch" he ground out.
Cameron raised a sculpted brow slightly and searched his face from a distance. House knit his brow, feeling her gaze on him. He cleared his throat and set the cup down, a little harder than necessary, and shot her a half-hearted glare.
"Yes?" he demanded. He would quell this school-girl, lovesickness no matter what it took.
Cameron shrugged a narrow shoulder and smoothed the soft fabric of her suit jacket over her ribs.
"Mail?" she questioned in a convincingly normal tone.
House's gaze softened, lingering on Cameron's carefully-schooled, emotionless features. She gazed back, holding his eyes in silent challenge. He blinked, breaking the connection between them. His lashes fluttered and his focus fell upon the figure outside his glassed-in office.
Cameron turned slowly-- Stacy Warner was dressed in a pale grey suit with a scalloped hemline that fell just below the knee. Her dark tresses hung loosely over her shoulders, framing her sculpted features. Cameron could feel the charge between them pass through her body and settle at the base of her spine like a dull ache.
Stacy met Houses' gaze directly. Her face was impassive, yet there was something in her large eyes-- longing, perhaps,mixed with... something angry. Stacy broke contact with Houses' intense gaze and turned her head swiftly, giving Cameron a soft, almost sympathetic smile. Cameron's lips curved in response and she nodded once, slowly, as Stacy turned and made her way down the hall.
Cameron turned to see House swallow with some difficulty. Her keen eyes flicked over his worn face in one quick, fluid motion, taking in his reaction. House cleared his throat and met her eyes for the briefest instant before occupying himself with the shift of papers strewn across his desk. He gathered a small stack and handed it to Cameron without meeting her gaze. She took the handful wordlessly and turned, walking briskly into the adjoining room.
House raised his haunted eyes from the desk top and followed Cameron's lean form as it left his office. He knit his brow and leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming softly on the half-empty coffee cup.