Reluctance
Chapter 8 – You Want, I Need

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All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players.

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A/N: Sorry about the wait. This chapter should make you happy though! If it doesn't, you have some serious problems. It's extra long, my longest yet I think. Enjoy! Oh, and for the sake of this fic, Vogler came and went, Cameron didn't quit like in the show, and House never had to give a speech. He had to fire someone though, and he still picked Chase. But everybody's still there. Got it? Good. Now read. As a last note, I have no idea how much longer this story will go on, nor where I'm taking it.

Four Mondays came and went. A large black man named Vogler and his $100 million came and went. Thank the Lord for small blessings like Wilson and (daresay it) Cuddy. They saved his ass.

A month since his non-date with Cameron. So far, in their small hospital world, everything was right. There hadn't been a second non-date; House was sure she would pressure him into it. His willpower was wearing down and it was getting harder and harder to deny whatever it was that was going on between them.

Still, House expected her to be more forward than usual. After all, she had asked him 'up for coffee', which he assumed meant 'come up and have steamy sex with me'. As much as he would have enjoyed the latter, House had refused any further interaction with Cameron that night.

It seemed like lately she was going out of her way to avoid him, rather than following him around like a lost puppy. Of course, she still sorted his mail and gave him his coffee every morning. Sometimes, if they didn't have a case, that would be all he'd see of her all day long. He knew as a fact (via Wilson) that Cameron spent the majority of the recent free time in the clinic, working her pretty-lady-doctor-skills on unsuspecting sicknesses.

A tiny part of him missed her.

But he snuffed out that match as soon as the thought came to his head. House did not pine, miss, or long. Those words were not in his vocabulary as far as he was concerned.

One day, about a two weeks ago (Thursday afternoon, 1:12pm, House remembered exactly), they had passed each other in the hall. Cameron, nose buried in a folder, hadn't seen him walking, so he had oh-so-gracefully brushed his arm against hers as he sauntered by. She had looked at him and pushed her glasses up on her nose.

Then she had smiled at him.

A tiny part of him couldn't deny that her smile made his day (his week, his month, his year).

He had looked away with an abrupt nod.

That was the extent of their 'personal contact'. Sure, they saw each other, but House was himself and Cameron was herself. He didn't go out of his way to talk to her (or anyone, for that matter) and she deemed her clinic patients more important than the testy doctor with the bright blue eyes in the diagnostic ward.

All that being said, House decided it was his right to be surprised when she waltzed ever so normally into his office at 4:45 on Friday afternoon.

"Up for coffee?" she asked.

House quirked an eyebrow at her; these were the first words she spoke to him all day. Flipping off his Gameboy, he gathered his jacket and cane and started for the door without answering her. She assumed he wanted to go, so she followed him from the office.

"You're paying," he said at last.

Ten minutes later, they found themselves seated across from one another at the coffee house down the street from the hospital. House sipped from his mug, marveling at the taste of the hot liquid after a long day of boredom. Cameron was quieter than usual; their conversation was rather one-sided.

"You know, if it's possible, this tastes even better when it's free," House attempted.

This earned him a small smirk from Cameron, who now buried her own nose in her mug to avoid an answer. They elapsed into silence once again, and this time House decided to do something about it. Placing his drink rather firmly on the table, he looked across at Cameron with a pointed gaze.

"Cut the crap, Cameron," he said, sounding a bit meaner than he intended.

She blinked, startled from her thoughts at his sudden outburst. However, she still wouldn't answer; rather, she gave him a look that dared him to go on. He did.

"What's the deal? Is it just me, or have you been unusually distant lately?" he questioned. "You know that's my job – I've reserved sullen, angry, bitter, and any other descriptive adjective in that category," he said.

"There's no deal, House," she answered calmly, undisturbed by his rant.

He sighed, knowing by the look on her face that she was lying. He pushed further.

"Where have you been lately?" he asked.

"You know… I've been busy," she said, avoiding his gaze.

"Busy doing what?" he was getting annoyed again.

"The usual; clinic duty, paperwork, Vogler…" she took a breath.

House feigned shock, his blue eyes widening slightly.

"You've been doing Vogler? I bet you pulled a hundred dollar bill from his g-string with your teeth!" he quipped. "Darn, I should have tried that."

Cameron glared at him over the rim of her cup, her green eyes dancing with fury.

"House…" she said his name with that tone.

"Say it again, gives me chills," he mused.

The silence enveloped him again. House was out of wry comments and sarcastic remarks. His attempt at prying information from Cameron had failed. He was a bit surprised; usually the girl was eager to gush her feelings to him. He was pondering this fact when she spoke again.

"What did Vogler want with me?" she asked.

Ah, so that subject came up. House nearly panicked – this was far too close to that forbidden area he did not wish to discuss with Cameron. She was referring to the incident involving House having to pick one of his team members to fire. Of course, he had picked Chase, but Vogler wouldn't have it. When House had refused to pick another, Vogler himself had sought out Cameron, telling her that it was her two weeks notice – she was fired. She had found House and asked for an explanation, which was reasonably granted to her. Before anything could escalate further, Vogler and his millions were gone, thanks to Cuddy and the board. Cameron's job was secure, although her relationship with House had been a bit rocky since then.

"He was never out to get you," he paused. "It was me he was after."

Cameron's look was a confused one.

"Why did he try to get rid of me then?" she asked.

House closed his eyes and sighed, breaking her gaze. A hand went up to his face, rubbing his jaw as he thought of how best to answer that. Opening his eyes again, blue met green as a single sentence was uttered.

"He wanted to make me miserable," House said quietly. "It would have worked, too."

He had the undeniable urge to slap himself silly right then. What the hell was he thinking? House didn't talk about his feelings, let alone admit to Cameron that life without her would be despondent. He needed a serious reality check.

Cameron regarded him silently, watching as a series of expressions crossed his face. He finally settled on one of extreme passiveness, a typical House appearance. Cameron stored his comment away in her mind, choosing wisely not to press the issue. Finishing off her coffee, she stood from the table and slung her purse over her shoulder.

"Bye," she said.

A tiny part of him knew that this goodbye foreshadowed something much more definite.

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Four hours later, a knock on his door roused him from his nap (yes, House napped at 10:00 at night). Jerking awake, he ran a hand through his hair and step-limped from the couch to answer it. He expected Wilson, tossed out of the house again after a fight with Julie. Imagine his surprise when he opened the door and it was Cameron who was standing on the other side.

She had changed since coffee. He took in her appearance – low cut jeans, a red polo shirt that dipped a bit to show some cleavage, hair down, Adidas sneakers. A far cry from her usual neatly pressed business suit and high heels.

He became a bit self-conscious, comparing his wrinkled shirt, baggy sweatpants, and mussed hair to her obviously put together facade. This thought crossed his mind for a split second before he mentally slapped himself; Greg House didn't get self-conscious.

He stepped to the side and allowed Cameron to enter. She glanced around his dimly lit living room, having yet to announce her reasons for visiting him so late. He closed the door behind her, leaning against it as he watched her with amusement. Her hands glided over his things ever so lightly; not rearranging, just touching. It was as if she could get to know him better by going through his clutter. She stopped at the end of the couch by the coffee table and finally spoke.

"I'm quitting," she said simply.

"Quitting what? Hopefully not the gym; wouldn't want to lose that pretty little ass of yours," House joked.

"I'm quitting my job."

This sent House's eyebrows straight into his hair. He regarded her with a cool look, judging her sincerity. Cameron stood tall, eyes never leaving his. He knew this game; he was expected to answer, to beg her to stay, to tell her what she wanted to hear. House sighed.

"Why?" he asked with a cock of his head.

"I'm protecting myself…" Cameron paused, seeing if House would comment. When he didn't, she went on. "This thing with Vogler proved that my job isn't as secure as it appears to be. I need to go somewhere where I'm actually wanted."

He knew her statement had hidden meanings. He chose not to comment, instead taking the safe route.

"You're wanted," he said quietly.

Her eyes softened a bit (so much for the safe route).

"For what? For my skills as a doctor, or for my 'nice piece of art ass'?" she questioned.

House cringed. Her tone wasn't angry or upset; it was rather calm, tinted with a bit of regret or sadness. One day he'd learn to keep his mouth shut.

"You're a great doctor, Cameron, don't doubt it," House said sincerely.

It was probably the first time she'd ever heard him compliment anybody without sarcasm. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly.

"I need to get away. It's too stressful, too demanding. To top it off, I'm hardly even respected as a doctor," Cameron sighed. "You don't make it easy for me, House."

For a fleeting second, he wished he hadn't been such a bastard to her in the past. But then the feeling was gone, and his eyes met hers in a look of genuine disappointment.

"I know what you're doing Cameron. You're running away, you're quitting. I thought I taught you to suck it up and toughen your emotions, but I guess I was wrong," House said. "I get it now. That's why you were avoiding me – you made the decision to quit a long time ago."

Avoiding the second part of his statement, her green eyes flashed with anger. How dare he insult her like that, after just defending her skills? She had the hardly irresistible urge to punch him.

"So says the bastard of the 21st century," she muttered.

"Yeah, well at least I can face my problems instead of running away," House retorted.

They both knew that was the furthest from the truth that any statement could get.

For the umpteenth time that day, silence overcame them. Cameron held his gaze, each daring the other to look away first. It was House who broke the eye contact.

He shuffled across the hardwood floor, wanting desperately to have a good leg so he could pace. Cameron's eyes followed him and he was acutely aware of her staring. She still stood by the couch, her arms hanging freely at her sides. House stopped limping in front of her.

"You like me," he said.

He knew she did. She didn't have to say it; he could see it in her eyes. The sexual tension between them at that moment could be cut with a knife. Somehow their conversation had switched from jobs to relationships.

"And you like me," she replied.

House didn't even miss a beat.

"How are you so sure about that?" he asked slyly.

She tilted up her chin, eyes filled with something he couldn't quite put a thumb on.

"Everybody lies," she stated softly.

House had to look away, lest he do something rash like kiss her.

He needed a moment to think. House turned his back to her and resumed his shuffling. When he reached the piano, he laid his cane against its side. His left hand skimmed lightly over the keys, playing a few melodic notes as he processed everything that was said in the past few minutes. He spoke suddenly, over the tune, his words echoing in the silence. He still refused to look at her.

"Why?" he asked.

"Why what?" she was confused.

"Why do you like me?" House clarified.

Cameron was silent for a long time. She didn't exactly know the answer to the question. Many times she had asked herself the same thing. House was a bastard; he was older than her, bitter, and hated the world. Cameron couldn't help how she felt though, and what she said next was the best she could come up with right then.

"Because you're you," she responded.

This seemed to satisfy him for the moment. He rolled her words around in his head for a while, wondering just what she meant by them.

"I'm nothing special. You could have any guy you wanted," House said to the wall.

She started across the room towards him. Still turned away, he didn't know she was behind him until he felt her warm breath on the back of his neck. Cameron rested a hand on his shoulder for a moment and House stopped playing, bolts of electricity shooting through his body. He had half a mind to shrug off her hand, but whatever sense he had vanished when the aforementioned hand began to slide down his arm.

Cameron tugged at his hand, locking her fingers with his own. He stared at their entwined hands for a moment, hardly believing how right it looked. Thoughts ran through his mind at lightning speed, and he almost missed Cameron's whispered words. Almost.

"You play beautifully," she murmured into his ear from behind.

She pulled his hand towards her, turning him to face her. She was so close. House closed his eyes, savoring the heat that radiated from her body. He refused to meet her gaze; he was afraid he would see something in her eyes that he wasn't ready for.

Cameron's tight grip on his hand loosened, and for a brief second there was no contact. Soon, he felt fingers on his wrist, and she raised his arm until his hand was level with her face. She kissed the center of his palm lightly, causing his eyelashes to flutter against his cheeks.

Then Cameron's lips were on his fingers. She kissed the tip of each one gently, lingering for a moment at the fleshy spot between his thumb and first finger. A wave of emotion swept over House and he shivered. The only contact between them existed on her lips.

Her lips traveled from his fingers, down his hand, and up his muscled forearm. He could hardly feel them, and had the urge to open his eyes and verify that she was still there. Releasing his wrist, Cameron squeezed his upper arm gently.

"I don't care if I could have any guy I wanted," she said faintly.

And then the lips were on his neck. Sucking and kissing tenderly, Cameron made her way up to his ear. She placed a gentle kiss on his jaw, right in front of his ear.

"I want you Greg," she said sincerely.

He opened his eyes – it was a mistake.

House turned his head to kiss her cheek. Now it was Cameron's turn to feel breathless. He nibbled on her earlobe, her soft skin warm against his mouth. Cameron stepped closer to him, making them mere inches apart. Not close enough. House's lips touched her jaw, the only place his body connected with hers. He whispered into her ear.

"Allison…" his voice came out broken.

That was the first time he had ever called her by her first name.

This was too much for Cameron. Her arms flung around his neck and she pulled him flush against her, their lips meeting in a crashing kiss. House's hands were in her hair, tugging the auburn strands with passion.

His leg gave way and he sat on the piano bench with a thud, never breaking the kiss. Cameron followed suit, straddling his lap carefully. Her curls tickled his cheek and her hands were hot on his back. When the need for air was too great, she forced herself away from his mouth. She trailed wet kisses down his jaw to the front of his neck, her fingers dipping below the collar of his t-shirt. House's head flew back, his eyes closing again.

When Cameron's left hand slid under his shirt up to his chest, House leaned backwards to balance them and give her better access.

His elbows slammed against the piano keys and both of their eyes flew open with surprise.

Cameron's hands left his body and she removed her lips from his neck. They were both breathing hard, chests heaving as they struggled for mouthfuls of air. They sat there, Cameron on his lap, House's hands on her shoulders to stabilize her, for quiet sometime. House was the first to speak.

"You should go," he said icily.

He was back to avoiding her gaze.

Without a word, Cameron plucked herself from his lap and smoothed her hair. She stood in front of him for a moment, House staring at his shoes.

When he dared to look up, she was gone.

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They have their exits and entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts.

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A/N: So, what did you think! I love House/Cam! Very shmexy, if I must say. Review, because if you don't, I don't have to continue this!