Disclaimer: I don't own House M.D.- still.
A/N: Aagh! I'm sorry for this taking so long- I've had a migraine for the past three weeks straight, so not much writing or computer-work for me lately. I'm trying to get the rest of this out, but it will be slower-ish process: I have to write a 15 page manuscript for my Masters application and study for my LSAT which I write October 1st! But, I hope you enjoy. :)
House raised a brow and turned his head slowly as the door closed behind Cameron. His forehead wrinkled in a frown as he forced his eyes—and thoughts—away from Allison Cameron. He lifted the edge of one of numerous documents on his desk and eyed it warily. House exhaled loudly and craned his neck in an attempt to peer into the adjoining conference room. He exhaled again and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as "Sunday, Bloody Sunday" swept over him.
After a moment, Houses' sharp blue eyes flew open and he leaned forward, grasping his cane. He opened a desk drawer and shuffled through the loose contents until he found the bright green tennis ball. He stood and hobbled slowly towards the center of his office, bouncing the ball as he went. He turned, catching the toy deftly as he lifted his eyes upward to find Cameron in the next room. She was seated at the conference table with her back to him, no doubt reading over Mrs. Jenkins' case file yet again. What had he said to Wilson once about grabbing her ass?
House shook his head, tearing his gaze from Cameron. He turned, bouncing the ball again, and noticed that U2 had faded into the soft crooning of Anna Nalick:
So you're takin' these pills for to fill up your soul,
And you're drinkin' 'em down with cheap alcohol,
And I'd be inclined to be yours for the taking…
House rolled his eyes at the lyrics and turned again and fixed his eyes unconsciously on the young woman in the adjoining room. What was he doing? Better question—what was she doing? Why was she here? She never should have come back—he never should have asked—begged, rather—for her to come back to him. He would only make her miserable—it was inevitable. My God though, he thought, she is beautiful… House hadn't lied the day she challenged him—he had hired her largely for her aesthetic quality—she was a work of art. The most irritatingly appealing thing was: it was as if she didn't even try. Her perfectly-fitted black sweater hugged her modest curves in such an alluring way. I like her hair like that he mused silently, free and loose down her shoulders…
House bounced the ball blindly off the toe of his shoe causing it to roll under his desk and out of reach. He blinked, the motion of the wayward ball drawing his attention from Cameron's still form. He moved a step towards the desk, a deep growl of annoyance rumbling softly in his throat. He frowned at the ball as it lay trapped under his desk against the far wall—"Damn" he grumbled.
House bent over and shut the music off irritably and leaned against the desk. Suddenly, he felt very trapped—caged and restless. He briefly contemplated harassing Wilson, but decided against it. He picked up his half empty coffee cup and swallowed the last of the tepid contents before pushing himself upward off the desk. He hobbled, cup in hand, toward the conference room—he needed more coffee, that's all.
When House raised his eyes from the floor he was surprised to find the room empty: Cameron, and her paperwork, was gone, leaving nothing behind but the tantalizing aroma of brewed coffee. House strode to the sink and deposited his empty cup into the basin. Exhaling slowly, he turned and left the conference room, intent upon a coffee and donut in the cafeteria.
As he rounded a corner, House stopped short and fought the urge to disappear into the nearest doorway—Wilson. He was leaning against the nurses' station a few feet away brandishing that ridiculous 'I'm so dashing and boyishly innocent' smile in conversation with Cameron. House set his jaw and approached them. Wilson looked up to see House coming and his smile faltered for the briefest instant.
"There you are—I was just on my way to see you" Wilson greeted.
Cameron turned to regard her boss with a soft smile. House raised a brow at Wilson without acknowledging Cameron—"were you?" he questioned as he continued past.
Wilson opened his mouth to reply and turned his head to follow Houses' procession down the hall. He turned back to Cameron and chuckled softly. Cameron smiled—"Well, it looks like he's speaking to you after all".
Wilson raised a brow and looked over his shoulder once more to discover that House was gone.
"Yeah" he answered wryly.
"Has he been terrible?" he asked her, concerned that House would choose to freeze out Cameron as well, or worse, bait and attack her.
Cameron shook her head slowly, dark tresses ruffling over her shoulders—"No. He's been fine" she said with some confusion.
Wilson laughed—"So it's just me then" he confirmed. "Well that's good" he smiled.
"I'm glad you're feeling better" he said, pushing himself off the counter, "I'll see you later".
Cameron nodded and continued her trek to the lab.
Wilson entered the cafeteria and scanned the sea of people before his eyes settled on Houses' rumpled form. He poured himself a cup of cafeteria-grade coffee and paid, drifting over to the corner table House occupied.
"Wow—you look terrible" Wilson scoffed with a smile, stopping in front of his friend.
House looked up blankly—"That Mindy—I didn't get any sleep at all" he said salaciously.
Wilson chuckled and sat down slowly—"Well, that much is obvious".
House picked up his cup and drank, averting his gaze from the man in front of him. Wilson raised a brow and observed his friend across the table. House put the cup down suddenly and exhaled dramatically—"Oh, what!" he asked at last. Wilson leaned back in his own chair.
"So how long are you going to keep this up, exactly?" he questioned pleasantly.
House remained expressionless—"Keep what up, exactly?" he asked innocently.
Wilson sighed, fixing House with an unyielding gaze. House rolled his eyes and sipped his coffee; he shrugged. "Dunno—another twenty minutes at least".
Wilson raised a brow and drank from his own cup.
"Twenty minutes you say?" he glanced at his watch, "why that's just enough time for me to ravage Dr. Cameron in the lab one last time" he said dryly.
House met Wilson's teasing with a blank, cold stare. Wilson sighed and put his cup down. He leaned forward slightly across the table and gazed at his old friend.
"Are we done? Can this end, please?" he asked softly.
Houses' gaze softened, ever so slightly.
"I still have at least fifteen minutes on the clock" he quipped, sipping his murky beverage. He grimaced at the foul taste and pushed the styrofoam cup aside.
Wilson chuckled softly and sat back in his chair.
"I'm a patient man".
"Being married to Julie for the past six years—you'd have to be" House scoffed.
Wilson laughed and attempted an offended look.
"That's nice—drag my marriage into this".
House arched a brow, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth—"somebody should"—before he bit heartily into a dry, glazed donut.
A/N: I wasn't trying to make this a "song fic", and I feel a little... I dunno, about puttig those lyrics in because it's kind of cheesy, I know. But, they're VERY applicable to the House/Cam 'thing' so, I hope you all approve :) The song is "Catalyst" in case anyone is interested.