Disclaimer: Don't own House. Thanks for checking, though.

A/N: I took a break from work when I finally figured out how to handle this. Ever write yourself into a corner? That's how I was feeling after the last chapter. Please keep letting me know what you think. I can never have too much praise and/or constructive criticism. Thanks!

OOOO

Somewhere between monster trucks and corsages. That's where Allison figured she would have to place this particular afternoon. Greg House was sitting in her living room watching football and alternating between throwing barbed comments at the TV with throwing the popcorn that Allison had made earlier.

"Punting? Are you kidding me? What a dumbass." He took a drink of the beer Wilson had brought. "Fourth quarter, down by six, thirty-five yards to go, and he's calling a punt."

"They don't have a kicker," interjected Wilson.

"They don't have a coach either."

"You liked him when he called the pass earlier."

"The water boy probably came up with that one," sniped House.

Allison wasn't sure what exactly they were talking about. Not that she didn't know anything about football. She had grown up in the Midwest and she had brothers. She knew something about football, but she was having a little trouble paying attention. It wasn't very often that she saw House so relaxed. She saw it the last time on their date-that-wasn't-a-date when he had been absolutely enthralled by the humongous trucks. She had had trouble paying attention then, too. A relaxed House was a sight to behold.

He hadn't started out that way. After she had changed into actual clothes and had joined him at the TV, he had been downright surly. She figured he must have been having second thoughts about showing up at her door. Once Wilson had arrived and the game had begun in earnest, though, he had calmed down to the point that he eventually threw a hot wing at her TV. That was when she had made the popcorn. Easier to clean up.

She saw him throw his hands up in the air and she looked back at the game. The punt had resulted in a return of forty yards. Not a good thing.

They were actually into their second game. Allison hadn't said much the whole time because she had been too busy thinking. She had a feeling that Wilson understood that this was a little more than she knew how to handle. When he had come in, he had winked at her. She found herself thanking him for coming in a slightly desperate way.

"Like I'd miss this." He smiled and took the beer to the fridge.

That had been several hours ago. House had sat at the end of the couch farthest from the chair that Allison occupied, and Wilson sat on the end closest to her. A buffer, she thought. The floor was spotted with not only popcorn but also beer bottles and soda cans (Allison's choice). There were a couple of stray paper plates and the lone hot wing that House had whiffed at the TV.

She would hate to admit it, given the fact that she wasn't exactly sure what was going on here, but she was actually having fun. It had been a while since she had done something like this. She had always gotten along with guys and found Saturdays like this to be relaxing. She couldn't completely relax this time, however, because the nagging voice in her head was telling her that House absolutely could not leave until he explained himself, but she was ignoring that at the moment.

House and Wilson were both yelling now. A tackle had been missed it seemed, and the winning team had gained more yardage. They were arguing with each other over strategy, and Allison looked back at the TV. The quarterback dropped back, faked a hand-off, and threw the ball – right into the hands of the linebacker of the losing team.

"Interceptioned!" Allison shrieked. Both men spun back to the screen and started whooping and whistling as the large, overgrown defensive man ran the ball in for a touchdown.

"Interceptioned?" House teased after the hollering had died down.

She stuck her tongue out at him and stood up to stretch her legs for a second.

"Giving up?"

"On what?" she asked.

"The game." House answered.

Good question, she thought. Deserves a good answer.

"Why would I do that?" She smiled innocently. "Seems to me that the coach just made some bad choices. Maybe he'll get his head out of his ass and they'll still win."

House just looked at her.

"God help me." Wilson groaned. "If you two are done throwing cheesy euphemisms around, they're about to go for the extra point in the actual game on the TV."

Allison smirked and sat back down. The kicker made the point and after a couple of close calls, the previously "dumbass" coach had been elevated to the status of a guy who "might know what he's doing" as his team won the game.

OOOO

"Ever consider getting a cleaning lady?" House limped in from the kitchen where he had just deposited the paper plates into the trash can.

"Ever consider not throwing sticky food around the room?" retorted Allison, who was on her knees trying to get hot sauce out of her carpet. "Besides, a cleaning lady isn't exactly in my budget."

"You could have negotiated for that instead of a date." Might as well jump in head first.

She sat back on her heels and looked at him. "So the fun's over for the day?"

"I didn't really come over to watch football, you know." He was trying awfully hard to be smooth about this, but that was not something anyone had ever accused him of being, so he was fairly certain that he was going to stick his foot in it at some point. He just wondered when that would be.

"Interesting cover story." She sighed and picked up what was left of the trash. She took the empty pizza boxes to the kitchen and came back for the take-out boxes. There were still two wings and a jalapeno popper left. "Will you eat this?"

"No, toss it if you don't want it." Wilson had abandoned him at the end of the second game. He had claimed that Julie expected him home. House didn't buy it – mostly because as he was leaving Wilson had leaned in and told him to "get something straightened out."

He really wanted to do just that, but he wasn't sure how to go about it. He at least wanted to get them back on a footing that he could deal with. This week had been hell for him. He had gone from pissed on Wednesday to anxious on Friday. In between times, he had tried to convince himself that if he just didn't pay attention to her, everything would be okay. The problem was that she couldn't be ignored, at least not after his first disastrous attempt to ignore her and focus on Stacy had ended the way it had.

His anxiety on her behalf was due in part to the fact that he just couldn't see her as someone who could, in the long run, handle something like walking in on her boyfriend and another woman. It was exacerbated by the guilt that he felt because it had been Stacy and by the strong twinge of jealously that he felt at the knowledge that Allison had been dating someone without his approval.

Logically, he knew she didn't need his approval, and he knew that she would cheerfully kick his ass at the thought. Logic hadn't played a huge role in his relationship with her, though, not since he had hired her. During commercials for pickup trucks and beer, he had realized that he was very tired. He was tired of dealing with this without her input. It was time for a conference. There was no white board, but they needed to get the problems out in the air.

He grinned. He could just see Cuddy running for the psych department. House wanted to talk about his feelings! Someone get in here with a couch and a tape of soothing whale noises now!

"So why did you come over?" She was sitting again on the same chair she had been in all day. He settled himself where Wilson had been. He didn't want her to think he was afraid of her.

"Anyone ever tell you that you can be very direct?"

"Oh, here we go. Okay. I'll play along." She shifted in the chair and her voice took on a mildly snide tone. "Look who's talking. You come barging in here with no warning, bringing food that doesn't come up off the carpet easily, and inviting your only crony to tag along. How is that not direct?"

"It wasn't too long ago that you wouldn't have minded me showing up on your doorstep unannounced."

Silence.

"Low blow. Sorry about that." He pulled his pill bottle out of his pocket. "I'm not sure what to say here, Cameron. I think we need to put our cards on the table, but that will require me talking about feelings." He sneered. "You know better than most people how well I do that."

"Once you get going, you do pretty well if I remember correctly." She crossed her arms across her body. "Of course, if you bothered to ask you'd find out that you don't know what you're talking about."

This time he was the one who was quiet.

"But I don't think that's what you want to talk about," she added.

More silence.

Allison realized that a discussion of this nature was next to impossible for him. As much as she wanted him to take the lead, she decided that coming over here had probably been the only thing he was going to give. She unfolded her arms and pulled her legs up, resting her chin on her knees.

"I liked him, you know."

Okay, maybe not what he wanted to hear, but it was a start.

"Well, sometimes that's the way it goes." Somehow that didn't sound like what he wanted it to sound like.

She laughed, sounding a little too jaded to his ears. "That's the way it goes, huh? Yep. It would certainly seem so. I like a guy and I end up getting kicked in the teeth." She managed not to sound too pissed at his comment. She didn't want him bolting yet.

He was obviously searching for something to say, and she wanted to buy him some time. "This is really the stupidest thing I've ever experienced in my life. The irony of it all is disgusting." She paused, trying to give him time to add something. She got nothing so she went on. "I really think that aside from the initial anger, that I was, maybe still am, more embarrassed than anything."

"You mentioned that the other day."

"Oh. Well, I guess we don't need to revisit old territory, do we?" She was getting frustrated. He needed to say something. Anything at this point would be good. "I suppose you're still pretty upset with Stacy."

"Why would I be upset? She left five years ago; she left again this week. Just a bad rerun."

"You're lying." A direct challenge.

"Not a very nice thing to say."

"Feeling less and less nice as the minutes crawl by here." He still didn't respond.

"She came by to see me, you know." She tried to get a rise out of him, remembering Stacy's words to her.

"What?"

She was silently glad to hear his sharp tone.

"Why did she do that? I told her not to." He was glaring at her.

"She said she wanted to apologize or some such thing." Allison had to look away from him. He was more intense than he had been all day. She started to get an inkling about what was going on inside his head. Could that possibly be anger on her behalf? Hmmm. That was an interesting thought.

"Did she?" he asked.

"Did she…apologize?" She shook the revelation from her head for a moment. "She tried. I didn't really give her much of a chance."

"Getting pretty ballsy in your old age, are you?" He grinned and lifted an eyebrow.

She shivered. That was one of the looks that caused her to all but throw herself at him a few months ago. "Maybe. Of course, I've been learning from the master." She realized too late that he could probably turn that into something lewd. She was pleased that he either didn't catch the slip or chose to ignore it.

He still wasn't jumping in with any startling revelations, so she continued herself. "What I have been wondering is why she chose Randy. It's not like she couldn't have her pick." She looked back at him. "Still nothing to say? Well, if I were completely paranoid, I would say that she chose him specifically."

He looked up at her.

"Not that I really know her all that well. Truth be told I never really wanted to try, but I was stupid and naïve enough to tell her that I had gone out with you. That couldn't have made her very happy, wouldn't you say? I mean, you certainly know her a lot better than I ever did."

"Maybe."

Allison stood up. "House, you're the one who just said that we needed to put our cards on the table. Start dealing because I have said all I'm going to for now."

He moved to the edge of the couch. "Cameron…"

"Are you angry? Are you jealous? You have a pretty impressive vocabulary, Doctor. Surely you can think of something to say." She was surprised to find herself getting more impatient.

"I'm angry."

"Good start." She motioned with her hand. "Keep going."

"I'm angry because I never thought she could do something like that." He let some of it come out, much to Cameron's relief. "I'm angry because she chose to take her disgust with me out on you."

"Is that what you think?" She couldn't have been more shocked at his admission.

"What else would I think?" He stood up himself. He reached to the end of the couch and grabbed his cane. "I'm not saying that she could have known that you would be coming in, but she had to have known that you were seeing him." He shrugged. "I'm sure she knew what she was doing. She said she didn't but I can't believe her."

"You asked?"

His confessional had run out of steam, though, and he couldn't respond the way she wanted him to. He walked toward the window in her living room.

"Do you love him?" He asked instead.

"What?" Whoa. That was not what she expected.

"Do you love him?" He was addressing her but kept his eyes fixed on the world outside.

"No. No, I don't love him. I liked him, but I didn't love him. Why?" Now she was confused.

His protectiveness had kicked back in, and he couldn't seem to stop trying to comfort her. He tried to keep his tone brisk. "If you don't love him, it will make it easier to get over it. What they did was terrible, and that you had to see it was worse, but if you don't love him it shouldn't stick with you."

"Like it's stuck with you." She realized she had just switched topics to Stacy's direct injustice towards House.

"Yes, it has, but this has too." He lifted the cane up. "I'm pretty certain that if she hadn't left me when she did, if she had left before the infarction, I would have dealt with it better. She really needs to work on her timing." He tried for another grin and almost succeeded.

Damn. Allison would give anything for a camera or a tape recorder right now. She'd be willing to bet that he had never said that to anyone in five years. Wilson would probably choke.

She moved to her couch and sat down. She was in shock, but it didn't feel bad. She felt a perverse happiness at knowing that she knew something about House that no one else knew. He still stood looking out the window and she took his silence this time as a chance to gather her thoughts. She really wasn't comfortable with the fact that the feelings she had started to push out of her mind and heart were sneaking back in. She must not have liked Randy too much if the sight of him bare-assed in his office had pushed her back into the realm of House. She chuckled.

"What?" House turned back around and moved toward the couch.

"Nothing."

He didn't believe her, but he shrugged and sat down next to her. Not right next to her – still some safety space, but close enough.

"I wonder if she'll tell Mark," she stated.

"I really doubt it."

"Poor guy."

This time House chuckled. "Amazing. You're worried about Mark." He laughed again. "If she does, I'll suggest to him that we form a club. We'll call it the 'Men Who Have Been Screwed Over By Stacy Association.' I, of course, will be president since I have been dealing the longest."

"Not very acronym-friendly."

"Well, I can work on that."

Things were silent again, and a bit awkward, both of them having ventured into emotional territory that they tried to avoid. House rested his chin on the handle of his cane. He stared at the blank TV in front of him.

Allison was searching for something to say. This was not a terribly comfortable silence. It was as if they both knew that any more talking would lead them into areas they really weren't ready to deal with yet.

Then her phone rang.

They both jumped, and Allison all but ran to the phone. It was her mother. Perfect.

After the initial greetings, Allison found herself trying to respond to her mother's question about how she had spent her day. House was still staring at nothing, but Allison knew he wasn't missing any of this.

"I watched football."

"No, not with Randy."

"With …a friend from work and my … boss."

"Yes, that's who I mean."

"His…um… TV is broken."

House listened to Cameron fumble around for a way to explain his presence in her home. He turned his head toward her. She was looking a little desperate. He could understand that. What was she supposed to say? "Mom, my boss, whom I've dated, is here because his ex slept with my boyfriend and now we're trying to figure out how exactly to tread those waters? Oh, yeah. My boss? He might be regretting treating me like shit." Not a conversation he wanted to hear.

House stood up and walked to the door. He lifted his hand in an abbreviated wave. She tripped coming over to him as she cut her mom off. Holding the receiver against her stomach, she reached out and grabbed his arm. "Where are you going?"

He just looked at her. She seemed tiny without the high heels she usually wore. And she looked horribly young standing there in her white socks. He patted her on the shoulder. "See you Monday." And he left.

Allison watched the door shut. She went into the living and sat back down. She put the phone back to her ear, but she had missed whatever her mom was chatting about. "Can I call you back, Mom?" After assuring her that everything was okay, Allison hung up, laid her head back, and closed her eyes, emotionally exhausted and maybe a little defeated.