A/N: Just a one shot. My first ever 'published' fanfic; I'm just feeling out the characters so far.
xxxx
"I am not welching." House replied. He gazed dully out his window, his back facing his accuser, Dr. Cuddy.
"So you admit it. I was right. You were wrong. And to pay up, you complete all your backlogged charts, attend the faculty symposium tonight, properly dressed in a suit and tie, AND you shave." she had upped the ante with that last bit, a few minutes before the results of the cystoscopy had come in.
"I remember. Now if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment." House nodded toward his portable tv.
"You have a few appointments downstairs. Your first patient is Ron Owen…and you'll be telling him…"
"That you were right, I know…Now leave me alone, I'm a lot more interested in Carly than Don."
Cuddy smiled, "Ron," she corrected. Her smugness was tolerable only because it was the most self-satisfied he had seen her in a long time.
"Hear that, Dr. Wilson?" she crowed as she left the office and he entered.
"Yeah…House admitting you were right - thought I was in the wrong office for a minute there." he grinned.
"Hey." House turned his chair around to face his friend.
"Hey."
"What?" House started fidgeting with a paper clip
"So you're going tonight?"
"Yup."
"You?"
"Yup. With Julie."
"Oh."
"So are you losing it, or what?"
House made a face. "I'm not losing it. I knew it was interstitial cystitis."
"Right. You knew it was IC – in a male, no less – and you were just, what…being nice?"
"What can I say?"
Wilson chuckled and said something House didn't catch. It sounded like, 'I told you..'
"What?"
"I said, I told you Cameron is making you…" he stopped mid-sentence as Foreman came into the outer office.
"Whatever you were going to say, I vehemently deny it."
"We'll see. Oh, and I thought you'd want to know I'm bringing my camera tonight. I really want to document the evening."
"Get outta here already." House threw a tennis ball at Wilson as he left.
House scratched his chin absently. He had let himself be extra scruffy today to make up for the close shave he would be needing tonight. He had suspected Wilson would bring his new toy (the camera) along that evening.
It was classic. The end stage of each of Wilson's marriages was always accompanied by the acquisition of a new hobby and an unbearable hopefulness that he could turn it around.
Wilson's latest hobby was this camera. It seemed the photo shop's 'master classes' paid off in suckering Wilson and his classmates out of thousands of dollars wasted on extra filters, lenses, film, and cooler, better models.
House suspected it would soon be used to take some tasteful boudoir shots of that girl in accounting.
Then, like the girl herself, the hobby would become less and less exciting, until it would be ditched somewhere. Traded in for a more practical model.
xxxx
House walked into the symposium just as the first speech started. Technically not late, and yet just late enough to avoid all the small talk and preamble.
He was barely recognized, as he was neatly dressed in a dark suit and red tie, and was, as promised, cleanly shaven – a sight many hospital staff had never seen.
Pillars at the perimeter of the room were plastered with giant, cheery, self-congratulatory words. "Integrity!" "Caring!" etcetera etcetera. "Cheesy." he muttered to himself.
He found Wilson and wife at a table, and as he expected, Wilson had saved him a seat.
As he took it he leaned over and whispered into his ear, "Hey Jimmy, got a magic marker?"
xxxx
The speeches were over more quickly than he expected, and House wasn't able to sneak ahead in line for the open bar as he had planned. He couldn't complain that there were dull speakers or dull subjects, since he had tuned them all out. Instead he sat in his chair, made sure he was facing the direction of the podium, and slipped off into his own thoughts.
He rather enjoyed the idea. Anyone looking at him (except maybe Jimmy) would think he was paying rapt attention. It was like a nice little secret or joke that only he knew.
He was sure to clap heartily at the end of each speech.
xxxx
"Ooooh. I've heard about you." Julie Wilson pointed a finger and squinched her eyes at Cameron. Already Cameron regretted being introduced to Wilson's wife.
"So…House asked you on a date, huh?"
"ah, not exac…"
Julie squealed in delight, uninterested in her answer, "And you went! Unbelievable!" she laughed. It was not an attractive sound.
Cameron simply smiled diplomatically and said, "excuse me." before finding a place to hide.
How else could she respond?
House refusing her was bad enough; that everyone and their uncle knew about it – and found it alternatively hilarious or sad - just made it worse.
What she really hated most was herself. She hated herself for being so pathetic and needy and impatient. She hated herself for being so inept at the dating game, at any mind games. She hated herself for thinking that honesty would ever get her anywhere. Especially with House, whose existence seemed to be shakily supported by several tenuous lies.
Most of all she hated the flush in her cheeks right now. She tried not to care, and yearned to be more like him, but she just wasn't able. She wasn't able to pretend that the comments didn't hurt, or that she truly didn't need or want him anymore. More and more lately it had been easier to tell herself she hated him, or at least wasn't interested in him anymore.
Of course she was still fascinated by him. She had been so certain there was more to him than met the eye. For a time she thought she had been wrong about him. Maybe there was nothing beneath his cold, bitter exterior – except a cold bitter interior.
But then there was Stacy. Who proved once and for all that Allison was right. House did have a heart. He was vulnerable and caring and capable of love. But that side of him was carefully guarded, and he had no reason to ever tell or show her anything personal about himself again.
In retrospect, the looks, the gestures – the 'date' that she had mistaken for romantic interest, were more likely tactics used by him to get her to expose herself…just enough of herself so that he (and everyone else, as it turned out) could have a good laugh and shake his head at what a fool she was.
That's what she really was to him. A fool.
Average.
Just like the rest of them.
She was just another moderately interesting puzzle for him to pick at; as forgettable as his last patient or soap opera storyline.
She heard someone call her name and reluctantly abandoned her position behind a large pillar that boasted a shiny poster that read "EXCELLENCE"
xxxx
Wilson was obnoxiously snapping photos of everyone at the event. He was more than a little drunk.
The latest phase was the group shots. He was determined to take fabulous portraits of each department. Onc, Oby/gyn, Diagnostics: all were targets.
Each photo was a work of art, carefully choreographed by the artist, "Now…form a crescent, facing this way…and Derek, tilt your head just a bit downward…" Wilson flailed his arms around in a generally Italian way.
The artistic direction for Diagnostics was simpler.
For the eightieth time, Foreman, Chase, Cameron, and House heard Wilson's one directive for this shot:
"closer…a little closer…"
"Just take the damn picture you idiot," House muttered, while trying not to frown.
"I just want to make sure everyone's in the shot."
"Allison – could you go to the other side – no there – next to Greg. Perfect. Now a little cuddlier guys…"
"He's just dicking with us," Foreman informed House.
(who as usual, already knew that)
"Any day now Jimmy!" House whined.
Wilson did take the picture, then a few more, "Now one with Cuddy; now a nice, professional, serious one; okay now you can smile for this one…"
House made his escape after the first shot.
"Oh no hey wait House – how bout one of you and Cameron? Why don't you put your arm around her or something."
"Or give her a kiss." hollered Chase, guffawing.
Cameron glared at him. Luckily she was too angry to be embarrassed this time. The next day she would think of a dozen brilliant comebacks, instead she swiftly walked away, clicking heels her only rebuttal for now.
"Yup. I tend to have that effect on women" House quipped at her hasty exit.
"You should have asked her to take her top off." House bellowed to Wilson as him and his camera beat a hasty retreat.
xxxx
There was a choice for dessert. Crème brulee, chocolate cake, or rice pudding.
"No jello! What kind of caterers did you hire, Cuddy? Honestly." House frowned in mock-exasperation.
She stuck her tongue out at him. "Don't you have jello at home?"
"Yeah…but I don't cook."
xxxx
Cameron's choice was easy. She wasn't hungry. She wasn't comfortable either. She had picked apart a croissant, more to look like she was doing something than to actually eat. Her dress, while beautiful, hung loosely on her thin frame. Less attractive than it had looked when she bought it a few weeks ago.
"No thanks." she said to the waitress, when asked which dessert she'd prefer.
"Hey, you okay?" Foreman elbowed her.
"Yeah." she shrugged. "Tired."
Chase was passing the table, enthralled with a blonde PT, when Foreman grabbed his arm and they had an exchange she didn't hear.
xxxx
"Chase. She's upset. You should say something to her."
"Like what?"
"Apologize"
"Come on, we make fun of each other all the time! And besides…she's always upset," he crinkled his nose distastefully.
"Just...don't say stuff like that in front of House, alright? He's mean enough to her for all of us"
"Hey, he's mean to us, too."
"Apologize. It'll just take a second."
xxxx
"Allison," he turned to her, putting on his best impersonation of sincere, "About before…I shouldn't have said that. It was a stupid joke. I'm sorry."
"It's okay."
She knew it was an act, but appreciated the effort anyway.
"Thanks, Foreman."
He smiled. "Come on, try some of this cake."
She smiled back and shook her head.
"It's chocolate…come on."
"No. Thanks."
xxxx
She sipped some of her coffee and reflected on that moment. She always felt the need to review situations where she had felt uncomfortable. And the photography session certainly qualified. She wasn't sure if she was trying to learn from it or simply wallowing in the humiliation.
She felt guilt at the stupid giddiness she still felt being close to House. The secret joy at Wilson's encouraging them to get even closer.
Then it dawned on her. Wilson was making fun of her just as much as Chase was. In fact, Wilson had started it all. His voice echoed in her memory, 'Why don't you put your arm around her, House'
Haha. Let's laugh it up at Cameron's expense. Great.
She wondered if he and House had thought it up in advance, ('you know what would be funny? A Cam sandwich!') or whether it was a spur of the moment thing.
What a jerk.
The short list of people at the hospital who may have a chance at respecting her had just gotten one man shorter.
xxxx
"You're drunk James. It's pathetic. You're embarrassing yourself."
"Keep your voice down. You've been drinking too, Julie."
"I had a sip of wine two hours ago. I'm driving and that's final."
"Fine. Go get the car then." he made a shooing motion with his hands. That always irritated her.
"Fine."
"Dr. Wilson," Cameron said sternly, "I would like to talk to you. Privately."
He raised and eyebrow at her, but said nothing, following her into a hallway.
"What is it? We were just leaving…"
Cameron took a breath before continuing, "I just wanted to say that I know what you were doing tonight – with the picture? and I don't appreciate it."
Wilson blinked. At first he genuinely wasn't sure what she was talking about.
"Oh that. Yeah, sorry. I was just teasing House, you know…" he shrugged.
He looked at her, trying to guage how upset she was and resisted rolling his eyes when he saw her eyes brimming with tears.
She felt like a fool. What was the point of this confrontation? It only proved to expose her over-sensitivity. "It's okay. I'm sorry…I just…House just…" she turned away, refusing to let her tears fall.
"Gets you so mad?" Wilson filled in.
She laughed bitterly, her back still to him. "Yeah."