A/N: I really love all the reviews; they help a lot when writing, so please write more! In this chapter I try to make up in length what I lack in talent, so please forgive the general 'out-of-character' ness and such, and I'd be eternal grateful!

Disclaimer: House, still, does not belong to me. It's sodepressing.

"This is pointless" House said as he tried, and failed, to fix his tie correctly. "I should cancel; I have a patient in surgery tomorrow."

"And if you were a surgeon that might actually matter." Wilson said, lazing on House's sofa.

"I don't know how to have casual conversation. She'll be expecting casual conversation." House finished his tie, and continued to check his outfit.

Wilson inwardly chuckled at his friend and decided to give him some calming advice. "Open doors for her, help her with her chair-"

"I have been on a date." House interrupted.

"Uh, not since disco died." Wilson retorted. "Comment on her shoes, her earrings, and then move on to D.H.A." Wilson caught the look House threw him and continued to explain. "Her dreams, hopes and aspirations. Trust me. Panty-peeler. Oh, and if you need condoms, I've got some."

"Did your wife give them to you?" Was House's bitter reply, which was completely wasted on Wilson, who was more than used to his friend's comments. "Drug rep. They've got antibiotics built in, somehow."

House wondered over to, and opened, his fridge, peering inside. Wilson saw this and figured he was getting a drink.

"Good idea; settle your nerves. Get me a beer too." He said as he rose from his seat and moved closer.

"No beer."

"You're going to eat before dinner?"

House stared at the little plastic box on the shelf. A corsage. He had actually bought a corsage. For Cameron. He'd bought Cameron a corsage. He repeated the phrase but it still didn't make any sense to him. He didn't like her. There was only a physical attraction there, right? He was going on the date to satisfy her whim in order to get her to come back to work. The problem was; he couldn't figure out who had 'won' between them. He had gotten her to come back, but she had gotten him to date her. To take her on one date, he corrected himself. Either way, it was a terrible idea. It was going to end horribly. It would probably start horribly. He was just grateful that in the middle they would be too preoccupied with eating to care for small talk. Small talk. What on Earth was he doing? The girl he was about to take out was half his age, naïve and stubbornly believed that there was something between them, and he had bought her a corsage- he was adding fuel to an already fierce fire. Perhaps that's what he wanted to do. Maybe, some part of him, a very small, very hidden part of him, wanted to see if he could do it again. To see if he could care for somebody and have them care back. But this wasn't a game. It was Dr Alison Cameron; he was toying with her emotions. This was such a bad idea.

"This," he said, pulling out the delicate flower and waving it in Wilson's face, "this is pretty lame, right?"

Wilson smiled. "I think she like lame."

Okay, she was ready. She stood in front of her mirror and checked her outfit, tracing her hands over her long dress, ironing out creases that weren't there. Everything was fine. Her hair shined healthily and fell neatly onto her shoulders. Her makeup, jewelry, shoes, purse; everything had been prepared, checked and checked again. She had finished leftover paperwork, fed her cat and cleaned the apartment. Twice. And yet, her hands were still shaking for something to do. She was either very nervous or suffering from obsessive-compulsive disorder. She thought it would be easier to admit to the latter. Was she doing the right thing? This really wasn't going to go well. Forcing House to date her would probably have the same result as forcing a fierce animal into a tight corner. Except Greg House had sharper fangs than any animal she could think of. The phrase 'Be careful what you wish for' crept across her thoughts. But wait, she was getting way ahead of herself; the date hadn't even started and she was already having fears. Besides, House likes her, she likes House. They were just two mature adults sharing a quiet meal. As long as he left his pessimism at the door, and she didn't try to probe too much out of him, the evening should be quite pleasant. Nevertheless, the urge to ask those nagging questions was intense. After all, this may be her only chance to really talk to him, to find out if he would ever express anything other that sarcasm to her. To find out if they'd ever get past the first, mandatory, date. She chuckled a little. She'd be a fool to get her hopes up that much, but she wouldn't accept anything less than an honest answer about his feelings for her. That much she deserved.

He arrived at the restaurant on time, which was more than he could say about her. Where was that woman? He absent-mindedly played with the cutlery and watched the other people enjoying their evening; two new parents fussing over their daughter, an old couple holding hands, a young couple sharing smiles and a group of woman toasting. He was so enthralled by imagining these other people's lives that he hardly even noticed Cameron walking over to the table.

"Hi." She said as he finally caught the movement in the corner of his eye.

"Hi." It was all he could muster back as she sat down opposite him. He would have come up with a glib remark about being fashionably late, but he had to admit that he was far too distracted watching her.

"I see you decided to turn up then. I was worried I might have to call in a substitute date. Such late notice would've caused the price to rocket." His brain finally kicked in to gear. Not his greatest line, but a line at least.

"I assume that to date you the price would already have to be sky-high."

"What can I say? I'm a diva." She giggled and he observed her; she was sparkling. She wore a dress that he felt obviously served a purpose, and it served it well; she seemed to be glowing, smiling at nothing in particular. Especially when she caught his gaze and he looked away.

"I've always loved this restaurant." She said, looking directly at him.

"Yeah. It's changed a lot since I was here last. Used to be a strip joint."

She laughed again. Her laughter, he felt, eased the tension enough for him to embark on his next move. Not that it was a 'move' on her, per se, it was just an action which needed to be done as quickly as possible to avoid yet more tension; like pulling off a band-aid. He took the plastic box that contained the corsage out from its hiding place in his lap and slid it across the table.

"This is for you." He said flatly, hoping she'd take the hint and not make a fuss. She saw his expression and felt it kinder not to make a big deal out of it, even though she wanted to. She took it out of the container and fixed it to her dress.

"It's beautiful. Thank you." She smiled. She looked at him, wriggling under the discomfort. He looked good in his suit. But then he looked good in his casual uniform too. She felt she'd probably still find him attractive no matter what he wore. Even in his lab coat. Especially in his lab coat. She chuckled at the thought.

"You look very handsome." She ventured.

"Thank you. Nice earrings." He tried.

"My mom's, thanks."

"Nice shoes. Comfortable?"

"Not really. Yours?" she played along, realizing his discomfort.

"Always."

She smiled. "You know, I'm not expecting you to be somebody you're not."

"We're in a restaurant, we're dressed up." He paused and shuffled. "If not small talk what else is there?"

"Lots." She said in earnest. She was highly amused at the role reversal between them, her being the more confident one. However, she was also aware of the risks that it bought; if he felt too out of his depth he might bolt. She decided that humor might be the best-chosen language in order to get him to relax a little. "And you can't really blame me for the context; you picked this place. I would have gone paint-balling."

"Liar." He said, looking up from the menu to gaze at her.

"I guess you'll never know." she leaned in and smiled. She could have been mistaken, but she thought she won a glimmer of a smile from him, if it only was for a second.

He was amused by her behavior. Obviously she was enjoying this, and felt far too confident. He would have to squash that nasty aspect and take charge of their evening.

"So what's your cat's name?"

"What?" House's question threw her a bit, which was its purpose.

"You have a scratch, on your arm." He explained. "You didn't do it at work and I figure you're not that clumsy at home, so you either have a cat or you got into a jealous brawl with a girlfriend. Please tell me it was the latter; I'd so love to hear details."

How did he always know everything? It was so frustrating. She could lie, just to watch his reaction. She grinned; perhaps he was rubbing off on her.

"Tibet." She admitted.

"Seriously?" he wrinkled his forehead.

She gave a disapproving smirk that tried to hide the fact she was also amused by the name. "My neighbor." She began to clarify. "She moved and couldn't have any pets in her new apartment. I offered to take him in, she accepted."

"How touching." He mocked.

She frowned. "I find it hard to believe you never had a pet as a child."

"Right. I'm all soft and gooey on the inside."

"Yes, technically." She paused and looked away. Small talk was fine; in fact it was a nice change. But she reminded herself that this, unfortunately, was probably the only chance she was going to have to get any answers from him. At the risk of it backfiring on her in so many ways, she decided to focus their rather odd conversation.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

"I'm hungry?" he replied, sensing the unwanted change of topic.

She gave an frustrated glare. "It would have been so much simpler to just hire somebody new, but you fought to get me back. Why?"

"I don't like change." He said, still reading the menu.

"Is that it? There's no other reason?"

"You're a good doctor." He shrugged, avoiding eye contact.

"But there are better doctors. Prettier doctors too," she rolled her eyes, "so why me? I deserve a real reason, don't I?"

He sighed. Their conversation was heading in exactly the direction he knew it eventually would, but had hoped wouldn't.

"It's…easier, when you're there." He admitted. It was all he was going to admit to, at least right now. A major part of that was because he really couldn't decide how he felt about Cameron. Okay, sure, he was attracted to her, hence the kissing. But there was something, several things actually, holding him back. There was the most obvious, the reluctance to open up to anybody for fear of yet more pain. But then there was curiosity: why did she like him? Even she had declared that he was, on occasion, 'abrasive and rude', so why did she insist on pursuing him? There was an explanation for this, nagging in the back of his mind, letting him know that he was just the next charity case in her life. The theory managed to overpopulate most of his thoughts, squashing any delusions he conceives about happily-ever-after with Cameron, with anyone.

"If you like me being there so much why do you make it so difficult?" she asked, completely dumbfounded by his limited response, but at the same time grateful that he didn't bat the question away with sarcasm.

"I make it difficult for everyone, it's just the way I am." He said quietly.

"That's not true. You make it especially difficult for me, emotionally."

"Why?" he huffed in frustration, fed up with attempting to tiptoe around the issue. "Because I won't play kiss and chase? You're the one that makes it difficult for yourself."

"Wrong again; from my experience you're more than willing to play kiss and chase, just not that willing to admit that there are any feeling behind the game."

"Because there aren't any."

"Liar" she retorted.

However, House was silenced from making his response when the waiter arrived at their table, pausing expectantly and smiling.

"Can I take you're order?" he asked graciously. He continued to grin, apparently oblivious to the tension between his two customers. He wore a smart black and white uniform with a horrid bowtie. It reminded House too much of an old fashioned suit that made people look far too comparable to fat penguins. This, combined with the waiter's sickeningly cheery disposition, thoroughly annoyed House and warranted, in his opinion, not only a death-glare, but also an unlimited supply of belittling and sarcastic remarks. However, as soon as the waiter left their table, cheery mood systematically lessened, Cameron shot House her own death-glare and decided to voice her disapproval.

"You know he's going to put a heap of pepper on our food now, right?"

"I like pepper." House replied in that unconcerned voice he so often used.

"I don't." she mimicked him. "What you did was completely unnecessary and rude."

"Are you kidding?" he said, contorting his features. "I didn't say anything you weren't thinking."

"I wasn't thinking any one of those things you said."

"Really?" He asked in exaggerated disbelief.

"Yes."

"Not one?" He appeared genuinely disappointed.

"Nope."

"But they were funny?" She rolled her eyes at his behavior, but the smile on her lips let him know he was forgiven. Not that he needed her forgiveness, of course, but it gave him a happy smug feeling, like he'd gotten any with something much worse; dodged a bullet, to steal Foreman's wording.

House leaned back in his chair, content that they had gotten over the most awkward part of the evening, and more relaxed now that he had blown off some steam on the waiter. Cameron looked more relaxed too, leaning forward on the table, glancing around the restaurant at the same people he had focused on earlier. He figured that tonight was not the night to get into a fight with the person he had fought to keep by his side. Besides, he had plenty to be grateful for; Vogler was gone, Cameron was back and Chase was in grovel mode. For this evening at least, previous quarrels would be buried, and they could just enjoy each other's company.