The rest of the day went by in a blur for House. Common colds, sprained ankles, hemorrhoids. He treated them all efficiently but without his usual sarcasm.
Cuddy noticed the steady stream of patients emerging from Exam Room 5. They all walked out calmly. None of them appeared flustered or upset. Some even appeared satisfied. At 3 pm she had had enough. She walked into the room, fully expecting to find House playing gameboy or listening to his ipod.
House was, in fact, straightening up the exam room. Perhaps straightening was the wrong word. He was shuffling items around in a drawer.
Cuddy stood quietly in the doorway until House looked up. Their eyes locked, and he fixed her with a nasty stare. "Tell your nurses that we're nearly out of 3 cc syringes," he snapped.
"What are you doing?" Cuddy asked.
House tossed the rest of the syringes in the drawer. "Inventory," he snarled. "I can't do the doctor thing without the right tools now can I?" He slammed the drawer shut. "Who's next? I'm up for a good inguinal hernia."
"That's enough," Cuddy snapped.
House looked at her quizzically. "Come again?"
"Go do some paperwork."
"Let me get this straight, I do my job. I don't terrorize anybody. No one complains to you, and you send me home early?"
"No," Cuddy said, shaking her head. "Not home. You have paperwork that's been due for weeks."
"So if I'm nice every time, do I get to leave early?" House smirked.
Cuddy sniffed. "Don't press your luck. Just get me those reports by tomorrow morning."
House pursed his lips. "But I didn't get to make anybody cry yet…"
"Shoo!" She motioned with her hands.
He leaned into her in the doorway. "If I'm a good boy for the rest of the week, do I get a spanking?"
Cuddy rolled her eyes. House limped past her. Her gaze followed him down the hall. "In your dreams, House," she murmured.
House sat down at his desk. He had the earbuds from his ipod in his ears, and he hummed under his breath as he surveyed the stack of forms on his desk.
Stacy stood in the hallway outside his office. She smiled as she watched him. She bent down and picked up a box that was sitting next to her in the hallway.
She walked in and sat the box down on the chair in front of his desk.
He didn't look up.
"Hey," she said warmly.
He looked up at her. She was smiling.
"What are you listening to?" She asked.
"James," he said, and purposefully flipped over a paper and pretended to read.
"James?" She said, perplexed. "Wilson?"
He sighed, annoyed. "The band James. Laid. Ring a bell?" Stacy's smile deepened slightly. He eyed her with cold appraisal. "Actually what with darling hubby in the hospital it probably doesn't. Did you need something?"
Stacy's smile vanished. "Touché," she said curtly. "Still in a bad mood because of that case?"
"What? Did they post a write up on the bulletin board? Did you stop by to bask in my aura or am I being sued again?"
Stacy sighed. "I came by," she said, "because I have a box of your stuff that was in the basement. Mark wants it out of the house." She gestured at the box.
He smiled humorlessly, "Afraid that you're sneaking down there in the middle of the night to smell my old shirts? How very insecure."
"No shirts, just some books that got packed up by mistake when I…" her voice trailed off.
"The word is left. Jumped ship, got the hell out of Dodge." He sat up. "Is that my copy of Walden?"
"Yeah," she tossed it to him.
He looked up at her. "Any idea how long I've been looking for this?"
She snorted. "You probably thought it was still on the shelf."
He ducked his head in admission. "Yeah," he muttered. "It's so good to see you here. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy." The sarcasm rolled of his tongue fluidly. "You could have left these here while I was gone."
"Maybe I wanted to talk to you," Stacy said defensively.
"So I hear," he sighed.
"Ah," she said. "Your friend's looking out for you again?"
He narrowed his eyes. "As much as it pains you to admit it, there are people who care about me for some misguided reason or another Stacy."
Her eyes flashed angrily. "That is not fair. You know I care about you."
"Funny way of showing it." He didn't meet her eyes. Didn't want to see the emotion there.
Stacy leaned across the desk. "You," she hissed, "can be a real son of a bitch sometimes."
Anger. Anger was good. He knew anger. He could deal with anger. He smiled sarcastically. "I thought that was part of my charm."
Stacy moved the box onto the floor and sat down. "Why did you say yes?"
"To what?"
"If you are so damned uncomfortable with this, why did you agree to me working here."
He looked deep into her eyes. "I guess," he said softly, "I didn't want you to have the satisfaction of me saying no."
"Is that the only reason?" Stacy said, the disappointment evident in her voice.
"Yeah," he said. "You're the one who wanted this."
"What is this?" Stacy pressed.
"You'll have to tell me," House said. He heard movement in the conference room. Chase, Cameron and Foreman all walked in. Ahh, the perfect excuse. "Never mind. My team is here. We have work to do."
Stacy glanced over and saw three sets of eyes watching her. She briefly locked eyes with Cameron. Cameron blushed, in spite of herself, and looked away.
"Right," Stacy said. "We'll discuss this later."
"I doubt it," House muttered.
Stacy glared at him. "Fine," she said, "whatever you want." She turned and walked out, leaving a cloud of expensive perfume and sublimated anger in her wake.
House set his jaw and picked up a few pieces of paper. These small skirmishes with Stacy were beginning to wear on his nerves.
Wilson, as usual, was right. At least where women were concerned. Damn him anyhow.
He heard someone clearing their throat, and looked up to see Cameron standing there.
Cameron and Stacy were, at first glance, extremely different. While Stacy had an assertive personality, Cameron appeared more subdued and empathetic. However they both had one thing in common. House. Whether he wanted them or not.
"Dr. Cameron," he growled. "I'm not exactly up for sunshine and lollipops right now." If he upset Cameron, she would also leave him alone.
"Relationship troubles?" Cameron said dryly.
This new aspect of her personality was troubling to House. Cute and cuddly Allison Cameron was easily manipulated. This bitterness however, albeit somewhat attractive, was an indication that her personality was perhaps not so one-dimensional.
House raised his eyebrows. "And so the claws finally come out. No. That would require wanting a relationship."
"I see," Cameron said. She shifted slightly on her heels. This was not going to be easy. "I just wanted to apologize for my behavior this morning. There was no reason why I needed to call you in for a consult."
This was new.
House adopted a wounded look. "You're saying that you don't need me anymore Cameron?" He sniffed exaggeratedly, "they grow up so fast."
Cameron rolled her eyes, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks. "However," she said.
"Ah yes, there is usually a however." House said, smiling. He was enjoying seeing Cameron flustered.
She ignored him. "However," she said again. "I appreciate you being there. Thank you." She said the last part slowly and deliberately. The words stung House. "I was having a hard time, and you made it easier." She looked down, not wanting to meet the piercing blue eyes.
House took a deep breath. Any sarcastic retorts that he had planned died away with those two words. Thank you. "Dr. Cameron," he said seriously. Cameron looked up, surprised at his tone of voice. "While I do agree that you should be able to handle most cases on your own, there are exceptions." He sighed. "A wise man once said there was no harm in asking for a consult."
Cameron smiled. "Dr. Wilson," she said.
House nodded. "Yeah."
Cameron glanced down at the box on the floor. "Moving?" She asked curiously.
House rolled his eyes. "Stacy is finally returning some of my stuff. Typical girlfriend, you know, borrows your shirt and then you never see it again till after they leave."
Cameron ignored the last part. "I didn't know you played guitar," she murmured.
"It's pronounced piano," House grumbled. "Remind me to get you Hooked on Phonics. Worked for me."
Cameron narrowed her eyes accusingly and held up a song book. The Essential Bob Dylan for Guitar.
House stared at it blankly for a moment. Then he remembered. "Oh shit," he groaned.
Cameron looked at him questioningly.
"That's Wilson's," House said sheepishly. Wilson had accused House of borrowing the book years ago. House had angrily retorted that Wilson's current wife had most likely thrown it in the trash.
"Dr. Wilson plays guitar?" Cameron marveled.
House rolled his eyes. "Of course. Chicks dig the guitar. I think wife # 2 broke his. Don't know if he ever bought another one." House thought for a moment. "I'll have to ask him that. Do you think that you could take that to his office?"
Cameron started. "Aren't you going to take them there yourself?"
"Nah. He's just going to say 'I told you so', and you're cuter. Only slightly."
Cameron flipped through the box and found another guitar book. "Nirvana," she said in amazement.
"Dammit," House muttered. Wilson was never going to let him live this down.
Cameron smiled. "You want me to tell him anything?"
House shrugged. "Tell him that Stacy did it." He said simply.