Disclaimer- Still working on owning the things I don't own, House comes under this category, along with an AC Cobra, a computer that doesn't hate me and a villa in the South of France.

House's office 4.24pm

Cameron approached House's office and hesitated. He looked so peaceful, napping soundly in his chair. She wanted to stay a while and relish the thought that he could seem so untroubled, savour the fact that his guard was down, even the mighty House unable to maintain the facade in sleep. She pushed the door open gently, removing the file from underneath her right arm and clutching it tightly to her chest, readily available if she should need to produce a motive as to why she was actually in his office. She headed towards the desk, wanting to witness this rare event at closer quarters.

His mouth was slightly open, his right hand, draped lazily over the arm of the chair, still clutching the iPod, and his cane (the one with the vertical stripes, she noted), lay upon his lap. She was momentarily transfixed, wondering why he couldn't do peaceful during his waking hours. Deep in her thoughts, enjoying the moment, she was sharply brought back to reality by the fact that something was brushing against the hem of her lab coat.

Looking down, file clamped firmly over her mouth to stop her from shouting out, she saw a mop of straggly blonde hair poking out from beneath House's desk. Overcoming her initial reaction, that a mystery woman had sought refuge there, she breathed a sigh of relief upon realising it was only Chase. Chase? Under House's desk? Beckoning her to come down to his level, she did so, nervously.

'What are you doing?' she hissed angrily. Partly because she was unsure if he had seen the Bambi-like expression her face had taken on when she had been watching House lie sleeping, and partly because she was annoyed that Chase had so blatantly invaded House's privacy.

'Have you seen Foreman?' Chase whispered, eyes darting left and right wildly, like a frenzied spectator observing a blistering Wimbledon rally.

'No, 'Cameron replied. 'Why? What are you doing? Why are you under House's desk whilst he's sat at it?'

Chase, still acting surreptitiously, looked slightly taken aback. 'House is at his desk? I didn't notice.' He looked behind him on the floor, and spotted House's Nike-clad feet.

Cameron, disturbed that Chase had clearly gone past the point at which he could be saved, decided to have one last stab at articulate conversation.

'Why are you hiding from Foreman? Did you run your dumb Aussie mouth just a little too much again?'

'Er... no, Allison. We were playing hide and seek. I left him in the outer office counting to 40, and I came in here to hide, figured no-one's gonna look under House's desk, right?' He laughed at the sheer brilliance of his cunning plan. 'I mean, Foreman's got to be going crazy out there now, searching every exam room, every closet, looking for me. It's been nearly twenty minutes.'

Cameron, still crouching, had spotted Foreman in the next room. 'Absolutely. Out of his mind, I'll bet. Or, there is always the chance he has finally gotten some sense and is sat in the other room, reading the newspaper.'

Chase flicked the hair out of his eyes, adopting a look of disbelief. 'Serious? But he hasn't found me yet, what's he thinking of?'

Cameron raised her eyebrows at him, and stood up. Chase, outraged at the thought that Foreman had half-heartedly abandoned their afternoon session of fun and games, also went to stand up. Before coming out from beneath the desk. In doing so, smacking his head hard on the underside, and interrupting House's ever so slightly adult dream.

House, reflexes unaffected by his deep slumber, automatically prodded the moaning mass beneath his desk with his cane, thus prompting loader moans and a high-pitched yelp. Seeing Cameron stood before him, he deduced correctly that there was only one other person who could yelp like a girl when subjected to pain.

'Dr. Chase, would you like to come out now, whilst you still have your vitals intact?'

He pushed his chair back, whilst remaining seated in it, allowing a dishevelled and slightly flushed Chase to emerge, frantically rubbing both the top of his head and his left ribcage. He scowled at House.

'What'd you poke me with your stick for?'

House glared at him. 'For a number of reasons, the majority of which are way beyond your comprehension. However, the main reason was, when you are rudely awakened from a very pleasant dream by the groaning of a young doctor underneath your desk, and you realise it's one of the same sex, but from an entirely different planet, so many illusions are shattered. You know, if you'd wanted to get closer to me, you should have said, we could have done some male bonding together. 'Foreman appeared in the doorway, a look of mild amusement on his face.

'I just got poked with a big stick because of you,' Chase growled. 'Did you even try and look for me?'

'Nope,' Foreman said matter of factly, as he sat down in the chair opposite House. No point, I could hear you giggling to yourself in here, and I knew you'd just cry like a baby if I found you. Didn't want to spoil your fun.'

Cameron, disappointed that her blissful image of House in repose had been tarnished by the ridiculous behaviour of her colleagues, began to head towards the other office. House's eyes tracked her every move, until he saw Clarkson heading in towards them, which temporarily stopped Cameron from leaving.

'Oh goody, the gangs all here. Like a high school reunion. Anyone got an old yearbook we could flick through?' House said, whilst rooting through his top drawer, looking for his pills.

Foreman looked up at Clarkson 'Where've you been hiding all afternoon? I've been looking for you.'

Chase, distinctly put out by this remark, turned to face Foreman. 'Oh, yeah, right. You've been looking for him and he wasn't even playing the game. Charming!'

Clarkson, considering himself to be above such childishness replied, 'I've been on clinic duty all afternoon. I have to say, it's been thoroughly enjoyable. I find it so refreshing to take a break from all the life threatening dramas we have in here, and to have so much direct contact with patients.'

House felt his face contort, appalled at the fact that someone could actually use the words clinic duty and enjoyable in the same sentence. And also, because he saw Cameron, who so far had been wearing her mask of supreme indifference to the goings-on around her, suddenly perk up at the sound of the clipped accent Clarkson delivered his reply in. Resulting in House knocking back three Vicodin in one hit.

'Why, did you need me for something Eric?' Clarkson enquired, giving Cameron a little smile as he spoke.

'Just wondered if you were still on for tonight,' Foreman replied. 'Cameron will be there, and Chase of course, but don't let that put you off. He'll be face down in a bowl of nuts after two beers after the knock he just took to the head.'

'No problem,' Clarkson said. 'I'll meet you there about 8 o'clock, ok? Allison, do you want me to pick you up on the way through? It's no bother at all. You can have a few drinks that way, let your hair down.'

Cameron shifted awkwardly, knowing full well House would be staring at her now, awaiting her response. Suggesting she let her hair down? What was he thinking? She mumbled a response, something along the lines of getting back to him before the end of shift, smiled weakly and left, still clutching the file to her chest. All the while, successfully avoiding eye contact with the one person she secretly wished would have offered to pick her up this evening, the one she wanted so very badly to let her hair down with.

The one who after she had left the room, established that the young doctors were meeting at Henderson's around eight-ish to celebrate Foreman's baby sister's graduation. The one who had inwardly suppressed the desire to shout out 'Yes please!' when Foreman out of kindness (or was it pity) had invited him along also. Instead he'd politely declined, claiming he had a mountain of paperwork to complete for Cuddy that would keep him working late at the office. The one who wished, as the remaining doctors had left, that he could just have a few drinks, let his hair down and maybe, just maybe, allow himself to let go, if just for one night.