Disclaimer: I do not own House or Cameron. I do not own Cuddy's personal assistant, James. I do not own chocolate. Chocolate owns me.

Note: This takes place while Foreman is supposedly recovering from his illness in Euphoria.

I'm really not a House/Cameron fan or a writer of romance, but I wrote this fluffy little piece for a House/Cameron challenge. I decided to take it up to see if I could handle a pairing that I don't particularly care for or even write a decent romance at all.

This is the result, albeit edited because I didn't write it quite to my liking last time.

It was a box.

A box, made of deep red satin with icy white ribbons and frothy lace wound carefully around it, like snow plunged in fire. A tag, proudly proclaiming, For Allie with love, was pasted in the middle. It was, of course, heart-shaped.

And it was sitting on her chair.

Cameron's eyes widened, and she rubbed them. Nope, the box was still gleaming, almost mischievously, in the rays of the early morning light seeping through the windows.

"Good morning, folks! This is your captain speaking, so get off your asses and start working!"

She winced. House was cheerfully munching on the remnant of a doughnut while twirling his cane rather dangerously in the doorway. He limped in. "Cameron, why aren't you in your cute little stewardess uniform? Dress code, you know!"

Cameron willed herself not to reply. Be strong, Allison, she thought.

Luckily or not-so luckily, depending on the person, something else caught his attention, namely, the red, heart-shaped box. "Oooohhhhh," he said, stretching the sound as long as he possibly could. He limped over to the box and poked it with his cane.

"Careful!" shrieked Cameron, to no avail. House picked up the box and shook it. He wrinkled his nose.

"Chocolates," he said distastefully. "How passe." The diagnostician opened the box and stared at the rows of darkly glowing rounds lying softly in white tissue. "Hmmm, I'll take one. Your boyfriend wouldn't mi –" All of a sudden, he stopped. "Wait. . .chocolates. . .boyfriend. . .Allie has a boyfriend!" He smirked, but his blue eyes, usually glowing with a manic energy, seemed to dim at the edges.

Cameron didn't notice. "Dr. House, I assure you, I don't have a boyfriend."

"What? Still haven't gotten over the Wombat and your night of wild, stoned love? Or –" he said, his voice slightly cracking, "Do you still pine for a dose of hard honesty with no sugar?" He leaned close.

She felt her neck warm. "Uh. . .err.. ."

His breath lingered softly on her cheek. "Hmmm, I see not." His hand suddenly appeared and stroked her cheek.

Be strong, Allison. Don't give in. He's just playing you.

His lips moved up, as he noticed her cheeks turning redder. "Poor little Allie, trying to decide whether her twu wuv is her miserable but oh-so-scruffily-hot boss or that mystery man with the Godiva."

The young woman wasn't paying much attention. So close. . .

"Dr. House!"

Both started and spun around. Cuddy's personal assistant, James Benedetti, stood in the doorway. Red crept up his cheeks. "Uh. . .um. . ."

House, as always, broke in. "What, Cuddy got your tongue? I know the woman is a rough kisser, but I didn't think she was that rough."

The poor man only blushed until he was a bona fide tomato. "Um, er, I, you see, Dr. House, I –"

"Stop that and say something!" interrupted House impatiently, waving his cane.

James trembled. "I, uh," he said, his eyes looking wildly around the room, suddenly alighting on the opened box of chocolate. His eyes lit up. "Oh! Um, sorry, those chocolates were sent to the wrong room." He strode – albeit timidly – to the box and after poking the chocolates back into place, closed it. "These were supposed to go to Dr. Alyse Dameron."

Cameron's heart sank. What did you expect?There wasn't going to be some mystery knight waiting to sweep you off your feet. ""Um, sure."

The young man nodded absentmindedly and tucked the box under his arm. "Goodbye, Dr. Cameron, Dr. House. Hope I wasn't interrupting anything."

"You weren't," said House abruptly.

James gulped and left as soon as possible. With the room silent, Cameron, twisting a corner of her coat, suddenly got up. "I'm going to the. . .bathroom."

"You do that," said House, a thoughtful look in his eyes. He continued to play with his cane.

She bobbed her head and quickly left. Once she reached the bathroom, she dabbed hurriedly at the tears spilling out of her eyes. "Stop crying, stupid," she whispered to herself, as her mascara began to run.

Despite her attempts to block the flow, the tears didn't stop until her eyes were red and swollen. Cameron, hoping she hadn't stayed too long, washed away the black marks on her cheeks, rearranged her hair, and dabbed fresh mascara on her lashes. The immunologist then quickly left the bathroom and headed to the conference room. Steady now.

She nervously rounded the corner and entered the room. Chase was there, looking sleepy. He smiled at her. "How's it going?" he asked, noting her pinkish eyes worriedly.

She waved him off. "Oh, fine." She pulled out her chair and was about to sit, when something on the seat caught her eye.

It was a single, round chocolate.

Stunned, she looked up at Chase, but his attention was focused entirely on the white board.

A thought filled her head, and her eyes, widening, fastened on the back of their boss who was rapidly scribbling.

His figure was utterly attentive to the board, but if she had been able to see his always bright eyes, she would have seen them practically sparkling, much like the sun glittering on a placid sea.

"Differential diagnosis, Jack and Jill. Try not to hurt your crowns too much coming up with something. . ."

Fin.