Note: I like this chapter. It worked for me. And its long. Longer than I expected, but needed. I kind of let my brain do the typing here, so tell me what you think ;)
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Chapter 4.
House left the hospital swiftly at 5:00pm. There actually was a specific reason for him taking off so timely, and it had nothing to do with him attempting to get away from work. He had narrowly avoided Cameron all afternoon after their little discussion in the lab, to which he left abruptly. Not only that, but Wilson kept on giving him little glances, as if tempting him to continue asking about the mysterious man to which Cameron seemed to know.
It was slowly eating away at him.
Normally, House would berate people until he found out exactly what he wanted. This was the one time he could ever remember not succeeding. He was surprised, especially at the fact that Wilson hadn't caved yet. It usually took two questionings at the most to get the oncologist to spill, but this time he wasn't talking at all.
It angered him more that it surprised him.
Climbing onto his bike and sticking his cane in its little slot, House revved up the bike and took off, speeding along the streets of Princeton. His bike had become a comfort object. Riding it seemed to blow away all his thoughts, until all that was left was the wind hitting his body.
Turning into his townhouse car park, House parked in his usual spot, climbing off and taking off his helmet. He limped up to the porch and stuck the key in the lock, turning it roughly and pushing open the door.
House dumped his bag and helmet on the floor near the door, while pulling off his jacket and sticking it on the rack. He limped over to the kitchen and immediately went for the bottle of scotch sitting on the counter. Pouring himself a hefty amount, House turned around and limped over to his couch, where he sunk down, placing his scotch on the table.
House sighed deeply and leant his head on the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling. He was back to thinking about Cameron and her mysterious man again. He honestly didn't know why it bothered him so much, and he put it aside as just being curious. That was the reason he usually wanted to know about this kind of stuff, right? Yet there was a niggling feeling at the back of his head, something that couldn't be classified as curious.
He was jealous.
House shook his head angrily. He refused to believe this was jealousy. It was just sheer nosiness, and nothing more. He sighed and took a deep swig of scotch, feeling the burning liquid slide down his throat.
There was a loud rap on the door and House redirected his head towards it. He sighed and leant back further on the couch, deciding quickly to ignore it. The knocking continued though, much to House's annoyance, until he was forced to get up and answer the door.
He knew who it was before he answered it. Opening the door, House was faced with Wilson, holding a small bag.
'Julie and I had a fight.' He said, his forehead creasing.
House smirked and stepped back, allowing Wilson to enter the townhouse.
'You packed an awfully small bag.' House said, shutting the door and limping back over to the couch.
'Well, I'm not planning on this to be infinite.' Wilson replied, rubbing his forehead.
'You never plan on these things being infinite, but somehow fate leads it to be.' House replied in a sarcastically wistful voice.
'You're a jack-ass.' Wilson said softly, still leaning over and rubbing his eyes.
House sighed and walked into the kitchen, reaching for the first thing his eyes set on.
'Here,' House said, walking back into the living room and placing the half empty bottle of scotch in Wilson's hand, 'Drown your sorrows in Mans best friend.'
Wilson looked at the scotch bottle hesitantly, before reaching for it and taking a swig. His face contorted in the revulsion as the liquid ran down the back of his throat, burning as it went down. He reached for the spare glass on the table and poured himself some as House sat down beside him.
'Feel better?' House asked as Wilson took another swig of the alcohol.
Wilson shook his head and forced himself to swallow. 'No, but I'm intending on being able to forget this in the morning.'
House shook his head. 'As much as it would delight me to see you turn up to the hospital tomorrow exceptionally hung-over, I don't want you up-chucking over my couch, thank you very much.' He replied, taking the bottle out of Wilson's hand and taking a swig himself.
'How come you get to do it then?' Wilson asked staring into the glass he held in his hand.
'If I didn't turn up to work hung-over, what kind of impression do you think that would give?' House asked, exasperated.
Wilson nodded. 'Good point.'
House stood up and took his scotch glass. 'Anyway, I was doing something very important before you rudely interrupted me, so you owe me big time.'
Wilson smirked. 'Oh come on. You've been sitting on this couch since you got home stewing over who the man who turned up to see Cameron today.'
House turned around and looked guilty. 'Your right,' he said sarcastically, 'that's all that's on my mind. Whatever shall I do?' He placed a hand on his chest for dramatic effect. Wilson smiled.
'You could stop being an ass for one, and leave her be. If she wanted to tell you, she would.' Wilson replied.
'No she wouldn't. She only confides in handsome oncologists who take all the pain away until she swoons.' House said, tapping his cane on the floor.
'No, she just doesn't confide in gruff diagnosticians who berate her until she explodes. There is a method with woman, House.' Wilson replied, placing his glass on the table.
'And you would know, given your excellent methods of lunching with nurses.' House said, limping into the kitchen and dumping his glass in the sink.
'Yeah, I'm in the wrong. Just face it, you're jealous and its driving you absolutely insane that you don't know who the guy is.' Wilson said, turning around and facing House.
House glared at Wilson before turning around and walking down the hallway. 'I'm going to bed.' He called out, slamming his door behind him.
Wilson smirked and turned back around, facing his bed for the night. He sighed and took another swig of scotch; it was going to be a long night.
… … …
Cameron switched off her living room light and walked into her bedroom, shutting her door behind her. She walked into the bathroom and opened the cupboard, pulling out her toothbrush and toothpaste. As she began brushing, she stared at her face in the mirror.
This is insane, she thought, her mind drifting back to Joe and her agreement to go to dinner with him tomorrow night. This didn't feel right. Cameron was one for avoiding things that didn't feel right, she was a woman who lived on logic and anything that made her feel uneasy, she narrowly stayed away from.
Yet she had willingly agreed to go out to dinner, despite the twinging feeling in the pit of her stomach. Yes, seeing Joe had brought back old feelings she had in the past, but that is where she had intended on keeping them, in the past. There was a reason she and Joe hadn't spoken in over 5 years, and it had everything to do with guilt.
Closing her cupboard, Cameron walked back into her bedroom and pulled back the covers of her bed, climbing into it and settling back into the pillows.
She turned her head and looked at the picture sitting on her bedside table, her wedding day. She felt another pang of guilt and turned her back to it, facing her window.
It wasn't just Joe on Cameron's mind, though. House and their 'discussion' had crept through her mind all night. She knew the fact that Joe was here would make him curious and she was entirely expecting the conversation they had.
What she didn't expect was how it ended.
He had just walked away. Without another word. Without answering her question. Just like he had when she had asked him why he wanted to know why she liked him. Cameron didn't know whether it was because he wouldn't answer, or couldn't.
He had been so arrogant about asking, yet when she wanted to know why, his expression changed. Subtle, yes, but still entirely noticeable.
Cameron sighed and leaned over to switch off her bedroom light. Maybe she could get through tomorrow without quitting.
… … …