Chapter 7 - Strobe Lights, Wild Nights, and Morning Frights

"Differential diagnosis for depression." House said slowly, opening the door with his cane. Wilson and Cameron turned around to look at him. House looked past them at the view over the balcony.

"What?" Wilson asked.

"Are you depressed?" Cameron asked.

"How could I be depressed with you in here, not wearing a bra?" House replied, grinning smugly. He walked to a chair and sat down. Cameron looked down at her chest, seeing if House was right, which he was. "Stacy's heading home. Guess she couldn't handle staying away from dear ol' Mark."

A silence settled over them. He held the end of his cane and opened the door to the balcony. "Let the party begin!"


The techno music blasted out over the pulsating crowd. The lights were dimmed except for the green, red, and blue lights that went of out over the clubbers. The music intensified and smoke poured out of smoke machines, making the green lasers that were shooting out over the crowd able to be seen. Teenagers and adults alike drank, danced, and made love all over the club. Even an oncologist drank something this night. That oncologist just happened to be Dr. James Wilson, M.D., who was not drunk. House, of course, was a different story. He slammed down his empty shot glass and demanded another.

"Gregg, you've had enough." Cameron yelled over the music.

House laughed.

"You had eight!" she continued.

"You...YOU HAVEN'T HAD ENOUGH!" he yelled. He grabbed his refilled tequila glass into her hands. "Drink, damn you!"

The bartender gave House another glass and he and Cameron clinked glasses. "To your stunning ass." he said.

She laughed and drank the tequila down in one gulp. They put their empty glasses down at the same time. House slipped an arm around her waist, pulled her roughly onto him, and kissed her long and hard.

The music changed to a pulsating beat that could be felt in the floor. The now flickering strobe lights added to the music, making time seem to slow down. Wilson sat down his half-empty bottle of Sam Adam's beer and held up his hand, watching the effects of the strobe lights. It could cause seizures, he thought to himself. He lowered his hand and watched House and Cameron make out. Their kiss continued into the "get-a-room" zone. Wilson perked up, stood up, and went to House and Cameron.

"House, do you intend to screw her?" he asked. "Now?"

House and Cameron nodded.

"You're drunk."

They acknowledged. House spoke up and said, "No better way to fuck then to fuck when drunk!"


House shoved his cane against Cameron's waist and forced her against the wall, kissing her hard. Her hands found their way into his messy hair as she grinded her hips against his. She grabbed his cane, jerked it out of his hands, and tossed it to the side. He let out a quiet growl as he jerked her shirt over her head and let it drop behind him. She was as turned on as she could get. She groaned and push House back onto the bed and climbed on him.

"Damn it, Ally!" House growled, as she out her knees on each of his legs, sitting on him. She worked quickly to take off his pants so she could get to what she really wanted.


House opened his eyes slowly, sun flooding his vision. He squeezed his eyes shut again, a massive headache making itself known. He groaned and mumbled, "Fuck a duck..." He groped around for his vicoden. He found none.

"Never heard you say fuck so many times in one night." Cameron said, sitting on the edge of the bed. House opened his eyes slowly, squinting at her. She wore only satin robe, where only he had a thin sheet covering up his pubic area.

"You remembered. Huh?" he mumbled.

"I wasn't drunk." she replied, standing up and walking to his side of the bed. Her satin robe was now open.

"Screw you."

She leaned down and placed a sensual kiss on his lips. "You already did." She smiled and sat on the floor in front of him, her robe slipping off her shoulders.

"Where is my vicoden?"he asked.

She stifled a laugh. "You threw it out the window." she said. "You said that I was your pain medicine."

"I'm an idiot."

"You're an idiot who needs a shower." she said, smirking.

"So do you." he said, smirking back.


Wilson turned the TV's volume up as the shower turned on in the room next to his. The room next to his was House's room.

Thump.

House and hooker's room maybe. Wilson turned off the power to the TV and stood up. He had room 417, House had room 416, and Cameron had 415. Walking to the door, he grabbed his jacket and threw it on. He poked his head out the door.

A teen couple, a Latino maid, and some guy with a beard. Seems safe.

He stepped out and collided with woman. He apologized immediately and she walked off to the elevator. He went past House's room and to Cameron's room. He knocked on the door. Nothing. Again. Nothing. Again, again. He tried looking through the peep hole. Stupid idea. Knock again. Bang again. Nothing again. He sighed and thought for a moment. In a sudden flash a brilliance he said aloud, "Food... Continental breakfast." He shrugged, turned around, and pressed the down button for the elevator. He repeated the word "left", as if he was willing the left one to open up. The one on the right opened up with a ding.

Down in the lobby, the only person he recognized was the beard man was the fourth floor. Wilson glanced around, and figured that Cameron had left the hotel. The aroma of breakfast filled his nostril. His stomach growled.


A cup of coffee in one hand and a small tray of food in the other, Wilson slipped into his room. House's shower had stopped. Thank God for small mercies. He sat on the bed and started to sip his coffee. Just as he did so, he heard someone from room 416 scream his friend's name. It wasn't House and a hooker's room, it was House and a Cameron's room. Of course! How could he have been so close-minded?

Because House always blew off every good thing in his life.


The bitter, coppery taste of blood from his tongue mixed with Cameron lingered in his mouth. He licked his lips and watch Cameron slide off of him and collapse on the bed.

"What flight do we have?" she asked, still catching her breath.

"69." House said, grinning smugly.

She rolled her eyes. "Call Wilson if you don't know."

"Fine." House said, pouting. HE picked up the phone and dialed the number. "Yeah...what's up, James? No...uh-huh...why do you ask? My leg hurts...I threw my vicodin out the window- hey, don't laugh!" Cameron suppressed a laugh. "Why what?...oh that...what flight do we have? Yes, I'm changing the subject, it's a depressing subject! ...cool, thanks...we leave in an hour- On what? A roadtrip, dumbass!" House slammed the reciever down, grinning. "Flight 666."


"Well, my friend, it's been fun."

"House, you're talking to a building." Wilson said.

"Our hotel. It has feelings, you know. The walls have eyes." House said. "They also have great, firm, bouncy beds." He directed his look towards Cameron. "Bouncy. Mhm."

Cameron just nodded. He smiled at her and limped to the trunk of their car and put his new "Vegas-ized" cane into the trunk. The cane was complete with a sparkly(Fake Diamond City) grip, a small compartment for cash and poker chips, and another compartment for various items of the illegal kind.

"Oh yeah, House." Wilson started.

"Don't say that, you weren't in my bed last night!" House exclaimed, feigning surprise. "Or were you?"

"A maid found your vicoden."

"Yippie!"