Almost eleven. House spent the evening by himself. It was okay. Cuddy couldn't be with him every night.
At least she wasn't in Des Plains.
She was back in Princeton where she belonged and that was just fine with him. He wouldn't cry if she never left the state again. He hoped she was home from the hospital by now and curled up in one of his shirts.
The doctor switched the channel over to the local news, finished the last of the champagne, and mused over the events of the day.
Cuddy was up to her beautiful blue eyeballs in work, but somehow she managed to find a few minutes to get him alone and relay her strange encounter with Cameron:
"She kept asking me about you, kept asking me if I felt the same way. I told her it was none of her business but she wouldn't let up. Finally I said I finished what you started. Maybe that would give her something to think about for a while."
The champagne was giving him a headache. The news was nothing but murder and mayhem, as usual. Scowling, he clicked the television off and limped to the kitchen. House downed a few ibuprofen and washed up the dishes. Chores were duller than the dishwater but the dishes weren't going to magically clean themselves.
"Cameron still wouldn't go away. She wanted to know if you came to me first and I said yes. She asked what you were drawn to, why you came to me. I told her it was because you knew I'd accept you for what you were and that I'm more than your equal and she wasn't."
It had been a long, long day. He was tired, not sleepy, but figured it wouldn't kill him to lay down for a while. He didn't have to worry about keeping Cuddy awake all night with him. The doctor peeled off his clothes and changed into sweats and a tee shirt.
"..and I told her to get out of my office. She suddenly got this look like...I don't know...like she just woke up and was seeing everything for the time. She told me he was right. I asked her was right about what. She told me that you were never going to tell her what she wanted to hear and neither would I. Then she left."
Shut up and be a doctor, Cameron, House thought. He was a little disappointed that Cuddy didn't announce that she and Cameron had been in a hair-pulling, clothes-ripping catfight. Not that he actually expected it, but still, the thought made him grin. Meow.
Cameron was moody for the rest of the day, but at least the ice queen act vanished. He didn't tell her what Cuddy had said and she didn't ask. Sometime in the next day or two she'd corner him again and yak his ear off about it. Until then he wasn't going to bring it up. Let her stew over the fact that she had to learn her lesson the hard way, again, and had only herself to blame.
He'd probably spend the next evening alone again. Hopefully Cuddy wouldn't take the rest of forever to get caught up. He couldn't handle another five days without her so soon, if ever. And he wanted a checkers rematch.
The bedtime ritual of brushing his teeth, washing his scruffy face, and one last Vicodin for good measure. Can't forget the Vicodin.
House was staring at the ceiling and probably would be for the next hour or two. Nothing was on television, he didn't feel like reading. At least Cameron was out of his hair for now. One less thing to keep him from thinking about Cuddy.
Still, he wished there had been a catfight. He would have paid to see it.
Meow indeed.
