Intermission

They emerged on the other side of the door in a dimly lit space that could easily accommodate 100 people (meaning on a big night they'd pack in 200) but only around 40 people sat spread out at the tables dotted around the L shaped room. A band played at the far corner of the room with the bar stretched long the wall across from the four men playing. The soft lighting that filled the room seemed to float down from the black high ceiling.

Cameron drank in this new scene as the gentle pressure from House's hands directed them through a maze of tables.

House was dangerous, unpredictable, through and through he was an anarchist and a bad boy with the bike to boot. And yet Cameron had never felt safer than when she was in his arms; as if the whole world could crumble around her and she'd still feel calm as long as he had his arms around her. Never had she felt so exited and calm at the same time, to name but a few of the emotions that where working their way through her.

House steered them to a booth at the side of the bar, they were close enough for any lull in conversation to be comfortably covered by the jazz that filled the room but far enough away that a conversation could easily take place.

House slipped into the booth first. Cameron sighed slightly missing his warmth before moving to sit opposite him.

"Ah, ah." he said taking her hand in his and pulling her back to sit next to him. "The last time we sat across from each other things didn't go so well."

"Right." she said sarcastically. "So, do you think it was Feng Shui that made you such an asshole that night?"

A hint of seriousness graced the sarcastic remark as she sat next to him, their still joined hands coming to rest on his thigh.

At this his gaze dropped to the table and is brow furrowed slightly.

She knew him well enough to know that he wasn't hanging his head in shame. He was thinking, that much was clear. Thinking in that introspective quiet way of his allowing the music to swell through him and carry his thoughts.

Sometimes she wished she could watch him like this. Watch him figure out a puzzle because that's what he was born to do.

But tonight was not the time for puzzles.

She squeezed his hand softly pulling him out of his reverie.

"Its okay." she said softly, a hint of an encouraging smile at the corners of her mouth.

His intense gaze softened slightly.

Why was he such an ass that night? Though it didn't look like it his mind was still whirring. He had hurt her that night. A deep wound that had ripple effects on their working relationship for at least a month. He wondered if it had ever really healed. Each time they were close to being what they were before the 'date', before he had hurt her, he opened the wound again. In the last year there where countless times when he'd pushed her away, when he had acted only for himself; and yet here she was sitting at his side, holding his hand and almost telling him to forget about it all.

But he couldn't. He couldn't forget the look of anger and hurt in her eyes, and that she wouldn't act on it for the very fact that he was her boss. He wasn't sure why exactly he had pushed her away that night, whether for his own protection or for hers, but he couldn't forgive himself. But if she could forgive him, if he could do enough good to make up for the bad then that would be something.

His hand gripped hers the slightest bit tighter.

He didn't smile back at her.

She never really expected him to.

And that suited both of them fine.