Tuesday came and went, seeing the diagnosis and treatment of their patient, who House had fondly nicknamed 'Professor Plumb'.
On Wednesday morning Cuddy banished House to the clinic. Foreman headed to the neurology department for a few hours of blissfully sarcasm-free work, and Chase had wandered off not long after that. Cameron was left alone in House's office, sorting through her boss's mail.
She was staring quizzically at a Victoria's Secret catalogue, wondering why House was on their mailing list, when a knock came at the door. A second later Wilson stepped into the room. He looked as professional as ever with his hair neatly combed and his shirt and tie neatly pressed beneath his white coat. In other words, the head of oncology looked like the polar opposite of the head of diagnostics, as per usual.
"Dr. Wilson." She smiled. "Cuddy finally cornered House. He's doing clinic duty."
"Ah. I'll make sure to say a quick prayer for the patients. I was actually looking for you, though."
Her smile faltered. She could guess what this was about – she remembered only too well the parade of people who had stopped by to question her sanity before her first date with House. Okay, so Wilson hadn't questioned her sanity – after all, if wanting to spend time with the bitter and brilliant doctor was a symptom of mental illness, Wilson belonged in a straight jacket. No, what Wilson had done was worse. He'd questioned her ability to keep House's heart safe. He had made her doubt herself.
"What can I do for you?" Cameron asked carefully. She didn't want him to see how defensive she was suddenly feeling. The look the oncologist was giving her told her he could see it clearly. He sighed.
"I just wanted to talk. Do you have a free moment?"
"Yes. I was just helping out House." She gestured vaguely at the mail, realizing a moment later that she still had the Victoria's Secret catalogue in front of her.
Wilson's eyebrows shot upward as he regarded the centerfold, a voluptuous woman wearing only a sparkling pink bra and thong. "Oh. I- uh- I'm sure he'll be grateful."
"His mail! I'm helping him with his mail." Cameron tossed the catalogue aside. "You wanted to talk…?"
"Yeah." Wilson grabbed the extra chair and pulled it closer to the desk before sitting down. "I wanted to ask you if you know what you're doing."
The question caught Cameron unprepared. She stared at Wilson, feeling a little angry. It wasn't any of his business, really, except no one knew House better than Wilson, and she was sure Wilson had a reason for asking. "You… doubt my sincerity?" She asked.
"No, of course not. I wouldn't be here right now if I thought you didn't honestly care for House."
"Then… what? You doubt my determination?"
Wilson shook his head with a smile. "Dr. Cameron, you are one of the most determined people I know, and that's including my first wife, who was a real estate agent."
"Then I don't know what you're asking."
"Okay." Wilson tapped his fingers against the arm of the chair, his forehead creased in thought. After a moment he took a deep breath. "Okay, House is not a morning person. I can count on one hand the number of times he was up before I was. Well, one of those times was on my day off. He let Steve McQueen out of his cage for 'playtime', which involved pieces of cheese strategically placed on the couch. Just so you know, it's a bit… disconcerting to wake up with a rat nibbling on your hair."
Cameron winced in sympathy as Wilson continued his story. "I told him that I didn't like to be eaten alive by vermin until I'd had at least one cup of coffee. He apologized. Sort of. He told me he'd make breakfast for a change, which was fine by me until I found out he'd made 'mystery omelets'.
"I had stocked, cooked, and cleaned in that kitchen for almost two weeks at that point, and I still couldn't recognize anything in that omelet. I wouldn't have touched the damn thing but House was eating his, so…" Wilson shrugged, and Cameron smiled at the image of the oncologist staring at his plate, completely baffled. "We were planning on going to a juggling demonstration on campus, but we stopped by the drugstore first for some pepto bismol.
"I ran into the sister of a patient. She wanted to talk, so we did for almost half an hour while House skulked around. By the time she left I just wanted to go home. House mocked me, my personality, my attachment to my job and my patients, my marriages, and my 'ridiculously weak' digestive system until I changed my mind. Throughout the rest of the day he told me dozens of Jew jokes. I thought I'd heard them all at my age, but once again House proved me wrong."
There was an expression on Wilson's face that Cameron saw a lot; it was part frustration and part affection. It faded as he turned his attention back to her. "When you asked for a date with House, you asked for a nice restaurant, nice clothes, and at least the bare minimum of socially acceptable behavior. Now he's asking, and you'll probably get sarcastic commentary, belittlement, and beer. And you have to be okay with that, because that's how House does friendship."
Cameron stared at the other doctor silently, not sure if she should be offend by his presumptions. But she knew Wilson was just trying to mediate – just trying to make sure no one got hurt. And there was nothing wrong if the bulk of his concern landed on House. "Just so you know, House was doing fine with the nice food, clothes, and manners until I brought up Freud."
"Nothing like a light hearted chat about penis envy for a first date, huh?"
She stifled a laugh. "I should have known better. All the etiquette books say talking about Freud is a major faux pas."
"And yet nothing livens up a dinner party like a Freudian slip. Ironic, isn't it?" He sobered, letting his grin fade. "Cameron, you aren't going to get traditional romance from House, and that won't change."
"I know. If I wanted polite company, do you think I'd be interested in House? Look, I won't be planning our next fancy outing while I'm watching the movie with him. I'll be enjoying myself."
And just like that Wilson relaxed in his chair, giving her the warmest smile she'd had in a long time. "Good. I hope you do."
"So I assume you've seen this greatest movie of all time, too?"
Wilson gave her an are-you-nuts look. "The Band is from Canada." He said, as if that explained everything.
"Oookay… do you have any tips for my beer and belittlement date?"
"Yes, actually. Don't sit in the middle of the couch."
House entered his office as Cameron was puzzling over this enigmatic advice. He groaned when he saw that the small room was occupied. "Please tell me this meeting of the puppy dog and rainbow club has adjourned." He limped over to Wilson and tapped the end of his cane against the chair leg. Wilson stood up and House immediately sat down in the vacated chair.
"I was just checking up on Professor Plumb." Wilson told his friend.
"He'll be discharged in a few days." House replied. "He'll be hanging around in The Kitchen with The Knife in no time."
"Does he remember anything from the last few days?"
"Nope!" House said gleefully. "No lawsuit this time!"
Wilson had that affectionate/frustrated look again, Cameron noticed. He winked at her before he left the office and shut the door behind him. House turned his attention to her, watching her intently for a few long moments. She was sure he was going to say something to her, but the silence stretched and finally the older doctor glanced away.
Something on his desk caught his eye. "Hey, my VS catalogue came!"
Cameron hid her smile. For once, a talk with Wilson left her feeling confidant and heartened. Tomorrow she would have the chance to learn everything from why there was a movie about a Canadian band to what was going on in House's head.