A/N: Okay, so I've been getting a lot of reviews stating that this story is not Hameron. If this chapter isn't Hameron enough for you - well, then, I deeply apologize.

Prologue 5: Easier Said Than Done

Cameron tipped back her glass and ran her tongue along the edge, scooping the salt off the edge and taking a deep breath as she drank. She couldn't quite look at House, who was sitting across from her in silence; she knew if she looked at him she'd make one of her concerned comments about how much worse, how much older, he looked than when she had seen him last. But that had been a long time ago – two years, it must have been.

The thoughts going through House's mind weren't any more settled. As much as he'd managed to shrug off the request with a snarky affirmative, he was really beginning to have his doubts. He hadn't even really wanted to come back to PPTH, but the Antiguan hospital had insisted, and Cuddy was still in charge of his medical decisions if he was incapacitated, which he had been at the time.

So here he was, watching Cameron drink her third "perfect margarita", one with a lot of tequila, and nursing a bottle of bourbon. Trying not to think about how utterly wrong this plan was, if it even actually worked. How bad would it be to have a kid simply to basically use for spare parts? That wouldn't be a legacy he'd particularly wish upon anyone. It was like already being born into the scrap heap.

Cameron finally lowered her drink enough to look over into House's blue eyes; it let her swallow a moment and remind herself that this was House, who, if she didn't exactly trust, she liked. How did that make any sense, though? Years ago, she'd been head-over-heels in love with the man, but it had been like a schoolgirl with a crush on a rock star – if that girl had actually ventured into the rock star's bus and lay down with him, would she have trusted him? Probably not, and with good reason – such people tended to destroy the innocent.

Not that Cameron was innocent. Not anymore.

She tried not to think about the last time she'd had to get drunk to have sex. She looked at House and forced a smile.

"I hope our food's here soon," she offered by way of awkward conversation. He actually grinned slightly at that.

"Yeah, it'll be nice to get something that isn't hospital food, even if it is just Chili's."

"Hey, you chose the place," Cameron retorted with a real smile, this time. She tried to keep it from falling off her face.

How much do you want Dr. House not to go to jail?

Luckily, the arrival of the food snapped her out of that thought – that voice, crawling down her spine. All she needed was that and she would have the least erotic experience in her life.

House had ordered some sort of hamburger with what appeared to be jalapeños on top of it, whereas Cameron had ordered a set of quesadillas that she was beginning to regret. She nibbled on the edge of one and kept looking at House, who eagerly dug into his burger. A moment later, she placed her quesadilla back on the plate and cleared her throat.

"So, how are we going to do this?" she asked in a low voice.

"Well, when a man and a woman love each other very much…" House replied sarcastically, and Cameron rolled her eyes in response.

"I mean, just… You know. We haven't done this before. And I don't think either of us has… for this reason." She let out a little shrill laugh. "I mean, it's just all totally surreal."

What would you do to keep Dr. House from going to jail?

"You're telling me," House retorted, "A week ago I was in Antigua, and now I'm back in the cold." Cameron rolled her eyes again.

"I guess we're just going to play this by ear, then? Any requests?" She tried to make it sound as if it was nothing, that it wouldn't mean anything. Anything at all. It was just her helping House out.

I don't think he could survive there, do you…?

"Let's go," Cameron said a few moments later, when House had finished his burger. She called for the check and assured the waitress that nothing was wrong with the quesadillas, she just wasn't hungry.

A few moments later they were in a cab, heading for House's apartment, and Cameron wasn't sure that she could breathe. Why was she doing this? She couldn't really go through with this.

Cameron reached over the cane between them to slowly place her hand on top of House's, trying to acquaint herself with touching him – after so long, it was like something in a dream. She wanted this… or did she? She'd come back for Chase but here she was, ready to sleep with House. Was she going to tell Chase? He'd have to find out at least part of it eventually… if this worked.

If she didn't lose her nerve right here in the cab, with her stomach doing not somersaults but full handlebar routines complex enough to enter the Olympics.

It seemed like they'd been sitting there into eternity before the cab stopped in front of House's apartment and the driver announced in a loud voice, "Here you are, man!" before flicking the switch to the lights and seeming to temporarily blind both of them (Cameron started and House murmured a few choice expletives).

House reached into his pocket and retrieved his wallet, pulling out a $20 and handing it to the driver before wordlessly popping open the door and stepping out, dragging his cane behind him. Cameron followed, and no one spoke until they were safely behind House's locked door and standing in his living room.

"I want you to dye your hair back," House said by way of greeting, and Cameron stared.

"Why?" she asked, and he shook his head.

"Amber," he murmured simply, and Cameron understood.

"Okay, well… I assume you don't have hair dye lying around?" It came off a little more flippant than she'd intended – but at least it gave her a reprieve for a few moments longer.

The next thing Cameron knew, they were cutting through the lawn around House's apartment and heading for the corner drugstore to purchase brown hair dye. Cameron found herself giggling as House weaved slightly on the grass, and she prepared herself to grab him off the ground if necessary, though she wasn't sure that she'd have the strength while intoxicated. She felt a rush that surprised her now, and House was grinning widely and drunkenly as Cameron began to wonder if they'd even know how to make their way back to the apartment.

Cameron had to sort through a whole aisle of products before she found the one she wanted. It wasn't that easy when the labels were beginning to blur.

Somehow, they got back to the apartment and when they were inside again, Cameron walked into House's bathroom with a grin.

"Should I sit in the tub and just let you do your thing? Have you done this before?" she teased. House shook his head.

"You're the first. If it turns out green, well, I can tell everyone I slept with the Incredible Hulk."

Cameron laughed hysterically.

House pulled on the pair of plastic gloves and squirted the dark brown dye, which looked black, into his hands. He reached forward and ran his fingers gently through Cameron's hair, never having realized quite how soft it was before. He traced little lines and maybe even words and he wondered vaguely if he could write a measure on her head, maybe something like House was here. Because soon, he would be.

His hands knotted in her hair again as he rinsed it, and wrung it out as well he could because he'd never bothered to invest in a blowdryer – Cameron looked a little like a combination of a drowned rat and a model on Baywatch.

"Well, since we're here already, do you want out of that wet shirt?" he asked, leering slightly. To her surprise, Cameron laughed again.

"What a great pick-up line… Well, sure… But I'll regret this in the morning if you missed a huge spot," she teased, and reached down to pull off her shirt, tossing it into the corner of House's bathroom. "Wouldn't you rather the bedroom?" She gestured. "I mean, your leg." House considered this a moment; he was intoxicated to the point that although his leg hadn't stopped hurting, it wasn't a quite present thought in his mind.

"Sure," he replied and limped over to the bedroom, with Cameron following and wishing she hadn't been quite so forward; it was a little weird to be walking around House's apartment in just her black lace bra.

House sat on his bed and Cameron next to him.

"You sure you want to do this?" he asked quietly. She nodded.

"It's now or never," she replied.

"This is crazy."

"Shut up." Cameron turned and pressed her lips to his, leaning against him and trailing her fingertips down his shirt to unbutton his pants, reaching inside and trying to go on autopilot because this was just too weird to be sleeping with House.

But that hadn't stopped her so far.

House's hands were on her shoulders now, above her breasts, and without letting himself think about how utterly wrong this was, he reached around and unsnapped her bra strap, smiling nervously as it fell to her knees. She kicked it on the bed and smiled back at him, nodding, and he leaned in, gently nipping at a spot above her left breast.

"Oh, God, House," Cameron groaned out, trying not to think of how weird it was that she was trying to get pregnant by someone who she was still calling by his last name. She wished she could just shut off her brain, it was all just too…

Now House's mouth was on her nipple and finally her brain really was shutting off and she couldn't really think anything other than begs and pleads, some of which were successfully coming out of her mouth.

Somehow her pants ended up in the corner of House's room and she wasn't entirely sure how. Somehow she moved to let House lay on his side while she swallowed hard and brought herself down on him, closing her eyes as she felt him inside her and digging her nails into his back. She could hear him groan out, but mostly he was silent – she filed this away with curiosity as she had thought House would have said something but he just laid there and thrust, not disinterested but seemingly as caught up in the surreal contours of this scene they'd created as she was. She felt bad for being the one to moan, to call his name when she came, because she worried it'd break the mood, destroy everything… but somehow it didn't.

Somehow just as quickly as it had begun, it was over and she was lying across him in a heap, closing her eyes and drifting off. She knew that she'd wake up with a hangover and dark brown hair… and maybe regrets… and maybe the beginnings of a very successful plan.