Rating: T

Disclaimer: Like always, I'm still borrowing. Keep refraining from panicking!

Author's Note: Alright, guys, before you start clamoring--yes, I realize that House is uncharacteristically nervous and un-eloquent in this chapter... But then again, I figure that this is a rather uncharacteristic thing, for him to have to ask one of his fellows to play 'hot girfriend' to his 'nice guy' at a family wedding. So, other than the bumbling speech that I promise will abate from here on out, how'd we go on this one, eh? All of you reviewers are lovely-- the rest of you non-reviewers are too, I'm sure, but then, how would I really know if you won't speak up? Wink nudge and all that. LOVE!

"Sonuva—!" Dr. Gregory House pulled a face and sat back in his chair, tossing the black Nintendo DS onto his desk. This was the twelfth time ninjas had descended upon his character and murdered him brutally with their tiny, pixilated nun-chucks and throwing stars before he could rescue the princess. He sighed and scrubbed his scruffy face with one hand, glancing to his computer's screen saver to verify the time. Yep, it was 4:28 PM. Where the Hell was Cameron—?

He had spent the afternoon in the typical fashion—starting with yo-yo tricks and ending with the latest bout with cloaked warriors. In between, he had crept in the OBGYN lounge and managed watch an episode of General Hospital, plus a few infomercials in which Chef Tony had tried to sell him French knives that could cut through tires and shopping carts without getting dull, before he was discovered and thrown out.

Then, back in his office, both Foreman and Chase had poked their heads in to check if there was anything important that needed doing in the absence of a case. Yes, Chase and Foreman, but no Cameron. Of course, he had sent them both off to do various types of busy work—Chase back to the Clinic, and Foreman had quickly declared that he had another consult to do before his boss could dream something else up.

House snickered at the memory of Chase's indignant expression when he had ordered him back to the task of diagnosing cases of the sniffles, but then sobered again as he checked the clock again. 4:29 now, and still no sign of that small-mammal-loving immunologist.

How many tests could a body run?! He wondered incredulously, leaning forward and clearing a small path through the papers on his desk so he could roll his tennis ball back and forth between hands. The oversized red and gray ball made the trek across the desk a grand total of four times before being swiped onto to the floor.

"Where is she?" House griped aloud in frustration to nobody as the toy skittered away to rest beneath the chair at the other end of his office. Not receiving any sort of answer, he snorted and unclipped his pager from where it rested on his hip, but paused once again with his finger hovering over the 'page' button. He was doing the right thing by asking Cameron to go… right? "Oh for the love of God…"

Okay, recap for the last time—Option number one: do nothing and don't go to the Hell-hole disguised as a wedding. Sure, that would probably be less painful, but if he didn't go, he'd be proving every single one of those assholes right… House visibly cringed at the thought of his smug relatives standing in a circle with champagne, gloating over their winnings at his expense, and mentally barreled on. Option number two: go to the wedding alone. No thanks. Well, that one was an easy 'no,' at least. And last but not least, Option number three: ask Cameron to go with. Alright, well if he asked Cameron and she said no, he could play it off like he was kidding, rib her for being gullible, and then get right to the business of making up an extravagant lie to excuse his absence at the wedding; and if she said yes… The diagnostician paused here and wrinkled his nose thoughtfully. Well, if she said yes, he'd endure the wedding, collect his winnings, and be done with the entire mess. Besides… she probably wouldn't be that bad for company.

Here the thought process ended, and he shook his head to clear it of the cob-webby jumble. He was sick and tired of stewing over this stupid wedding thing—it was just plain… STUPID! He thought confirmedly, and with that, sent a page to Dr. Allison Cameron that read: OFFICE STAT. Now he just had to wait for her to show up, so he scooped his DS off the desk again and settled back. If she was coming from the lab, he still had time to send those ninjas to their doom!

...x.x.x.x.x. .x.x.x.x.x. .x.x.x.x.x. .x.x.x.x.x. .x.x.x.x.x...

Closer… Closer—There she was, up in the tower window—Jump! Slash! Almost—!

"You needed me for something?"

House, who had been crouched tensely over his Nintendo, gave a startled jolt as this new voice shattered his bubble of concentration. "GAH—Wha—?" he yelped, as if she had stuck him with a pin, glancing up wildly towards the source of the noise. Blue eyes settled on the slightly alarmed, slightly amused features of Allison Cameron, M.D. "Oh. Oh, it's you—hang on—" And he returned his attention to the screen… Just in time to see the display flash scarlet and the words"GAME OVER" appear.

House's jaw dropped—he had been this close to rescuing princess Li and beating the game! HE slapped a hand to his forehead and turned an accusatory gaze to the other person in the room. "Cameron, you made me die!"

"I—er. What?" was the eloquent reply that she came up with, confused by the allegation and generally unsure as to what the Hell he was talking about.

The diagnostician only flapped a hand at the game he had just lost. "The ninjas!" he spluttered indignantly. "They closed in while I was distracted by your feminine wiles!"

"Oh. Right. Sorry." Cameron smirked with a roll of her eyes as she realized that he was referring to that stupid GameBoy, or whatever it was. She leaned on the doorframe, regarding her boss's dismayed features with a certain amount of fondness.

It was ridiculous, of course, that a world-renowned doctor like House appeared to be so distraught over a silly child's toy,' she noted sensibly, but still unable to smother a small smile. But then again, it was those sorts of things—the GameBoy, the sneakers, the yo-yo—that made him so oddly endearing…

"Speaking of feminine wiles…" House broke the silence and Cameron's reverie at the same time. He tossed the Nintendo DS back onto the desk and leaned forward, popping his back and fully observing his immunologist for the first time that afternoon. She stood in the doorway, hair now swept away from her face in a messy bun, and looking particularly—ahem—womanly due to the lack of—"Cameron, where's your lab coat?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, I um…" the younger doctor stuttered, a pretty pink tingeing her cheeks as she hugged her arms around herself—he was full on staring now, and small wonder—she was clad in a clinging, pale blue shirt that left little to the imagination as far as curves went. "I spilt iodine on it in the lab," she explained, and, aware that he was still leering, cleared her throat loudly. "Fresh ones are in the conference room, but I thought I'd check in with you first about this page." Cameron waved her pager at him emphatically, and finally his eyes snapped to hers.

"Sorry…What?" Clearly he hadn't heard a word of her explanation. House shook his head as if to clear it as she sighed, and fixed her with an enigmatic grin. "Come again?"

"Nothing. Never mind." He really could be impossible sometimes—no, make that all the time. Resolving not to let him play his games with her for once, Cameron made like she was going to leave the office. "So if there wasn't anything you wanted, I'm going to go review 'Snot-Rocket-Boy's chart…" She had opened the door to the adjoining room and stepped one foot out before his voice called her back.

"Wait—hang on, I need…" House blurted out, trailing off, but it seemed to do the trick. Cameron stopped and turned to look at him.

"Need..?" She prodded knowingly, and now it was his turn to sigh. He beckoned her back into the office, motioning to the seat in front of his desk.

"Pull up a chair, Ms. Thang," He said, knowing what he was about to do, and trying to sarcastically diffuse the situation before taking a veritable sledgehammer to his own ego.

Eyeing him a bit warily, Cameron nonetheless did as he asked, returning to his presence and lowering hserls into the proffered item of furniture. She crossed her ankles and folder her hands restlessly on her lap, waiting almost anxiously for him to speak. Oh God, what did he want..? If it were something like Clinic hours, or charting, he'd have just said so... So what on earth..?

"Nervous, Cameron?" House smirked, taking notice of the way she was shifting.

"Don't know yet—should I be?" she returned promptly, meeting his challenging tone, and thought she saw a small smile of approval flit across his face. However, as she looked again, it was gone before she could be sure.

House didn't answer, opting instead for a few more precious seconds of introspective self-doubt. Okay, maybe this wasn't such a good idea—there was still time to send her away! He himself shifted uncomfortable, aware that his immunologist was waiting expectantly for some sort of instruction. He should just tell her he needed her to alphabetize his CD shelf or something—NO! He wasn't going to lose this stupid bet—it was all about being right and winning money—he had to just ask her!

"I uh. Umm… I've got a prob—I mean—Damnit…" he stumbled, groping for the sure verbal footing that normally came so easily to him. Jesus, House, get it together!

For her part, Cameron raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her boss. Gregory House at a loss for wards?! Who was this guy and what had she done with the Head of Diagnostics—? She wondered bemusedly, watching him flounder. "Is there… Something I can do for you, Dr. House?" she prompted gently once more.

"No. I mean, yes. I mean." The admittedly caustic diagnostician grunted in frustration, bringing a hand up to rub at his temple. "Alright, you know what?" he finally managed through gritted teeth, and the woman across from him cocked her head in silent question. Another deep breath. Just say it. "I need. I need an um. A… a personal favor."

Well, of all the things she had perhaps expected him to say, that wasn't one of them. So thinking, the pretty young immunologist opened her mouth and let out a very becoming: "Huh?"

House rolled his eyes, glad of her loss of poise because it allowed him to regain control of the situation. "A favor," he repeated, disliking the very taste of such a reliant word on his tongue. "I mean, I don't really expect you to say yes and it's okay if the answer is 'no,' and I understand if you're busy, because it's short notice, or if you just plain don't want to, because I don't really want to either—" All of that had come out as indistinguishable word-vomit, and he knew it. Sighing, the scruffy doctor waved a hand at her and dropped his head unceremoniously onto his desk. "—But I'll trade you a week's worth of Clinic hours if you say 'yes.'"

Cameron gaped at him, literally taken aback by that sudden onslaught of verbage—especially by that last part. A week's worth of Clinic Hours..?! She wondered wildly. House hated the Clinic more than—well, anything she could think of. Whatever this request was had to be really huge and important for him to offer something like that!

"Yeah, whoa, slow down!" she stopped him, holding up a hand to prevent any further nonsensical rambling. "Okay, you need me for something. Got that part. What exactly is it that you need my help with..?" Cameron contemplated his jitteriness further for a moment, suddenly realizing something else that was odd about the situation. "And um. Why wouldn't you just ask Dr. Wilson for whatever it is?"

In all honesty, she was flattered that he'd come to her. She had, after all, always sort of hoped that he would one day perhaps consider her half the confidant he considered Wilson… But now that it was happening, she thought dazedly, there had to be some sort of reason that he wouldn't ask his best friend instead of her.

"Wilson doesn't look so hot in stilettos. Trust me on that one." House replied dryly, smirking faintly at the justifiably horrified, yet intrigued, gaze that such a statement earned from her. Taking a deep breath and clenching a now-sweaty palm, he finally decided to just go for it. It was now or never, and though he thought vaguely that he would prefer 'never'…

"Ugh… Alright, alright. Dr. Cameron, would you… Would you consider maybe sort of accompanying me to my cousin's wedding." There. He had said it.

After having leaned forwards a bit in anticipation of finally discerning the source of his obvious distress, Cameron finally deciphered what it was that he had mumbled, and sat up in surprise. "Wait. You mean the wedding you got an invitation to this morning?" she asked incredulously, and receiving no immediate answer, ranted on. "The one that nothing on God's green earth could drag you to—that wedding?"

House glanced up and shot her a withering glance that he only half-meant, and she visibly cursed herself for the sniping comment. Noticing this, he shook his head and closed his eyes in resignation before replying dully. "Yeah. Yeah, that would be the one."

He was right—she was kicking herself for blurting that out needlessly, when he had finally seemed to trust her enough to ask for any sort of personal favor at all! She bit her lip as she watched him noticeably draw further into himself, probably thinking that he had made a mistake for asking. It was in that particularly panicked state of mind—the one in which she feared he would promptly toss her back over the section of wall he had just let down—that Cameron proceeded with her next action: she reached out and placed her hand over his larger one where it was resting on the desk.

The gruff diagnostician glanced up at their now-touching fingers and quirked an eyebrow at her. What exactly was this mushy gesture supposed to accomplish? His telling blue eyes seemed to demand acerbically. Getting the message, she quickly withdrew the contact as if he had yelled. However, almost by way of apology for the breach, Allison Cameron uttered one word that turned his world upside down.

"Alright."

Both doctors seemed a bit surprised by this one-word bomb, and House recovered first, eyeing her skeptically.

"Alright, what?"

Realizing that it was too late to retract her agreement now—and inexplicably excited at the prospect, in the back of her mind—Cameron nodded shyly and offered him a small, nervous smile. "Alright… I'll go with to your cousin's wedding."