A/N: Sorry for the wait. I had trouble phrasing things right. Let me know if it's good. Please? I have Jolly Ranchers...!

There were times when she hated being small. Not being able to reach a shelf in the library, for instance, or having to search way too hard for pants that fit. Those times pissed the ever-living daylights out of her. This, however, was not one of these times. As she squeezed between a bassinet and a rocking chair, Cameron was wishing she were even smaller, so that her lower body didn't have to actually be in the crib to fit into the small space.

What the hell was he doing here? Did he like to hunt for antiques, too? She hoped not; House had a tendency to taint some of her favorite things. She could never look at candy canes the same way again.

Much as she tried to resist, her ears couldn't help but prick up as words reached them. "…box, a few days ago," he was saying. "A couple rings, I think." What? Was he buying jewelry for a woman? Cameron heard his distinctive three-beat walk and the voices got even more distant. Presumably, Bart was leading him to the ring section.

Struggling to squeeze her legs out of the bassinet, she couldn't help but wonder why he was buying rings in an antique store. And for who. That last bit, though, that one she tried to ignore. Despite her best efforts with the crib, all she managed to was make it rock, and the old wood creaked like an opening tomb. God dammit.

House's voice found her ears, even as she tried to quiet the damn screaming cage of evil. That meant he was getting closer. God dammit.

"No, it was a couch," he insisted.

Cameron couldn't hear the reply. Her arms were starting to get tired from holding up her body. What was he doing, furnishing a new house for his new hubby?

"This cave is bigger than Jesus' bedroom, it's gotta be here somewhere."

More footsteps. She figured they were coming from her left, by the large stack of armchairs. The muscles in her hands were cramping up. God dammit.

"If you sold it, I'll use your hair to stuff a pillow, Chucky."

Biting back a giggle, Cameron gave up on her arms and let her forehead rest on the dusty floorboards.

"There it is! Okay, Chucky, I think that's it." She could hear the sarcastic smirk before she saw it. Wait, saw it?

"You know, Cameron, I knew you liked babies, but that's just silly," he said from beside her crib.

God dammit.

She lifted her burning face from the cool floor and tried to ignore the urge to beat herself to death with the doll in the crib that had managed to end up between her legs. He said nothing while she wiggled and twisted in an attempt to free herself from the wooden encasement. Finally, she blew out a giant gust of air and glared at him from under her long bangs.

"I'm stuck."

The grin on his face widened. He looked like a Cheshire cat.

"Oh, shut up and help me," she snapped.

"Right," he replied, still smiling. "I'll get Time Warp over there to bring me a saw."

Cameron blinked. "This is an antique, House. You can't attack it with a saw."

He sighed dramatically and pretended to think. "I could get some butter and we could grease you out. Like a pig!"

"I'm going to ignore the fact that you just compared me to pork and just say no."

"Well, looks like you're stuck then." House giggled. "Heh. Stuck."

"House. I'm sweaty, my arms hurt, and I'm being eaten out by a plastic toy. Just pull me out." Already, her enthusiasm for antiques was starting to wane.

The doctor complied, eyes wide, leaning his cane against the rocking chair and extending a hand. Cameron grabbed his wrist, pretending not to feel his racing pulse beneath her fingers. House pulled, she pushed, the crib groaned. Nothing.

"What possessed you to climb into this thing, anyway?" he grunted as he shifted his weight once more.

"I was trying to, ow, find a contact lens and I fell in. OW! I'd like to keep my shoulder in the socket, please." House stopped pulling and raised an eyebrow.

"…You fell. Feet first. Were you standing on your head?"

She scowled and continued rubbing her shoulder. If she ever got out of this thing, she was going to buy it and ritualistically hack it to pieces.

"I think you're going to have to lift me out, if you can." She was ignoring his question. He knew she was lying. And why.

God dammit.

"You want me to pull you out of a crib. Oh, the possibilities!"

"I hear one syllable of baby talk, and I'll shove that cane so far up your ass, you'll burp splinters."

"Ooh, the commanding type. That's hot." He popped a Vicodin and knelt, as best he could. As his hands went to her waist, Cameron took pleasure in the fact that he, too, was blushing. She swallowed a gasp when she felt one arm wrap around her body…and the other held her by the ass.

"For support," he whispered. His mouth was near her ear. She felt his breath tickle her skin. She hoped he didn't see the goosebumps that had just popped up on her body. Cameron figured she ought to put her arms around his shoulders, but she hesitated. That would be awkward, wouldn't it, she thought.

"I need you to hold on to my shoulders."

Oh. Well. Okay then. She dutifully obeyed, annoyed that her fingers immediately went to touch the hair on the back of his neck.

She heard him take a deep breath, and then he was lifting her out. Forward and up. He paused. She tried not to think about how much his leg must be exploding. Forward and up. Her knees were out, aching dully. Forward and up. Shins. Their chests were pressed together tightly. She could feel his heart beat. Forward and up. Feet.

And then House collapsed.

"Oh, shit! House! Are you okay? I'm so sorry!"

He opened one eye and glowered at her stricken expression. "Please stop screeching; you're giving me a headache."

She was on top of him. Body on body. The room was getting smaller.

"You never told me why you were here," she murmured. Ice blue eyes on forest green ones.

"Julie kicked Wilson out last night. She took all of his stuff and carted it here. Stuff he gave her, furniture, books." His chest rumbled as he talked. "He's trying to woo her, and I'm stuck getting his crap."

The tingling in her toes meant she wasn't as nonchalant about knowing he wasn't buying jewelry for another woman as she wished she was.

Body on body. Breathe.

Never breaking eye contact, Cameron stood up. She felt bare without the warmth of House's chest on hers. She grabbed his cane and handed it to him.

"Thanks," he muttered. He got up. Ice blue eyes on forest green ones.

"Thanks," she repeated. She flashed a small smile.

His gaze burned holes on her back as she walked out of Bartholomewe's Antiques. It was still raining. No hail, though. That had to mean something, right?

Hunting for antiques, she decided, was definitely the only hobby she would never give up.