A/N: Okay, so this isn't the most original idea, but come on, it's still funny, right?

Disclaimer: Yes I own them. I also own the Brooklyn Bridge, which is currently for sale. Any takers?

Chapter 32

House snapped awake on Friday afternoon when he heard the apartment door closing behind him. He lifted his head from the couch and peered in the direction of door warily. He was greeted with the face of an irritated, but incredibly sexy, Allison Cameron.

"Are they coming here, or are we meeting them someplace?" she asked. Asked might not have been an accurate description. In reality, her question was really more of a demand for information. House propped himself on his elbows and looked her over. Scrunched up face, tense shoulders, hands on hips and tapping left foot. Cameron was nervous; scratch that, Cameron was clenching.

"They're coming here first for a drink, then we're going out," House replied evenly. If he were to be completely honest with himself, which he never was, House was a little nervous too. Any visit from his dad always made him a little … uneasy … but introducing his dad to his fiancée, his much younger, incredibly gorgeous, former employee turned fiancée was worthy of concern. "What are you doing here?" House asked as he checked his watch. "It's barely two."

"I snuck out early," Cameron answered. She removed her jacket and hung it on the rack near the door. When she turned, his expression of disbelief amused her, if only for a moment. "I'm the boss, for now anyway. What good is that if I can't sneak out early on a Friday?" Cameron walked past House into the kitchen, but continued talking. "Please tell me Peapod has been here," she called out to him as she opened the refrigerator. House cringed. "Greg!" Cameron half-shouted and half-whined. "There's nothing in here."

"Is there ever?" House grunted as he levered himself off the couch. Grabbing his cane off the coffee table he limped his way toward where Cameron was now banging his cupboards open and closed. "What are you doing?"

"You don't even have a box of cereal," Cameron complained.

"Are you hungry?" House asked confused.

Cameron stopped her obviously useless search for something resembling food and turned on House slowly. She met his confused gaze with a stare of such utter frustration that House was taken aback. Something was clearly going on that he wasn't aware of.

"When was the last time your parents were here?" Cameron asked.

"I … don't think they've ever been here," House said, surprising himself when he said it. He'd moved to this apartment shortly after he and Stacey had split up. Too many stairs and too many memories. "So?"

"So?" Cameron echoed faintly. She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. "So, your mother is going to want to see the whole place, not just the living room. The first place she's going to go is the kitchen, to make sure you're eating well enough. When you're single and your kitchen looks like this your mother gives you a lecture about better nutrition. When you're engaged, it's a reflection on the fact that I'm not feeding you. Then she'll go in the bedroom … oh god, Greg, when was the last time you changed your sheets?" Cameron asked, horrified.

During her little speech, her breathing had become more rapid and her eyes had widened to the point where House feared an eyeball might pop out; a flush rose on her cheeks and a fine layer of sweat appeared on her brow as she waved her arms about frantically. All in all, in that moment Cameron looked as much a candidate for a hypertensive crisis as Cuddy had earlier in the week.

"Allison," House said sharply. He rarely called her that outside the bedroom, and it got the reaction he had hoped. She clasped her hands together to try to still them. Not quite successful, she began wringing them nervously. "You're going to stroke out. Relax."

"I just want to make a good first impression," Cameron confessed.

"You've already met," House pointed out.

"For two minutes, nearly two years ago. And then I was just your employee, not your fiancée," Cameron argued.

"My mom is going to love you. And you can't make a good first impression on my dad, unless you're secretly Chuck Yeager," House said. He raised an eyebrow at her. "You're not, are you?" Cameron glared; House surrendered. "Fine … clean, organize, whatever. I've got an appointment with Quig at three."

Cameron was already rummaging under the sink for cleaning supplies. When she saw House grab his leather jacket off the coat hook, she dropped the bucket and sponge on the floor. She dashed into the living room and grabbed her purse. Helmet in hand, House turned to leave and jumped back as Cameron shoved her keys in his face.

"Take my car, you can stop and get some groceries on the way back," she said. House stared at her. "Please." House grumbled under his breath, but took the keys from her. He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead and left. Cameron closed the door behind him and let out a sigh. She would never have been able to accomplish everything she wanted to do with him underfoot.

Two hours later, Cameron was nearly finished cleaning. Cameron had traded in her skirt and blouse for a pair of House's boxers and an old Pink Floyd t-shirt. The kitchen had been her first project. House never cooked, and rarely used dishes when he ordered take-out which meant there were very few dishes to be washed. Washing the cupboards and refrigerator proved easier for his lack of anything in them. Cameron scrubbed the floor on her hands and knees, and even cleaned the stove.

The living room and bedroom had been easier. House wasn't a slob, just a man. There was clutter everywhere and a decent layer of dust over everything except the piano. Cameron was pleased with herself that she'd taken the time to shop for extra sheets and blankets for his apartment because it meant there were clean linens to replace his favorite blue cotton set.

Cameron had tackled the bathroom last. It was cleaner than she had feared, but not as clean as she had hoped. Mid-way through scrubbing the shower, Cameron had stripped off House's t-shirt in a sweat. She checked her watch constantly. House's parents weren't due until six, it was just past four now. She would have plenty of time.

Cameron saved the vacuuming for last. It was really the only household chore she could say she truly enjoyed. This was mostly because while she vacuumed, she would turn the stereo up as loud as she could stand it and sing and dance while she vacuumed. Before she switched on the vacuum, Cameron dug through her purse and found and old hairclip, which she used to pin up her now sweaty, straggling hair.

Cameron swung her hips as she vacuumed, belting out a somewhat screechy rendition of 'Almost Like Being in Love' with Old Blue Eyes. She wasn't sure why, but it was always Sinatra when she cleaned. Between songs Cameron heard the faint tones of her cell phone. She switched off the vacuum and dug her phone out of her purse, praying it wasn't the hospital.

"Dr. Cameron," she panted.

"So that's why you wanted me to stop at the market, looking to get a little extra time with your boyfriend," House accused jokingly.

"Oh you figured it out," Cameron played along. "I secretly planned this with your parents weeks ago just so I could get a little on the side."

"I'll be home in about fifteen minutes," House informed her.

"See you then," Cameron said, snapping her phone shut. She returned to her vacuuming. She was wrestling the vacuum back into the closet when she heard a knock at the door. Assuming that House was carrying the groceries and couldn't manage the door, Cameron, clad only in his boxers and a pale, blue bra, swung the door open wide.

"Mr. and Mrs. House!" she yelped at the astonished couple she found on the threshold.

With as much dignity as she could muster under the circumstances, Cameron invited Mr. and Mrs. House inside. She took their coats and hung them; she offered to get them a drink before excusing herself and retreating hastily to the bedroom. As the door clicked shut, Cameron leaned her back against it and felt hot tears of humiliation flow down her cheeks. So much for a good impression, she thought bitterly. Cameron brushed the tears from her cheeks impatiently and took a deep breath to calm herself. There was nothing she could do now but clean herself up and get back out there.

John and Blythe sat on the couch in an awkward silence. John, outspoken even by House's standards, was at least momentarily dumb-struck. Blythe was flushed with embarrassment for poor Dr. Cameron. But also, she was impressed that she'd handled herself so well. It wasn't just any woman who could take your coat and offer you a drink while wearing nothing but her underwear and not collapse into tears on the spot. Blythe believed this little incident gave her a clue as to how such a young woman could handle a relationship with her son.

An impatient knocking startled both John and Blythe. Just a moment before, they'd heard the shower begin and they knew firsthand that Dr. Cameron wasn't in any state to be answering the door. Blythe wondered briefly if Greg had invited James for dinner with them and motioned to John to answer it.

"Took you long enough," House managed to grunt out before he lifted his eyes to see his father. "You're early."

"Your mother wanted time to see the apartment," John said. He stepped aside to let House in, but didn't offer to take any of the bags he was juggling. Blythe, however, instantly came over and relieved House of his burden.

"Where's Cameron?" House asked.

"She's … uh … just freshening up," Blythe answered demurely. House noticed the blush on his mother's cheeks and knew immediately that something had happened. Had his father said something insulting already?

"Freshening up," John scoffed. "Trying to make herself decent is more like it."

House followed his mother into the kitchen, choosing not to respond to his father's comment. Blythe was busy taking groceries from the bag and placing them on the counter. House couldn't help but smile a little at her methodical nature; cans in one area, cereal boxes lined up by height.

"Mom," House said. She turned and he kissed her upturned cheek. "What happened?"

"Oh, well," Blythe faltered. "Dr. Cameron must have been expecting you with the groceries, dear. She answered the door a little hastily is all."

"Uh huh," House said. Whatever had happened had obviously been very embarrassing, judging from the deepening blush on his mother's cheeks. "Want to try again?"

"Greg," Blythe sighed. "She answered the door in her underwear."

House tried his hardest, but simply could not stop the laugh that rumbled up from his chest. The mental image of Cameron in her underwear facing his parents was more than he could bear. Blythe smiled herself; hopefully someday this would be one of those moments you laughed about with your grandchildren.

"I'll go check on her," House said. "You okay in here?"

"The day I need your help in the kitchen, Gregory House, is the day I pack in my apron," Blythe said firmly, shooing him off.

House found Cameron in the bathroom, shakily trying to apply her eye makeup. He watched her for a minute as she twice had to lower her quivering hand to keep from jabbing herself in the eye with her mascara. Finally taking pity on her, House stepped close behind her and plucked it from her hand.

"You don't need it," he said. "I know, I know, you feel naked without your makeup. But seeing as my parents have already seen you in your skivvies, I think you can go without," he teased.

Cameron blushed bright scarlet and spun around to smack him soundly on the arm. "Do you have any idea how embarrassed I am?" she demanded. "Greg, all I was wearing was my bra and your boxers!"

"I'll bet you looked hot," House grinned.

"This isn't funny," Cameron insisted. "Your father saw my bra."

"Come on, it's a little funny," House cajoled her. "Besides, that's the closest look at a hot young girl he's had in years."

"Greg," Cameron moaned as she leaned her forehead against his chest. "How am I supposed to eat dinner and do small talk with them now?"

"We're Houses, we don't do small talk," House said, failing miserably to cover the shit-eating grin on his face. "This is going to be the best dinner conversation we've had in years."

Wisely sensing the tension when House and Cameron had returned, Blythe asked for a tour. House agreed and Cameron readily accepted his invitation to join them. House told his mother that he and Cameron would be moving in together soon, which started Cameron and Blythe on a conversation about some redecorating. House tried to block most of it out, content that he'd loosened their tongues and let his mother's naturally non-confrontational manner relax Cameron. His father would be a much tougher nut to crack, metaphorically speaking.

John had remained on the couch, not really interested in the tour. Truly, he hadn't been that interested in this visit. He and his son had stopped getting along about the time that House had learned to talk. Since then it had been a constant battle of wills. John House had never backed down from a battle of wills, and he never intended to. But as years had passed and John slowly realized that his son was every bit as stubborn as he, perhaps more, John had withdrawn. He hadn't stopped fighting, he would never stop fighting, he just lessened the opportunities for battle.

"…perhaps a nice burgundy," Blythe and Cameron entered the living room in an animated discussion about repainting the bedroom. House was two limps behind them, simultaneously rolling his eyes and biting his tongue. John smiled ruefully. Put two women together and one of a handful of 'safe' subjects would inevitably come up: cooking, gardening or redecorating.

John watched his son carefully. He looked different than the last time they'd visited. His limp was more pronounced, John noticed that when he walked in the door, but there was something else. He looked, less haggard. His worsening limp suggested deterioration in his leg, which seemed to contradict the rest of his demeanor. John wondered if this girl was the difference.

"…I wouldn't move the piano for anything," Cameron's voice floated through the room. John hadn't been paying attention, too wrapped up in his own thoughts. "I love listening to Greg play."

"You still fiddling with that thing?" John asked. House nodded but said nothing.

"I wouldn't say he's fiddling, Mr. House. He's very talented," Cameron spoke up, although she couldn't quite meet John's eyes when she did. She couldn't bear to listen to him chastise House like a little boy.

"Humph," was John's reply. He let their voices fade once more as he studied this girl. Sharp eyes, intelligent, John thought. Strong jaw, she's probably stubborn as hell. Slow smile, maybe she's not as frivolous as I thought, John mused.

"Mr. House?" John became aware that Cameron was speaking to him. "Would you like a drink before we leave for dinner?"

"No, I'm driving," John answered. Blythe shot him an impatient look. "Thank you." John checked his watch, surprised to find they'd been there nearly an hour and a half.

"Greg?" Cameron asked. House shook his head. She frowned at him, but didn't ask. She was sure there was a reason he'd said no, he'd certainly never refused a drink before, but this wasn't the right time to ask.

Cameron just nodded and stood up to get Blythe a glass of wine. She could hear Blythe and House discussing something in the living room and smiled softly. Blythe was such a lovely woman. Cameron pulled a bottle of white wine from the refrigerator and took a glass from the cupboard. It was only then that she noticed the groceries had been put away and she smiled again realizing that Blythe must have done it. Cameron poured the wine and returned the bottle to the fridge.

"So, Allison," Blythe addressed her as she crossed the threshold from the kitchen. "Can John and I expect to be grandparents any time soon?"

Cameron gasped and felt the wine glass slip from her fingers. Time slowed as she watched its descent to the floor. She had time to see the nearly clear liquid within slosh over the rim of the glass just seconds before it impacted with the hard wood and shattered, spraying its contents in a fine mist.

"Oh my goodness!" Blythe exclaimed. "Allison, dear are you alright?"

"Fine," Cameron barely managed to whisper. "Clumsy. I'll get something to clean that up." She turned and exited back to the kitchen as quickly as she could without actually running.

"Mom," House said quietly. "She can't have children." He stood from the arm of couch he'd been perched on and moved to check on her.

"Oh Greg," Blythe sighed. "Why didn't you … never mind, sit down." Blythe walked slowly into the kitchen.

Cameron stood with her back to the living room, he fingers clutching the edge of the counter in a Herculean grip. She heard the soft footsteps approaching and recognized they weren't House's.

"Allison, I'm so sorry, I had no idea," Blythe said from behind her.

"Of course," Cameron said, forcing a smile. "It just took me by surprise."

"Still, it was rather pushy of me," Blythe continued. "I'd hate for you to get the impression I'm one of those meddling mother-in-laws."

"As long as you don't get the impression I'm a moron for answering the door in my bra," Cameron smiled more genuinely this time.

"We'll call it even then," Blythe said. "And to think I was worried it would be John who would put his foot in his mouth this evening."

Cameron laughed, she couldn't help herself. It was just such a House thing to say. Blythe laughed too and the pair returned to the living room. House had limped to the bathroom and gotten a towel, which he'd used to clean up the glass and the sticky puddle of wine on the floor. Cameron flashed him a grateful smile.

"Are we ready to go?" Cameron asked. House looked at her carefully to make sure she was okay. She nodded.

Several hours later Cameron and House sunk deep into the couch cushions. Cameron immediately kicked off her high-heeled shoes and tucked her legs beneath her. Twisting slightly, she snuggled into House's chest and heaved a dramatic sigh. In truth, dinner had gone fairly well. House and John had both refrained from engaging in their normal digs against each other. While this meant a mostly silent meal from the two of them, Cameron and Blythe had even greater opportunity to talk and both came away from the meal with a comfortable understanding of just how much they both loved House.

"Let's never do that again," House said.

"Dinner?" Cameron joked.

"Ha," he replied. There was a long pause. "I should have warned my mom about the whole baby thing. I just figured it was my dad I should worry about." He frowned when Cameron laughed. "What's so funny?"

"That's pretty much what she said," Cameron answered. House smiled. "Take me to bed."

"It's about time," House said. "I'd hate for my dad to be the only guy who got to see your bra tonight."