OOOPS! I FOUND A BOO-BOO! When I was relaying the story of Wilson visiting House, it was NOT the same night Cameron came over! So, indeed, House hadn't really eaten anything solid in days.

And it was NOT a dream…as you will find in this chapter. And yes, what Debra told House will be covered, but way later in the story. I have more planned for House and Cam :o) Steph

CHAPTER SEVEN

House woke up the next morning with a severe, pounding headache. He lay in bed for a minute and rubbed his temples, hoping that would ease the headache away. It didn't. He slowly opened his eyes and looked at the window; the curtains were drawn and barely any light was shining through.

Beside the window was the nightstand, and there on it was a full glass of water, but it wasn't clear – he didn't know what it was – and two pills beside the glass. He recognized the shape and color of them, and knew they were his Vicodin. The clock beside them read 10:45 a.m.

Every morning he had always woken up and immediately taken the painkillers without even thinking about it, like he was still half asleep. But this time he did. Although his head was hurting like hell, his stomach muscles were sore from vomiting and an empty stomach, his right thigh wasn't hurting all that badly. He attributed it to the fact that his head was feeling worse than his thigh and his brain just hadn't registered it yet.

He finally decided he didn't care and just as he reached for the pills he heard the t.v. on in the living room. He hadn't remembered leaving it on the night before, but, then again, he was drunk so he could have.

The sudden urge to pee overtook his desire for the pills, and he stood slowly to check out the pain first, and again, it wasn't too bad. He reached for his cane anyway, just in case he needed it on the way to the bathroom. After he flushed the toilet he looked in the mirror and noticed he was wearing a shirt he didn't particularly like, and on his hips were a pair of shorts he hadn't worn in almost ten years.

What the…

"Mornin'!" hollered a female voice from the living room.

He didn't recognize the voice at first.

"Coffee is still hot."

Cameron?

Butterflies exploded in his stomach – not literally, I mean, that would be a pretty ugly site, wouldn't it?

He slowly walked out into the hall toward the living room and peaked around the corner. Cameron was indeed sitting on his couch, with her leg propped up on the coffee table, watching the Travel Channel with Samantha Brown, who was currently checking out the sites and hotels in London, and hugging a pillow.

Only when House took a few more steps into the room did he smell the coffee in the air, and trudged off into the kitchen for a huge cup, not saying a word to Cameron. He came back into the room, looked at her then sat down next to her.

"Did you drink my headache remedy concoction by the bed?" she asked, still staring at the t.v.

"No." Oh, is that what that was.

"Oh, ok."

She didn't say anything else to him – they just sat watching the show. He sipped his coffee until it was half full and turned to look at her again.

"Uh, Cameron? How did I get into these clothes?" he asked apprehensively.

She turned to return his glance. "You were having another nightmare and hollering out. I went in to check on you and noticed you were stinking to high heaven. You woke up then and I thought you were still with me. I grabbed the clothes from your drawers and a wet washcloth and put them beside you, thinking you'd clean and change yourself. I came back thirty minutes later and you had passed out again."

He didn't divert his eyes at all while she was telling him. "Okay, and?"

"I cleaned and changed you, House. Get over it! I'm a doctor. I see naked people all day," she answered, her voice a little angry, but she really wasn't. She knew she'd get that reaction from him when he realized what she'd done.

HOURS EARLIER…

Cameron had gone in to check on him and he was soundly asleep. She called his name a few times and even shook him to no avail. He was dead to the world.

She sat down on the bed beside him (her right, casted leg straight beside him) and leaned toward him, pulling his puke-stained, stinking t-shirt up as far as it would come in the back. Sighing heavily, she grabbed the back of his shoulders and pulled him toward her. He was a wet doll to her at first, but he fell right into her arms, his head resting on her shoulder.

She pulled the shirt up over his arms and head and reached down to the top of his shorts, pushing them down over his hips as far as they would go. She lay him back down and slid the shorts down the rest of his hips, down his thighs, legs then over his feet.

She got the washcloth and ran it over his chest to get some of the vomit residue off. The next thing she knew she was cleaning off his waist then back up to his chest again. She stared at the in-shape muscles of his upper body mindlessly.

Okay, Cameron is a woman, and every woman will tell you that any man she is attracted to will do whatever she can to check out a man's manhood. And House was no exception. Her eyes scanned down to his waist, belly button, hips, and she smiled when she saw how big he really was.

He shivered in his sleep and she knew she had to get him dressed and covered again quickly.

It took her another ten minutes to get his clean t-shirt and shorts on, without him stirring at all. Then she saw it, really looked at his leg. His entire thigh muscle was gone, leaving a gash about three inches deep from his upper thigh to right above his knee. She could never see the huge scar through his pants and it struck her deeply just how big it really was.

She looked into his face, saw that he was still out and ran her middle finger softly over the scar. It felt to her like a world globe, with all the mountains jetting up and down, but soft, not rough like a globe would be.

He stirred in his sleep, mumbled something, then went back to sleep. It scared her enough to stop and finally covered him, regretfully going back into the living room. Needless to say, it was another hour before she could go back to sleep for thinking of his naked body.

"I hate what you chose," he finally said, the tension between them started to build and he grew increasingly uncomfortable; words escaped his thoughts to get out of it.

"Hey, they were in your drawers," she said, with a little grin.

"Then I'll have to throw them out, now, won't I?" he said, returning her grin.

"You hungry?" she asked. "I see you have lots in there. I didn't think you cooked."

Actually, House was starving, and he was willing to eat anything that Cameron put in front of him – well, except a cold Reuben with mayonnaise and a pickle.

"No, I don't. They're from my personal chef," he answered back.

"Oh, Wilson?" Cameron asked as she stood, grabbed the crutches against the couch and looked down at him.

House smiled widely at her. "Yes, Wilson."