Disclaimer - I do not own House M.D. or any of its amazingly unique characters.
Chapter 3.
Greg House had plopped himself on his couch at home that evening. How is it possible for one woman to cause so much stress and frustration? He was leaning forward, elbows on knees, and hands digging into his eye sockets. He realized that it was time for one of his soap operas, but something was different. His soaps always finished with a happy ending. He found that he could no longer stand it. He was becoming more and more depressed and more and more miserable because of the false hope they gave him. He was a lonely, old cripple. He limped over to his piano where bottles of scotch had lain, some brand new, some completely empty, and some unusually opened ones that were partially full. For some reason he opened a brand new bottle. He wanted to start fresh, not partially effected by the past. He poured himself a glass and quickly drank it. His alcohol consumption had dramatically increased over the past month. He poured himself another glass and another. He wanted to drink himself into oblivion so that he wouldn't have to deal with the unnecessary niceties of society, which he found extremely ridiculous. 'This is it,' he thought. 'This is my life. I'll work, retire, die.' He winced as the amber liquid burned down his throat. Hours had passed, but they felt like minutes in his head. He felt so absolutely guilty for everything around him even though he didn't show anything of it. For his miserable, lonely life, and for causing everyone around him to have a miserable life. He thought about Cameron for a second. Out of the three ducklings he worked with, he verbally tortured her the most. How much misery had he caused her and why? Certainly a lot for today. God he was lonely. God he was miserable.
"This is it," he said aloud. He thought about how depressing his words sounded outside of his mind.
He had dozed off at some time, but was awake at the sound of his phone ringing. He stumbled over to his phone and his fumbled fingers searched for his Vicodin in his pocket. He popped several Vicodin into his mouth and desperately answered the phone. He wanted human contact. He needed human contact. "Helwo," he slurred without even noticing.
"House?," Cameron replied.
"Mum?," House asked with no sarcasm heard in his voice.
"U- uh, no." Her voice was shaky. She didn't know if it was because she was crying just moments before this call or if it was because of the call to House itself. She continued, "House, it's Cameron. I just wanted-"
"Oh! Camalon! The perty one." Cameron blushed at the words she was hearing coming out of House's mouth, even though she sensed that he wasn't exactly in his right mind. "Wazzup?"
"Um, nothing. House, are you okay?"
"I'm hunky-dory!," House unnecessarily yelled. "How ya doin'?
"I'm fine, House. I just wanted to say that I was sorry for how I acted at-"
"It's all good, lady. Woosh! I hadda dream 'bout ya just now. You were sleeping right here." House patted the spot next to him on the sofa as if Cameron was able to see him. "Yer head restin' on my ugly, crippled thigh."
"Really? Well-"
"Man, did that hurt! Did you know that the human head weighs approximately eight pounds?!"
Cameron sighed. She wouldn't get the apology in his head if he was like this. Like he would even remember their conversation. "Why yes, House, yes I did."
"And did…you…know…that…"
"House?"
Silence.
"House? Greg?"
Nothing.
She quickly hung up, got her car keys, and drove towards House's home. He probably overdosed on Vicodin, or something worse. He was probably drinking. Vicodin and scotch were never a good combination. Or maybe he was just drunk. She had noticed he seemed to be a little depressed lately. Anti-depressants? Maybe he had an allergic reaction to whatever he was taking? Or maybe the anti-depressants had a bad reaction with his Vicodin. Was he even taking anti-depressants? Her thoughts were interrupted by someone's horn. Had she just passed a red light? God. She had to focus on the road.
She arrived at his door. She knocked. "House! House! Open the damn door!" She held the door knob and looked down at it. "Don't be locked," she whispered in hope. She turned it and the door opened.
She rushed into the silent room. She didn't see him anywhere. She walked deeper into the room and found him hidden behind his couch, face buried in a puddle of spilled scotch and scattered Vicodin. "Oh, god." She ran over to the unconscious man on the floor. She patted him on his cheek to try to wake him. "House. Greg. Wake up. Wake up!" She slapped him as hard as she could as her last hope. "Greg!"
"Ouchies. Geez Louise. That hurt."
"Oh."
She let out a small, inaudible giggle as she saw a red hand print form on her boss's face. She helped him walk to sit on the couch. She almost dropped him when he started holding desperately onto her shirt and hair, struggling to keep his balance. Cameron quickly breathed in his sweet, sweet scent. Even a drunk House smelled extremely sexy. Cameron placed him on his couch where they both sat down rather closely to one another. She felt his hand, which was clinging to her blouse, accidentally find its way under Cameron's shirt, resting on her back.
"So- sor- sorry," Cameron finally apologized for the slap and for almost dropping him.
He noticed how muffled up and exhausted she looked. "Wow. You look like crap! Who died?," he shouted. There was an extremely long and awkward pause. At that, House realized what he was saying and snapped as closely as he could back to reality.
"Shit. Cameron," he went back to his normal tone, nodding his head, looking down, and mentally punched himself in the face. She didn't answer. Tears had begun to fall upon her face. He just stared glossy-eyed at her, not knowing what to say.
She took a deep breath. "House. I just wanted to…" She thought for a moment. What was the point of apologizing. He wouldn't remember a thing come morning. He probably had no idea what was happening at that very moment. She smiled disappointingly at her foolish self and let out a sigh.
House rolled his eyes at the sight of the beautiful mess in front of him. "Don't apologize," House said seriously.
Cameron quickly looked at House. They had locked eyes for what had seemed to be eternity until he looked down. His heart began to race. Why was he getting so nervous? 'I have to quit drinking,' he thought to himself.
He continued, "I was a jerk. I was…me. Cameron, I…I like you. I do. You were right with your stupid Freudian theories. You were always right."
Was this the alcohol talking? Admitting someone else was right surely was not him. Admitting he liked someone was not him.
"I like you," he said slowly. If it was really him talking he could just use the alcohol as an excuse. It felt pretty damn good saying those words to her, but he was too cowardice to admit that under normal circumstances.
"Oh, House…" Cameron smiled and looked at House. They matched their desperate gazes and locked eyes.
She quickly frowned at a thought and sighed. "This isn't you, House. I really should go…"
House suddenly wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her close to his body and kissed her. Cameron's eyes went wide in shock, but found that her eyes were beginning to feel heavy and fill with lust as she felt House's tongue softly caressing her own. Her hand moved up and down his back slowly as her other hand wrapper around his neck, slender fingers ruffling through his hair. He had both of his arms around her back, holding onto her as if he would never let go. Each tongue tenderly massaged the other. She was able to taste the sweet scotch on her tongue. She didn't want that moment to end. Neither did he. But House gently pulled away, leaving Cameron's mouth parted as she heavily breathed for air with her eyes still closed in wonder. House also gaped for breath. Cameron's forehead drifted forward which tenderly met House's. They were literally breathing each other's air. The hot breath on their necks felt sensational. She wanted more. So much more. And House sensed that.
"House…House…" She whispered.
"You should go," he whispered back.
"But…"
"Please."
Why was he doing this? She had sensed that he didn't really want her to go. She was able to feel that within the kiss. She felt his emotions pour out as if he held them in for years. Was he afraid she was going to hurt him? Or was he afraid he would hurt her in his drunken state?
Her understanding of House and House still wanting her to leave was quite a sad thing. She just simply nodded at his request and left to go home to cry about another event that had happened in her life.
My account wouldn't let me upload anything in the past couple of days. It was a shame for a while. Anyhow, I think this may have been a bit out of character for House. I wasn't quite sure how a drunken House would act, so, yeah. I found this chapter's writing very disappointing.