Disclaimer: They are not mine. If they were we'd sure have some fun.

V.

Wilson waited for them, clutching an armload of paper work, watching his shadow slowly lengthen in the afternoon sun until it became the height of House's parking space.

The bike pulled up and Cameron hopped off. She leaned back and steadied herself on House's arm as she dismounted.

"Had fun?" Wilson said, holding out the files to Cameron before she even had a chance to take off her helmet.

She grappled with them and Wilson pulled the helmet off for her.

"I found them in my office. Figured as you'd be doing the filing anyway..."

She raised her eyebrow, momentarily looking from House (who was taking his cane from its holder) to Wilson and back again.

"Thought you might want to grab a soda first."

Cameron presumed he was speaking to House, not her, and so she turned on her heels and began to make for the entrance to the hospital.

Wilson caught up with her. "Hey, the cafeteria's this way."

She paused, mid-step and looked back.

House was struggling to hold both helmets and walk with his cane. It was a pitiful sight.

Wilson sighed: "Don't worry about him."

She grimaced. Desperately wanting to go help him out but not wanting to make a show of it.

"He'll be fine," and then under his breath: "He always is."

XXX

She sat on the floor in his office. Surrounded by box files and mounds of paper.

Whatever had occurred between Wilson and House meant that Wilson wanted every trace of House out of his office. This meant the return of all of House's case notes that he'd forgotten to collect from oncology at various points over the years.

She sighed. She'd be there all night.

The sun was slowly setting and there was a definite chill in the air. She wondered if she had heat stroke or maybe she was getting sick. Could it have been the kiss…

You get enough germs to catch pneumonia

She heard the sound of the door opening.

"Bastard." House said shuffling over to stand above her.

She watched as he kicked a file open with his foot.

"I know he wants to make me suffer so he's taking it out on you."

Cameron took the file and moved safely away from House.

"I don't think so. I think he's just trying to get some order back into his life."

She could almost hear House shake his head.

"Get up."

She hadn't finished. Nowhere near. If she left the mess on the floor she'd only have to do it all tomorrow and then they might have a case and then -

House grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up to her feet. His grip had left indentations along the inside of her elbow and she ran her fingers over the marks that remained.

He looked her over again and then cleared his throat. "About earlier."

She felt shy. Embarrassed. Unprofessional. She felt like she was about fourteen years old and had been forced to read out her deepest darkest poetry in English lit class.

"What about it?" She said, immediately clenching. Her defences were up. She needed to protect herself.

"Maybe it was a mistake." He took a step back remembering how she'd looked as she'd walked away with Wilson who was younger, more attractive, maintaining full mobility skills.

The blood rose into Cameron's face. She wondered how she looked. Hoped that maybe she could mask her true feelings in the half-light of dusk.

"It didn't feel like a mistake," She hissed. Anger making her ball her hands into fists by her side. Not again. Please.

He lent against his desk and looked down at his sneakers. "I don't know. I don't want to mess everything up. It seems –" he looked up at her from beneath his frown:

"- it was just something that we needed to do at the time."

She gasped but managed to regain some control of her emotions. Old, old tears were working their way up to the back of her eyes.

What I am is what you need... I'm damaged.

"No." She began quietly. Focusing on the dark window behind him so that she didn't have to meet his eyes.

"No." She said louder, striding over to him and stopping when she could feel his breath on her face.

"No." Defiantly.

Why do you let him treat you like this, Allison? She'd ripped off her corsage and thrown it across the room. She dispensed with her shoes and studied her reflection in her bathroom mirror, her face streaked with the evening's mascara. Her throat dry and coarse from sobbing.

"No?"

House dipped his head a little, down to meet hers and lifted her bangs away from her eyes so that he could see her. His eyes flickered with amusement.

She carefully met his gaze. Everything rehearsed. All that she should have said and all that she was about to say.

"You don't get to do this to me this time."

He cocked his head to the side and noticed for the first time the tiny pearl stud in her left ear.

"I want to be with you. It's maybe not what I need and it's definitely not the right thing but deal with it. Because it's what I want. And that's all there is."

She couldn't control her breathing any longer. She put up her hand to her chest to calm herself and whispered: "I'm sorry."

House rolled his eyes and shifted further to the edge of his desk. He studied her like she was delicate. Like he was about to break her:

"The right thing would be to walk out of here now. And not look back."

She bit her lip as his face drew nearer.

"I can't." She whimpered, almost catching his bottom lip as she did.

"Neither can I," he said into her mouth, the vibration humming against her teeth.

He kissed her slowly, winding his hands around her body until he was holding her so close to him that he was sure he'd crushed her.

Her tongue swirled with his in unison and her hands made languid circles on his back. She moved away from his mouth to kiss his neck and let the roughness of his chin drag painfully across her cheek.

"Come home with me," she said softly, running a hand down past his inner thigh.