Disclaimer: I want House, and occasionally Wilson, but they belong to Fox and David Shore. Damn it.
VII.
How could she function normally? And just what was normal?
Chase and Foreman mused around the office, drinking coffee and flicking through files, sitting back in chairs and stretching and yawning.
Cameron kept glancing at the clock. She was tired. She hadn't slept. Her body had pulsated all night from the memory of his touch. She removed the clip from her hair and then took out her small mirrored compact and comb.
She examined her reflection carefully. She had bags under her eyes and she'd forgotten to apply foundation that morning but aside from that she was no different. On the outside. No one would know that inside she'd been shaken and turned upside down.
In the mirror she saw House walk through the door behind her. He hooked his cane onto the back of a chair and surveyed his team, buoyantly.
She stared at his figure. Imagining what he might have looked like. She'd been so self-contained with her own needs the night before that she hadn't even thought about how they'd looked. Together. Linked. Her hands grabbing his ass, pulling him deeper into her.
She angled the mirror so that she could look further down his body. House was the kind of man that jeans were made for. He looked so good. She breathed into the mirror and condensation blocked her view.
"Chase, I hope you've brought your prettiest dress with you today. We're going to a party."
This caught everybody's attention. Chase stopped spinning in his chair. Foreman looked up from his paperwork. Cameron put her compact back in her bag.
"We are?" Chase said. Almost excitedly.
Cameron tried to catch House's gaze but it fell past her to Foreman.
"And you. Cancel all your dates for this evening!" House pointed his finger in Foreman's direction; "We're going to party like it's 1984. But this time the proles get to win."
George Orwell, Cameron said to herself. Pleased that she actually understood one of his references for once. But she sensed that he was feeling uncomfortable and so decided not to be teacher's pet today.
"Where are we going?" Chase asked, still a little excited.
"Wilson's birthday party. Sport's bar on Maple Lane. Tonight. He's buying the margaritas."
Cameron frowned and watched House as he went over to get a coffee.
"I thought you weren't speaking to Wilson?" She asked quietly, scanning his face.
He actually couldn't look at her. This was becoming pretty obvious. He directed his reply to Foreman: "I said he's buying margaritas. Surely this is self-explanatory."
Foreman grimaced, tried to make Cameron giggle, but she was more concerned about House's obvious embarrassment.
Was this it? The end? End it now. Make it easier. Move on?
The previous night he'd stood in her kitchen and drank a glass of water. He'd mocked her when she'd gone to wash the glass the second he put it back on the table. He'd told her that he'd never been with anyone as beautiful as her and maybe he never would again. She'd laughed and frowned and took his long fingers in her own as she walked with him to the door.
Now she knew exactly what he meant.
She watched his fingers gripping the coffee mug. His face was flushed and he stared intently at the whiteboard that was, for now, redundant without a new case to liven it up.
"What time is this thing?" Foreman said, taking out his cell phone, probably preparing to message his girlfriend.
"Eight-thirty," House said manoeuvring around the desk and towards his own office. He brushed past Cameron's hair and she turned to watch him.
She drew herself up: "Am I invited?"
"Of course." He muttered, going into his own room and pulling the door shut with his cane.
"Are you cold?" Chase moved into the chair next to her. "It's like ninety degrees and you have goose bumps on your arms."
She smiled and crossed them across her chest.
She wasn't the cold one.