"Lunch?"
"Sure. Your place?"
"Making me walk is basically torture. Do you want to torture me?"
"See you in a few minutes, House."
Hanging up the phone and tossing it aside, he brooded. There was thinking to be done and he didn't have long to do it in. A beer cooled his nerves, dulled his mind just enough to avoid over-analysis. Would she even be interested now, in the sobering light of day. During the day he was an ass, and she didn't see the kind to be interested in somebody who could only be there half the time. Then again, taking her at face value would probably be unwise. She's grown far too adept at putting up with his bullshit to be completely open. Dark thoughts bubbled and frothed in his cauldron mind, body automatically retrieving another two beers after his was drained dry. It didn't make sense for her to be playing him. He wasn't going to get anywhere with introspection. Drinking would have to suffice.
By the time the door opened, he was just starting to feel anesthetised to the world. A pizza slammed down on the coffee table.
"Move over." He did so and Wilson sat, "How much have you had to drink?"
Shrug, "A few."
"Any particular reason you've had 'a few' before one on a Saturday?"
"Of course. A very exciting reason that you would love to hear all about."
Wilson nodded, waiting expectantly, "Don't suppose you'd care to share?"
"Nope."
"Ah."
Wilson watched his friend for a moment, before turning on the TV. House would come round, he always did. For now, pizza, beer and mindless television would have to stand in for conversation.
House waited until Wilson was drinking, "Cameron tried to jump me." The explosive spray of amber fluid was impressive, prompting a loud coughing fit.
"Cameron did what?" His eyes were streaming, but he had to be sure.
House stared at him in disdain, "Your beer is soaking into my carpet."
Unable to decide what was more important, Wilson's hands flailed, eventually fetching some paper towels to try and mop up the spill.
As he mopped he stared at House, "What happened?"
"I took your advice."
"Strange, I can't recall telling you to have sex with one of your fellows. I'm glad you had the presence of mind to choose her though. I doubt Foreman would have been very receptive."
"She tried to jump me. Maybe if you stopped ruining my furniture you might notice the nuances of language."
"Not meaning to point out the obvious, but she's not here so..."
"Tried. She tried to jump me. Apparently I have to call her."
"Sounds reasonable."
"So it's immoral to have sex with a subordinate as a spur of the moment thing, but just fine for it to be a premeditated act?"
"Don't be an idiot House."
No response, staring into his beer. He needed to think, so that was the end of lunch, Wilson finishing off his slice of pizza.
"Call her. I'll see you later." House's nod was imperceptible.
Sleeping in was a luxury that she only rarely indulged herself in. Not enough hours in the day, working for him. She shouldn't be thinking about him in bed, not after last night. If she was going to have a day off, there were things to do and she didn't need to waste time thoroughly enjoying herself, wishing it was him.
Willing the phone to ring didn't work, but then she wasn't sure if it would ever ring. But he was jealous. Smiling, she rolled onto her side, thin tank top hugging tight to her breasts. He was jealous of Chase. It was after midday, she should get up, do something. Her arm began moving, out of her control, reaching for the phone, her eyes closing, complete faith in his powers of omniscience. Breathing steadily, she concentrates, all thoughts lost from her mind, fingers touching the plastic of the phone just as it rings. Eyelids slam up, staring at it, as though it were a dream. Lifting it from the cradle, she stares at the caller ID. House.
"Hello House."
"Cameron."
She listens to his breathing, even down the phone it's obvious he's nervous. Nervous and jealous.
"Did you walk home?" He really isn't good at small talk.
"I took a cab, didn't want you to worry."
He smirks, "You're a valuable resource to the hospital. Can't have anything happen to you."
"Yes, of course."
"So... your car is still here. Are you going to pick it up or should I get it towed?"
"I'll come and get it tonight."
"Good." He hangs up.
Smiling to herself, she pulls the duvet close, eyelids shielding her from the world just for a short while. As her fingers slip into her pyjama bottoms she wonders where she'll wake up tomorrow.
She was subdued when he opened the door, giving him a friendly smile but nothing more.
"Mind if I come in?"
He nods, "Sure," eyes studying her body language as she steps past him. He leans back against the door, nervous, even in his own home. Bluff.
"So, how bad was the hangover this morning? I'm surprised you can walk."
"Fine, considering I didn't have one. You?"
"Yeah, like I'd notice. Not with these babies." He plucks a vicodin from his pocket, flicking it skywards and catching it in his mouth.
She smiles a sad smile, "House, what happened last night..."
"Forget it, we were drunk." If she refuses to save herself, he should at least try. It'd be kinder in the long run, but the look on her face was anything but accepting of his kindness.
"I don't want to forget it. Do you?" He doesn't connect, eyes down, everywhere but near her. Closing the distance between them, she leaves him nowhere to escape to.
"When I kissed you earlier, did it feel like I was faking?"
"You tried to stab me!"
She rolls her eyes, hands moving up behind his neck to pull him into a slow, sweet embrace. Warmth flows through her body, needing this for so long. No ulterior motives, no tricks, just wanton desire and love. Her assault leaves him breathless, once more swimming in the taste of her lips. It seems like a split second and an eternity all rolled into one before he moves, hands on her hips, kissing back greedily. Perfection.
Pulling back, she peeks through her eyelashes, watching him until his eyes open, staring straight into hers. She wants to say something, to make sure he knows what he does to her, but the words don't come. Instead, a stupid grin flowers, hugging him, hiding her face against his chest before he thinks she's gone mad. Hands move on her sides, patting up and down her, across the small of her back.
"House?" Her voice was quiet, muffled against his chest.
"Yes?"
"I don't have a needle. Stop searching me."
He smiles, "Had to be sure."
"Are you always going to be this annoying?"
"Don't see why not."
Her forehead thumps gently against him before looking up, still smiling, "I'll live."
Loathe as she is to break away from him, it's necessary. Perspective is important. Gliding soundlessly around the couch, she sits in the corner, watching and waiting. He moves to sit, leaving a respectful space between them, mirroring her gaze.
"Stop looking at me like that." Seeing her smiling like that feels wrong, illicit. Any moment now the door will burst open and he'll be dragged off and jailed for corrupting the youth.
Of course, that just makes the smile grow, "I don't want to. I like looking at you. Amongst other things." Her eyes couldn't twinkle more if they were made of diamond.
"Oh god, I think I'm gonna hurl." She just laughs at him.
"Am I that bad? Guess we'll just have to practice more."
"You have very selective hearing."
"I'm a very selective person." Her fingers crawl across the couch to touch the back of his hand, which surprisingly doesn't shy away.
"You're masochistic and insane."
She smiles again, a look that entices and frustrates him all at once.
"A perfect match then."
Gravity draws them inexorably together, her body leaning half across him, the uncomfortable position forgotten as their tongues touch. Arms enclose her, pulling her closer and he gasps, pulling out of the kiss.
"House?"
His muscles tense, face contorted, his scream a whisper, "You are on my leg." Jerking away from him, her face is a mask of horrified compassion.
"I'm sorry, are you ok, I wasn't thinking..." His stare silences her.
"Do you promise not to sit on my leg again?" She nods, platitudes ready to tumble forth if he would give her a chance.
"Good. Now, if you must insist on sitting on me, would you mind not doing it on that leg." Hands guide her until she's sitting sideways in his lap, legs covering, but not pressuring, his damaged thigh. The hands not depart, feeling heat beneath the thin material of her blouse.
"If it'll make you feel better, you are quite good at distracting me." He cocks his head slightly, pulling her close again, their union already second nature. Blue eyes lay her bare, stripping all obfuscation from their entanglement, a conflict of passionately warring tongues, lips and teeth. Even his internal monologue is silent, stripped of speech by her resplendent aura.
He is the first to give, nudging her gently, "Off." Wheeling, she folds her legs under herself, sitting beside him, rolling her eyes as he dives for the remote.
"TV? Really?"
"Thought you weren't going to try change me?"
"Oh shut up." She's at his throat, kissing lightly, "I'm going home. Cuddy asked me to cover the clinic tomorrow and since you refuse to suck up to her, somebody has to."
He snorts, "Sure, nothing to do with your love of helping people or anything."
Patting him, she stands, heading for the door, pausing as he speaks.
"I'll call you."
Nobody notices the smile on her face as she leaves.
