Author's Note: Mad props to 0penhearts and ponks19 for being my betas. 3


Her assistant is looking far too plucky for 8AM.

"Dr Cameron called. Wanted to know if you had okayed her leave?" House could be quite persuasive, in a very five year old fashion.

"Oh god. I'll call her. Get me a coffee will you." If her day was going to be miserable, she needed to be awake for it.

Slinging her bag down, she composes herself for a moment before punching in House's home phone number. She let it ring a few times, hung up, hit redial, and connected to a deep groan.

"What?" He was asleep and she woke him up. The morning rays of sunshine creep through her office window symbolically.

Giving just the right touch of innocence, she enquires, "Late night?"

His grunt is noncommittal.

"Well, nice chatting to you. Is Allison there?"

"Who?"

"Cameron."

He groans again, the phone swishing around in the air, eliciting a squeak as the intended recipient of the call gets an antenna in the ribs, "House!"

Managing to extract the phone from his grippy palms, "Uh, hello?"

"Allison, just calling regarding your leave. Give me a call when you want to get away from him and I'll find something for you to do here."

Her blush was almost audible, lost for words, "Oh... ok.

"And don't let him do anything stupid. I want you both back in working order." Stupid like rejecting you out of self-hate. Yeah, she thought, I'm not bitter in the slightest.

"Thank you Lisa."

"You deserve it. You both do. And call me when you want to come back." Placing the phone back into its cradle, her fingers hang ominously over the numbers. She didn't mean to be pessimistic, but House was House. If more people knew, it might almost be fun to bet on. Wilson would know and was only a page away. Convenient.


Cameron wormed back against House's side, smiling contentedly as his arm reflexively closed around her. Stretching over him, she poked the phone onto the nightstand, taking a moment to kiss across his chest as she relaxed.

"What did Cuddy want?"

"Just wanted to say hi." She smiles, stroking a finger over his torso.

He grumbles, moving to catch her hand in his, flattening it down against his skin and patting when she stays.

"So what's my surprise?"

His groan echoes around the room, "Later."

Slipping from his grasp, she watches him for a moment, before reaching brazenly beneath the covers, grasping him teasingly and leering as his eyelids levitated.

"Now."

He smirks. Her forcefulness is tempting and she knows it. It doesn't matter how frequently she pulls the exact same trick, it always gets the same reaction, which always makes her smile. Fingers dance over cotton as she touches, each time a little harder, her lips curling more as she abuses his patience.

"Cameron..." He needs her and she loves it, sliding back on her knees and kissing trails of fire down his body. Flitting her gaze up at him every few seconds, she purrs, catching the offensive fabric of his boxers and dragging them down. His head falls back as warm air washes over him, a tongue darting teasingly.

She presses her cheek against him, smooth, gazing tempestuously upwards, "What's my surprise Greg?" He is in hell, fingers running through her hair.

"You'll like it."

"What is it?" she says in a way that makes his breath stutter and muscles thrash beneath his skin. Meanwhile she just smiles up at him, scoring the tips of her nails wickedly down his stomach.

"Dinner." God he's weak. Her expression doesn't change.

"Good boy. Where?" Stretching, she settles in against him, hair flicked across his damaged thigh as her tongue dances across him, before he is engulfed.

Fisting her hair in his grasp, he shudders, unable to answer until she brushes her teeth over him.

"Youdon'tknowit!"

Frowning, but not stopping, she gives him puppy dog eyes, pulling back a little to lick over the tip.

"I might know it, if you tell-" Silenced, his hips thrust up into her mouth, fingers squeezing the base of his shaft, lazily jacking him off into her mouth. Sealing lips only increase his moans, driving him mad. Let him have a little fun.

The fist in her hair tries to pull her away, "Cameron..." His voice is panicked, leaving her smiling as she hums and he comes. Swallowing quickly, her attention wanes, teasing him until he's finished before crawling up to snuggle in against him. Kissing his neck, she purrs as the duvet slithers up to envelope them once more.

"So... where are we going?"

His voice flows, thick as molasses, "If I wasn't feeling very relaxed right now, I would murder you."

"Tell me!"

He smirks, leaning his head until his temple rests against her forehead.

"It's in Soho. Happy?"

She's surprised, but tries not to let it show.

"Should I dress up?"

He nods just enough for her to feel the movement, "I think so."

"At least then you'll have something nice to look at if the meal is bad." Pushing closer, she places another soft kiss on his jugular.

Humming, his fingers massage over her lower back, "The food will be good." Squeezing her close, he continues, "And you're always nice to look at."

She blushes brilliantly, kissing him again, "Shut up."

Snickering, he does.


Leaning heavily on his silver handled cane, he watches her carefully restraining her hair, the process fascinatingly elaborate. A ribbon tied close to the scalp, pulling the loose conglomeration of shimmering darkness together, riddled with hair pins, forming a tight knot, several strands flowing easily outwards. She is stunning in a slinky, yet modest dress. Her elegance is undeniable and it's very tempting to remind her of that.

All the while, he is being watched, her eyes taking in the lightly worn suit, a soft grey-blue that brings out his eyes. It's years behind the latest trends of course, but he carries it off with a mysterious air of respectability, like some eccentric professor. A self-indulgent smile crosses her lips as she stands, gliding over to him, head cocked. He nods a little at nothing in particular.

"Ready?"

Shaking her head, she smiles, tongue parting her lips slightly, "Not yet."

Arms slip around his neck, dragging him into a warm kiss. Pulling back, her eyes speaking volumes, she nods.

"Lets go."

Stepping out onto the rooftop garden, lightly scattered with tables of diners, was like stepping into a dream. A dream which, in her childhood, had always featured a Prince Charming and not a vicodin-addicted grouch, she thought with a smile. Two flights of stairs had killed his leg and despite trying not to let it show, she could tell. Clinging to his side, she lets him lean on her until they are directed to a table far from the door.

But nothing, not even his diplomatic silence, can begin to sour this. They're here, on a proper date, in public. He's been nothing but a gentleman. Not to mention the little stirring in her tummy every time he looks at her quite like that and smiles. Proper, cheerful, happy smiles. She can't remember the last time he smiled like that in public unless he was ridiculing someone or high.

"Thank you."

He looks up from his menu, "For what?"

"For this."

He snorts, grinning, "Normally we men pay for dinner before the sex. But if you want to call it even..."

Smiling she nods patiently, waiting for his prattling to cease, "Shut up Greg."

Giving another little snort, he returns to the menu.


Killing the engine, she looks over at him dozing against the window. Too much alcohol and vicodin.

"House. Time to move." She reaches over smoothing his hair back, easing him into wakefulness.

"G'way..." His right eye slits open, peering at this intruder in the vale of lost memories.

"Inside, bed, then sleep."

Climbing out, she whisks around to help him, to which he has no response. It's not until he's in bed, listening to her electric toothbrush whirring away that he speaks.

"I had fun tonight."

Nothing, no response until she pads across the carpet, easing in beside him, "Me too."

He looks over at her and the weight of it is on him. Any chance of getting away unscathed is obliterated before her gaze. She loves him and the feeling is mutual.