Albert Cameron's voice is drowning in the background as you fiddle with the straw of your diet coke. You've put on a white eyelet dress and your pearl studs your mother gave you for your high school graduation.
When they met you at the door of your apartment that morning, your father told you that you looked lovely and placed a kiss on your cheek. Fiona did the same rubbing your arms with her cold hands
She mentioned that you looked a little thinner than normal.
What else is new?
They took you out to lunch at a local trattoria. So you ordered a chicken panni to stave off remarks about your eating habits.
"It's good Allison." Fiona said after she took a small bite from your sandwich. You nod and pretend to focus on your father who's complaining about the economy.
Last night hasn't come up in the conversation. After House released his fingers from your wrist he nodded at your parents and left quickly like the coward he is. Your mother asked who he was and you told her-
"A friend." Then confiscated the extra key you sent them when you first moved to Princeton. It seemed like a good idea at the time but proved to be a bad one. Fiona and Albert had showed up unannounced in your living room, while your boss pumped his fingers tortuously inside you.
Of course they were shocked. Their sweet innocent Allison Grace would never be involved with such an older grumpy man. Who was also her boss.
They didn't raise you to be that way.
"Are you listening Allison?" Albert asked.
You drop your straw and nod mutely, and your father continues his tirade. This is how it'll be for the next two weeks.
Fiona bragged to you earlier about the wonderful hotel suite they're staying in and all of the wonderful restaurants downtown she wants to sample.
The bill comes, and your four father quickly collects it and pays. They want to follow you back to work.
Hesitantly, you agree and the minute you're in your car your hand goes to your phone to dial House's number. To give him a heads up.
He doesn't answer.
Screw it, bastards on his own. Just like he did to you last night.
They follow you up to the Diagnostics and you introduce them to Foreman and Chase. Then House comes around the corner with a cherry sucker sticking out of his mouth.
You clear your throat and you feel Albert stiffen against you. He recognizes that awkward limp from last night.
"Um, House" You begin, "These are my parents Albert and Fiona Cameron." He looks your way but his eyes don't meet yours at first. Instead, he's checking you out in your virginal white sundress. His cerulean gaze dips to the low scoop of your dress, where your nipples are beginning to pucker invitingly against the confining material.
He gives Fiona and Albert a curt nod, and retreats to his office. Once inside he draws his blinds, and the familiar cracking of his television being turned on is heard.
"Don't be offended, he's rude to everybody. Not a very good quality for a boss." Foreman said to Albert.
"Boss?" He repeats lamely and you watch Chase and Foreman exchange confusing looks.
"Yeah, House is our boss. I'm surprised Cameron didn't tell. I would have expected her to tell you his life story." Chase snickered.
"Allison, dear..." Fiona begins.
"Can you guys see yourselves out? I really need to get to work." You press a quick kiss to each of their cheeks and usher them out the door quickly. Then turn and glare at Chase.
"What, was it something I said?" You roll your eyes and brush past him angrily into House's office. He's sitting at his chair with his feet propped up on a desk near the TV. He's playing with his upper lip with his finger, in that way that you find incredible distracting and sexy. If you weren't livid with him you would settle yourself in his lap and finish the events of last night.
Instead you turn of the TV and stand in front of it with your hands on your hips.
"What?" He asks. He stands and removes his blazer, revealing his thick flexed biceps.
"You're insufferable." He nods and throws his blazer on his desks and come to stand in front of you. His calloused fingertips grip your elbow and he draws you close to his warm body.
"You look nice." He says in an unbelievable soft voice.
"Thank you." You swallow hard and continue to stare into his piercing eyes. Now his other hand is palming your waist and you feel incredibly small in his presence. Anyone could walk in at any moment. Although Foreman and Chase know not to bother him when the shades are drawn, unless it's an emergency. But you can't pull away from him, you crave his touch.
His lips press against yours, tenderly as your arms wrap around his neck to deepen the kiss. His lips find the smooth column of your neck and he nips and sucks at the sensitive skin.
"House," You say in a breathy voice. If he doesn't ease up on the bites you'll be sporting an unexplainable hickey when you leave his office.
He seems to have read your mind and pulls back kissing you squarely on the mouth.
"Come to my place tonight." It's not a question, and even if it was you would never deny him.
So you nod and he grins releasing you from his hold.
You get off of work later than him (shocking) and meet him at his place. You come with a bottle of wine and he grimaces but quickly perks up when you remove the bottle of whiskey from you purse.
He eyes it warily then nods.
"This is the good stuff."
You need his approval. Without it you would be no where.
He ushers you inside and you take off your coat and hang it up. He's in the kitchen and he's taken out a glass for his whiskey and glass for your wine. You follow him and hand him the bottle. Expertly, he uncorks it and pours the contents of it slowly. It falls like a crimson wave of red sloshing against the sides, threatening to spill. House hands it to you and you smile sweetly and take a sip. His gaze lingers longer than normal and he moves back to the counter and pours his own drink.
The stem is small in your right hand and you hold it delicately, while your other hand moves to his arm and you squeeze it lightly.
"This is nice." You murmur and reach up for a kiss. He indulges you and meets your lips halfway.
"It would be a lot nicer if we were fucking in my bed." He replies crudely. You roll your eyes and remove your hand from his arm.
He's always had a way with words.
Instead of giving into his crass request you move into his living room and park yourself on his sofa. The familiar sounds of his awkward gate resonates through the room as he joins you on the sofa. Carefully he shifts you onto his lap and reaches for the clicker.
"This is nice to." He says in your ear. A small smile finds its way onto your lips.
He's trying.