Chapter Two: Tête-à-Tête
Author's Notes: I realize that it's been a while since I've gone anywhere near this story, but I have a chapter or so for it, and I thought Why not?
I'm going to note from the start that this chapter seems a little rough on Chase. Also, Kutner makes an appearance in this one, because it was written before he left (RIP Kutner) and he was always my favorite of the "new ducklings". : )
Thanks to those who read and reviewed the first chapter!
Disclaimer: House, MD belongs to FOX, David Shore, etc. I'm just borrowing these characters/settings for amusement purposes.
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"I think I'll have fingerprints on my ribs," he joked as he limped into the diner, the blinking light from the neon Open 24-Hours sign falling across his face as he passed through the door.
"I think you should let me steer on the way back," she decided, following in right behind him. She removed the motorcycle helmet, and shook out her hair; blonde waves falling down her back.
"You?" he laughed, "You wobble on high heels."
"Only when pushed," she returned slyly.
He grinned, his eyes clearly asking –who? me?- "Besides, the bike's too big for you. You're too petite and fragile; it would topple, and crush you Blondie."
"Is that right?" choosing a table off to the side and towards the back, she sat down, drawing her elbows to the tabletop, fists propped under her chin, "I'm about ready to fade away."
"If we don't get some food into you stat you just might," seating himself, he reached around the corner of the table to poke her in the ribs, "Turn sideways. I want to see if you disappear."
"Want me to stick my tongue out too? Do my bestest zipper impression?"
They'd soon ordered; a burger, fries, and chocolate shake for him, a wild berry smoothie for her. Since there weren't many in the small diner, the wait wasn't long for the food, and when it arrived, House dug in. Cameron took a long pull from her frothy beverage, and shook her head, "I don't know how you can eat so much and keep it down. Especially after what you ate at the rally."
"Yeah, well, I don't know how you can eat so little. Mysteries of the universe," he quickly glossed over that point so he could raise the more pressing one his mind had been waiting for an opportunity to present, "So, what happened with you and the wombat?"
"Are you going to ruin a perfectly pleasurable evening out with personal questions?" she quipped, her eyes on her smoothie as she stirred at it with the straw. She took another sip, the tip of her tongue darting out to catch the slight spillage at the corner of her mouth just before she answered, "We broke up."
"Ah," was his reply around a mouthful of hamburger. He would have said more, and intended too, but was prevented for a few moments by the large bite he'd taken. Instead, he watched her as he finished chewing; not missing that she squirmed slightly under his stare,
"You remember when the kids thought you had the clap?"
Chuckling to himself for his own brilliance, House swallowed, and then nodded, "Yeah."
"Well, them, and Foreman, Chase and I were all discussing that maybe you were the way you are because of it," Cameron explained, looking up and reaching across to snitch a couple of his fries.
"Uh-huh," House prompted, blocking her hand as she reached for another fry, "Nu-uh, story first. Then, maybe, I'll share with you."
"Fiiiine," she took a drink of her smoothie and then spoke to the cup, "So Chase decides to ask me, out of the blue, in the midst of all of them, whether I'd slept with you."
He picked the worse moment to take a drink of his chocolate shake. The beverage caught in his throat, and he made a hacking noise. Startled, her gaze instantly went to his face,
"House—Greg? Are you okay?"
He gulped, then nodded, "Yeah," he gave a cough to clear his throat, then, "I'm fine. What'd you tell him?"
Tenderly, she wiped the dribble of chocolate milkshake that was melting in the three-day scruff on his chin, "I told him it was none of his business."
"He didn't like that," it was a statement, not a question. Their eyes were locked together, blue-on-blue; even as she lowered the napkin in her hand back to the tabletop.
"No," she agreed, balling the napkin in her fist, "He didn't. He started making these oh-so-clever comments," her tone suggested that clever was the last adjective she'd choose to describe Chase right now, "Little things like if I'd seen the 'new us' that day, or if Cuddy had me doing your charts again, if I was glad to be playing secretary again; until I got sick of it. Then he wanted me to tell him what I'd done all day, like I had to retrace my steps, in case I forgot some passionate tryst you and I had had in the supply closet."
A myriad of emotions flowed through House; but surprise was the only one that played out on his face. Cameron was definitely less reserved than she had been when she'd first come to work for him. Now, she rolled so much more easily with the punches; sometimes even throwing a few of her own, "Then what?"
She took her time, casually reaching out to take a few more of his fries, and eating them before answering, "I told him to back off, and that if he didn't trust me then it would be stupid to stay together. So, we broke up," giving a one shouldered shrug, she continued, "Then this week, I get a sunflower taped to my locker with a note."
"What'd it say?" House asked curiously, offering her the plate of fries, while popping a few into his own mouth.
"It's Tuesday."
"What the hell does that mean?" blankly, House blurted, "Did you need a day-to-day prompter, or is he being deliberately obtuse? Wait," he paused, dunking his fry in the ketchup, "It's Chase. Stupid question."
"Haha," Cameron plucked a particularly crispy fry from the platter, "He used to tell me every Tuesday that he liked me when I broke it off the first time."
"Shame on you for falling for such a moron," an aptly placed pause, then "—ic method. How long does he expect to keep going? How come you didn't hit him?"
"All very good questions," Cameron conceded, "He wore me down, I guess. I—I decided to give it a try. It didn't work, it's over," she sighed, gave a tight, closed lip smile; before taking another couple fries, "Aren't you glad you asked?"
"Ye—ah," he pulled a duh face, "Real drama. Better than the soaps."
"Of course," Cameron again stirred at her drink, "Glad my messed up life could live up to your standards."
"It's definitely an honor to be proud of," House concurred, with all teasing seriousness, but he reached over to place his large hand over her small one on the sticky diner tabletop, asking gruffly, "You okay?"
Cameron nodded; shocked that he'd taken her hand in his; that he was sincerely asking about her welfare. Smiling sweetly, she gave his hand a firm squeeze, "Yeah. I'm fine."
He nodded, not saying anything, but not releasing her hand either.
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"I swear Cam," Foreman shook his head, fiercely cutting into his cafeteria-made lasagna; "It was one of the most disconcerting things I've ever seen. House was out-and-out smiling."
She chuckled, "What'd he just done? Made Taub raise his voice? Made Kutner pee himself? Or did Thirteen finally have a facial expression?"
Foreman gave her a strangled look as he strained not to spit his mouthful of lasagna across the table. Cameron merely peered back at him, concerned and innocent.
"Devious," Foreman accused after he'd satisfactorily swallowed, "You've picked up a few things from him."
Cameron shrugged, still appearing quite innocent, "Maybe a few."
"Hey Cameron, Foreman," Chase stopped at their table, dressed in his usual attire of dull colored scrubs, "You look like you're having fun."
"Yeah," Foreman replied, but wouldn't ask the other former fellow to sit. If he had to choose; Cameron was his friend, Chase was a colleague. Besides, he'd been privy to Chase's jealousy over Cameron and her relationship (whether said relationship was existent or purely speculative) with their former boss. Cameron had made it clear that she wasn't going to tip-toe around either Chase's issues with House or avoid contact with the man himself, so the relationship between her and Chase had come to an end. Only now, Chase had changed his mind about the it's over part.
"Um, Cameron," Chase turned his attention to her, "Did you get the flower I left you?"
"Yes Chase, I got it. It was very pretty," Cameron placed both palms on the table as she stood, "But we both know it's over."
"Oh, so you've already hooked House, have you?" Chase snapped angrily, and Cameron was immediately on the defensive,
"I'm sorry your feelings got hurt—"
"Really?"
"Really. But it's over. You have to stop leaving things on my locker."
"Why? Your old man going to come after me with his cane?" immediately after the words had left his mouth, Chase realized he was going too far. He didn't know why he was saying what he was, but the words kept spilling out of his mouth.
Furious, Cameron's eyes flashed, "You were the one who told me that if I wanted House, I had to take him. Jump him," she stared right through him, giving the surgeon an eerie feeling, "Good advice. Good advice."
Chase said nothing; Foreman chose to remain silent. Cameron merely folded herself gracefully back into her chair. The staring contest continued until Chase's pager began to beep, and with a parting glance, he strode away at a fast clip.
"What was that about?" Kutner asked as he, Thirteen, and Taub approached the table, each with their lunch in hand.
"Nothing," Cameron brushed it aside, "What's up—do you guys want to sit?"
"Sure," Kutner broke into a big grin and dropped into the chair beside her. Taub rolled his eyes before taking his own seat. Thirteen followed suit.
"What's going on?" Kutner asked, shoving a forkful of his cafeteria special into his mouth, "Anybody got any plans for the weekend?"
Sitting back, Cameron let their chatter wash over her. Her mind wandered back to the previous evening. The monster truck rally; going to the diner. It had been a good night. Fun. Without awkward stress, and tension, and jealous insecurities. It was just so easy and comfortable to sit and talk, tease, or even just to stay quiet. Last night had been the most relaxed she had been a long, long time.
She sighed, leaned back in her chair, and stuck her hands into her pockets. Inside the thin lab coat pocket, her fingertips brushed a piece of molded plastic. Removing the item from her pocket, she couldn't help but smile. A miniature model toy; painted to look like Grave Digger; her favorite monster truck.
"Cameron—what's that?" Thirteen's voice broke into her reverie, and she absently replied,
"A model monster truck," she turned the toy in her hand. How had it gotten into her pocket?
"A monster truck?" Kutner was talking again, "They are so cool. You like monster trucks?"
"Love them," Cameron responded softly, realizing the who, but still working on the how.
"Man, I wish I could've went to the rally last night," Kutner said wistfully, "I heard it was supposed to be amazing."
Thirteen rolled her eyes, as if she was superior to the whole idea, "Why didn't you go then?"
"It was practically impossible to get passes," he explained, poking at his lunch, "Unless you know someone with inside connections."
"Inside monster truck connections?" Taub condescended, peering at Kutner disbelievingly. He wouldn't come right out and say that the other doctor was juvenile, because that would mean he was accusing Cameron of the same thing. And he wouldn't alienate her that way; she was his superior, and she had the best insights when it came to dealing with House's insanity.
"Sure," Kutner ignored Taub's superiority complex, and murmured again, "It was supposed to be amazing."
"Was," Cameron muttered; her attention still on the truck she held.
Kutner gaped at the blonde, his regard for her rising rapidly once again, "You went?"
Before she could answer, her pager began bleating; effectively cutting her off. Checking the screen, she read; Clinic room 2. STAT. "Got to go," she announced, quickly leaving the table and exiting the cafeteria.
"Cameron," Kutner decided as she left, "Is so cool. No wonder House likes her so much."
"What?" Taub and Thirteen were taken aback, while Foreman remained silent, but thoughtful, "Why would—House doesn't like anybody. Except maybe Wilson."
"Then why would he offer to fire one of us if she wanted to come back? Why would he venture down to the ER so often since she's taken it over?" Kutner raised each issue, proving perhaps he knew more of their employer than the others, "House practically begged Cameron to come back a couple of years ago."
"How do you know that?" Taub asked, gawking at his colleague.
"House and Cameron are a hot topic on the rumor mill," Kutner explained, this time he was the one with the superior tone, "They've dated at least a couple of times; most of the nurses have bets on whether or not they've done the nasty," Watching his colleagues closely, Kutner was surprised, and had to question, "You guys didn't know anything about this?"
Taub was simply baffled; while Thirteen turned to Foreman, "House dated Cameron?"
"I don't really know if you could call it dating," Foreman wanted desperately to evade. Speculating on his friend's relationship with his boss was not his idea of a way to pass a leisurely lunch hour.
"See!" triumphantly, Kutner nearly bounced on his seat, "It's true."
Taub still seemed confused, "What about Chase then? Obviously, according to Kutner, he'd have every right to think Cameron was sleeping with House."
"Maybe this was what Cameron was trying to avoid," Thirteen reasoned, pushing the leaves of lettuce in her salad around the plastic bowl.
"Chase finding out?" Taub suggested.
"No, this whole," she gestured around the cafeteria table, "Round table speculation thing. It's none of our business if Cameron and House are 'hooking up', even if it is behind Chase's back. Why do you guys care if Chase was a fling and House and Cameron are really 'meant to be'?"
"You're not curious, at all?" Kutner made a face while Taub shrugged. The three of them looked to Foreman, who held up both hands, palms forward,
"Oh, no. Don't drag me into this."
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Entering the clinic's exam room two, Cameron found House stretched out on the exam table, once again playing his video games. A hand on one hip, she jutted the other hip out to the side as she stood just inside the closed exam room door, "You paged?"
He paused the game, and then with a hand under his right thigh, House swung himself around to sit up, "I need a consult."
"Where's the patient?" she stepped further into the room, appreciatively noting just how handsome he looked with his scruffy stubble and The Who t-shirt. The blue button-down he wore over the t-shirt made his piercing eyes stand out all the more.
"I'm here," he said, pouting. Seeing a tiny smile budding on her face, he tugged his shirt up past his ribs on one side, "See? I'm bruised."
"Poor baby," approaching the exam table, she gently palpated the area around the bruises, his skin warm under her fingers, "Does it hurt?"
He looked at her, deviousness and amusement flashing over his face, "You going to kiss it better if I say yes?"
"Hmmm," Cameron considered it, then stepped back and covered her recovery from their close proximity by fixing her hair back in to a fabric-covered elastic she rolled off of her wrist, "We'll see."
"Really?" his voice came out higher than normal, before he managed to squelch whatever impulse caused it. Tamping that down, he tried again, "Really?"
Reaching into her lab coat pocket, she brought out the truck she'd discovered earlier, spinning it between her hands. Her face seemed to promise, and House let his shirts fall back into place, "We'll see, the prospect looks promising."
"I knew you wouldn't be able to resist my pure animal magnetism," House grinned, and Cameron couldn't help but return it with one of her own,
"Yeah, sure. That's what that is."
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