Bonjour, my old friends!
I stopped watching House after House/Cuddy went canon, so I also stopped writing Hameron. Because it hurt my little Hammy heart!
But alas, I introduced my boyfriend to the show and we decided to go back and watch right from the very beginning...and my love for Hameron was renewed! So I popped online to read what I wrote FOUR YEARS AGO (holy hell, it's seriously been that long?!) and decided to carry on with this story!
Don't hate me for being away so long? Please?
I promise to try and update this regularly now! Starting with this chapter, and some of the 'good stuff' :P
This isn't beta'd, so all mistakes are mine.

Amylia.

What If

Chapter Ten - We're Crossing the Line

After three weeks of living together, more comfortable in each others' presence than either cared to admit, Cameron was starting to wonder how long their new-found routine could go on before she should bring up finding her own place. She didn't know how to broach the subject, not wanting him to think she wanted to move out. Because, truth be told, she didn't.

Nothing other than a few lingering kisses had happened between them over the three weeks of living on top of each other, but they'd been on the verge of crossing that line a few times. Each time they'd get to the point of no return, one of them would turn back. Neither wanted what had developed between them to change and she didn't want him to feel like she was rebounding out of her ruined marriage with him either.

Their working relationship remained the same and, as yet, Chase and Foreman were none-the-wiser that when they left the hospital, House and Cameron were going home separately but to the same place. Wilson and Cuddy knew, of course, and Cameron was somewhat surprised that the Princeton Plainsboro rumor mill still hadn't gotten hold of this nugget of rumor gold. Both of them made sure to maintain the professional back-and-forth they did so well, but it was never taken home with them. That was something that had surprised her, because she'd expected him to brood and sulk and take any disagreements at the hospital back home to hold between them as they sat watching TV together.

Elle was so comfortable with House that it melted Cameron's heart every time she watched them together. He was great with her and she was sure he'd miss Elle when (if) they moved out, though she was equally sure he would never admit that. It was important to Cameron that Elle's life remained as normal as possible with all the upheaval...and she hadn't expected House to enable that, but he was proving a much better paternal figure than she would have ever imagined. Probably than he'd ever imagined too.

They were taking it in turns to sleep in House's bed, as she'd insisted. She could see after a couple days on the sofa that it was taking its toll on House's leg and that he was suffering more than usual, so she'd insisted that they have a rota. It was a safer bet than suggesting they share the bed...

It was Cameron's night in the bed, and she'd changed out of her smart, professional work wear into the blue shirt House had given her the first night she'd stayed with him. She wasn't exactly unaware of the way his eyes lingered on her every time she wore his shirt, and she had to admit that she liked the way his smouldering gaze made her feel. That feeling had, essentially, set off the chain reaction that resulted in the breakdown of her marriage. But she'd stopped feeling guilty now, because she knew she couldn't really take full responsibility for their separation when Andrew's four-year affair with her own sister had been exposed. If it wasn't for House's selfish intentions, she'd still be tied to a man who was betraying her and making a mockery of their vows.

With Elle asleep on one side of House's bed, Cameron slipped out of his room and shut the door, padding down the hallway barefoot to see him sat on the sofa, strumming idly on his guitar. It made her smile. She moved gracefully through his apartment as though she'd never known anything different, floating into the kitchen and preparing two cups of Black Walnut and Ginger tea. It was their routine.

As she reached up into the cupboard for two cups, House's eyes couldn't help but let his eyes wander over the delicious expanse of thigh and ass she'd revealed to him. She was wearing simple black panties but no shorts, like she would normally have covering her up, and he could feel the blood travelling south. Damn, she really didn't have to do anything to get him going. She was oblivious as she moved effortlessly around the kitchen and he was drinking in every agile movement of her body. He remembered back to the fateful night she'd picked him up from the bar, and how he'd pictured her wearing that exact shirt as she'd driven him home wearing her soon-to-be ex-husband's shirt. The reality of her was so much better than anything his imagination could come up with.

As she turned and started toward him with the drinks, she caught the desire in his eyes and felt her stomach somersault. That look elicited sensations in her body that Andrew had never even come close to creating. As she sat down beside him and handed him one of the mugs, he moved his gaze to the dark liquid steaming in his hands.

"I can't do this much longer, Cam-...Allison."

Her heart dropped as his quiet words reverberated through her.

"What do you-..?"

"I want you," he cut her off before she could say anything else and looked up into her confused face, "I want you and I can't do this platonic thing much longer. Every time you get those legs out...God, woman. What are you trying to do to me?"

She searched his face and bit her lip, placing her untouched mug down onto the coffee table and, without breaking their eye contact, took his from his hands and placed it next to hers. Then, without a word, she moved closer to him and looked into his eyes, as though trying to search for answers to a question she didn't know she was asking. He remained still, allowing her to lead them in whatever this was going to be. If she hadn't meant so much to him, he'd have jumped her the first chance he got. Not that he'd ever admit that out loud, because that would mean admitting feelings, and he certainly wasn't the type to willingly open that can of worms. But he didn't want to take advantage of her when she was in a vulnerable state. That admission, even just to himself, scared him somewhat.

Her small hands cupped his face and she moved closer, her eyes falling shut as their lips made contact. They'd kissed a few times since she'd been living with him, but this was deeper, more intense. This was different. This was an invitation to cross the line.

His hands ran up her arms, leaving cold bumps in their wake, and settled on her neck, pulling her deeper into their kiss and revelling in the little kitten mewl that escaped her lips. Her heart was racing and she felt alive for the first time in a long time. This wasn't a feeling she wanted to lose, but she broke their kiss and looked into his questioning eyes. Were they stopping at the line again?

She gave him a small smile and pushed him back onto the sofa, moving so she was straddling his hips and looked down in surprise. She hadn't really expected him to be so excited so soon. Meeting his eyes again, she smiled, something in between nervousness and anticipation sitting between them. His hands gripped her hips and she leaned down whisper next to his ear.

"We're crossing the line. I want you to take me, House."

He stiffened beneath her and the growl he elicited next to her ear made a small gasp pass her own lips. His hands tightened on her hips and then he was kissing her, deeply and desperately, pouring everything into her that he couldn't say with words. He wanted her. He needed her. He'd fallen for her, hard. And he didn't want her to move out.

The sex was earth-shattering. And as many times as she'd dreamed about his touch each time she slept in his bed, the reality of his fingertips grazing over her hips, of his lips peppering kisses across her neck and collarbone, of his eyes burning into her own as he made her lose control for the second and third time...none of her dreams could have possibly come close to the reality of it all.

He wasn't sure how long they'd been going for, and time had all but become an irrelevant concept to him while she was on top of him, head thrown back and hands splayed across his abdomen to steady herself. He knew he could quite happily stay in this moment forever. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen her look as beautiful as she did in that moment, dark hair unruly, face flushed, lips slightly parted in a small 'o' of pleasure, and her eyes lightly closed as she enjoyed every second of the sensations he was creating. His leg hadn't been an issue, which had always been a concern to him when he'd imagined sex with her. He'd always thought he could never be what she needed, but if the expression on her pretty face was anything to go by, she was certainly getting what she needed. He closed his eyes, savoring the sounds she was making and feeling his end game getting closer.

She bit her lip hard to keep from crying out as another wave of pleasure hit her. He was bigger and better than she'd ever thought, and looking down at him she saw the lines of his face soften, felt his fingers dig into her hips to make her move faster, and saw the muscles of his abdomen contract beneath her fingers. She knew he was almost there, so she rocked back and forth, creating a delicious friction between them that sent a bolt of pleasure straight through her and pushed him over the edge.

He pulled her down on top of him and they lay together, entwined and soaked with sweat as they both drifted down to earth again. He idly ran his fingers up and down her back, letting them linger on the little dimples at the bottom of her back. He remembered once, a few weeks after he'd hired her, how she'd bent to pick some papers up off of the floor in his office and he'd caught sight of those little dimples as her shirt had ridden up a fraction. He'd been so tempted to reach out and touch them, and he couldn't get that memory out of his head right now, as she lay naked on top of him. His forbidden, unattainable dream, all sweetness and light, lying on top of him with her halo all off-kilter.