Chapter 8: The Truth Is Out

House woke up, middle of the night, confused until it hit him. He was in bed, with Allison Cameron. The girl who worked for him. The cute, smart, curious girl who cared for everyone. He feels her warm body, her head resting on his chest. He smiles. He's won. Chase is defeated. And yet, he doesn't feel... Victorious. He feels guilt. For God's sake, Greg. You've slept with one of the hottest girls in the hospital, and you're upset? He shook the thought of guilt out of his head, determined not to get into the touchy-feely stuff. If it got serious, he was breaking it off. This was just...fun? But it didn't feel like it. He fires all of his focus on Cameron. He was hungry.

"House," she moans, finally stirring from her deep slumber. "It's the middle of the night."

"I know," he says, in between planting deep kisses on her shoulder.

"Go to sleep."

"I don't want to."

She ignores him, and turns onto her side. He sighs, irritated. If he wanted it, he was going to have to work for it.

"Allison. Look at me," he commands, forcing her to roll back to her original position. "I know you want it. I know you do. We both do." He uses all of his powers of persuasion on her. "Give in."

She edges forward, till her face is centimetres from his. He thought he had her. He thought.

"Go to sleep, House. Or I'll make you."

"How?" His blue eyes are blazing, curious.

"You don't want to know."

"Tell me," he commands. There's no reply from her. "Tell me," he insists, kissing her neck. "Or I'll have to make you."

After a few more kisses, she finally replies.

Cameron could feel her whole hold on reality slipping away as she gave in to temptation.

The little "trip" the Head of Medicine had so thoughtfully organised was nearly over. It was Sunday evening, and like any Thursday night, House was playing poker- except this time with people he respected: Foreman and Chase. He'd dragged them along to an unused, out of bounds room he'd found in the furthest end of the hotel. Knowing House, Foreman suspected he'd deliberately searched for an empty room. It was empty for a reason; paint slowly peeling of the wall, flakes of the cream shade on the floor. Carelessly, House had pulled up a table, grabbed unstable chairs with three legs and started a poker game. Foreman was only in it for the money. But he was suspicious, too. House had been acting oddly around Cameron. Not his usual rough, brutish self. Instead, he'd seen House gently brush against Cameron's shoulder and she'd smile at him. A... sexy smile? Foreman had never seen Cameron use that smile on any man, not even Chase.

He had his suspicions. He'd come up with several extravagant ideas, but only one particularly stood out in his head. They were having sex. He remembered, the first time he'd lost his virginity. He remembered how it was his and his girlfriend's little secret they shared, that no-one else knew. But he was disgusted. Cheating was something no good person should do, in his opinion. Though cheating was something Foreman would never do in his life, he understood why a person would do it. Out of boredom. Out of anger. The rush you got from being with someone new, exciting, and different. Still didn't mean it was right.

"Four jacks and an ace," announces House, spreading his cards along the wood. "Read 'em and weep."

Chase threw down his cards in frustration. "Damn it!"

"Lucky streak," Foreman grins at House, pre-occupied with gathering up his large pile of red and black chips.

"I'm afraid not, my brother. Pure skill you are seeing before your eyes."

"I'm gonna go get a drink," mutters Chase, slipping out of his chair.

"Sulking won't help!" House shouts after him. He turns, and shrugs at Foreman; who's watching him through shrewd eyes.

"Why the look?" He asks. "I can't help it if I'm amazing at poker."

"Are you sleeping with Cameron?"

House splutters out his gin, which sprays over Foreman's face. "What?!"

"You're extra happy. Cameron's extra happy. Do the maths."

"We are not having sex," he says slowly. "Besides, if I was going to sleep with one of my colleagues, it would be Cuddy."

"Cuddy's not your colleague," Foreman points out. House rolls his eyes.

"Fine. If I was going to sleep with a human being it would be Cuddy."

"You did. In your hallucination, driven by a Vicodin overload."

"You got a point to prove? Something that's been bugging you, eating away at you. You have to satisfy your curiosity. I've taught you well."

As soon as House finishes that character analysis, Chase enters the room, face streaked with tears.

"YOU BASTARD!" Chase yells, running forward, and punches House in the face, knocking the older man backwards. House staggers, surprised.

"STAY AWAY FROM MY GIRLFRIEND!"

Foreman restrains Chase, struggling against Foreman's strong arms. His face is twisted by anger, contorted by rage. His eyes meet House's, and an understanding passes between them. Stay away, or you'll have more than a bloody nose next time.

House looks down at his hand, stained by blood and stares at Chase. So many emotions flicker on his face.

The truth was out.