TITLE: Chapter 3.5 Until You Buy Night Vision Goggles.

AUTHOR: new_raven

PAIRING: House/Chris (OC) suggested

RATING: PG

WARNINGS: none

SUMMARY: House finds out Chris is volunteering at Princeton Plainsboro.

DISCLAIMER: House and his pretty friends don't belong to me.

SOUNDTRACK: .com/playlist?list=PL0E97EE610F950F6A&feature=mh_lolz

House stood in front of the white board waving a dry erase marker as he spoke. Their first diagnosis had been wrong and the patient was getting worse. They were getting nowhere fast, as Forman suggested an autoimmune disease that House had ruled out on day one.

"Do an…" House stopped, distracted by something in the hall. It was the hot pink T-shirt that first drew his eyes, but he was certain he recognized the girl pushing the cart. His head tilted as his eyes followed her down the hall. He moved to follow her just as she rounded the corner.

"Do a what?" Thirteen asked.

"LP" House replied, as he left the room.

He caught up to Chris as she was stepping out of an office and studying a newspaper in her hand.

"Are you stalking me?" He could just make out the word "Twisted" above the red and white striped apron she wore.

"Currently, I'm delivering Mrs. Charleston's newspaper. What do you think that is, if it's not a four?" She pointed to a room number written on a post-it note, stuck to the paper.

"I work here." House overpronounced each word.

"I volunteer here." She matched his tone. "It was Rachel's idea."

"Is she stalking me too?"

"We thought it might be nice to give something back to the hospital that saved our lives. She also thought we needed to wear pink to match the uniforms." Chris tugged at the strap of her apron. "This is not pink."

"So you've been assimilated?"

"Pretty much, I'm just lucky there's not a spot open on the cheerleading squad." She grimaced. "I think she's hoping it will turn out like The Blind Side."

"Good for you."

She shrugged at him and turned back to the undelivered paper. "It can't be a one because there aren't patient rooms on one."

"It's an 'H'. It's on the new wing."

"Oh." She scrutinized the digit and frowned. She had to make it look like she hadn't known that all along. "Well shit. I'm on the wrong side of the building. I'll see you around."

He moved to the side, to let the cart pass by. She held eye contact just a tad longer than normal as she pushed it past him. A giddy grin erupted across her lips as soon as her back was to him.

"Have you seen the new candy stripers?" House burst into Wilson's office.

"Cuddy mentioned her surprise, when two of your patients wanted to come back and volunteer. Are you paying them?" Wilson barely looked up from his work, he was so accustomed to House barging in unannounced.

"She's stalking me."

"The blonde or the brunette?" Wilson's brows arched.

"Brunette. The one that got herself drugged."

"If she is candy striping just to be near you, clearly she gave herself botulism just to have an excuse to call." Wilson rolled his eyes.

"Maybe?" House's tone was contemplative.

Wilson laughed. "You would have a lot in common with a teenager, but I was kidding."

"She's almost twenty-one."

"What?" Wilson looked up from his paperwork. He'd known House had been oddly interested in the girl's case, but the details had never come up.

"She missed two years of school."

"Was she stalking geriatrics during that time?"

"She had a mental break, after a violent attack and the death of a family member." Of course, House didn't even consider patient confidentiality, before revealing Chris's deepest darkest secrets.

"If she is stalking you, and I'm not saying I believe you, Daddy issues could be the reason."

"It wasn't her father."

"Grandfather?" Wilson chuckled to himself.

"You laugh now. It's your cat she'll be boiling."

"You thought she was off limits. You found out she's not. You don't have to have an excuse to be interested in her."

"She's twenty. How does she even know who Twisted Sister is?" House deflected.

"Damn that ITunes." Wilson smirked.

Chris walked at a leisurely pace across the grounds, looking for a shaded bench or table to eat lunch at. Her hair was damp and she wasn't wearing makeup. She'd found that if she timed it right, she could shower in the nurses locker room without being noticed. This was just one of the many perks, she was discovering about her new gig.

As she walked she heard the electric buzz of a toy car. She saw it weaving through the annoyed crowd, and recognized the miniature, black monster truck. House had been circling it around the lobby last week. At first she'd thought he must be really good at his job, to get away with that kind of crap, but she'd heard rumors, that he had slept with his boss. That probably helped a lot.

She heard the toy zoom behind her, but when she looked back it was gone again. She turned in a full circle, this time looking for House. She couldn't see him either, so she kept walking. When she heard it again, the car was moving slower and she was pretty sure it was following her. She stayed her course, towards her chosen picnic table, until it bumped into the back of her foot.

"Really?" She asked the little truck as she spun around to stare it down.

It backed up. Once more, she looked around for House. As she examined every innocent bystander on the lawn, it occurred to her that he could have been maneuvering the truck from somewhere in the building. Meanwhile, it did a quick circle around her feet, and then stopped in front of her again. She tried not to laugh.

Should she call him and make a joke about his little toy? She could pick it up and take out the batteries. Would that be cruel, because of his leg? He couldn't have been that far away, since the remote control still worked. Finally she reached into her backpack and pulled out a pack of Sweet Tarts. Careful not to let him see them, she dropped the candy into the bed of the truck. He would have to reveal himself, or steer the truck to wherever he was, in order to find out what she'd given him.

The truck followed behind her as she found a table, but it didn't interfere when she went to sit down. Just to be safe she sat on the table instead of the bench. She pulled out a sack lunch and one of those free, local classified magazines. She pretended to scan the listings, but she was really just wondering what he would do next.

Then she saw him coming down the wide, paved path. Of course, he timed it just right, so she still wasn't sure where he'd been hiding. For the first time since she'd set her eye on him, she wondered what the hell she was doing. He was twice her age, sexist, curmudgeonly, and totally unattainable. Unattainable, yes, that was the key to a crush for her. She had no time for a relationship, but as she watched from behind her paper she could almost imagine making time for him.

You wouldn't think a person could strut with a cane, but he did. He swaggered towards her with an air of confidence that most men with two good legs couldn't pull off. Maybe those men didn't need to. That level of cockiness should have been a turn off, but anyone who's ever been to high school or seen a James Bond movie knows it usually isn't.

The light bounced off the silver in his beard, making it shimmer and the sun's unforgiving position made his hair seem thinner, and the lines on his face deeper than she remembered. All of this meant nothing when he caught her eye and a playful smirk broke through his cloudy demeanor. He could have been Casanova or Quasimodo and that smile would still have made her pulse quicken.

When he reached the table, he sat on the concrete bench next to her feet. He silently noted her damp hair, and the classified ads in her hands, before bidding the toy truck towards him.

"Nice wheels." She grinned. "It's good to see you're not compensating for anything."

"How'd you know I was driving?"

"Who else is that obnoxious?" She shrugged. "I also saw you up-skirting your…boss in the lobby on Friday." She'd started to say 'ex' instead of 'boss', but was glad she didn't. She had a feeling it was still a touchy subject.

He didn't react, but he assumed by her pause that she had been informed about the short-lived, painful romance he'd shared with Cuddy. He reached into the truck bed and pulled out the roll of Sweet Tarts.

"Sweet."

"And tart." She nodded behind her paper and read the same ad for the third time. "You should feel honored. I'm babysitting tonight, and I was going to bribe the kids with those."

"Who's T. Jackson?" House asked.

"Hmmm?" She closed the magazine and folded it in her lap. House was looking at the paper sack next to her on the table. She picked it up and read the name written in green marker. "I don't know, just a kid who doesn't eat their lunch."

"Do you steal all your meals or just lunch?"

"I prefer to think of it as recycling. It's very green. I mean, I don't dig in the trash or anything. You're no better. According to the cafeteria staff you haven't paid for your own lunch in years"

"You asked the lunch ladies about me?"

"I don't have to ask. Someone in this place is always talking about you, and it's usually not good." She shook her head and opened T. Jackson's lunch.

"No press is bad press." He shrugged.

"They say that you're either blackmailing Wilson or you're life partners. Clearly he's the boy since he always has to pay."

"Wilson is definitely the bottom." His voice was serious, but a twinkle in his eye gave him away.

For just a moment, she wondered if he wasn't kidding and then she laughed. "Now I can't wait for the night vision goggles to come in."

House raised his brows in response and she laughed again before turning back to her loot. The sack contained small bag of pretzels, two pinwheel marshmallow cookies, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and a tiny box of apple juice, which she lined up on the table between them.

"This is why T. Jackson doesn't eat his lunch."

"Because you stole it?" House asked as he took one of the cookies.

"It's all dry, or salty, or gooey, with hardly anything to drink." She took a bite of the sandwich and made a face. "Also, peach jelly was not intended to go with peanut butter. I'm thinking single dad. Mom is either recently out of the picture, or Mr. Jackson is really oblivious, or it could be even worse. This could be an improvement on his past lunch packing skills."

"Maybe T has an eating disorder."

"That would probably make T a she." She considered it.

"Are you saying only girls have eating disorders?" House asked.

"No, but it is more likely. Girls are taught it's cute when we don't eat. A guy who is hiding anorexia would not leave his uneaten lunch sitting on a table. A girl might, especially if she's not really anorexic, but toying with the idea, for attention or skinny jeans." She grabbed the other cookie and took a big bite.

"You were cuter before you ate that." He told her as she chewed the sticky, chocolate mess.

Her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, when she tried not to smile or laugh with her mouth full. She picked up the remote control to the truck to redirect his attention. After she swallowed she asked "Can I take her for a spin?"

"You break you buy it." House nodded.

Chris eased the truck away from his feet and around the tree next to them. She tested the power and steering for a while, before crunching the toy triumphantly over a small branch on the ground.

"Looking for another job?" House asked.

"Why? You need a House sitter?" She grinned. It was too easy, but she couldn't resist.

"How many jobs do you have?"

"Besides full-time school and now volunteering? I babysit and house sit sporadically. I throw papers on

Sundays, but that's just for this month. I dog sit on weekends for a guy whose wife lives in New York, and I work at the stadium whenever there's an event." She didn't mention having to be home at least once every twenty-four hours to check on her mom, or that caring for her should have been a full-time job.

"Your mom doesn't work?"

"No." Her eyes followed the truck.

"Have you ever considered getting one, full-time job?"

"It's hard to work around high school and the bus schedule. I do all right though. I don't have to pay taxes on most of it, and I've gotten a ton of experience, that I couldn't get flipping burgers. Basically if

it's legal and doesn't require a degree, I've done it."

"Been a stripper?" He asked.

"No, sorry." She shook her head.

"It's legal."

"C-section." She shrugged. There was no need to mention her stage fright too.

"They have makeup for that. I know lots of strippers with two or three kids." He pressed for some readable reaction. Would stripping violate some moral code for her? Was she just insecure about her body? Even under her, size too large, Blondie T-shirt he could tell she had nothing to be insecure about, but girls her age weren't rational about these things.

"Well, I'm glad I have the option, if I ever get that desperate." She grinned.

House was frowning past her. He abruptly leaned over and lay across the concrete bench, so that anyone passing by might not recognize him.

"What are you doing?" She was startled that he was suddenly so close to her. His head was almost touching her boot, even though she was wearing jeans, it felt oddly intimate.

"Hiding."

"Why?"

"Do you see the guy in the gray suit?"

"The one feeding pigeons?" There were at least five men in gray suits, in her line of sight.

"The one that's pissed off."

She saw him, not only was the man bristling with anger, he was marching right towards them. "He's coming over here." She warned House.

"Hence the hiding."

"Why is he mad at you?" Chris wondered if she should leave. Had he sought her out to be a witness when the cops asked what happened next?

"He thinks I stole his son's birthday present."

"Why does he think that?"

"Because I did."

"You stole a kids present? That's awful!"

"I didn't know it was for his kid. I saw it on a shelf, in the box, untouched and thought he was a collector. It's a limited edition Bone Basher replica, with the skull mud flaps and crossbones roll bars. It was born to ride! I couldn't just leave it there." His voice grew more and more excited as he spoke.

She looked down at the remote control in her hands and groaned when she saw the tiny skull and crossbones. She felt like she was babysitting already as she shook her head and scowled at him. Honestly, she found his little outburst adorable, but she couldn't reinforce this sort of behavior with even the slightest smile. She started to steer the truck back towards them.

"I was going to give it back, but for some reason he's started locking his office."

"Where's the charger?" She asked in her authoritative voice.

"My office." His voice was perfectly even. He didn't know what tipped her off, but she was still looking down at him in accusation. He rolled his eyes. "Wilson's office."

She hopped off the table and picked up the toy. Meeting the man in the gray suit a few feet away, she handed him the truck and pointed out that it was still in perfect condition, except for a little dirt on the wheels. She got his office number and promised the charger would be returned before the end of the day.

She returned to House, who was still hunkered under the table, even though he'd heard the man say his name clearly several times, and could see him walking away. As she gathered her things, she explained that she would be calling the man that afternoon. If House hadn't returned the charger by then, she would be forced to involve Wilson. The choice was up to House.

"Where are you going?" He asked, as he sat up and made sure the coast was clear.

"I'm leaving, mostly because I have to catch a bus, but partially because you're an ass." A hint of the smile she was suppressing showed.

That was all the encouragement House needed. As Chris reached across the table for the offensive peanut butter sandwich, House reached for her ass and gave it a gentle squeeze. She gasped and swung at him. It was a reflex. She caught herself just before her fist made contact, but not soon enough. A trickle of blood immediately flowed from a fresh cut in his lip.

House pressed his fingers to his lip stunned. He'd expected he might get punched that day, but not by her. He didn't know if he was more surprised or impressed. "You punched me?" As the confusion faded a slight grin appeared on his face.

"Barely. You wouldn't be smiling if I'd really punched you." Why did she say that? That just made her sound more hostile. She put her hands on her hips, then folded them in front of her chest, then let them drop to her sides. What was wrong with her?

"You punched me." He said again, looking at the small amount of blood on his fingers and enjoying her obvious discomfort.

"You grabbed my ass."

"You were flirting with me." His smile made the cut on his lip look worse than it was.

"We were talking. You can't just grab people's asses. You have to work up to that with a hug, a kiss, at least a compliment. You can't just go from 'I steal toys from tiny children' to third base."

"That wasn't third base." He was grinning.

"It's third base adjacent." She thought the bloody lip gave his face a weird, sexy Fight Club look. What sort of behavior would she be reinforcing if she kissed him? "Bye House."

He just nodded and watched as she walked away.