A/N: As promised :). I hope you guys enjoy this chapter (I certainly enjoyed trying to get back a little of what's been - temporarily! - lost). Reviews would be lovely :). Make my first scary day at college tomorrow a little more positive :p.

Whisky. Gin. Sweetness and bitterness blended together in every kiss.

Warmth.

Warm skin. Wet flesh. Ecstasy punctuated by rough growls and quiet sighs.

It's coming.

It's coming: a conclusion to this unlikely bliss.

Unlikely, but so sinfully wonderful.

Everything is wonderful, although he will never say so. Not to her. Not to anyone.

But it is.

And it's coming.

"Fuck."

Cameron breathes; tensed up, shaking, before finally relaxing as he does the same. His fingers dig hard into the pale relief of her thigh, and he can hear his heartbeat echoing in his eardrums as he slowly comes back down to reality.

A reality that's hard to face. Hard to know what to do with.

Cameron.

Her lips appear slightly swollen, her cheeks pink, and although her eyes remain alluringly dark - pupils blown, lashes heavy - she looks as uncertain as he feels.

He knows what comes next.

Nothing.

Nothing is what comes next.

He says nothing. Does nothing. Offers her nothing, and sooner or later she's going to get up and leave, because bliss has turned to something bitter and uncomfortable; the swarm of thoughts so recently shut out in favour of pure, physical pleasure coming back with a vengeance, with doubt at the forefront.

He knows what comes next. Knows how they argue. How they bite at each other.

He'll berate her in front of his staff, and, when stood locked in a room with him close enough to kiss, she won't. She'll tell him to leave her alone, because she's wounded. Hurt.

Because he offers her nothing.

He knows all of this as he feels her begin to tense up as though to push herself from his lap. He-

"-Wait."

He says it softly, but she complies immediately.

And it's awkward. So awkward as they stare each other down with their breath still audible– hearts still beating fast.

But it's not terrible.

It's not bad. Their discomfort is shared, and he eases up his grip on her but doesn't remove his hand completely.

"I can't believe we just did that."

He murmurs, and the words feel so dumb, so foolish as soon as they escape his lips. It feels like such a non-statement. Falling short once again. It-

"-It's okay."

She breathes, before, incredibly, she grins at him.

"These days, I doubt anyone else will believe it either."

And then she's laughing. A little uncomfortably, a little sheepishly, but she's laughing; causing him to groan and bite warningly at her clavicle as he remains buried in her warmth and her amusement provides a sensation that's almost too much to bear.

"Ah!"

She responds sharply - the noise somewhere between a yelp and a growl - but she's still laughing, and he decides he'll have to find another way to force her to show him mercy; muffling her mirth with a kiss.

A kiss that grows hungry as his hand gets lost in her hair. Not out of lust. Not out of any wish - nor ability - to repeat recent events. Its passion is founded in relief. In guilt. In understanding.

In understanding that this was all that was needed. Nothing more. Nothing huge or impossible.

Just... something. Some reaction to the choice they'd made other than silence. Other than an observation of her character, completely detached from what they'd just done as though the act held no meaning.

Just acknowledgement.

That's all that was needed.

All that was needed, and now she's kissing him back in a new, slow, experimental way that steals his breath. Still sat bare across his lap; still there, still flushed and sensitive when he explores her blindly with one hand while the other remains lost in thick gold.

"Are you okay?"

He finally mutters against her lips; voicing the question he'd almost asked when he'd first entered her. A question that had seemed ludicrous at the time.

Now, it seems okay. Asking her something so simple feels acceptable, and she offers him a contented smirk in response without pulling back and denying him the soft brush of her lips.

She doesn't expect a discussion.

Doesn't demand to know 'what now' with the presumption that he should have all the answers or else be considered cruel. A heartbreaker. Someone terrible.

She doesn't want anything from him, and it's okay. It's... Nice. It's wonderful.

"Oh..."

She whispers huskily as his hand cups her breast and his teeth sink into her bottom lip: not too hard, but not too gently, either.

Her fingers begin their own teasing journey down his stomach, and he wonders for a moment if he might just have it in him to go again.

"House."

"Mm."

He groans, frowning as her weight seems to shift and the soft curves of her flesh seem... Muddled.

"House."

"Mm."

"House!"

Wilson shouts; tossing a book left open on the coffee table at his roommate who sleeps sagging awkwardly into his armchair.

"What?"

House snaps. Blinking as he takes in the familiar scene of his living room, before glaring at Wilson accusingly.

Damn it.

"What was all that about? You were out cold and groaning to yourself. What were you dreaming about?"

The oncologist asks with a small smirk.

"Your mother."

House replies without missing a beat, and he notes that while Wilson appears mildly smug at finding him in a compromised state, the expression is somewhat diluted by something else. Something more urgent.

"What are you doing here?"

House asks, pushing himself up to sit straight with a grunt as his leg feels hellishly stiff and his jeans pull tight against his groin.

"I'm done for the day, but you need to head back in. Now."

"... Another one?"

"Another girl? No. Thank god, no. No, not a new case, but some great new insight into your previous patients."

"How?"

"Cameron found your last girl's name in a book that was in with her belongings. It was hidden behind the dust jacket, but she spotted it and found the girl on Facebook, along with where she was last seen. On seventh... There's a lot of old factories there."

"They'll have used all kinds of solvents and chemicals we haven't tested for."

House muses with immediate understanding, pushing himself up with a grimace and grabbing his cane.

"We need to know what they were making in there before they closed down."

"That's what she said."

"Good... That's very good of her..."

"Yes. I thought so."

Wilson agrees with a pointed look, but House refuses to rise to the bait as his mind has been suddenly flooded with theories that had seemed out of reach mere moments ago.

"Is Foreman checking it out?"

He asks, and Wilson rolls his eyes.

"No. And it appears his grievances on the matter were justified."

"He took offence? Very much a minority move."

"House..."

Wilson sighs.

"It's his own poor choice. Now I'm going to have to talk him into it. He won't like that."

"No, he won't, and I agree with his reasoning. Cameron's gone instead to break the mould."

"... Cameron's gone out to seventh?"

"She's taken Chase with her. Why? Concerned?"

"... I would just hate for her to lose the hospital any street cred. That's all."