Conflict resolution
Cameron was in the lab testing bloods and thinking about House. It had been nearly a week since she had confronted him in the office during the so-called 'assessment'. That night, she had gone home in high spirits, believing that a bridge had finally been crossed, convinced that she had not mistaken the signs of House's attraction. They had been so close—there was no way he'd condone such proximity unless he actually wanted her to be there; and he hadn't pushed her away when she had initiated a kiss. But then again, he didn't actually kiss back. Maybe House was merely humouring her?
Quite what to expect after that was anyone's guess, but her boss had virtually ignored her throughout the week. Though she was willing to wait, the prospect of another year of unrequited desire was enough to make even the most determined person depressed. It was utterly perplexing and infuriating. Another trademark House experience. To make matters worse, her car was in the shop and she had been getting a lift with Foreman in the mornings and running back in the evenings. Having her independence compromised, even in this small way, struck a nerve. She sighed and switched out the plates, making a note on a pad beside the microscope.
"How's it going?". Eye to the equipment, she hadn't noticed House enter. He took up a position to her left, leaning against the counter.
"Fine". Her reflections, and the fact that the tests were so far proving inconclusive, had done nothing for her mood.
House folded his arms. "Care to elaborate? It's hard for me to stimulate my brain when all I get is one-word answers from my employees".
"Well, if you want stimulation, you'd be better served going to see employee Chase. He's been pretty chipper lately", replied Cameron, not looking up from the lens.
"Yeah. I think he's secured a date with Mathilde. Wilson will be crushed".
This answer did provoke a response. "Mathilde? You've been speaking to her?", she said with unexpected heat, before trying to cover herself. "I mean, it's none of my business, really. It's-". Cameron returned to the tests, though she could feel her cheeks flushing. God, you're pathetic.
House tilted his head to one side, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Meh, she's not my type".
"Blonde hair and big tits not doing it for you?", she muttered while making a second note.
"The blonde hair I like", House admitted. "But she seems a bit ordinary, and I prefer complicated".
You and me both, brother. She could see him looking at her out of the corner of her eye.
"Move over, I want to check your work", he said, back to business.
"I'm nearly done". Cameron didn't move except for switching in another plate.
"I said move over. You're probably missing something".
"And I said that I'm nearly done". House's talk of another woman had thoroughly annoyed her, and she wasn't about to cede control of the medicine, the one thing she could dictate, to her troublesome boss.
Suddenly House moved directly behind her and placed his hands on her waist. Cameron barely had time to register what was happening before she felt House lift her like she was nothing and deposit her to the side, notepad and all. He looked into the microscope while the other composed herself by straightening the slightly crumpled lab coat and taking a deep breath.
On the spur of the moment, she balled her hand into a fist and punched him on his left upper arm.
"Ouch. That was uncalled for, don't you think?". House remained peering into the lens.
"Uncalled for? I'll give you uncalled for". Cameron felt her anger rise at his blasé attitude and a week of complete indifference. And now he had strolled in and forcibly removed her. She drew her arm back to strike again.
Quick as a flash, House turned and seized hold of her right hand with his left: "don't". Not to be deterred she swung with her left, and again his right snaked out and gripped her by the wrist. They stood staring at each other, breathing heavily, arms fixed in the air either side. "Did you not hear what I said?", he growled.
"I heard. I just chose to ignore it. Like you've been ignoring me all week", Cameron retorted, her eyes belligerent.
"I haven't been ignoring you".
"Right. I get that what I said may have been hard for you to hear but you've barely said a word to me since last Friday". She could feel her boss' fingers tighten. His hands were warmer than she anticipated and, if he cared to notice, he would be able to feel her pulse quicken.
"That doesn't mean I've been ignoring you". House shifted his grip upwards so that both his hands now engulfed hers. Their gazes remained locked.
"It sure felt that way".
"And how do you feel now?". House began walking forwards, forcing her to backpedal. In a matter of moments Cameron had her back to the wall, fingers still intertwined. She looked up into his eyes: normally so blue, now impossibly black as they swallowed the dim light in the laboratory. There were tiny creases in the bronzed skin of his face, and his mouth, slightly opened, seemed to smile.
"I feel", she began, breathing in his scent, moving her fingers in his, filling her eyes with the solidity of his form, "intoxicated".
House's gaze flickered at this, and a low rumble escaped his throat. "Well, I hope you're not too drunk because I have a couple of questions to ask".
Cameron only nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
"Do you like me?".
"What do you think, Dr. House?".
"I think that I want you to answer the question". No more games.
"Yes, I like you".
"How much?".
"A lot".
House nodded, processing the information.
"And now I have a question for you, boss".
"I suppose a bit of quid pro quo never hurt anyone...", he muttered.
"When I asked you last year if you liked me, you said no".
"I did".
"Were you lying?".
House didn't answer immediately, his eyes unfocused as he thought back on that day in the past; considering now his future. Cameron had been so beautiful then and was still. Doubts lingered, but sometimes there was nothing for it but to trust yourself to the unknown. Life was too short—he had learned that the hard way. "Everybody lies", he said eventually.
"Were you lying?".
"Yes, I was".
"And…?", she murmured, raising an eyebrow.
"And what?". He feigned ignorance, a smile playing on his lips.
"You know 'what', genius. I want to hear you say it".
House rolled his eyes, but they quickly returned to her face. "I like you, Cameron".
Cameron decided not to push her luck and ask him 'how much?'. It was enough that he had confirmed his feelings. Instead, she stepped away from the wall and towards the other, leaving a sliver of space between them, though their hands were still locked together either side. There was so much she wanted to say to House: that she had dreamt of such an admission from him for over a year; that she was still tormented by nightmares of his shooting; that she thought of him as she fell asleep and as she woke up. All this could wait, however.
"Now what do we do?", she whispered above the beating of her heart.
House brought their hands together against his chest, holding her fingers gently. "We have a tentative diagnosis of mutual attraction. Now it remains to test our theory".
Cameron's eyes shone with emotion; his likely did, as well. For too long he had refused to recognise reality. This was his future.
Both doctors leaned in.
The pagers at their belts erupted simultaneously, causing both of them to jump in surprise. House swore and, keeping hold of Cameron's hands in one of his, used the other to consult the device. "It's Chase and Foreman. She's still seizing". The words emerged regretfully.
"Would you mind checking mine? My hands are tied". Although crestfallen that their moment had been ruined, it didn't escape Cameron's notice that House had not released her hands even in a moment of surprise. This was a touching acknowledgement and she wouldn't be the first to break contact, pager or no. Instead she turned her hip and gestured to her own beeper.
He carefully unclipped it, allowing his fingers to dip beneath the hem of her pants. This caused a gasp, but the contact was too fleeting to enjoy.
House silenced the alarm. "We should go".
"Yes".
Uncertainty must have flashed across her face, because he brushed his lips lightly against her hands before adding: "we'll pick this up later, after the case. My office. Come on—we'll discuss theories on the way".
The three doctors were in the locker room, changing into their casuals. The day had been long but, ultimately, successful. The patient's family had offered them a free meal at their Turkish restaurant by way of thanks, and Foreman and Chase were planning on heading over. Cameron had other plans, though she did enjoy Turkish food. She had been thinking about House since he had confessed his feelings in the lab, and they had shared a few glances during treatment.
Nevertheless, as the hours passed and the time to their office rendezvous drew closer, she could feel nerves building. Doubts crept in. House had admitted an attraction, yes, but she was the one who had pushed it and put him on the spot. And what if his feelings had cooled off now that he'd had time to digest the information? What if he saw her as a girl with a crush and a saviour complex?
"You coming?", asked Foreman, shrugging into his coat and closing the locker.
Cameron snapped out of her reverie and hung up her lab coat. "No, I've got some paperwork I want to get done while it's still fresh".
"Why? Take a break. We did good work today", said Chase while glancing in the mirror. He had been much friendlier to Cameron since Mathilde had accepted his invitation to a date.
"I'm hoping to write up the procedure for publication, if you must know, and I want it to be perfect", replied Cameron. This was actually true—the case was an excellent candidate for a journal she'd had her eye on for a while. With a bit of luck, the article would be her calling card and help with career progression, if she ever felt like moving on from PPTH. Whether or not she did leave would, probably, be influenced by what happened later today. Diagnostics was brilliant, but she wanted House in her future more, and if that wasn't possible, self-preservation might lead her to depart. But such gloomy thoughts were not necessary yet.
Foreman peered at Cameron, studying the face of his colleague. "Are you OK? You look a million miles away". An image of her in Café Spoleto suddenly flashed through his mind. She had been wearing a similar expression. House. Both of them were largely absent this morning. Cameron had been sent to the lab. As for their boss, Foreman had assumed he'd gone to talk to Cuddy or Wilson.
"I'm fine. Just thinking on a few things for the paper. You're not gonna steal this one too, are you?", she joked.
He raised an eyebrow at her forced lightness but remained silent, lingering over his shoelaces.
"I'm fine. Go. Have fun. Eat kebabs".
"I do like kebabs", Foreman admitted, looking over to the door where Chase was waiting impatiently. "Well, if you need any help with the, ah, write-up, let us know".
Cameron inclined her head in appreciation and waved the others goodbye. The door's shutting left her alone in the locker room. For a moment, she briefly considered applying a little makeup and perfume but quickly decided against it—much better to go into this without expectation or preconception, and she definitely didn't want to play her hand too soon. Whatever happened, she would tell the truth and be herself.
With a final glance in the mirror, Cameron slammed the locker shut and went to discover her fate.
