Chemistry
House returned from clinic duty in the afternoon intending to catch up on some TV and empty his mind of the disgusting ailments he had been forced to confront. Old people could have sex, sure, but why did they insist on coming to his clinic for their examination? One pair of latex gloves wasn't sufficient in this situation.
Still, he quickly perked up. Real Hospitals of Los Angeles was on something of a cliff-hanger and he was looking forward to its resolution—Carletta had stormed to Paul's in the evening and insisted he choose between herself and Alice. The hospital politics had played havoc with the surgical rotation but it couldn't be helped, especially since Tony and Lisa were themselves still trying to figure out their feelings. Meanwhile Trey was sifting through the consequences of his forced paper retraction. All in all, things were pretty fraught.
As soon as he reached his office, though, House stopped. The blinds were drawn across and he could hear the TV through the door. Not only this, but it was the very programme he had saved to watch. Anger rose. "Wilson!", he yelled as he entered, "what have I told you about watching my shows without me…". But his voice died in his throat as he saw who it was.
"Oh, hi, House!". Cameron had her feet on the desk and was watching TV.
His mouth opened and closed but, since no words were forthcoming, he marched to the desk in righteous indignation.
"I hope you don't mind", she said breezily. "I finished my case files and was looking for something to do and, well, I found your TV".
"Your feet are on my desk and your ass is in my chair". Ludicrously, House experienced a sudden flash of jealousy towards said chair.
Cameron looked down in surprise as if noticing this for the first time. "Hmm, you're right".
House, who had been standing motionless by the desk, seized her feet in his hands. "Move".
"I could", she began, raising an eyebrow, "but I won't".
House refused to acknowledge this reference to his own words from the other day, when he had teased her, refused to touch her, to give her what she wanted. Instead, his hands slipped from her ankles to her calves, beneath her pants. "Do you want to reconsider your answer?".
Cameron met his gaze unwaveringly, chewing lightly on a thumbnail. "Nah. I quite like this position. It gives me a great view of the corridor". She stopped, glancing at the shades, which were still pulled across. "Normally, anyway. Plus, I get to, ah, play with your balls". A slight head tilt. A picture of innocence.
House's grip tightened and his hands moved further up her smooth limbs, reaching just behind her knees before the pants would yield no more. Without a word, and still holding on to her legs, he walked around, the chair spinning Cameron in response to his movement. Her legs were now either side of his thighs. "Move", he repeated in a low voice. Real Hospitals of Los Angeles was still humming away in the corner of the office, but its occupants were unaware.
"Did you not hear what I said? I like it here. If you want me to move, you're gonna have to make me". Cameron folded her arms.
"Careful what you wish for". House freed his hands and bent slightly, picking her up by the waist in one graceful movement. But rather than deposit her to the side he remained still, holding her suspended, feet off the ground.
Cameron was not a large person, but she was shocked at the strength of her boss.
"Now, what am I going to do with you?", he muttered.
Instead of replying she reached out and caressed his arms as they held her off the floor. The muscles were completely rigid and she could detect a bead of sweat on his forehead as the exertion took its toll. His grip was vice-like on her waist and his fingers were splayed around her navel. "Put me down and kiss me, House", she answered, voice thick.
Gently lowering her to the carpet, he met her willing mouth, his hands roaming her back, pulling her closer.
She sighed softly and cupped his face as they kissed.
"You taste like raspberries".
"I have a bit of a confession, Dr. House. I may have put on some fruity lip gloss and purposely sat in your chair to entice you. Can you forgive me?".
House broke contact and sat down, pulling her into his lap and brushing his lips to her hair. "I'll think about it". They remained like that for a few moments. The TV was white noise.
"So…", said Cameron softly, plucking up her courage, "…where are we going tonight?". They hadn't spoken about their date for a couple of days. Though she'd promised herself that she wouldn't be needy, that she would play by his rules and allow him to take things as he wanted, the nerves were building. What if he'd got cold feet? Or, worse, what if he'd forgotten? Clarity was needed, if only for her own peace of mind.
Unbeknown to her, House's heart beat a little faster. "Well…".
Cameron's stomach turned and the irrational part of her mind went into overdrive. He was going to cancel. Despite everything that had happened, he couldn't commit to her. She prepared to disentangle herself and make as dignified an exit as possible, scarcely registering his next words.
"I thought since the last time we went to see four-wheeled vehicles was a resounding success we'd do something similar tonight. Except that we'd be driving them. And they're much smaller than, y'know, monster trucks. We're going go-karting", House finished softly, hoping that it would be acceptable.
House felt her exhale loudly and loosen her grip on his hands.
Oh dear. "You don't like it? I knew Wilson was a bad person to ask. He's a moron. I can cancel and we can find a restaurant if you want. In fact, there's a bunch of menus here somewhere…", he spoke hurriedly and moved to open a drawer.
"House—will you just shut it for a second?". Cameron sat up in his lap, eyes shining with relief and happiness.
The man himself was still confused. "Are you OK?", he asked, unsure what had brought on this sudden emotion. Go-karting was fun, but it wasn't that fun.
She wiped her eyes roughly with the back of her hand and smiled. "Yes, I'm OK. I'm more than OK. For a second, I thought you were preparing to dump me. I'm thrilled that you're not".
Realisation dawned. Cameron was as insecure as he was. This made no sense—she was the beautiful one, the one who could have whomever she wanted. House's heart softened and he returned the smile, drawing her into a hug. "Y'know", he said conversationally, "it would be pretty bizarre of me to dump you before the first date, especially since I've not yet had the chance to properly enjoy this…", House's hand dropped to stroke Cameron's butt, "or these….", he moved up to brush against her breasts, "or….", he slipped downwards again and she spread her legs reflexively, anticipating his touch. But suddenly he changed direction and tapped her head with a finger: "that", he finished with a wicked grin. "I bet your brain is a treasure trove of hidden delights and I intend to uncover them all, one by one".
This admission, that House found her to be an intellectual puzzle worth solving, she found completely fascinating. First of all, it was what she found most attractive in him—above all else she wanted to enter his mind and to witness first-hand how he made sense of the world. Though she observed him keenly in the hospital, this was but a fraction of his life and she knew that he sought out other puzzles at home: his music, his books, and God knows what else.
Secondly, though, she had not yet been with a man who was willing to look much beyond her obvious beauty. Of course, she took care over her appearance, but as with House's own diversions, her looks were just a part of the whole, and no one had yet intrigued her enough to justify a long-term entanglement. Consequently, most of her relationships, though satisfying physically, had been mentally and intellectually mundane. What she wanted was a man who could not just enjoy, but challenge and understand, her; someone who actually knew who the hell Freud was. Until meeting House, this goal had seemed unattainable.
"So", said House, bringing her back to reality, "I'll pick you up at seven, we'll go karting, then we'll grab a burger or something afterwards".
"Sounds great. But I've no idea what to wear…", she replied, tapping his chest with a finger.
House looked down in surprise. "T-shirt, jeans, and jacket. You've not been go-karting before?".
"Well, sure I have. But I was, like, thirteen or something".
"Whoa, hey, we're not talking girly go-karting here. We're talking serious machines that guzzle gas and have actual exhaust fumes. If we're gonna be doing this thing, you'll need to hold your end up".
Cameron laughed. "Don't worry about me. You just do you. It would look pretty bad if the mysterious, motorbike-riding genius Dr. House lost in a race to a girl. You wouldn't hear the end of it".
"That's true", House replied, pulling her up so that their eyes were level. "If you turn out to be a magician behind the wheel, I may be forced to handicap you. My reputation is at stake". He pinned her arms behind her back and planted kisses all over her face, his affection disarmingly genuine.
She laughed playfully and attempted to turn her head this way and that to avoid his lips. Long brown hair, smelling faintly of pineapple, whipped his cheeks, but he persevered, making contact with her nose, cheek, and chin before finally finding her mouth, which opened hungrily.
They kissed deeply for a few moments before commotion filtered through from next door.
"Foreman and Chase are back from their consultations. You'd best get in there and pretend like you weren't just sitting in the boss' lap".
Cameron smirked, but nevertheless sprang down and straightened her hair and clothes. "Well, until later, Dr. House". She left the office to re-join the others.
House smiled despite himself. The familiar raspberry taste, and the feel of her hair against his face, lingered. After a moment's reflection, he turned to the television which had been running all this time and rewinded it, hoping to push the woman out of his mind, hoping to combat the gradual warmth that spread through his body whenever she was near.
I ought to slow down a bit. Writing this story is becoming a touch too addictive for comfort.
