Early risers
House woke first, immediately aware that he couldn't feel his leg. A flash of white hot panic shimmered through his system before he registered that the cause of it was Cameron, who had settled rather uncomfortably in his lap. After a couple of calming breaths, and a glance at the clock on the wall which revealed that it was approaching seven in the morning, he poked her gently.
She stirred, though didn't wake.
"Oi, woman". Another poke.
This did cause Cameron to murmur: "I go by 'Allison', 'Cameron' or, if you're my grandma, 'Lissie'. I don't go by 'woman', sir".
"I'm not calling you 'Lissie'", he scoffed softly. "It's not even a real name".
She opened an eye and peered at him through the tangle of her hair. "You're not a real name".
"That literally makes no sense. Would you mind repositioning yourself? I'm struggling to feel my leg is the thing and it's making me a little anxious", House asked, stroking her back.
Cameron at once leapt to her feet. "God, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have suggested we nap in this position. I completely forgot. Are you OK?". She looked down at him, concern etched on her face. He remained silent and she crouched to rub his leg gently, hoping to restore circulation as quickly as possible. "Fuck, I'm sorry, House…".
"It's not your fault, but it does really hurt. Can you just do a bit higher up?".
"God, of course, of course", she replied quickly, immediately applying her fingers to his upper thigh and massaging the flesh as best she could through the denim. "Is this OK?", she asked worriedly.
House winced loudly. "Almost. A bit higher, though, and more to the right. It's really uncomfortable".
"Higher? I can't go any higher without…". Cameron looked up and met the other's eyes, which were alight with mischief. She punched his good leg with a mixture of genuine annoyance and playfulness. "You are mean, House. Extremely mean. I was really concerned about you for a moment there".
"I know. Your face was a right picture, to be honest", he laughed. "But I was pretty touched at your reaction".
"Well, I thought I hurt you. Of course I'd be upset", she replied, still crouched down.
"I didn't mean that. I was touched that you'd forgotten about my leg in the first place".
"What do you mean?".
House's eyes glazed as he spoke. "For so long, my disability defined me. I was the curmudgeonly, pill-popping, cane-wielding diagnostician on the fourth floor. But you forgot about all that for a moment or two".
Cameron nodded, moved by his sharing this insight. "You'll always be House to me, irrespective of the state of your leg, even if the ketamine treatment finally wears off and you have to go back to your cane again".
"That's a bold strategy, Cotton. Let's see if it works out for you". Though he framed his reply as a film quote, House in truth harboured serious misgivings regarding the survival of their relationship if the situation Cameron mentioned ever came to pass. He was ready to accept that she didn't want to fix him, or that she really would stand by him if his leg deteriorated. But he wasn't sure if he was ready to let her do that. At the moment, and despite the age gap, their relationship was free and easy, since they could share the load. There was no way he'd be able to keep up with a cane, though, and he refused to saddle her with the weight of a crippled boyfriend when she had other, younger, more suitable romantic options available.
"Dodgeball", she stated triumphantly, unaware of his sombre internal reflection.
Dispelling the dark thoughts, he smiled. "I'm liking you more and more".
"Even though I think Star Wars is overrated nonsense?".
But the other's face immediately went white, and his smile disappeared.
"Too soon?", she pondered aloud. "Too soon, yes. Anyway…nice weather we're having, don't you think?". She jerked her head towards the balcony. Unfortunately, the fact that it was completely dark outside detracted somewhat from the force of her observation.
"Make yourself useful and help me out of this chair, Lissie, and I'll consider forgetting that you have zero taste in movies after all".
"The second option is that I, ah, continue your massage".
"I told you. My leg's fine".
"I'm not referring to your leg, Sherlock".
"Hmm. Ordinarily I'd accept in a heartbeat, but I can't in all good conscience have a good time with you until we've cured this cheerleader. It goes against my code of misconduct".
"Fair enough. I think it's still a bit early for the lab to open, though, and I thought you wanted to wait for her blood results before settling on a diagnosis". Cameron helped the other to his feet and watched as he yawned widely, stretching his arms and legs like a cat. His eyes were bleary with sleep, his hair messy, and his stubble was thick, and he still looked as sexy as ever. If anything, he looked even better.
House saw her staring and nudged her with his hip. "Stop that. We've stuff to do. I wanna check in on the patient first. Y'know, to ensure she survived the night. Then we can terrorise the lab techs into processing the bloods. After that, you can buy me breakfast".
Cameron folded her arms. "Why am I the one buying, eh?".
House gave her his best puppy dog eyes, and he grabbed his leg. "It's just…the pain, it's too much…a free breakfast will lift my spirits, speed my recovery. You know as well as I that a positive mind is a positive cure. Or something".
She rolled her eyes. "Fine. But you're not playing the leg card for at least a week after this. We need to drop by my locker so I can retrieve my purse".
"No problem. I think whatserface's room is in that direction anyway. Let's hit the road. The sooner we know she lives, the sooner you can feed me. I'm hungry".
"Well, when you put it like that how can I resist?", Cameron replied, allowing an impatient House to shepherd her out of the office.
The pair were in the cafeteria eating breakfast. The patient had remained stable overnight under the watchful care of the nurses, who had learnt years ago that when Dr. House asked them to do something, it paid to do it. The lab was still unstaffed, which meant that their test results were, for the next half hour, unreachable. Occupying the nearby tables were various members of the nightshift, tell-tale bags under their eyes, who had come in for some sustenance before clocking off. As a rule, House avoided this time of morning. Working twenty-four hours a day was what junior doctors were for.
He took a bite of toast, quickly followed by a spoonful of porridge, washing it down with a gulp of coffee.
Cameron looked on with amusement. "You don't have to eat so fast, you know. The food's not going anywhere". She had settled on a bowl of cereal and a couple of pieces of fruit.
"Yeah, well, I lost some once, and I swore it'd never happen again", he replied, not slowing down.
"Uhuh. If it makes you feel any better, I can assure you here and now that I will never steal your food".
House met her eyes over the rim of his coffee cup. "You really mean that?".
She adopted a solemn air and held a hand over her heart. "I really do".
"That's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me, thank you", he said, reaching across to pat her spare hand.
Cameron placed her hand over his on the table, sandwiching it between her own. "You'd best be careful with such a public display of affection. People might think we're in a relationship".
He raised an eyebrow before slowly and deliberately reaching across again, creating a little tower of hands. "All we need now is a bit of cheese…".
"Why's that?", she asked, completely nonplussed.
"Because then we'd have a double cheese and ham…d sandwich. Get it?".
A second or two passed as the other made a conscious effort not to engage, stifling a grin and pretending to be serious. "That's really bad", she offered after a few moments. "I mean, it's not your fault, considering how little you had to work with". This was something she had noticed during their time together: he was much more likely to crack a joke nowadays. No doubt being pain-free helped, though she liked to think that she, too, was contributing towards his new-found happiness.
"Oh, come on. Everyone likes cheese and ham sandwiches. Maybe you didn't get it. See, that was the joke, 'cos our hands were piled up on the table, then I was suggesting we add cheese to-".
"-yes, I figured out where you were coming from, House", she responded drily. "How about I give you a gold star for effort but with the understanding that there's room for improvement in the future?".
He doffed an imaginary cap. "I can accept that. Much obliged, kind lady".
The pair smiled at each other. Cameron glanced down at House's hand covering hers. A thought of what those long, nimble fingers had done to her just a few days previously, and a couple of months ago in the German restaurant, sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine. It didn't matter that they were in the cafeteria early in the morning, or that they had just passed a fitful night crammed uncomfortably into his chair. The feelings arose regardless.
"What the hell are you two doing in at this time of day?". Wilson approached their table clutching a coffee.
"I could ask you the same question", House replied, finally releasing her hands.
"I like to get in early every now and then so I can keep up with my paperwork". The oncologist slipped into the chair next to Cameron.
"That's weird. We're doing that, too. Right, Camster?".
"Right you are, boss!", she replied with exaggerated enthusiasm.
Wilson shook his head. "Ugh, you guys are the worst. Where are Foreman and Chase, then?".
"I sent them home last night. Correction: I sent all my fellows home, though I couldn't shake one of them". As he spoke, House glanced at said fellow, who merely grinned.
"Yeah? You guys camp out in the sleep lab?". Wilson tried not to sound jealous. House and Cameron deserved all the happiness in the world; he only wished a girl like her would come his way at some point.
"Dammit. Why didn't we think of doing that?".
"That would have been a good shout, for sure", she admitted. "Though don't they have cameras there?".
"All the more reason", House winked. "You wanna hang out with us tomorrow night?", he asked, intentionally wording it so that neither would know whom he was addressing.
"Sure", replied both Cameron and Wilson immediately, right on cue.
House drew in a breath, his eyes flicking from one to the other. "Awkward. I wonder who I meant. Maybe you should both fight for my affection. Winner takes all, loser goes home in disgrace". He plucked a toothpick from the box on the table and starting chewing it, before adding in a thick Alabama accent: "looks like we got ourselves a good old-fashioned catfight".
Wilson looked at Cameron, pointedly ignoring his friend. "Since you and sport over there are heating up, maybe we should have an informal gathering at my place, as a sort of get-to-know-you? I can provide pizza".
She sat back. The evening spent with Cuddy had been as enjoyable as it was rewarding. The next logical step was Wilson, and this possibility was exciting. It was one thing to gradually win acceptance and reciprocal affection from House himself, but it was something else that his best friend now wanted more information. Cameron knew Wilson to be fiercely protective of House; could still remember how he had come to her before their very first date after she had returned to work following Vogler's departure. The oncologist was the most important person in her partner's life, and she would work hard to maintain the equilibrium.
"Hmm", she mused. "I could bring the beer?".
House's smugness had taken a hit at their seeming indifference to his presence. "Fine. You don't need to fight. Luckily, I don't mind being shared. Shall we say seven thirty?".
Wilson arched an eyebrow. "Sorry, who said you were invited?".
"Wednesday is pizza night. You wouldn't break tradition like that by banning me, would you? I thought Jews were all about tradition. According to Fiddler on the Roof, anyway".
"Well, if Wilson is offering the pizza, and I'm on the beer, what are you going to bring?", asked Cameron, folding her arms.
House looked at her as if she were an idiot. "My sparkling company, obviously". He glanced at Wilson across the table, before adding in a jocular tone: "kids say the darnedest things don't they, bud?".
"I'm in agreement with Cameron", returned a smiling Wilson. "You need to bring something, too. Otherwise it's not fair".
"Fine. I'll think on it". House checked the time on his watch and got up, gesturing for the immunologist to do likewise. "The lab'll be open now. Let's go cure this fair maiden of whatever ails her".
Cameron nodded and made to clear away their trays, but she was stopped by her boss.
"Don't worry about them. Wilson's got it under control".
Wilson rolled his eyes but nevertheless inclined his head in assent. "Go ahead. Is your patient hot, at least?".
"She's a babe, yes", House answered. "But, obviously, her sheer physical beauty, combined with her amazing rack and general athletic ability, had absolutely no bearing on why I decided to take this case. It was for purely medical reasons. Purely. Medical. Reasons". After each word, he nudged Cameron's hip with his own.
She smiled indulgently, fully aware of what he was doing.
"Off you go, then. See you both tomorrow at my place".
With that, Wilson pulled out his phone and began to browse the internet. The diagnosticians, meanwhile, headed for the lab, the blood results it contained and, hopefully, the final proof for their hypothesis of pesticide poisoning.
