Loveable idiots
A.N. I personally quite like this chapter. But who cares what I think? I sure don't.
Cameron led the way to her apartment, both of them having parked up by the roadside and wheeling suitcases. Summer was here properly now, and the sun greeted them as they headed towards the entrance. On the point of buzzing into the outer door, her eyes alighted on the shrubbery which had been the target of House's discomfort following the conclusion of their joint run last year. Back then he had challenged her to a race, and come very close indeed. It was her fervent wish that he reach that level of fitness again. A fit House equalled a happy House; a happy House, it shamed her not at all to admit, was the only item on her agenda for the next year or ten. Everything else was secondary.
Caught up in her reverie, she didn't notice through the glass oncoming foot traffic. House placed a hand on her shoulder. "Let them head out first. They've got a kid".
The pair duly stepped aside to allow a young couple and their child to exit the building. The woman smiled her thanks while the man shepherded their son outside. Cameron didn't recognise these people but she stopped and looked back: sun shining, blue sky, mom and dad holding a hand each, the kid's inane chatter drifting just out of earshot:
"Mommy, what would win out of a killer whale and a shark…?".
The sight stimulated a memory. Before sleeping together, she and House had stood at the window of his apartment and discussed matters of the heart. As they spoke, a mother, father, and child had crossed the road beneath them. At the time, so caught up in the moment, she had barely given the scene a second thought. But now it set her brain to work.
Cameron did not believe in the supernatural. She did not believe in signs.
Yet things had happened to stimulate reflections that followed a pattern: the song on the radio driving into work on the night of House's accident; the discussion with an older lady, two days before her ultimatum; even Charlie from Camden sandwiched between them both on a piano stool.
Serendipity.
"We going in or what?".
House's words jolted her back to the present.
"Uh, yeah, sorry", she replied, clearing her throat quickly. House would think these ruminations silly. In a way, they were. The universe did not have her in mind. Rather, her musings were running in a particular direction which itself explained why she mistook coincidence for fate.
"Were you checking out the mom's ass, too?", he asked casually as they headed up the stairs to the landing.
"Nah. The dad. Thought he looked cute. Y'know…dreamy".
"Oh, what?". House stopped as they reached the apartment door, apparently wounded beyond comprehension. "I told Foreman this earlier: I can give but not take".
"Right. So you can joke about liking other people, but I can't?". Cameron raised an eyebrow.
"Pretty much, yeah", he nodded sagely.
"Alrighty. That seem fair to you?".
"I don't make the rules, OK".
Cameron merely laughed as she let them into her apartment. It had been a while since she had last crossed this threshold; a lot of her clothes and books were already at 221B Baker Street, transferred across piecemeal over the last few months, and this had only increased in frequency following House's clearing out a drawer (which soon became two) for her use.
House brushed past her and headed towards the kitchen area and the fridge.
"It's empt-".
"-it's empty", he grunted, thrusting his hand inside. "You turned it off".
"Mmm. Wasn't going to waste money powering a vacant unit, was I?".
House grunted again. He seemed a little upset that there was no food on-site.
"You wanna grab lunch after our first cargo unloading?", she asked, knowing his answer.
"Not just a pretty face, hey?".
She smiled as she wheeled the suitcases to the bookcases in the living room. "I was thinking we start with the stuff here and work clockwise through the apartment".
"That's a plan", said House, meandering nonchalantly in the other direction. "Second option…is I just clear out your bedroom drawers and you do the rest".
With that, he scampered quickly from the room. Or at least, as quickly as a man with a cane could scamper. Which is to say, not very quickly at all.
"House?", she called, stifling a grin.
No answer, but she heard her bedroom door close.
"House!".
No answer again.
Cameron sighed, tossed the three books she was holding into the case, and followed in his wake. Sometimes Princeton Plainsboro's star doctor, the best diagnostician in the country, could be remarkably childish. And she loved it. Not that she would ever confess this to him: it was important that he remained in the dark about certain matters, if only because it excited her to try and keep things secret and so test his perception.
The skyscraper picture in the hallway caught her eye. She had few treasured belongings, but that one would find its way to her new home. Workmen eating in the clouds. These days she often found herself in the clouds: happy, daydreaming, content.
The sound of banging drew her onwards.
"What do you think you're doing, buster?". Cameron folded her arms and observed the scene, apparently unimpressed.
House had her underwear drawer open. "So this is where the magic happens".
"Think that phrase usually refers to the actual bed", she pointed out. And yet, of the handful of men she'd slept with, only the one standing before her really did create magic in this room and others like it.
"Either way, I'm disappointed".
"Why's that?".
"I was hoping for some sort of weird shrine or something. Instead all we have is panties, briefs, and thongs". He held up an exhibit of the last-named—sheer, white, lacy. "Have I seen these before?".
"Nah. I tend to only wear 'em when I'm trying to be sexy in the summer with light clothes, and we haven't been together during the summer months".
"Yet".
"Yet", she agreed with a smile, before correcting them both: "though we're together right now, and it is summer".
"True. Anyway, you don't try to be sexy, BB. You just are".
Cameron inclined her head modestly. These compliments, never looked-for or anticipated, invariably caused a tremor of adrenaline whenever they appeared. "Not as sexy as you", she mumbled.
House scoffed, muttering something under his breath. It sounded like 'tragic case'. As usual, he refused to accept this statement at face value.
"So you'd like me to wear them?", she prompted, leaning against the wall but making no attempt to stop his exploration.
"Suitable for summer clothes…", he murmured. Suddenly his blue eyes glazed. "What about white clothes?".
"That would be the ideal, yeah. Don't own many white clothes, though".
"Hmm". House carefully folded up the lace thong and placed it in his suitcase. "I absolutely do not want to dictate anything but, er, d'you mind not wearing these until, er, you, um…wear something white?".
"Well, wasn't planning to. Like I said-".
"-no. I mean, y'know, something white".
Cameron tilted her head curiously.
"Something white and, and, elegant, and, uh, flowing…?". He tugged an ear and looked determinedly at the carpet.
"Oh". The immunologist's heart started beating at a hundred miles per hour and her throat dried. "You mean, like, a-".
But House carried on, still avoiding eye contact: "-I don't want to seem like I'm telling you-, I mean, obviously, you can wear whatever the hell you-, I love how you dress, as I've said before…but, I just think it might be kind of cool, y'know, on that day—if it comes-".
"-'if'?", she clarified quickly as her heart immediately sank to the floor.
"When. When it comes. If you wore these. On that day. It would be cool. Just a thought".
While her boyfriend deathstared the carpet, Cameron had a mini cardiac arrest.
Silence grew.
"Any-", her voice was thick so she cleared her throat and tried again, "-any indication when that day might be? From an, er, academic perspective?".
"No indication as yet. I'm still thinking hypothetically". House wasn't quite sure what to do with the hand not on his cane handle, so he simply plunged it into his pocket. "Unless you have especially strong feelings on the 'when'?".
"Nope". Cameron plucked up the courage to look at his face even though he was still not looking at her. "Just as long as it is indeed 'when' not 'if'".
"It's 'when'. Dunno why I said 'if'. Heat stroke, maybe".
"Hmm". Cameron now wandered over to the suitcase House had dumped on her bed and retrieved its contents. Then she continued on to stand next to him. "I've no problem saving these for a special occasion. But I can be pretty forgetful. So I think it'd be best if you keep hold of them for me until they're needed".
She pressed the thong into his palm, slowly closed his fingers, then ushered his hand back into his pocket.
"I have strong feelings for you, Chicago", said House.
"I have strong feelings for you, too", she laughed.
"Anyway", he cleared his throat, determined to break free of this spell, "shall we get started on packing? I'm hungry".
"Are you sure? There's more of my stuff you can weirdly root through first", she announced, more than half-jokingly.
"Good point. What about this closet?".
He ambled to the other side of the room as Cameron began to transfer clothing from her already opened drawers into the suitcase. It would be a squeeze to get everything in, and certainly the few bits of furniture that did belong to her would need extra hands to move, because she sure wasn't going to allow House an attempt at heavy lifting. They had to start somewhere, though, and clothes were as good a place as any.
"Just dresses and shoes and stuff. Nothing interesting".
House buried himself in her closet, pushing aside hangers and the like with a combination of hands and cane.
"Mind being a bit more careful?", she asked drily. "Everything is all ironed and nice".
"So? My stuff's all ironed and nice, too".
"Right. Because I iron your stuff".
From the depths of her closet came a weird sort of grunt. It may not have been a concession, but Cameron imagined it as one regardless.
"You have some nice clothes", he said eventually.
"Thanks". Having emptied the drawers she could, Cameron was about to leave him to it and head through to the living room when he emerged with a small box.
"This ain't clothes. What's in-?".
Cameron, who had completely forgotten about the box's existence, bounded across the room like her life depended on it and tried grabbing it from him. "-don't touch that. I'll take it".
"What's in it?".
"Just some old stuff. Personal".
"Fluffy handcuffs 'personal'?", he asked, eyebrow raised.
"Nothing like that".
House's curiosity was now well and truly piqued, but he respected her obvious discomfort and relinquished control, watching closely as she replaced the box in the closet.
"Just so you know…there's nothing in there that you would need to feel defensive about. Like, I wouldn't care. Well, I mean, I'd care; but only because I'd be interested".
Cameron chewed her lip as she considered options. House was freakishly inquisitive, which was mainly why she had been fine allowing him to satisfy his curiosity. True, she may not have been so amenable had she remembered what that closet actually contained. But, since she had invited him to poke around, it felt unjustified to shut him out now. Personal boundaries didn't really exist in this relationship, and she would have told him about the box at some point. Given that they had broached a fairly important topic already today, she may as well commit fully and introduce another.
It didn't help, either, that House was looking at her with puppy dog eyes. And wore a shirt with several buttons undone, having thrown it on in a rush after morning sex.
"Oh, for God's sake, fine", she sighed, retrieving the box and placing it on the bed. "It's a bunch of memories; just bits and pieces…".
"…of your husband", he finished softly.
"My husband, yes", she inhaled discreetly, "but mostly you".
"Me?".
Once again Cameron sighed, now perching uneasily on the edge of the bed. "Promise you won't laugh at me or get angry?".
"Promise".
"When my husband died, I kept a couple of mementos of him, as my first love. Like my wedding ring and a picture, I think. And that's that. When we first started going out", now she flicked her finger between them both, "I couldn't really believe it. Having waited so long, I kept thinking that, at some point, you would break up with me or realise that I couldn't give you what you needed. So I started collecting little things, like tokens, of our times together. In case, y'know, we didn't make it".
House remained silent.
"Anyway", she continued, studying a point on the far wall, "when we did break up last year, I, sort of, brought everything together. And it helped me work through my feelings and…y'know, reminded me of a period when I was really happy".
"May I…?".
"Please", she nodded towards the box.
Very carefully, House examined the contents. There was indeed a picture of a handsome man he didn't recognise, and a ring. But they were right at the bottom, dwarfed by evidence of their own interactions. 'Tokens', Cameron had called them, and tokens they were: the Martin Fröst clarinet tickets, a crumpled flyer from the go-karting track, the programme from their London conference (but folded in such a way as to make only their own contributions visible), a copy of their selfie from the Chinese restaurant. The list went on.
It seemed, in fact, that almost every date enjoyed some form of representation.
House was not one for humility, but it was a humbling experience sifting through this stuff. As if someone cared enough about him to preserve evidence.
"Cameron, this is…very touching", he muttered.
"Not ridiculous?".
"Not ridiculous, no. Very touching".
"Well, you weren't meant to see it".
"I'm glad I did. Means a lot".
She threw him a lopsided grin as he sat next to her on the bed.
"Maybe I could add things to it, too?".
Cameron's grin widened, and for a split-second House imagined he could read her thoughts. "Like a joint memory vault?", she asked, nodding.
"Yeah".
A few moments passed in silence as mental images of what he could select for preservation passed before his mind's eye.
"No, it's my box, buster", she said bluntly. "If you want one, start your own".
With a tender peck on the cheek, no doubt designed to soften the blow, Cameron leapt to her feet and resumed packing.