Roomies

A.N. Just a quick one to say that these next few chapters will be devoted to the London conference, so if that doesn't appeal to you feel free to check-out of this story for a bit. But as always I'm a couple ahead and am really enjoying writing Hameron in the UK. Interestingly enough, English life is actually one of the things Hugh Laurie admitted he missed while filming House. So I'm doing my bit to temporarily align character and actor. And here's another fun fact: Jennifer Morrison said a few years back that she would love to play Eliza Doolittle from My Fair Lady opposite Laurie's Henry Higgins. I can't make Cameron a Cockney, but I can put her in Cockney-land. End justification.


The four diagnosticians stepped out of Heathrow airport into the fresh London air. House took a deep breath and spread his arms wide. "Can you smell that?", he asked his fellows. "That's the smell of empire right there. How does it feel to be home, Chase?".

"My home is literally on the other side of the planet. Let's grab a ride and head off to the hotel. The quicker we check-in, the quicker we can find some grub. I'm starving". The intensivist led the way to the taxi rank.

"It's not as cold as I was expecting", said Foreman. "I thought London was on the same latitude as Canada or something".

"You're right", agreed House, looking pointedly at Cameron. "It really is not that cold at all. Thank God for the gulf stream. Hey, do you guys know if our hotel has balconies? I'm asking for a friend".

She rolled her eyes, aware that he was alluding to the promise she had made in the clinic a couple of weeks back. "Uhuh. Wilson is still in Princeton so no idea what friend you mean".

House feigned hurt. "I have more than one friend, y'know: Cuddy, Foreman's mom, Glenda the nurse...shall I go on?".

"Please don't", replied Foreman as they all clambered into a black cab.

It was a tight squeeze, and Cameron automatically tried to position herself so that she wasn't crushing House's leg. Although he had given no indication of any pain for as long as they had been together, it never hurt to be careful. When she shifted position, she felt House's hand slip around her waist, squeezing her discreetly in gratitude, though obscured by the heavy winter coat. Little things like this, hidden signals in front of the others, made her glow inside. The nephrologist was a secretive man, but now, after all this time, it felt like she too in some small way was a sharer in his mystery. The fact that their colleagues were completely oblivious added to the magic. Suddenly a memory of the night at the German restaurant entered her mind, and she shook her head slightly. Now was not the time.

"Alright, guys?", greeted the driver, his eyes lingering slightly longer on Cameron. "You here on business?".

House noticed the look. "Yeah. International sex smuggling ring. Don't give us up and we'll make it worth your while".

"Americans, eh? Welcome to London. Where to?".

"Hotel California. Is that right?".

Cameron cleared her throat. "Morgan Hotel. Have any of you got the exact address handy?".

"No need for that, love", winked their driver as he pulled out of his bay. "Black cabbies know where everything is in London. We'll have you there in no time. Then I guess it's out on the town, hey? Pretty good circuit on a Thursday evening, if any of you are interested".

"I would be", said Chase. "Is the Scimitar still going strong?".

The cabby glanced at the intensivist in his mirror, though his eyes kept flicking back to Cameron. "Yeah. You know the clubs, then?".

"Bits and pieces", he replied, a touch defensively. The last time his partying days had arisen was during a case involving a young guy and his dominatrix. Unfortunately, the woman was known around the Princeton night-life scene, and Chase had been forced to confess his prior acquaintance. Endless ribbing from House and the rest ensued.

"Well, everyone's got a home here. Even Australians!". With that, the driver left them to it, tapping a beat on the steering wheel and humming along to a song on the radio.

"You guys wanna check it out, then? You'd be welcome too, House".

"Hah, good one. I need to be in bed straight after my dinner if I've any chance of getting up in time for the conference registration tomorrow morning".

Foreman raised an eyebrow. "Sure. Bets we don't see you till the Monday morning flight back".

"Nah, it wouldn't be fair of me to take your money when I already know how it's gonna play out. But by all means, you kids go and have fun".

"Foreman?", asked Chase.

"Why don't we just meet up for drinks in the hotel bar and save going out for the weekend once the conference has started? I'm pretty tired".

"I second that", chimed Cameron. "House?".

"Mmm?". In the dim light of the car his eyes seemed to flash, as if amused at some joke that only he understood.

"Drinks later in the bar?".

"Fine", he sighed. "But you people cramp my style, so after tonight I'm doing my own thing".

If they were alone, Cameron would have asked 'your own thing with me?'. But instead she kept quiet, looking out of the window and enjoying the various feelings turning in her stomach: academic excitement for the days ahead mixed with an appreciation of the erotic possibilities. If she played her cards right, this could be an interesting trip indeed.


The doctors checked-in separately with an agreement to reconvene in the hotel bar later that evening. Cameron received her room key and was moving off when she heard House call her back: "where are you going?".

"To my room. I'll see you later!".

House handed over his passport and was signing a piece of paper for the receptionist. He didn't even bother to look up. "Yeah, no. You're bunking with me".

Cameron folded her arms. "Cuddy has paid for a separate room. If you wanted us to be together, you should have said so earlier. It's not my problem". Even though she wanted to be with House, loyalty to Cuddy and the fact that the latter had gone out of her way to book a second unit on short notice meant that Cameron was a little annoyed. "You should have made it clear before", she reiterated.

"Why?", he asked, taking the key with a nod at the woman behind the desk.

"Because you can't just expect everyone to fall in line with what you want to do. Maybe I'd like to have my own space. Have you considered that?".

"Huh", he mused, walking towards her with that characteristic loping stride, semi-smile, and burning eyes, just as he had done his first day back after the shooting. Ordinarily, the combination turned her to jelly. "That's fair, I guess. I'm sorry...", now he had reached the other, tilting her chin upwards with his hand, again, in a manner identical to that day many months ago, "...for my presumption, Dr. Cameron".

She swallowed. A vision of a cat playing with a mouse came to mind. Was it pathetic that this sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine? "You can't just...I'm not a mouse, OK? I'm a woman".

"I know you're not a mouse".

"Well, stop looking like you want to eat me, then". In truth, Cameron loved the way he looked at her; loved how his gaze, which so often represented a mind grappling with intellectual problems and puzzles, could seem just as focused on her, a normal Chicago girl. It was a gaze she remembered from outside Stacy Warner's hospital room, and her heart beat faster in response.

"But I do want to eat you. All the time".

"Cuddy has...has paid for a, a separate room. It's a waste of money if we share now", she croaked, always caught off-guard by his casual admissions of desire. The reception area was crowded but neither noticed.

"I don't care about that, though. Why are you making this into a big deal? Don't you want to share?".

Cameron sighed before taking his hand and leading him to the soft chairs by the lobby fireplace, clearing her head and throat as they walked. It would be best to deal with this now. "House, I would love to share. But I've been trying hard to give you your space. So after our chat in the clinic I decided to ask Cuddy to book me a separate room. I was fine with that. But now you just turn around and tell me that I'm bunking with you, without even asking. Honestly? It jars; especially since I'm trying to be understanding; I'm trying not to be pushy. But it cuts both ways. Do you understand what I'm saying?".

A year ago, such a speech would have been out of the question. But their relationship was in a good place, and House had shown himself to be open to challenges, at least in the personal sphere. And Cameron felt like challenging him, just to gauge his reaction, as he challenged her every single day. The man drove her wild in the bedroom, but it was this intellectual element, underpinning each interaction to a greater or lesser extent, that she found most exciting. Nothing was straightforward.

"Yes. I understand".

"Do you actually?", she persisted.

"No", he admitted. "Not a fucking clue".

"I thought you were smart". Cameron folded her arms, though there was a glimmer of amusement in her eyes.

"I'm smart in conversations that don't need a decoder ring".

"All I'm saying is that I'd like to be informed slightly ahead of time what your thought process is. I know that this", Cameron placed both her hands over his, "is hard for you. And I'm not demanding a one-way ticket into your soul-".

"-there is no soul", he interjected.

"-but…I'd like a heads-up. I'd like you to ask me".

"Ask you what…?". House still didn't fully understand, and the confusion on his face made for a cute picture.

"To stay with you".

"But I just asked you".

"No. You told me".

"Cameron?".

"Yes?".

"Can I fuck you on the balcony?".

At that, an old lady who had been warming her hands over the fire coughed discreetly and moved away.

"And the other question…?", she prompted, eyebrows raised.

"Would you like to share rooms with me? I would like this very much". House paused before adding a 'please' which sounded strained, as if his mouth were grappling with an especially tricky word in a foreign language.

"Huh". Now it was Cameron's turn to be confused.

"Was that not good? Did I say it wrong? I am trying to, er, be nice".

"Yeah, I know. I was just testing something. A book I read suggested a bit of reverse psychology, y'know, to mix things up. Turns out you just sound really weird if you try and be nice. Not sure I like that, to be honest".

"What the...?". If he was confused before, he was even more confused now.

Cameron patted his hand and rose from the seat, wheeling her luggage towards the elevator. "Good to know. Nice House is boring House. We'll remember that for the future. Let's go. I wanna check out our room. Fourth floor, right?".


Cameron was at the window. "Well, this is pleasant, isn't it? I swear I can see Big Ben from this angle".

House was too busy checking out her ass to respond immediately. It really was a work of art. Absolutely nothing would ever make him doubt his atheism, but every now and then a fragment of his brain wondered, if there were no God, how something so perfect could possibly have come about through evolution by mutation and natural selection. "A good angle, that's for sure", he murmured at last.

"I think if I really crane my neck, I can...definitely see it". Now she planted both hands on the windowsill and stretched out, her long legs rigid. "House, you should come see this view—it's spectacular".

"Nah", he cleared his throat, "I'm good. You wanna make out instead?".

Suddenly the woman span around and winked at him. "Let me freshen up first. You can order room service while I'm in there, and then we're down to the bar".

When she walked past on the way to the bathroom, he pulled her forcefully into his body, her shriek of surprise cut short by his lips. Still maintaining the kiss, House walked Cameron backwards until she was up against the still-closed bathroom door, the hands of both jostling for position on the body of the other. Only after two breathless minutes of mutual passion did he lean across and switch on the bathroom light, nibbling her neck on the way back.

"Go ahead, then", he said. "But if I'm asleep when you get out, I cannot be held responsible".

"Read a book. I'll be back before you know it. Did you bring Lesbian Prison Stories?".

"Nah, I got a new one", he murmured conversationally. "It's called Love is a Two-Way Street. Pretty interesting".

Cameron blushed. As it happened, that book had inspired the reverse psychology tactic used down in the lobby. "How long have you, er, known my reading material?".

House raised an eyebrow. "Well, as you know, I scouted out your bookshelf even before we got together. Did you get around to finishing that one on the Roman empire, by the way?".

"Yeah".

He turned back to lie on the bed, satisfied with this response.

"Well?", she prompted eventually.

"Well what?". House was a picture of innocence.

"When did you figure out my psychological angle? I genuinely thought I'd got you with my spiel about not pushing you and it cutting both ways". In fact, the heart to heart wasn't entirely fabricated, since it covered issues she really did feel strongly about. But House was House, and a large part of her feared confessing too much, too quickly, even if he had already admitted his love. Cameron had waited so long for this, and though the insecurity occasionally reared its head (do I really mean that much to him? Am I really offering him something he can't get elsewhere?), she kept it to herself. The book thus had an impetus that was both serious and not: she had wanted to freak him out while also testing the water.

"I found it in your bag last week. Don't worry", he added at her folded arms, "I wasn't rooting around. Well, I was. But in my defence, I literally let you explore my place with no caveats. So, I guess we're even". Now he was leafing through the menu for room service.

Cameron shrugged; he had a point. "Well, I'm going to freshen up now. Order something nice".

"Cameron?", he said suddenly, letting the menu drop to the bed as he sat up and turned his full focus on the woman in the doorway.

"Mmm?".

"I'm sorry for not asking first if you wanted to be my roommate".

"Huh? It doesn't matter. I told you I said that to freak you out", she said lightly, running a hand through her hair.

House's blue eyes remained still, and Cameron got the sense, as she often did, that he saw right through her. "I get that", he said after a moment. "I'm just saying…I'm used to being alone, knowing what I want, doing what I want, and sometimes I forget that I'm not, er, alone anymore".

"You're not alone anymore, House. And neither am I", Cameron agreed. Whenever he opened up like this it melted her heart. Suddenly she shook her head. "Wait a sec. If this is just a tactic to get me into bed, buddy…".

"If yes, would it work?".

"I mean, you don't need craftiness to get me to sleep with you. You've never needed that".

House smiled softly. "Hey?".

"Sup?", she replied, anticipating another personal insight simply from the set of his mouth and the way his eyes shone.

"I need a shit, so hurry up in there. You can leave the seat down".

The sound of Cameron's loud sigh and not-so-gentle door closing was drowned out by the television.

"This is gonna be great", whispered House to himself as he relaxed into a pillow propped against the bedhead and settled down to watch the news.