Men

A.N. Spoilers for The Godfather but, honestly, if you haven't seen it by now you've been living under a rock.


House poked his head through the door. "We on for lunch?".

Wilson glanced up and sat back, hands clasped behind his head. "Well, well. The conquering hero returns! Rumour through the grapevine is that you ruffled a few British feathers and that James Bond is on the hunt".

He entered his friend's office and leant against the wall. "You're not gonna believe this, but I actually bumped into Daniel Craig in Harrod's and we had a great little chat".

"Huh?". Wilson had not expected this reply and remained decidedly unconvinced.

"Yeah…decent guy. Unfortunately".

"Oh, yeah? What did you talk about?".

"Movies, obviously. Moron", he shot back.

"But more specifically?".

"Bond girls. Particularly, whether Léa Seydoux wore too many clothes in Spectre and No Time To Die".

"Hmm". This did sound like something House would talk about. "What did DC say?".

"OK, firstly, he hates the nickname 'DC'. Secondly, he agreed with me".

Deciding to change tack, Wilson asked: "what were you doing in Harrod's?".

House's eyes, which had been shining with an all-too-familiar smugness, suddenly flicked to the side and back. "Buying Christmas presents".

"Bullshit. I can remember most, if not all, of the presents you've bought me, and none of them have even come close to being of the value of a Harrod's gift. And so the house of cards comes tumbling down", Wilson grinned.

"Ugh, fine. I wasn't in Harrod's and I didn't see Daniel Craig. Let's get lunch. I'm starving".

Wilson nodded, turned off the monitor, and went to join his friend by the door. "You did well coming up with the Bond girls line. Almost had me convinced".

"Pfft. I think I've lost a step or three. Time was I could charm/lie the pants off your great aunt Mabel-".

"-gross", interjected Wilson as they began the journey to the cafeteria.

"But now I can't even convince my fresh-faced, boyish best friend. What has happened to me?".

"Want me to answer that?".

"Like you know", he scoffed. The cell in his pocket vibrated and he took it out. Not recognising the number, he let it ring to voicemail.

"Two words: Irene Adler".

The pair had now entered the lunch queue.

"What has Sherlock Holmes' adversary got to do with anything?".

"I thought they were lovers?". Wilson went for the tuna pasta bake; House for fish and chips. As he did so, he remembered that he had not actually got around to having the real thing in England. Missed opportunity.

"Not in the original stories. Completely platonic".

"Hmm, OK. Scratch that analogy. Let's see, let's see…you know how in The Godfather Sonny Corleone is assassinated on the way to rescue his sister Connie from her abusive husband? Sollozzo distracts Sonny by driving him mad with rage and then riddles his car with bullets?".

"Did you finally go senile while I was away?", asked House slowly.

"My point is that, right now, you are Sonny and Cameron is Connie. You are caught up in passion and are driving like a maniac to be with her, but as a result you've lost your edge a bit". They reached the till and Wilson paid for their food before both found a table.

"Huh", murmured the other, thinking it over. "But I'm not passionate. I don't get passionate".

"Well, it's the only explanation. Frankly, I think it's great. You're finally happy. Savour it".

"The issue is Sonny's passionate single-mindedness gets him killed".

Wilson chewed his pasta thoughtfully for a moment or two. "That's where the analogy breaks down, I accept".

"Hmm". House's eyes glazed as his mind completed rapid calculations and internal debates.

"No, come on. I know that look. It was merely for illustrative purposes. Cameron hasn't set out to change you, but I think she has certainly had some sort of transformative effect. And vice versa. All completely normal and desired".

At length, House smirked. "You've become philosophical while I've been away. Mathilde isn't gonna stand for that, let me tell you".

"On that topic, listen to this…".

Before long, both men were deep in conversation, settling into the hum of the cafeteria.


On the way back to his office, House found his mind returning once more to Wilson's words: had he really changed? Perhaps. After all, he had said as much to Charity the hooker last week. And yet, was it down to Cameron? The question was difficult to answer, mainly because the simple fact of being pain-free was incredibly hard to quantify. Certainly, the gnawing, ever-present infarction sensation had adversely affected his mood, and its absence now objectively improved his life. At the same time, though, the pain also sharpened his mind, gave him focus. There were occasions in the dark days when he had briefly considered trading in Vicodin for methadone. But he had always held back for fear that it would dull his brain. Now, he had to add the therapeutic effect of a relationship into the mix. Things were interestingly poised at the moment.

Once more the phone vibrated in his pocket. With a flash of anger he accepted the call and jammed the set to his ear. "Stop calling me, whoever you are. I don't want what you're selling".

"Hi, is that Greg? It's Paul Cameron".

House exhaled as he walked into his office. "How did you get this number?".

"Hospital website. Are you busy?".

"Yes".

"I understand. My wife and I are flying back to Illinois later this afternoon but I was hoping we could have a short talk, just us men? I can be at that bistro around the corner from the hospital in five minutes. I won't take up much of your time. It's about Allison".

House sighed. It was the middle of the workday, so he would be well within rights to tell Cameron senior to take a hike and leave him alone. But two reasons led him to accept. The first was straightforward curiosity; the second was slightly more subtle, in that a part of him, a small part admittedly, wanted to have Cameron's parents on-side. Whether this was a feasible goal or not, he felt he owed it to her at least to try. "Fine. I'll see you at the White Lion in fifteen minutes. It'll need to be quick; we have a case".

"No problem, thanks. See you soon".

A one-on-one conversation with Dad was a development, for sure, even if he had absolutely no idea what it would entail. Perhaps the man would arrive armed with a list of ideal characteristics for which to hunt when browsing the hospital database for potential Cameron suitors. Or perhaps he would push for her being allowed more vacation time. This was out of the question, since one of the first ground rules they had set was no favouritism.

Through the glass House could see Foreman and Chase deep in conversation, presumably discussing the white board on which were scribbled various ideas pertaining to their case, a mysteriously fainting accountant. Having retrieved his biker jacket, he belatedly went through to join them.

"We were thinking we'd focus on the blood and go from there", said Foreman.

"Agreed. Get started with a full work-up so we can at least rule out the usual suspects: anemia, hypoglycemia, et cetera".

"You don't wanna hear our justifications?", asked Chase.

"Hell no. Your voice annoys me". House zipped up his jacket, noting Cameron's absence.

"Going somewhere?". Foreman looked over the rim of his coffee cup.

"Doctor's appointment. I have a note and everything. I'll be back in thirty minutes. You kids will manage without me, right?". Not waiting for an answer, he left the office, the door swinging shut behind him.


House entered the bistro and saw Paul Cameron already seated in a corner clasping a mug. Having ordered a coffee to the table, he made his way over as the older man got out of his seat and offered his hand. "Hi, Greg. Thanks for dropping by. How's your case looking?".

He shook it. "Could be worse".

"Ah. How many d'you normally get through in a week?".

House looked his companion in the eye. "Is that really what you brought me out here for, to ask after my workload?".

"No", Paul admitted. "I remember Allison saying straight talk was your trademark". A young guy with absurdly spiky hair came over with the coffee, and Cameron waited while House stirred in a dash of milk and sugar. "I guess I asked you here today for a little discussion, man to man".

"Yeah? What about?".

"Allison. I told you on the phone".

"Hmm". House sat back and met the other's gaze. His eyes were so similar to Cameron's. "Anything in particular?".

Elder Cameron cleared his throat. "See, here's the thing. For the past two and a half years, whenever we've asked after her work the answer's always been the same: 'work is great; boss is abrasive, rude, and a real pain in the ass'".

"That sounds accurate", he admitted, taking a sip of overpriced coffee. As a rule, he avoided paying for food whenever possible, and this extended also to drinks. Shop-bought coffee was, he thought, the biggest waste of money ever devised by man. Behind chastity belts. And the scale model of Noah's Ark in Kentucky.

"But about six months ago, the reports changed. Work, still, was great. But the boss…".

"Great, too?".

"Actually, you didn't come up at all. Suddenly, this subject was off limits". Paul tapped the wood thoughtfully. "Look, it's none of my business-".

"-then maybe you should leave it alone", interjected House softly. So this was the reason.

"-but, I feel it's my duty as a father to, ah, introduce myself to potential…", he glanced across the table, "…or actual boyfriends".

"Is that what this is?". The answer was obvious but it paid to get it all out in the open.

"I like to take the measure of a man", Cameron shrugged. "I'm sure you can appreciate that".

House tilted his head. "Fair enough. What's it gonna be, dad?".

"You're seeing my daughter? I noticed glances at dinner".

Instead of answering directly, House spoke levelly. "I was thinking on the way over here—my cell isn't on the hospital website. How did you get my number?".

"Does it matter?".

"Not really".

"Are you and Allison together?". Paul's hands were clasped on the table and his half-empty drink was left to grow cold.

House folded his arms. Cameron had said that she would rather keep their relationship a secret from her parents. But her father already knew, or suspected, so a straight denial would likely be futile. Still, House had information the other wanted, and this gave him a bartering chip. "I'm assuming your wife is unaware".

"She is, yeah".

He glanced at his watch. "I have ten minutes. I'm open to a discussion on the condition that you keep the contents of this conversation to yourself". Sandra had seemed incredibly invested in having Cameron find a 'normal' boyfriend; the less she knew about it, the better.

"My thoughts exactly. Look, I know you probably think I'm a complete dick for getting involved, and you'd probably be right. But I don't care, frankly. I love Allison so much; she's had a tough life, in a way; made some…tough decisions as far as love is concerned. I presume you know about her marriage in college?".

House nodded.

"It fucked her up, nearly derailed her degree, and damaged her beneath the surface. It was a hard time. Seeing her in such despair…it tore me apart. Do you understand? I will not see her go through that again. So, I just want to talk to you; to ask…why are you doing this? I mean, let's get down to it, you must be twice her age".

House scoffed but said nothing.

"My point is that you look like you've been around the block a few times. Y'know, I get it, you're not getting any younger; Allison is beautiful and smart…".

"She's also not a child, nor a starry-eyed schoolgirl". This was something that the nephrologist had slowly been coming to terms with himself. Indeed it had been one of the main conversation topics all those nights ago when he had discussed things with Wilson and Cuddy. Cameron now was different to she who had first walked into Diagnostics. But since her father had not witnessed this evolution, his evidence, the basis of his judgements, was somewhat out of date.

"I get that", Paul answered slowly. "But I'm struggling to account for the transition from 'hating your guts' to 'I wanna be with this guy'".

People change. Wilson's point from earlier in the day shimmered through his mind. "Maybe you ought to speak to your daughter".

"As you discovered last night, she is incredibly defensive about this issue. I just wanna make sure you're in it for the right reasons. For example, do you really see a happy ending?".

"Happy endings?", House sighed. Ordinarily, he detested being probed in this manner. But he also understood that elder Cameron's insistence came from a place of love, something which he had never really experienced from his own father. How many times had he wished, when he was younger, to have a dad as unapologetically caring as this? Now, as an adult, House barely spoke to parents usually out of sight and out of mind. Clearly, though, the immunologist was loved by more people than just himself, and it would be unfair to stonewall the man sitting opposite. "A happy ending…probably not, no".

"And do you think you're the best person for Allison?".

The pager at his belt erupted and House smiled mirthlessly. "Saved by the bell".

Paul Cameron nodded and held up a placatory hand. "I'll leave it alone now. Just, please, think about what you're doing. My daughter is not just another notch on your bedpost. She wants a family, she wants to be a doctor and a wife and a mother. She can have all those things. But just ask yourself if you'll be the one to give them to her. If not…maybe it's time you left her to settle down, or fool around, with someone her own age; someone who has similar interests and a similar outlook; someone who isn't so…grey".

"Do you mean that literally or metaphorically?".

"What do you think?".

House, who couldn't help but respect the man's approach, laced his fingers, allowing the silence to extend. At length he rose to his feet. "Safe flight back to Chicago".

"Thanks. Good luck with your case".

House drained his cold coffee and left the bar, feeling Cameron's eyes on his back.