First steps

A.N. Keeping with my tradition of irregular uploads, here is a chapter on a Monday night (!)


House awoke of his own accord Friday. Given that Cameron's movements in the apartment normally stirred him, it was something of a surprise that the same had not occurred today. As with virtually every morning since the accident, he reached under the covers to feel the leg cast. Man, this thing is a real pain in my ass. When the time came that it could be removed, he would dance for joy. Literally.

Initial reconnaissance complete, he reached for his phone on the nightstand, and this was when his hand brushed a piece of paper which had been placed over the screen. Eyes still bleary with sleep, he held it before his face and read the words:

I made you porridge for breakfast because you're an old man. It's in the microwave, so just heat it up when you want to eat. I aim to be back by 7 or 8. In an emergency, the Mount Sinai number is just below. And you obviously have my cell.

Have a great day, do not overstrain yourself, and I'll see you tonight. If you haven't already eaten by the time I leave, give me a text and I'll pick up some takeout on the way back.

C xx

Ah, yes. Now I remember. Her Sinai roundtable.

While he read, a scent of Cameron's perfume reached his nose. Evidently it had been left as she was writing. He inhaled deeply. A reassuring smell, and one he immediately recognised. No other woman he knew (granted, he didn't know many), used the same aroma.

Anyway, there were things he planned to do today.

Another glance at the time.

Bracing himself, House threw back the duvet, grabbed the cane hanging nearby, and hobbled through to the kitchen and his porridge. If all went to code, he would be needing the energy. Every little bit helped; and he was, as Cameron had so kindly pointed out in her note, not as young as he might wish to be.


Right on cue, there was a knock at the door, and House traipsed through to open it.

"Hey, man. How's it going?". Wilson stood there in what could charitably be described as 'gymwear'.

"Have you, like, ever worn shorts before?", remarked House, who couldn't prevent a grin from spreading across his face at the sight of his friend's appearance. "Nice knees".

"I've no problem with turning around right now and heading home. Your call".

House stepped aside.

Wilson ambled through and dumped his bag on the sofa. "You got an idea where we're doing this?".

"Figured we'd just move the coffee table, push the couch back, and use that space. Here, help me lift-".

"-I really could use some persuasion that this is a good idea", interrupted Wilson dubiously. "Exactly when were your stitches removed again?".

"Would you stop worrying like an old woman? Most of my body feels fine; it's just this cursed leg dragging me down right now. Today'll just be first steps".

"And the pain?".

"Mainly just confined to the leg area. If you don't help me within three seconds, I'm lifting this without you, by the way". House was bent double over the table, his hands already in position.

"Fine, fine. Three, two, one…".

The pair cleared a space for themselves in the living room. House completed a few exploratory stretches while Wilson laid out yoga mats. Neither of them owned yoga mats, and it had taken some creative thinking on their part to ask Cuddy, who in turn had requisitioned a couple from the therapy suites. Like Wilson, she too had needed some convincing, but both had reasoned that it probably wouldn't do any harm for House to exercise a little by himself before committing to the full course of rehab awaiting him at PPTH.

"That's a nice picture". Wilson had caught sight of the composite photograph, which stood on the coffee table they had just moved.

"Just something I got for Cameron. It was her birthday Wednesday".

"Nice of you". It was so unlike House to bother with such things. And yet, now, it also wasn't. As Wilson had reflected frequently last year, Cameron had changed his grumpy friend in more than a few ways. Telling, too, that it rested by Cameron's sofa 'bed'. Sooner or later those two would find each other again. There was no doubt about that.

"I'm ready", grunted House, finished with his warm-ups.

"Right. So, what's the plan?", asked Wilson, finally tearing his eyes from the photograph.

"Reckon we start small. You bring across the ten-pounders?".

"Yeah. I'll spot you".

House gave a derisive snort. "Like you've ever spotted anyone in your entire life".

"Now's as good a time as any to start", he replied, hauling the weights from his sports bag. "Lie down, then. The sooner we get this done, the sooner I can eat. Didn't bother with breakfast this morning".

House sank onto the mat and completed an initial repetition. "Amber keeping you busy, eh?".

For all of five seconds, the oncologist considered denial. But then he remembered quite who he was dealing with. "How did you know? Did she tell you we were dating when she visited?".

"Nope. I just sensed it. Like when Darth Vader perceives Obi-Wan's presence on the Death Star".

More slow repetitions accompanied their conversation, Wilson's hands lightly supporting the weight.

"You're Vader in that scenario, right?".

House grunted but said nothing, feeling his shoulders tiring already. God, I am so out of shape.

"Look", continued Wilson, "we're just taking it s-".

"-have you banged her yet-?".

"-low. We're taking it slow".

"So…you…haven't…banged…her…yet". Having completed his set, House let his friend liberate the weights from his grasp and took a few deep breaths. Fortunately, there seemed to be no actual pain from body parts injured previously. Reassuring.

"Not even gonna dignify that with an answer", replied Wilson, setting the ten-pounders to the side. "Anyway, she's still tender from the crash; wouldn't be good to make moves so soon".

"Mmm". House suppressed a smile. One of the explanations he had offered to Cameron for why Wilson had landed on Amber was the possibility that she needed nursing. The guy needed 'needy'; it got his motor running. It was also interesting to note that Cameron had explained not resuming their relationship with a similar line of argument to that just used by Wilson.

"Let me know when you're ready for another set. What did you think of her?".

"Amber? Seems cool—kinda sassy. Mathilde was boring".

"Not sure I completely agree with that assessment, but I do appreciate the sentiment".

"I mean, obviously, I'll need to carry out my own investigations".

"Obviously", grimaced Wilson. He had expected something like this. Though, in truth, the fact that House was currently restricted to his apartment made him slightly less apprehensive for the future of his nascent relationship. What House can't reach, he can't torpedo…

"OK. Round two".

Wilson duly lowered the weights into his friend's waiting hands, using the opportunity of a new set to change the subject: "where's Cameron?".

"Conference thing in New York".

"Figured you'd be celebrating in triumph or something".

"Huh?".

"Your Scientific Inquiry article is out today".

"Oh. How did you know? You stalking me?".

"Cuddy's end-of-week email to the staff. In the publications section?".

"Who the hell reads those? Mine goes straight in the junk". With a final burst of strength House completed his lifts and took a few deep breaths. That had been difficult. He would need some recovery time.

"Well done. Pretty good", encouraged Wilson, taking back the weights and dumping them on the floor by the sofa. "When you're ready, I've got some resistance bands".

A glug of water accompanied his next words: "so, yeah, Cameron's in New York. I tried to convince her to hang there this evening, but she insisted on coming straight back".

"Why'd you suggest that?", asked the other curiously.

House shrugged. "Just figured it would do her good. Being here seven days a week is hardly healthy".

"You're here seven days a week".

"Well, sure, but I've got no choice".

Wilson shook his head slightly.

"What?".

"It's not your job to be telling her what to do, man. Lord knows that you don't like being told what to do, so why would she?".

"I didn't tell her what to do; merely suggested. Pass me that band? The green one".

The oncologist handed it over and watched as House completed some stretches. "And how did she take your suggestion?".

"It was quite cute, actually. I mean, it was annoying. But kinda endearing at the same time. Basically, she told me to stick it".

"Standard", he laughed, though watching House's eyes glaze slightly even as he exercised. "You love her, hey?".

"Mmm".

"So, when're you restarting things?".

"Dunno. After rehab, I guess. Which is why I wanted to get a head start today".

Somewhat flat-footed by the certainty with which House had just affirmed his intention to get back with Cameron in due course, and to prevent his own overthinking, Wilson asked another question: "and how are you finding this?".

House let out a few more deep breaths. "Not too bad. The sight of your stupid little face inspires me".

"Speaking of sights, you're sweating bad. Take a break now and spot me".

"Ugh, fine". The two swigged more water then swapped places, House lowering the weights into Wilson's hands. "Is this your first exercise in a few years?".

"No. I go to the gym with Amber". Wilson delivered these words a little sheepishly as he began his lifts.

"That's classic", laughed House, right on cue. "She inspiring you to be a better version of yourself? Really got you shedding the kilos?".

Several more repetitions.

"Actually…yes. Take 'em".

House did as asked, receiving the dumbbells and setting them down.

"There's nothing wrong with that", Wilson continued, "you know, helping each other out".

"Nothing wrong with it, no. But-"

"-no 'buts', House".

A few more moments passed as Wilson regathered himself. "OK. I'm ready. Hit me with them again".


Later that evening Cameron pulled into Baker Street and couldn't prevent a small smile twinge her lips at the familiar sight of House's apartment building. The roundtable had gone well, and she was flush with a job well done—paper delivered, contacts made, name recognition enhanced. And now it was Friday night and time to relax. Parking her car in the usual space by the side of the road, she got out, locked up, and made her way inside.

She knocked on the door. The place only had one key, and since House would most likely have stayed in all day, it hadn't felt necessary to grab it on the way out this morning.

Wilson answered and smiled at her. "Hey; welcome back. How was NYC?".

"Hi". Not at all surprised that Wilson had dropped by, she returned his smile and entered, dumping her bag by the door. "It was great: very productive. You guys OK?".

"Yep. We've just been hanging out. As you can see". He gestured towards the PlayStation, currently paused mid-game, and the couch, on which House was sitting.

"You did well?", asked House, turning in his seat to catch her eye.

"I did well", she nodded, temporarily halting her movements as they looked at each other.

"Good". His mouth twitched, almost, but not quite, approaching a smile. "You want wine?".

"Actually, first I need a shower", she replied, hanging her coat and scarf on the peg by the door and removing her smart heels. "I'll get a drink for myself after; I'm on my feet anyway".

"No. Shower. I'll get you a drink: gotta stretch my legs". House retrieved his cane, hauled himself up, and ambled into the kitchen.

Needing no second invitation, she grabbed her duffel bag of clothes from its place by the corner bookcase and headed for the bathroom.

When House returned, having set down a glass of red wine, he sank into the couch next to Wilson, who had taken up a controller in anticipation of a gaming resumption. "Cameron keeps all her stuff in a holdall? It's been two months, nearly".

"She did, and it has. Ready for round two?".

Wilson hid his surprise at House's indifference towards Cameron's living situation and unpaused their game, which they played for about fifteen minutes, until her call cut through the game sound: "House! Would you, uh, come here a sec?".

"What?!", he shouted back, having once more paused their progress.

"Come here, please!".

Sighing loudly, House got up for the second time this evening and hobbled down the hallway. "Where are you?", he spoke to the air.

"Bathroom!".

He reached the door and, to his own surprise, found his mouth completely dry. "Yeah?", he croaked.

The door opened. Cameron stood just inside the threshold, wrapped in a towel, shoulders bare, hair wet.

"What's up? Is the water out?", he asked redundantly, trying to ignore the attractively flushed pink of her cheeks from the steam.

"My clothes have disappeared", she whispered, holding up her bag which was indeed empty.

House made a show of examining the interior. "Hmm, you're right. Weird".

"This isn't funny. I've had a long day, OK? Where are they?".

"I'll just show you. Come".

"What? I'm wearing a towel and Wilson's out ther-".

"-oh, relax. We're all doctors. Besides, he's busy PlayStation-ing".

"House!", she hissed.

"Stop being such a prude. Come".

House set off, and she had no choice but to follow, leaving wet footprints on the wooden floor. Before long they were in his bedroom.

Cameron scanned the scene quickly. "Well?", she demanded.

"Your clothes are right in front of you. In here". He tapped the piece of furniture against which he was leaning.

Her eyes focused fully and took in the object of his reference. A chest of drawers. "Oh".

"Yeah, well…figured I'd clear you out some space; y'know, because it's probably not fair that you've been living pretty cramped for a while now. And I know it does mean your clothes are in my room, but there weren't really many other options. I also ironed them". Predictably, House had delivered these words without making eye contact.

"Um, but-".

"-if you wanna move them back, you can".

"No. I was just going to say that it would mean I'd need to wake you up to grab my clothes each morning".

"I don't mind that".

"Really?". Cameron arched an eyebrow doubtfully and placed a hand on her hip for good measure.

"It's fine". House didn't confide that he secretly looked forward to the situation she'd just described. "Obviously, you'd still change in the bathroom".

"It's only that you get very grumpy when sleep deprived. Like a baby. Or a teenager".

"What do you know about teenagers?".

"Not much", she admitted. "But more than you".

"I doubt that. You see quite a few at monster truck rallies. Not many babies, though".

"Well, anyway…thanks for this. It's a really sweet gesture", she smiled.

He smiled back crookedly. "Don't go spreading that around, by the way. I've got a rep to maintain".

For a couple of moments they looked at each other, and House became hyper aware that Cameron was dressed in a towel tied at the front. A flick of his wrist, or hers, and it would tumble to the floor.

"So, I'll leave you to get dressed", he said eventually, voice thick. "Pizza's on the way if you, um, haven't eaten yet. Jimbo's joining us". This summary pronouncement came across a little harshly, so he added: "if that's OK?". The thought shimmered through his mind that Wilson's presence acted as a welcome (or, perhaps, not-so-welcome) deterrent. For some reason, he was experiencing an overpowering desire. He stuck his hand in a pocket and surreptitiously adjusted his jeans.

If it were just Cameron and I beneath this roof tonight…

Stop. No.

"Great. I'll be right through". She turned to the drawers and starting rifling through the freshly ironed and folded clothes, apparently oblivious to the fact that he was trying not to drool over her.

With a nod, House made his way out. But he was halted by Cameron's call: "hey, House?".

"Mmm?".

"Thank you".

He did nothing except wave his hand and continue to the living room. But both sensed that they had taken their first steps towards something more.