Up close and personal
A.N. I'm a fan of romcoms. A scene in one, The Proposal, inspires this chapter.
Also, I haven't decided yet how much mobility House will recover long-term in rehab. My thinking at the moment is that he will largely be cane-free, though with particularly strenuous activities or long days needing cane support. This is because there are more interesting scenarios I can put him in if he is largely mobile. That being said, I am also aware that the cane is House's 'thing'. So, yeah, I'm happy to take advice on this from you guys if you wish to share your opinions. Otherwise, I'll just decide later!
Over the next month or so, apartment life settled into something of a routine. House's leg had healed to the extent that he no longer needed help in the shower, and in fact he was able to venture out for walks by himself, taking advantage of the warming weather. Cameron sometimes joined him, though with his ever-improving condition she had felt dutybound to take on more in-person work at the hospital, which drew her away for several days a week. House had suggested she milk her remote working situation for as long as possible, but it was against her nature to indulge in even the bluntest form of sharp practice. Besides, as Porter had claimed one particularly fraught Thursday, when she had been summoned in on short notice, the ER had sorely missed an eye for detail. It was not for her to ignore a plea for help.
So, upon driving home that same Thursday evening, Cameron found herself bone-tired and very much looking forward to seeing her roommate's face. This was how it was now. Away from the apartment she thought of House; in the apartment she still thought of House. She had long since been aware of these feelings, of course; slowly maturing over the weeks which became months, they had reached a point where a resemblance to those experienced just prior to, and after, House's shooting could no longer be disputed.
Cameron was in love again.
There is no 'again', she thought, parking up by the side of the road and walking into the lobby. I was never out of love.
Since she was at the hospital more frequently, and since he was also prone to walkabouts, House had come through last week and handed across a freshly cut key with the words: "just easier if we have our own things. It's not a gesture or anything. If you plan on raping and murdering me in my sleep, please do so in that order".
Cameron had laughed, promised not to commit any heinous crime, and accepted his offering. The thought that her nursing credentials might soon be superfluous to requirements, and what that might mean for their living situation, had crossed her mind. But she wasn't about to bring that up and refuse a key.
She used this now to open the door.
The lights were off.
"House?", she called, hanging up her light coat and placing her shoes neatly by the stand.
No answer.
Chances are he was holed up in his study, but this was empty as well.
A stab of disappointment, though she resisted the urge to text and inquire after his whereabouts. She wandered into the kitchen, grabbed a cookie from the jar, and munched it slowly. Mentally shrugging, she retrieved a pair of slacks and a t-shirt from her drawer in House's room and then went to the bathroom. It had been a long day, which required a long soak in turn.
While waiting for the tub to fill, she went back out to lock the door, navigated to her phone's music, and pressed play; then she grabbed a bath bomb and a candle, both of which she kept in her own portion of the cabinet, plopping the first into the water and lighting the second. This was something she liked to do whenever the opportunity arose, for her own apartment did not have a tub, and House being out lessened the slight guilt she felt at girly-ing up so ostentatiously under his roof.
Before long, Cameron had stripped off and sunk into the perfumed water, feeling her stresses melt away.
House had always liked evening jogs, even if 'jog' was an incredibly generous descriptor for what he was currently doing. But he had started out at a fast-ish walking pace, felt pretty good in his leg, and decided to speed up a touch. So, as his feet sort-of-but-not-at-all pounded the sidewalk, he found himself experiencing a rush of endorphins. Sure, his body still ached dully, but sometimes there was nothing for it except to strap on the running sneakers, flick over to some Led Zeppelin, and live life.
It helped that rehab had proven to be something of an ongoing success. This was the beauty—it seemed to actually work. There had been no 'visualise the healing' or 'breathe in and out deeply'. Instead, Carter had maintained a programme of consistent muscle exercises, which was all he needed. He was proud of staying away from Vicodin; proud of regaining a degree of mobility; and proud of his pace, turning into Baker Street and not stopping until he reached the outer doors, where he found a mom struggling with her toddler:
"Thomas, we've been through why daddy is no longer living with us…", she managed over her son's plaintive tones.
This explanation did nothing except trigger a meltdown.
House disliked excessive emotion at the best of times, so he turned his music way up, studiously avoided eye contact, and loped into the lobby and down his corridor, still breathing heavily. He tried his door and was surprised to find it locked. Cameron tended to be home by this time.
Nevertheless, he whipped out his key, let himself into the darkened living room, and went straight to the kitchen. Still humming along to his music, this time Sunshine Of Your Love by Cream, he bent over the sink and glugged straight from the tap for a full fifteen seconds, using his t-shirt to wipe his mouth.
House returned to the living room, eyeing the TV remote on the coffee table. But, before he could register quite what was happening, a figure emerged from the gloom and surged right for him.
With the music still loud in his ears he was taken completely by surprise. Instinctively, House stepped back while thrusting out his hands to soften the collision and perhaps fight off a possible home invader at the same time. But his foot caught on a sofa leg and he could feel himself fall, his flailing hands latching onto the intruder in a desperate attempt to regain his balance.
But it was no use.
As if in slow motion, he and the shadowy figure toppled over the armrest and collapsed in a heap onto the sofa.
"House?", cried Cameron against his chest. "Are you OK-? You scared me shitless!".
"Cameron?", he asked incredulously, still wincing from the shock. "What the fuck? Why are you running around in the pitch black? I thought you were a-, wait, what? Why are you-?".
It was at this point that House realised two things. Not only was Cameron soaking wet, but she was also completely naked.
One of his hands had ended up trapped between their chests; the other had hooked awkwardly under her arm. He attempted to wriggle free without touching anything sensitive, but given that she was lying bodily on top of him, this was proving difficult.
"Shit, sorry", he managed, her wet hair plastered over half of his face. "I didn't see you".
"Are you hurt?". Her voice was soft, almost timid. "God, if your leg-, I would never forgive-".
"-I'm fine", he interrupted quickly. "I think I am, anyway. The couch broke my fall. If you, er, shift a little…I can, um, free my arms".
Cameron didn't move for a few seconds and he thought that she was either in serious pain or else hadn't heard him. But, eventually, he felt her begin to disentangle herself. Both sat up, breathing heavily. Without another word, Cameron got to her feet and left the room.
House, meanwhile, regathered himself, cursing his inattention and the loud music. The phone in his pocket had jammed uncomfortably against his hip in the collision and he pulled it out, examining the screen for cracks while also turning off the audio. A quick check of body parts followed. Everything seemed in order.
Cameron soon returned, switching on the main living room light before sitting on the sofa. She had wrapped a towel round herself. "Are you sure you're OK?".
"Uhuh. You?".
"Oh, fine. You caught me pretty well, all things considered", she smiled.
House coughed and tugged an ear. "Yeah, sorry about that. Sorta wasn't expecting you to be home. Or running around in the dark. Or naked".
She tilted her head. "Hmm, weird. I do it most nights after you go to bed. I guess I just got my timings mixed up". She paused, watching House's face, then came clean: "I was having a bath with candles and music and stuff, and really thought a glass of wine would complete the experience; couldn't be bothered towelling off just to get a drink, so figured a quick jog and back, in and out, thirty seconds max".
"Right".
"I didn't think you were home—lights were off".
"Yeah, well", he muttered, gesturing towards the kitchen, "was gagging for a drink so didn't bother".
"No big deal", shrugged Cameron. "As long as you're not hurt".
"If I, uh, grabbed you…I didn't mean that. Like, it was really dark, and I didn't really-".
"-House, it's all totally cool. My fault, anyway; shouldn't have been running. Oh, look. I made you damp". She brushed his chest lightly, ostensibly to disperse some of the water and soap suds.
"I thought you grew up in a football family".
"I did", she replied, a little surprised by the randomness of his observation. "My dad and brothers".
"Your tackling technique could use some work".
"We didn't do much contact in the back yard. Tag only—mom's orders".
"I can tell".
Cameron grinned, though soon shivered as the water on her bare shoulders caught the air. "Obviously, if I'd known you were there I'd have taken you down. But since you're not a hundred percent yet, figured I'd go easy on you".
"Sure. Get back to your bath before you freeze".
"Fine", she sniffed, rising to her feet and heading through to the bathroom, but still managing to call back over her shoulder: "then you'll need to bring me my wine which, after all, is the whole reason this happened in the first place".
House sighed, rubbing his shirt, though he did eventually amble to the kitchen and pour her a glass. When he reached the bathroom he found the door ajar and music emanating from within. He knocked on the jamb and called out: "I'll leave the glass out here for you".
"No, that's no good. Just come in. I'm fully submerged", came the answer.
With a deep breath, House crossed the threshold, being careful to avert his eyes. In all the time they had lived together they had so far managed to avoid any potentially awkward situations. That streak looked about to go up in smoke. At least it wasn't by his doing. "Where do you want it?", he asked.
"In my hand, genius".
"Here". He passed the glass over, still with eyes cast down.
"House, you can look. Bubbles, see?".
He did, now, glance upwards. Cameron was indeed mostly covered by bubbles. Mostly. Ugh, she's so hot.
"Did you go for a walk?", she asked, eyeing him evenly over the wineglass rim.
"Mmm. I liked night running before, so thought I might try again; a fast walk-jog. I mean, it was a snail's pace compared to…". The words drifted off.
"You'll recover it all. You'll enjoy night running again".
"There's no way you can possibly know that". His gaze, which had hitherto remained largely down, now darted to her face.
"Just a…feeling I have". While replying, Cameron extended a leg slightly upwards, stretching nonchalantly. The hand not holding the wine slipped beneath the bubbles.
"You have a nice day?", he croaked, hoping that such an inane question would crush the strong urge he had to plunge his own hand into the water. This thing was getting dangerous.
"Busy. Glad to be back here".
House's eyes were drawn involuntarily to a rivulet of water trailing down her shin. It reached her knee and angled inwards, now progressing along her inner thigh, until finally meeting oblivion at the water's surface.
I could get in that bath with her.
I could feel her skin again.
I could fuc-.
"-I'm ordering Thai food!". This statement came out much louder than intended and he stifled a wince.
"Great!", she yelled back instantly.
House coughed and tried again, dialling it down a couple of notches: "you want in?". This time he was the epitome of casual indifference.
"Uhuh. My usual".
House gave a curt nod and left as the instantly recognisable opening bars of Edge of Seventeen by Stevie Nicks filled the bathroom.
Cameron smiled contentedly, her leg sliding back into the water.
