What I want

A.N. I've had the following bunch of entries in my mind for two years, though this particular chapter is (was) the only one with a notes file, to which I added over the months. All the same, it's still not perfect and I'm sure I'll find a spelling mistake or something later. I've tried to stay true to the spirit of this story and also of the series. It was always interesting to me how Cameron frequently took the initiative in seeking to pin House down as regards his feelings, so I've given her the starring role here, albeit with the supporting efforts of Cuddy especially. Elements of this chapter are inspired by a Friends episode (S9E9). Cameron's outfit is taken from a modelling photo of Jennifer Morrison (Cameron's actress) I found online.


Friday evening found House slouched on the sofa cradling a beer and watching TV while waiting for a certain baby-faced oncologist to arrive. Since Cameron and Cuddy were off out to the bar, he and Wilson had decided to have a dudes' night in, comprising the eating of pizza, the drinking of beer, and the watching of a film. House himself had his eye on Gladiator, which surely repaid a second or third viewing, but he didn't hold particularly strong feelings either way.

"When's Wilson getting here for boys' night?", came Cameron's voice from the hallway.

"It's dudes' night, OK?", answered House, taking a slug from the bottle. "We're gonna be doing 'dude' things".

"Sorry", replied Cameron, who had come through to the living room. "You mean like smashing drywall, drinking beer, and shouting so loudly people can hear you outside?".

"Yes, exactly. Meanwhile in the bar you and Cuddy'll be synchronising periods, comparing boybands, and-". House had been watching the screen, but he glanced over at Cameron who was busy grabbing her bag from its place by the door, and his comment stopped. She was dressed in a form-fitting yellow summer dress with black dots which ended mid-thigh and had neat navy buttons down the front. Completing the look was a thin black belt around her waist, a pair of green heeled sandals, and a simple silver necklace. Her golden hair was loose and wavy, framing her eyes, which had a subtle shadowing. None of the clothes he had seen before.

"And what?", she prompted, now turning to face him properly.

House met her gaze and blinked a couple of times, the TV forgotten.

"Greg?".

"Mmm? What's that?", he managed.

"You were in the middle of a sarcastic comment about what we'd be doing at the bar?".

House cleared his throat and got to his feet, though his eyes never left the immunologist. "That, er, that's a new dress?".

"From last year's sales; first time wearing it. Cuddy said it was a nice place, so…". As Cameron stood there completely still, she experienced a flashback to the poker night at the hospital when House had acted similarly in the office. Unlike back then, though, she didn't look away. "Do you, um, think it's smart enough?", she asked softly.

"Yeah, no, it's, uh, quite nice-, very nice", he replied, running a hand through his messy hair.

"Great". She flashed him a bright smile.

"You won't be cold?".

"I have my thing. Pass it to me? Just there". She pointed to the armrest by House's leg, over which her cardigan was folded.

"Sorry". He did as instructed and held it out.

"Why are you apologising?". When Cameron took it, she trailed her fingers deliberately over the back of his hand.

House was still looking at her, a strange expression on his face, and she got the impression that he was convincing himself to say something. In the event, however, all he muttered: "you look really nice, blondie".

"Thank you", she smiled again, automatically tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Perhaps offering that compliment had not been his original plan, but it stimulated a nexus of feeling within her all the same. "You could've come with us, if you wanted?".

"Oh, nah. Cuddy asked you, not me. Besides, it'll be cool to chill with Wilson tonight. Gonna see if I can get more info on Amber. Here, let me…". House reached out and neatened up the cardigan collar.

But when he pulled back, she intercepted his hand and held it against her cheek, as he himself had done a couple of months ago in Cuddy's office. "I'll see you later, hey?", she murmured.

"Yes".

Only a knock at the door ended the contact.

House exhaled and, regretfully, went to open it while Cameron regathered herself and her belongings.

"Yo, man", said Wilson, shrugging out of his coat. "I have the pizza if you have the beer. Hi, Cameron".

"Evening! Decided on a film? I think Greg's set on Gladiator". She threw her roommate a wink before retrieving her phone and checking the location of her Uber.

"That's…a possibility. You're off to Garcia's, right?", asked the oncologist.

"Uhuh. Been?".

"No; not got round to it yet. Thinking of taking Amber, actually".

"Ah, the mysterious Amber. Y'know, when she came here I originally thought she was a hooker". Cameron was referring to the time shortly before her birthday when Amber and House had met for a conversation. On her return to the apartment from work, surprised by the presence of an attractive blonde in the living room, Cameron had not been particularly hospitable.

"Yeah. One of Camster's finest moments", added House with a little smirk.

"Amber mentioned that", laughed Wilson. "I think you'd like her. Both of you". For a split second, he wondered whether he had misspoken with the inclusiveness of the last statement, as if implicitly accepting that House and Cameron were a package deal. But neither seemed perturbed. Indeed, the immunologist herself looked positively radiant, a combination of her clothes and demeanour, he supposed. Few people in New Jersey could survive for very long in close proximity to House. But Cameron had not just survived; she had thrived.

Cameron's phone buzzed and she rapidly typed out a message. "Alright, my Uber is here. You two have a nice dudes' night".

House reached for the door handle. "Send our regards to Cuddy. If you hook up with her, for the love of God take pictures. Preferably video".

"Acknowledged", grinned Cameron, patting his cheek.

"But seriously, ride a car back together".

"We will. Bye!".

Wilson, meanwhile, sank into the couch and pulled across the nearest pizza box. "Looks like we're starting with Texas BBQ".


Having enjoyed an exceptional meal at Garcia's, Cameron and Cuddy were in the bar sampling a selection of Spanish wines. Neither knew much about wine, but according to the sommelier the peninsula had experienced something of a revolution as far as the humble grape was concerned. So rather than pick out specific bottles, they asked for a tasting menu: glasses from various vintages and regions were brought before them at intervals and, like queens holding court, they delivered their judgements to each other.

"What are you getting from this? Oak and cherry?". Cuddy sniffed the latest glass and took a sip.

Now it was Cameron's turn. "Hmm. Maybe chocolate? Or burnt wood".

"I feel like those two flavours are very different, though".

"Yeah, but you gotta bear in mind that 'wine is a highly individual experience'". The sommelier had claimed this upon first visiting their table, so Cameron wasn't being entirely facetious in repeating it.

"Uhuh", smiled Cuddy. "How's it going with House?".

Up to now, the pair had stayed in professional territory. Cuddy had asked after Cameron's working situation alternating between apartment and hospital, and she had replied truthfully that Porter, indeed PPTH generally, had been extremely accommodating. And Cameron had asked Cuddy about her impression of Diagnostics under Foreman's leadership. Though she had received a fair idea from the fellows at the bar last month, it never hurt to get a second perspective. Cuddy's response tracked with what she already knew: Foreman was capable, hardworking, and just a little neurotic.

"Really well. As I mentioned a couple of days ago, he's making so much progress with the rehab. Honestly think he could regain mobility long-term".

"Without cane?", asked Cuddy, sipping her wine.

"Yeah, potentially".

"That's great".

The sommelier returned with a fresh vintage, offering some pointers as to taste. When he retreated, Cameron nodded: "I mean, obviously, nothing's guaranteed. There's still a long road ahead".

"And you'll be there for him".

"Yes".

"So…have you thought about when you're getting back together?".

"'When'? Not 'if'?", she smiled.

"I said what I said".

"Ah, look, I told him after the crash that we should hold off 'til he got better".

"Uhuh". The Dean, who had been examining her wine's colour, now shifted her gaze back to her companion.

"What?", prompted Cameron.

"We're friends now, right?".

"Yeah".

"Well, you're wasting time, Allison. Both of you are wasting time. I understand totally why you held off initially and, you know, that approach has definitely borne fruit. House of even one year ago would not have considered rehab; would not have endured without resorting to Vicodin. And there's no doubt that his lightning-fast progress has been down to the focus he has committed to things. But you're not seriously considering waiting forever, are you?".

Cameron sighed. Her colleague's words chimed very closely not only with those offered to her by one of this week's clinic patients, and even by Sebastian Charles in the cafeteria, but also with her own recent thoughts, which did not need regurgitating. The truth was she had no answer to Cuddy's question: how long was she able to wait before asking House the only thing that actually mattered?

"What're you thinking?".

Cameron rotated her wineglass on the table, taking a few moments before replying: "I hear what you're saying. But we broke it off-, House broke it off because our relationship jeopardised his work. People died, Lisa".

"Sure, I understand, of course. But these people were at death's door, anyway; any other doctors and they'd have died without even a shot at recovery. And, yes, it impacted his work, but he'll have to find a way to manage it better, frankly. Loads of doctors have happy relationships".

"House is different, though. He's not like other doctors. He's…single-minded. Special". The faintest trace of a smile danced around her lips as she delivered these words.

"Not good enough, sorry". Cuddy shook her head.

"What's your suggestion, then?".

"It's not my problem to solve. It's not even your problem to solve. House possesses the necessary brainpower; he'll need to find a solution to his own issue". Cameron nodded slightly at this, remaining quiet as the other continued: "what is not a solution is you guys staying apart. This has gone on long enough".

"Well…".

"You both deserve to be together", shrugged Cuddy. "I've known him a long time, and he's happiest with you—anyone can see this. I think you're happiest with him, too".

"I am", Cameron admitted.

"Then there's really no-".

"-forgive me, ladies". The sommelier sidled over once again.

"We've literally only just started on this one—give us a few minutes?", demanded Cuddy, whose annoyance was beginning to show at the interruptions.

"Sorry. But these drinks come with compliments of the gentlemen over there. They'd like fifteen minutes of your time". Glasses of champagne appeared before them. "Not that it matters", he added casually, "but this is an old Bollinger. Late nineties".

Both doctors glanced towards the bar, at which were sat two extremely handsome men with winning smiles.

Cameron rolled her eyes.

"We don't have to talk to them", said Cuddy.

"No, but I'd hate to refuse drinks that cost, what?", Cameron asked of the sommelier.

"The bottle which sourced these glasses comes in at three thousand and thirty dollars", he replied, tone vaguely smug, as if impressed at his own knowledge.

"A few minutes won't hurt, nothing's going to happen, and it might be kinda fun. Are you up for it?".

"Yeah. This champagne looks nice".

Cameron nodded, then looked to the sommelier. "Send 'em over. They get their fifteen minutes".

The guy inclined his head and moved off.

"How're we playing this? We're not actually letting them score here, right?".

"No way. How arrogant do you have to be to buy the most expensive drink on the menu, send over a third party, and expect us to swoon?"

"Sure, sure. I am single, though…".

"Well, you're welcome to go for it", chuckled Cameron. "As for me, I'm thinking fake name".

"Smart. What's yours?".

Before she could reply though, the two men came over and shook their hands. "Good evening. Thanks for agreeing to see us. This is Jon Peterson and I'm Alastair Banks".

"Hello", smiled Cameron thinly, gesturing to the empty seats which had been pulled up. "I'm Lissie House".

Cuddy shot Cameron a glance, but thought quickly: "and I'm Jemma Wilson".


House and Wilson were basking in the afterglow of Gladiator. "That's a classic, isn't it?", observed the latter, swigging from his beer bottle.

"Yeah, man. I mean, it obviously bears little resemblance to actual events, but you can't fault it for that".

"Feel free not to impart a history lesson. I ain't putting out no matter how smart you are".

"Wasted on you", House snorted, even if the phrasing brought his mind back to the night of his first date with Cameron, when they went go-karting. That had been a fun one. In any case, Wilson had said something similar at the time.

"So, um, how's it progressing with Cameron living here?".

"What, we're two housewives gossiping over the garden fence, are we?".

"Figured I'd ask", shrugged Wilson.

"Well, don't".

"I told you about Amber before we started on the film, to be fair".

"True".

The pair had indeed spent some time discussing the oncologist's girlfriend. Things seemed to be developing well. Unusually for him, Wilson had decided to take it slow and considered. When House regained complete mobility, he would need to undertake close-quarters reconnaissance. But this was enough for now.

"Anyway", announced Wilson, draining his bottle and rising to his feet, "reckon I'll be heading off. I need to pick up some more crap for my apartment tomorrow and I'd like to get it done early morning".

The sound of a key in the door accompanied his final words, and Cameron came through, Cuddy just behind: "hey, guys".

Wilson threw a salute. "Enjoy Garcia's?".

"Yep. Really nice". Cameron removed her cardigan and shoes, studiously avoiding House's eye.

"Wilson, are you heading home? We can share a car". Cuddy had remained standing just inside the threshold.

"I was gonna, but I would actually like to hear more about the place-".

"-I can fill you in on the way back". The Dean seemed keen to get out. In fact, she grabbed his hand and virtually pulled him through the open door.

"Um, OK? Bye, House. Thanks for-".

"-yes, hi, House; bye, House", Cuddy interrupted.

Three seconds later and they were gone.

House, who had not uttered a single word, looked at the closed door, shrugged, and sat back down. "So, how was your night?", he asked of Cameron.

"I'll tell you after I've washed my face and changed", she said, already heading for the bathroom.

"I'm getting ice cream. Want some?", he called.

"Nah, thanks. A glass of water would be nice, though".

Having taken the empty pizza boxes and bottles through to the kitchen, he scooped out his dessert, poured her a drink, and returned to the TV, flicking through channels randomly.

Cameron found him like this, and she sank into the neighbouring cushion on the sofa and took a few sips of water.

House noticed that she had changed into her nightwear and that he was currently sitting on her bed. "I can eat this in my room if you'd rather hit the sack".

"Don't be silly". She waved her hand. "You have fun tonight?".

"Mmm, yeah. Managed to find out some Amber things".

"Ah, cool".

"You?".

"Mmm?".

"How was your evening?", he asked deliberately, aware that she was likely a little drunk.

"Fine. We ate some great food, drank some great wine. Expensive. Won't be going there again".

"Paying for quality ain't so bad". House had half an eye on the TV screen as he ate ice cream, though he couldn't help but notice—as always—how beautiful she looked: the delicate lines of her face, her golden hair, the familiar set of her mouth. All these features caught the subdued light of his living room and caused a catch in his throat. He hid it with another mouthful.

"Hey, House? Can I ask you something?".

He sensed her incline towards him. "Sure".

"Why aren't we together again?".

The latest spoonful froze in mid-air, where it stayed for five seconds. "What?", he managed eventually, now turning his head in her direction.

"I asked you why we are not together", she repeated calmly.

The spoon returned to the bowl. "We agreed to stay apart until I was better".

"Well, more accurately, I said we should stay apart until you were better. You asked me out after the crash and I said no".

House nodded and set his bowl on the coffee table. "Right".

"I think you're in pretty good shape now. Don't you?".

"Yes", he nodded slowly. His heart rate increased exponentially as he chanced a glance at Cameron. She was looking straight at him. "But I'm not completely recovered".

"No", she conceded, lacing her hands in her lap. "But, to be completely honest, I'm struggling with our situation and have been for a while. House, look at me".

He did look at her. Those green eyes were shining.

"I'm sorry if it's selfish, but I don't want to wait any longer. It's time". She slid right over, closing the gap between them, and placed a hand over his. "I'm asking if you would consider taking me back, Greg".

House could feel his lips dry, and his heart thumped in his ears. But he still had to think rationally. Immediately his brain started to fire, making connections, drawing conclusions. With little conscious thought he found himself formulating arguments, creating explanations, refuting evidence. Familiar refrains circulated within his head:

It was her idea to hold off, not mine.

She's better off without you. You drag her down.

You might be crippled forever. Don't do that to her.

She has her whole life to find someone more suitable.

You've both been drinking tonight.

"I'm…not sure that's wise right now", he whispered softly.

"Why not?". Cameron's tone was firm and her fingers tightened over the back of his hand. "I know our relationship interfered with your work-".

"-don't care about that", he said automatically. But a further clarification was necessary: "well, no, I care about it. Just think I'd be better adjusted second time around. It must be possible to…balance things". As he spoke, his mind travelled back to any number of reflections and revelations upon which he'd alighted in their months apart: that, maybe, Cameron was herself a puzzle worth solving alongside his daily work; that, maybe, his life's loves didn't need to be in direct competition; that, maybe, he had been wrong to sacrifice genuine happiness for medical aptitude. Surely a pathway to both these states existed through the leaves and branches of emotional attachment.

Her eyes widened at this casual admission from him. It would have rendered her speechless had not the situation been so pregnant with possibility. "Then why?", she asked.

"You were the one who suggested we hold off, Cameron". He refused to meet her eye.

"And we have. You've done everything I wanted of you. Now I want you to take me back".

"It's not, it's not that simple", he sighed. "Things are complicated".

"It is simple. Love is not complicated", she insisted. "That is one thing I know now". Still her voice was calm, and he got the impression that she had been steeling herself for this moment.

"Cameron…".

"What? Don't you love me anymore?".

House scoffed, and he muttered something under his breath.

"I didn't hear-".

"-of course I still-!", he shouted suddenly, temporarily forgetting his aching limbs and leaping to his feet. "Christ, you're the only thing-, without you in my life every day, seeing me through this, I-, I'd probably be fucking dead, OK? You are the only reason I'm not dosed to the goddam eyeballs on Vicodin". He was breathing hard, his face set in a grimace; expressing these sentiments left him raw.

The words hit home, and it took her a moment to digest them. But soon she, too, was on her feet, seizing each of his wrists. "Then let me love you, House!".

"We can't decide anything now. It's…not right. We're both buzzed". He looked to the floor, and only her grip prevented him from pacing the room.

"No; nu-uh. We're dealing with this", she said, forcing calmness on herself.

"Cameron-".

"-I'm not finished. Cuddy and I had two hot guys buy us drinks tonight".

For the first time in a while, House's gaze darted upwards to hers.

"You know the type", she continued, looking into his eyes, "young, big arms, expensive haircuts. One of them, it turned out, was an actual Abercrombie and Fitch model. The other was some sort of hedge funder".

"Umm, OK…", he muttered. If Cameron aimed to make him jealous, she was succeeding.

"I was sipping thousand-buck champagne listening to these guys talk about their stressful, well-paid jobs; how they were still looking for Miss Right; how they really respected professional, career-focused women, blah, blah. And I realised suddenly that I literally did not care. I didn't want those guys. I want you, House. I understand I'm the one who put you off after the accident. But it's time now".

"Look-", he tried again.

"-still not finished". She took both his hands and held them to her cheeks. "I want to be with you, House. I want to make love to you, yes, but I also want you to fuck me six ways to Sunday. I want to sleep with you and wake up with you at my side. I want to go on dates with you. I want to live here permanently. I want to marry you and be your wife. I want you as the father of my children. I want to argue with you about schools and chores and college fees. I want your name on my lips every single day. Above all, I want you to let me love you again. And that's the truth. You may speak now".

House looked at her slack-jawed. Eventually he did muster a response: "I'd, I'd drag you down. My progress is good, but I'm not a hundred percent. I may never be a hundred percent; I may never be fully mobile". To be sure, these reservations rather paled into insignificance given the nature of what she had just confessed.

Cameron merely smiled. Tears, long threatened, began to fall. "Then we will face that scenario together".

"It's not smart for you to be with me. You could do a lot better. You could be with that Abercrombie model or that hedge funder. You could find someone beautiful, too". These doubts had never disappeared. The degree of self-loathing he felt for the way he was, the way his body functioned, justified such acts of resistance on behalf of those he loved. It had been ever thus—pushing away Cuddy in college, Stacy in Princeton, and Cameron now. They needed to be saved. They needed to be saved from himself.

Now she shook her head. "No, House. No. You don't get to make my decisions. I think you are beautiful, and I love you. Do you love me?".

House sighed. "You make it sound so simple when it's not".

"Forget whether it's simple or complex. Do you love me?", she repeated.

Sometimes there was nothing for it except to live life and accept reality.

Take that leap, Gregory. Who are you to refuse?

"Yes, of course", he murmured. "But I'm still not comfortable deciding this when we've both been drinking. I listened to you, and I'd like you to listen to me".

Cameron nodded, realising that she had nearly won the battle.

"I want to sleep on this; we both should. If we still feel…positive tomorrow, in the cold light of day…then, well, we can move forwards".

"A reasonable request". In a way, given his struggles with substance abuse, it made perfect sense that he would wish to be clear-headed. Cameron had waited for many months. Another night was nothing.

"So you can delay a little longer?", he asked softly. "It's not that I don't want to-".

She pressed a finger to his lips. "-you don't need to justify your rationality to me, Greg. I will respect your process".

"In that case, I'm going to get ready for bed". House rubbed her tears away with a thumb, ensuring that no trace of her distress remained. Then he took a step back and managed a wonky smile: "good night, Cameron. Until tomorrow".

Now, finally, she beamed back. "Good night, House. I will be dreaming of you. As always".