TMI (2)
A.N. It's been a couple of weeks since the last update. I hope you haven't all forgotten what's happening in this story. If you have, it's not your fault. I take full responsibility for slowing the upload schedule. Real Life is intervening. Things should get back to normal in January, so fear not.
Also, today is a special day: it's the one-year anniversary of Confessions (give or take three days)! Special thanks to all the lovely readers who have shared their thoughts on this thing; and especially to those who leave regular comments (you know who you are!). Before I started, I innocently believed that my Hameron obsession was unique to me. I'm very thankful that it's not. Will this story still be here in another year's time…? Now that's a question.
House pulled up to the smart building Wilson had directed him towards and saw his friend waiting impatiently on the sidewalk. "Before you say anything-", began the nephrologist, helmet scarcely removed as the other marched over to the bike.
"-what the actual fuck, House. I've been waiting for forty goddam minutes. Fortunately, Wendy has a gap until her next visit otherwise they'd have been scraping you from the tarmac. At least have the common courtesy to let me know you're running late. You told me last night that you would help me find a new place, but if you can't even be bothered to turn up on time…I'm doing this for your benefit, too. You're the one constantly complaining I live too far away".
House held up a hand and for once he could not justify a sarcastic retort. "Yeah, look, sorry. No excuse. I'm here now, hey, buddy?".
Wilson was unhorsed by the apparent contrition. This was unexpected. "Why were you so late, anyway?", he demanded, recovering quickly.
"Combination of factors, really", House admitted as the pair walked towards the front door. "Went to bed late, woke up late, kinda sorta had Cameron all up in my jock this morning. Oh—and I can't stress this enough—I forgot".
"Great, so while I was standing here twiddling my thumbs on a perfectly respectable Saturday morning, you were having sex".
"Well, technically, I didn't actually get to the sex part. Did the text not make that clear?". Wilson's annoyed expression did not soften, and House coughed discreetly before continuing: "anyway, what matters is that team Hilson are reunited again for this incredibly important day in your life. Hey, remember when you were living with me, and I put a tie on the door, and you thought I had a girl in there, when really I was tugging one out, and so you sat outside on the doorstep for, like, three hours? Good. Times".
"I'm not happy, Greg. Not happy".
House clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Tell you what: after we're done here why don't I buy you a burrito for lunch? I even brought my wallet and everything".
"What about Cameron?", asked Wilson. Though loath to pass up on House's rare offer of paying for food, his better nature dictated doublechecking that she was not sat at 221B Baker Street just staring at the walls. The realtor, meanwhile, gave them a wan smile and immediately made her way through to the kitchen, allowing the two men to wander around at their own pace.
"She's happy poking around my place". House ambled down the hallway but turned back upon sensing that the other had not followed. Wilson was looking at him strangely from the doorway. "What's that expression for?".
"You've genuinely given Cameron the green light to snoop around your apartment?".
"Uh, yeah. No big deal". It was probably not the time to confess that the possibility of sex on the hotel balcony in London had also contributed to his allowing Cameron a look around.
"You hate people touching your stuff".
"Cameron isn't 'people'. Are you coming or what? I'm hungry—sacrificed my breakfast to come do this and it's turning into the biggest regret of my young life".
"Says the forty-something year old", scoffed Wilson, who did finally join his companion in the hallway. But he could not resist another comment: "if you're letting her do that…this relationship is pretty serious".
House's expression softened before he caught himself and quickly composed his features. Wilson, however, was observant and his jaw tensed: he had not seen such a look on his friend's face since the glory days of Stacy. Pieces clicked into place as his brain processed this new development.
"So, this is what it feels like to be in the presence of someone else's epiphany", sighed House. "Pretty unpleasant".
"Holy Moses…you love her! You're in love!". Wilson's voice was loud and triumphant.
"Keep it down, will you? I don't think the realtor heard".
"For how long? Not since…not since that day in my office, right? That was a long time ago".
"Hell, no. Can we look around now, please? I just adore this wallpaper, don't you, James?".
"Have you told her?". Wilson was not letting this go.
House rolled his eyes. "Yes".
"And…?".
"And we agree you're incredibly annoying. Like, really annoying. What are we thinking about these drapes?", he called from the living room.
"It can all be changed", replied Wilson, who once again returned to his pet theme. "So, what did she say? Nah, don't tell me. I can already guess what she said".
"Oh, yeah? Know her like the back of your hand, do you?", he smirked.
Wilson wandered over to join House and stuck out his hand. "Congratulations, buddy. Long may it last".
The latter shook his head in exasperation but nevertheless accepted the handshake.
"How are we finding the rooms, then?", asked the realtor as she made her way over to her clients. "Spacious, sleek, perfect for a modern couple. I think you two could be incredibly happy here".
Following a shower, Cameron made her way back into the bedroom and the clothes she had surmised actually stood a chance of fitting. As expected, the vast majority of House's stuff was far too big. But nestled right at the bottom of several drawers had lain respectively an old hoodie stamped 'University of Michigan', a pair of worn tracksuit bottoms which looked suspiciously like they had belonged to a cheerleader, and a dress shirt which would not have been out of place in a High School Musical prom scene. Of course, nothing was stopping her simply wearing the outfit from bowling last night, but it felt more significant to wear something of House's.
The woman appraised her somewhat ragtag appearance in the mirror. The knowledge of the last time she was in this spot, during their first night together, combined with the feel of his clothes against her skin, sent an erotic pulse shuddering through her body. After a steadying breath, and a ruffle of her still-damp hair (there was no sign of a hairdryer), she moved to the centre of the room.
Where to start, where to start…
Cameron padded over to the large window which looked out onto the street. The day's early sunshine had given way to grey skies, and a strong wind plucked at the bare branches of the trees which studded the sidewalk. For a couple of minutes she stood and watched pedestrians and cars pass by, completely content. This was central Princeton, just a touch closer to the hospital than her own place, and she peered down the road in the direction of work. After a final glance outside, she turned and considered the room once again. The bedside table. Sitting on House's side of the bed, she opened the drawer. Nothing much of interest in here: condoms, an old glasses case, and a couple of battered paperbacks, neither of which she had read.
Closing the drawer, she turned her attention to the bed. It really was a beautiful thing. The carvings she had spied their first night together were not as random as it had first seemed. The headboard boasted a large tree on each edge, their forest of branches twining across the width, before meeting in the middle. A closer look revealed delicate butterflies playing among the leaves and bark, and the scene was overspread by a radiant sun. House had said that the bed was Japanese, and a quick Google revealed the butterfly to be one of Japan's national symbols. The trees must be cherry blossoms. The whole structure looked incredibly expensive. She ran a hand over the wood, reflecting on the things it had seen. So this is where the magic happens.
Next, she moved to the bookcase which rested against the far wall. This was something she had already browsed briefly, but it didn't hurt to revisit the shelves. As she remembered, a good half of the items were history-focused, and many of these were undersized books of either solid red or green. She took out a red book entitled Cicero's Philippics and leafed through the pages, which had Latin on one side and English on the other. A few more reds, chosen at random, revealed the same layout. Upon carefully replacing the books, she selected a green. Homer's Odyssey. This was an author of whom even she had heard. This time the language was Greek with facing English translation. Just for fun, she tried to identify a few of the characters: alpha, pi…sigma? House had never mentioned Greek as one of his languages, but if he knew Latin, there was a fair chance he knew Greek, too; or at least enough to sign his name, since she could distinctly recall these letters on one of his reports the first day back.
Bookcase exhausted, Cameron moved over to his wardrobe and drawers. There was no need to spend much time here, since House's range of attire was limited. True to form, there was a bunch of shirts and t-shirts, most of which were familiar. He kept only a couple of suits, one of which she remembered fondly from the hospital poker evening last year. House dressed casually by habit, but the man filled out evening wear extremely well. Everything was neatly packed away, if a little creased around the edges. With a final glance on the upper shelf, half-expecting to find his fabled porn stash, she closed the doors and left the bedroom to continue her tour.
House and Wilson were eating lunch together at a nearby Mexican joint. The former took a huge bite of his burrito followed by a slurp of Coke. When he looked up, he saw Wilson grinning moronically at him. "For God's sake, will you stop being weird. No wonder the realtor thought we were a couple".
"I'm just amazed that you've allowed Cameron free rein. Aren't you afraid that she'll find skeletons in the closet?", replied the other, dipping his nachos in salsa before swallowing a few.
House grunted. "OK, I know I'm a freak, but you're making it sound like I'm Jack the Ripper".
"No, but...aren't you afraid of, I dunno, TMI? What if she finds your porn collection or something?". Wilson looked closely at his friend.
"So what?", he shrugged. "Unlike you, I'm not a prude. There's nothing she could find that I'd be embarrassed about. Anyway, I think her motive is more intellectual, which is actually a bit of a turn on".
Wilson made a face. "Thanks for telling me that".
"No worries, hermano". House chewed thoughtfully for a few moments. "So", he continued, moving the conversation forwards, "Mathilde seems nice".
"Yeah. It was a smart effort to enlist Cameron in your little intelligence-gathering mission. I was expecting something a touch more direct".
"Well, I was all for kidnapping. Y'know the routine: unmarked van, fake plates, blindfolds. But the Camsternator convinced me her way was better. How many dates have you been on?".
Wilson took a few mouthfuls before replying. "Just two. I dunno how serious it's likely to be. I'm just glad to be out and about again, honestly".
"Of course you are. As long as you don't suggest a double date it's all good".
"Unlikely". At length, Wilson finished his food and wiped his hands on a napkin. "Were you aware that Cameron was a killer at bowling, by the way?".
"Absolutely not. It's kind of funny, really".
"In what way?".
"If you'd asked me a year ago about her hobbies, I wouldn't have cared one iota. But now...it's like there are layers to her that I'm still unravelling. Like an onion".
"Who'd have thought that getting shot would have had such an impact, eh?".
"Physically or emotionally?".
"Both. How is the leg, anyway?". That was one thing Wilson had generally neglected to ask after. Not for any particular reason—he just assumed that if there had been an issue, he would have spotted it himself.
"Fine. Regular swimming's working a charm. As is regular sex with an athletic younger woman", added the diagnostician with a smirk.
"I miss the days when you were single and grumpy".
House merely snorted in response and the pair lapsed into silence, content to relax into the gentle hubbub of the dining area.
Following a careful examination of the living area, Cameron moved towards House's study. Shelves lined the hallway on one side, and she ran her finger along the spines, noting the titles. They were almost exclusively medical in nature. Though she had walked through this area frequently since their second date, now was the first time she had complete freedom to explore, and it took around fifteen minutes even to reach her destination. The office was a small room, which seemed even more cramped thanks to yet more shelves and a television stuffed into the corner next to the desktop machine.
She sat in the leather chair. Setting aside the article, which rested on the keyboard, she started to peek inside the drawers. These, she quickly realised, were brimful of useful information: old articles, random doodlings, numerous battered notebooks; all these lingered under her inquisitive eye during this phase of the investigation. The fascinating aspect was that only about half of the documentation actually concerned their profession. Indeed, she spent a full ten minutes simply looking at a physics paper House had written while still at college. He had told her months ago that particle physics had been a genuine possibility at one point, and this must have been a product of that phase of his life.
As Cameron continued, she noticed once again how few personal touches existed in this, House's inner sanctum. Not even here was there a photograph or a plant pot. Instead, the space was given over to puzzles of all descriptions: medicine, science, music, sports; in that order of importance. Thirty minutes later, with the desk drawers finished, the brunette was on the point of bringing the article into the living room to read on the couch when she spied under her feet a box marked 'Super important work stuff'. Curiosity got the better of her, and she crouched down to pull it out. The contents were immediately obvious, and she laughed out loud. House's porn collection. Well, she thought, he did say I could look at it.
House entered his apartment later that afternoon. "Cameron?".
"I'm in here!", came the reply.
He hung up his coat and removed his shoes before walking through to the kitchen where, to his surprise, he saw an aproned Cameron retrieving a baking tray from the oven. "Err, whatcha doin'?".
"I baked cookies", she declared triumphantly. "White chocolate and hazelnut".
"They smell nice", said House, moving over to lean against the worktop. Cameron had betrayed no hint at all that she knew her way around cooking apparatus, so it was something of a surprise to catch her red-handed, as it were.
"Here. Careful, it's hot". Cameron directed a cookie at his mouth, and he took a tentative bite. Surprisingly tasty. "Verdict?", she asked expectantly.
"Surprisingly tasty". House finished eating and looked at her as she placed the tray to the side.
"Thanks. I think". Cameron tilted her head. "What're you gawking at?".
"Gawking?".
"Yes. Gawking. I know words, too, y'know. Well?".
"Nothing. It's just pretty sexy coming home to you baking in my kitchen", admitted the man, folding his arms. "Did you read my article?"
"I did, and I'd like to talk to you about it over cookies and coffee. What've you got there, then?", she asked, gesturing towards a box he had brought in with him.
"Here. Open".
She took it, eyebrow raised, and slipped a finger between the cardboard fold: "well, there's no way it can be a brownie this time". House remained silent as she unwrapped the package and held it aloft. It was a motorcycle helmet. "House, I...", she murmured, lost for words.
"We can change the colour if you want, but black and blue was all they had in what I guessed was your size. At least you don't have to wear mine anymore, hey? We'll need to get you a proper leather jacket, too, but they didn't have the brand I wanted in stock".
"I, this is...incredibly thoughtful, Greg. I love it". Cameron wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, embarrassed by the sudden onset of tears. Even now, after everything they had done together, his unexpected generosity could still move her. "Thank you".
"Why do you always cry when I do nice stuff?", he grinned. "Try it on, then, while I have another cookie".
She laughed thickly and duly put on the helmet, which was a snug fit.
House, still munching, placed a hand either side and tested the leeway with a practised feel. "How is it? Not too tight?".
"No. It's great", returned the slightly muffled voice.
"Nice. Wanna go for a test ride after the article debate?", he asked. Cameron removed the helmet, gently placing it to the side, before taking the other's hand wordlessly and leading him out of the room. "Err, what's up?".
"Bedroom", replied Cameron shortly.
"But I thought we were going to-?", he started.
"-I don't care what you thought we were going to do", she announced, "because I'm going to suck you dry, soldier. Right now".
House gulped, wolfing down the cookie he had managed to grab on the way out. Though he would never claim to love food more than sex, it was always a close-run thing.