Chill
Foreman was working at House's desk Thursday morning waiting for the others to arrive. Though they didn't have a case, he liked to encourage early starts. If pressed, he would admit it stemmed from a desire to adjust a few things from the previous regime. House hadn't really done mornings, so insisting on them seemed an easy way to make his mark. It wasn't all surface change, though, and the work they had done largely spoke for itself. Of course, none of them possessed their boss' uncanny flashes of insight, but all had chipped in over the last month and a half. Chase, for instance, without Cameron's beauty distracting him, had produced one or three diagnoses. Foreman supposed that the Australian, out of all the fellows, was most like House in many respects.
As acting head of Diagnostics, he had taken to reflecting on his colleagues' abilities. He saw this as a natural part of his remit, alongside the paperwork. There were actually a number of administrative and evaluative tasks that required attention, and he had made it a habit to complete these ahead of time. Each week he met with Cuddy; each week he reported their successes. Things were pretty good, all things considered.
Foreman's thoughts were interrupted by Thirteen's entrance into the conference room. He had watched her closely throughout her probationary period. The professional side of him would claim that he was only ensuring the quality of her work. The personal side, no doubt, would claim another motive entirely. Truly, the woman was drop-dead gorgeous. Maybe she even surpassed Cameron in that respect. Quite how PPTH's Diagnostics department could attract such beautiful people was beyond him. Even Chase was the kind of guy made for Disney princesses.
Taking a deep breath, he wandered through. "Morning", he smiled. At least, he hoped it was a smile. He didn't have much reason to use those muscles all that frequently.
True enough, Thirteen raised an eyebrow curiously. "Morning. I was about to answer emails…?".
"Cool, yeah, great. Thanks for taking the lead on that stuff". Foreman leant against the bookcase in what he imagined to be a casual pose.
"You, um, OK?".
"Uhuh, yep. We don't have a case lined up, so…". He waved a hand in the air and drifted off.
"I figured as much. Yesterday was pretty full-on, huh?". Their case had involved a bitter struggle between divorced parents over the treatment of their child. Only the intervention of Cuddy had resolved things. The thought had crossed Foreman's mind (and probably Chase's, too), that if House had been present, he would have forced an outcome much sooner. But shock and awe wasn't Foreman's style; far better to do things by the book.
"Yeah. I can't imagine reaching a place in a relationship where you just hate each other to that extent".
Thirteen shrugged. "Who knows what goes on between people or behind closed doors?".
"True. But the way you say that makes it sound like you've got experience".
Again Thirteen shrugged, declining the invitation to share feelings.
"Anyway, if you wanted to take the day to work on that paper, you're more than welcome", said Foreman eventually.
"Actually, there's a TB conference starting downstairs—was thinking of heading over". Still focused on email, she scanned a message, typed out a rapid reply, and tabbed to the next.
"Ah, good point. Sebastian Charles. You know we treated him a while back?".
"Yeah? How was he?".
"Annoying; kept trying to lead the differential".
"Mmm. I guess it's hard for doctors to be patients". At that, a shadow crossed Thirteen's face, but she continued so quickly that Foreman supposed he may have imagined it: "still, he's doing great work, in regions of Africa most Americans have never heard of".
"You're an idealist?", he asked.
"Is it idealistic to appreciate when those with expertise want to help people?". She sat back and folded her arms, grey eyes unwavering.
"Fair point. You never did get to spend much time with House, did you? Before his accident".
"Nope. Why?".
"No reason, really. He'd just…appreciate…your perspective".
Thirteen gave a short laugh. "Sure, I didn't get to know him, but I sense he's the kinda guy who doesn't appreciate much".
Now Foreman shrugged. "Depends in what sense you mean. He appreciates the work; he appreciates the puzzle. I think he also appreciates…certain people". Cameron's features flashed before his mind's eye. "But, generally", he continued, "I'm inclined to agree with you".
"I wouldn't have pegged you as a deep reader of other people's feelings", smirked Thirteen.
"Yeah, yeah", he sighed from his position by the bookcase. "You saying I have the emotional range of a coffee cup?".
"You said it, not me. Anyway", said Thirteen, rising to her feet and removing her white coat, "if it's fine with you, I'm gonna go learn about TB and other infectious diseases".
"Uhuh, go ahead. I'll finish some paperwork, talk with Chase, and maybe head there myself".
"Well, see you round, then". With a final wave, she left the office.
Foreman, even though he was now alone, stifled a little smile before returning to his desk.
Cameron and House, as they had done so many times in the recent past, were sitting together on the squeaky leather couch at 221B Baker Street. "OK, so, you can either do your presentation from here or from your study".
"If I did it in the study there'd be no room for you to sit next to me", he pointed out.
The immunologist glanced across in surprise. "Oh, you were intending for me to watch?".
"You don't want to?".
"I just assumed that you'd prefer your own space, not have me in your eyeline".
"You assumed wrong. Let's do it here". He patted the leather. "The talk, that is", he clarified. "Not…not, er, anything else".
"All in good time, sir", winked Cameron.
House stretched his arms out, enjoying the fact that his chest and ribs no longer hurt as much. "Turns out I'll need to borrow your laptop and microphone".
"No worries. Do you know what conferencing platform they want you to use?".
"Yeah. Old 'Sea Bass' sent me the link yesterday. Here". He pulled up the information on his phone and Cameron duly signed in. This complete, she plugged in the various bits of hardware.
"You should be good to go. I've blurred your background. Remember, you'll need to press this button", she hovered over it with her USB mouse, "to share your slides".
"Blah, blah. I know all this; I'm not a complete dinosaur. Would you grab me some water?".
"Sure. When're you scheduled?".
"Like five minutes ago?".
"Jeez!". Cameron jogged from the room, returning thirty seconds later with the glass, which she placed adjacent to the laptop.
House had logged in and she could see over his shoulder that he was already in session, the feed being beamed into a lecture theatre at the hospital. As expected, there seemed to be a large audience in attendance. The memory of their joint panel in London, at which he had also been the star attraction, came back to her. Times like these made her realise, if she'd ever forget, how smart he was. On an international scale.
Since House wasn't speaking she assumed that the organiser on-site was introducing him, and she took the opportunity, having sunk into a nearby chair, to appraise his appearance covertly while he was focused on the screen: one or two more wrinkles around the eyes, a dash more grey through the messy hair, but still that lean body, short stubble, bright eyes, and not-quite-tanned complexion (how this was possible already in early spring she didn't know). Were it not for the clunky leg cast bulging out from under his shorts he would almost have looked completely healthy.
House caught her eye and stuck his tongue out at her. While she smirked, he launched into his presentation.
Cameron sat back to listen, a notepad and pen in her lap.
Around forty minutes later, House slapped down the laptop lid and sat back in the sofa, breathing heavily. The talk had taken a lot out of him.
Cameron, who had been watching with a mixture of admiration at the content and anguish at the physical toll playing out on his face, went immediately to his side. "How are you?".
"Tired. And my leg hurts", he grimaced back.
"This was a bad idea. You're sweating". She brushed a thumb across his forehead and rose, jogging through to the kitchen for the second time today and returning with a damp cloth.
"You don't need to fuss. I'll be fine in a few minutes".
"I'm not fussing. Now sit still".
He moved to grab the cloth. "Cameron, I'm-".
But she slapped his hand away. "-fine. Yes, you've said. Now sit still". Gently, she drew the damp cloth over his skin, ensuring that no part of his face was left uncooled. Then she went to the drinks cabinet in the corner and poured him a scotch, holding it out wordlessly as she resumed her place.
House tilted his head enquiringly. "In the middle of the day…?".
"In the middle of the day", she nodded. "Drink".
He shrugged and downed the contents in one swallow, relishing the burn. Cameron still sat looking at him worriedly. "Stop your fretting", he grunted. "I feel good. So, what do you think?".
"I think that I should've pushed back when Cuddy suggested you do this paper". She had always hated seeing him in pain. Even before they got together, she could sense his discomfort and had gone out of her way to accommodate his movements. None of her colleagues had understood this impulse, or explained it away as an aspect of her unfortunate caring attitude. They, like House himself, had never known the truth.
"I was referring to my paper", he clarified, gesturing vaguely towards the laptop resting on the coffee table.
"It was brilliant, as I knew it would be. I honestly have no idea how you can make those links you do between the spike proteins in virus assembly and drug-resistant TB. Like, there's not much crossover there".
"Not directly, no. But the principle's similar. If I had more time I'd've run a full study accounting for atmospheric factors, transmissibility, et cetera. But there's only so much you can do sitting at a computer for a couple of weeks. Plus, the porn wasn't going to watch itself".
"When were you looking at that?", she laughed. "I've been here most days".
"It has been tricky", he admitted. "You've definitely impacted my viewing schedule. Time was I'd have locked you out of the apartment as I did with Wilson when he stayed here".
"What?! He just sat outside while you were giving yourself a good time?". Cameron laughed again and House couldn't help but smile. He really liked hearing it.
"Pretty much", he grinned. "I mean, I put a stethoscope on the door, so he figured it was an actual live woman. Not my problem".
"You're a freak".
"Aww, thanks. You too".
"When was this again?".
"Couple of years ago? Around the time of gold-poisoning woman. I was scoffing Macadamia nut pancakes in the office and you got all 'Cameron'-y on me".
"It's true", she nodded thoughtfully. "I was kinda uptight back then".
"You still are". A smirk accompanied House folding his arms.
"Oh, what? I thought I'd become pretty chill in recent times".
"You? Chill? No".
"I am". Cameron brought her legs up to fold them on the couch and faced him, her indignation not entirely feigned.
"No".
"I am!", she repeated.
Now it was House's turn to laugh and he inclined towards her slightly. "Why d'you care so much, anyway? S'all good, man".
"I just feel like I'm not being given a fair shake by the jury, is all. A split decision isn't conclusive".
"Hmm. Well, there's not really any way to prove 'chill'. You either have it or you don't. And, unfortunately, you do not have it, ma'am".
"Come on", she exclaimed, pointing towards his head, "put that big brain to use and think of a test for me to demonstrate how chill I am".
"Cameron, there is no test. It's an innate quality, like evolution or Star Trek. Anyway, I could do with a dose of painkillers. All this talking has given me a headache as well as leg ache". When she didn't move, still frowning at him, he added: "nurse! Nurse!", and grabbed his leg cast dramatically.
Finally, she rolled her eyes and went out to retrieve the pills and a refill on the water glass, which she had taken up on the way past. House, meanwhile, smiled to himself. It was fun to tease Cameron. Sure, she could hold her own, but she would never win. No one ever won against him.
When the immunologist returned, she placed the now full glass on the coffee table and held out her hand, the pills in her palm. "These are the last two. I'll need to head in later and restock".
"You're a good one-", he began, reaching out for the medicine.
But, quick as a flash, Cameron popped the pills into her mouth. "Oopsh", she managed. "My han' shlipped".
House sat in stunned silence for a moment. His initial thought, of mild betrayal, was that she had swallowed his allocation simply to spite him. Then he noticed that she wasn't chewing and, presumably, hadn't swallowed at all.
Comprehension dawned.
"Are you seriously doing this right now?", he asked, folding his arms and looking up at her.
"Wha'?", she shrugged nonchalantly but still managing to sink into the neighbouring cushion on the sofa. "I jus' shed m'hand shlipped. Inn'cent mishtake".
"That's not very nurse-like of you, downing my meds".
"Meds shtill 'ere". She pointed at her own mouth. "Dough can feel 't disholvin'. You'll need t'dig quick".
House considered trekking into the bathroom and checking his stash on the off chance that she had been lying about the supply level. But he really couldn't be bothered to make the journey. "Come on, Chicago…", he tried again.
But she was unmoved and made a show of glancing at her wristwatch. "Time'sh tickin'".
"This isn't funny, Cameron. In fact, it's really dishonourable". House tried a glare. "Not the way to play the game".
"Blue eye'sh not affect me. Tick…tock". She flashed him a toothy grin, her cheeks slightly bulged.
"Such a low blow", he muttered.
"La'sh call, all abo'rd…".
"This changes nothing", announced House, leaning over and meeting her lips with his. They didn't open immediately, and he had to bring up a hand to prise them open with a thumb.
Cameron started laughing, which made it harder to maintain a closed seal. Eventually, after a few seconds of jostling, she admitted defeat and opened her mouth, allowing his tongue to burst through. She could feel him attempting to locate the pills and tried to play defence herself, shifting them back and forth, but, as she had long known, House was very good with his tongue.
In an effort to distract him, she cupped his rough cheek and actually began kissing him even as he remained intent on hooking the pills. One, then both, left her willing mouth as he swallowed them, barely breaking contact at all.
They made out passionately for about ten seconds before House drew back, his eyes aflame. "You made me do that".
"Guilty as charged". Cameron rubbed away stray moisture from his mouth with a thumb, just as he had done with her earlier.
"This changes nothing", he repeated. Even though their hearts were beating rapidly, both played cool the fact that it had been their first kiss in a few months.
"Mmm. But now do you think I'm chill?", she asked softly.
"A bit, I guess. But mainly I think you're a cheater".
"Good—probably best you learn that now". Finally she sat back, a look of triumph on her face. "It's pretty hard to keep pills in your mouth".
"Maybe for you, lightweight", snorted House. "I'm an expert pill-taker".
"And I'm an expert swallower, so go figure". A suggestive wink.
House shook his head, refusing to take the bait. "So dishonourable…".
"Uhuh. So…I won that tongue wrestle, d'you think?".
"Hmm. Call it a draw?". He extended his fist.
"Deal", Cameron giggled, bumping against it with her own.