Author's Notes:

This is a sequel to "His Little Girl is All Grown Up" so if you haven't read that, you are going to be pretty damned lost. So go give it a read. If you love Hameron, I promise you'll like it. It is my twist on what I wish canon would have been starting in season 6.

Just tack this onto the end of the ff . net URL and enjoy!

/s/11585797/1/His-Little-Girl-Is-All-Grown-Up

To the returning fans: I couldn't leave it alone! So I caved in and started up on the season 7 rewrite. Most of you opted for sticking to the 2nd person House POV, so that's the plan. Fair warning, I am neck deep in a completely AU story and the act of complete universe creation is rather involved so I'm finding I'm going to need more time to do this right before I start publishing chapters. Because of this, updates here will be slower, I'm going to shoot for every two weeks rather than weekly. But I find it is helpful to have this story around to clear my mind when I get stuck in my other story.

So here's where it's going to start getting harder to just follow along with each show. After 'fixing' season 6, watching so much Huddy in season 7 is most confusing and upsetting knowing what we know will happen. :/ - But I am still following the cases and big life events where it makes sense and the first couple of chapters will sort of follow along with 2 Selfish. But with all the Huddy it is a challenge, but I felt like we needed to tackle the first day back to work for Hameron just as much as the real show did for Huddy. And I left a ton of awful between our favorite couple and the Dean of Medicine, and I want tackle that too.

Another huge thanks to atavares for the beta! Here we go again!

That's enough of my drabble for now. On with the damn story already!

Becoming Us: Chapter 1

Giddy.

It's really the only word you can come up with to describe the feeling in your gut as you ride into work with your fiancée for the first time. It's far too early but, since you were wide awake, you started looking forward to the looks you'll get from your team when you announce your engagement.

Twirling your new skull-handle cane, the one you passed up once before in favor of the flames, you thought back on your morning.

She had woken you up with morning sex, because she had woken up with your morning wood resting gently against her ass. There was that 'oh shit moment' five minutes in when you realized you had forgotten the condom. Goddamn rubbers. It just isn't the same.

Pulling out, dressing up Little Greg, and continuing with the now strange barrier, felt wrong with Allison. You are almost sorry that you skipped that step, because now that you're stuck with them for a little while, after always having her as nature intended, sucks balls.

Well, that's an exaggeration. Sex with her never sucks, even with the unnatural covering. Just keep telling yourself it's only a few days. She's close to the end of her cycle, at least. You should know by Wednesday. The odds are low, but you can't help but wonder, What if?

"Penny for your thoughts," she asks, as she navigates the last couple of blocks to the hospital.

"I know the chances are really low, but I'd be completely okay if…"

"I doubt I am, but yeah, me too."

"I mean, that's not to say I don't think it'd be better for us to be together for a little while before we do that on purpose."

"I think we're on the same page, Greg. Just means we're revisiting that conversation a little sooner than later."

You start fiddling with the ring you now wear on your left hand. It's an odd sensation. You haven't worn a ring since your high school class ring and you lost that at some party during your freshman year of college. Well, you're pretty sure some girl you slept with took it, but hey, lost sounded better to your mother.

You never really thought about it before, but when you saw the small selection of male engagement rings, it seemed logical that you both should get to mark your territory, so to speak. And it really was a cool ring. Double banded, a silver inner ring with a small ridge separating two smaller copper band overlays, held in place by small silver rivets.

It was handmade and had a rustic look to it. The jeweler explained that it was more common in The States for men to wear an engagement ring on their left hand, but there was no hard and fast rule that it couldn't be worn on the right. But wearing it on your right hand doesn't scream 'taken' to you, so you opt to wear it on your left ring finger. Of course now one might take it for a wedding band. A non-traditional looking wedding band to be sure, but a wedding band just the same.

Allison surprised you by choosing something very simple for herself. You left the apartment with the idea you'd be buying a rock and a half like the one she receive from Chase. But she picked a simple thin silver band, with three small diamonds, all set flush into the ring. You started to protest, thinking she was worried about budget with the house closing less than a month away, but she assured you that it was a preference. She wanted something simple, something she could wear under gloves at work. Chase's ring, while beautiful, she felt was simply not 'her style' and she didn't like having to take it on and off situationally.

So you both came away with engagement rings, both of which looked a little like wedding bands.

You brought it up as you slipped them on before leaving the store and joked it would be funny to not say anything about them to your colleagues at first and see what happens. This little distraction will be way more fun than fielding questions about your dead patient and how that makes you feel. That is a topic for discussion with only Allison or Nolan. You don't even care to discuss this one with Wilson. And besides, after that little trick you pulled while answering his call, subsequently ignoring him all weekend, Allison's confirmation text of the engagement and finally your decision to get a fancy hotel room to spend the weekend celebrating sans phones, will point straight to elopement in the mind of your overly romantic best friend.

The look on his face alone is incentive to come to work early all by itself. Combine his reaction with the reaction you're likely to get from Cuddy and you are all fucking in. Seeing her reaction is a big reason in favor of not quitting PPTH and letting the bitch deal with the fall of her prized diagnostics department.

God, how could you have ever thought that would work?

Allison pulls into the garage and parks in your spot, lack of handicap plates be damned. It has your name on it and you rode here in this car. You'll rip out some retinas later if they ticket her before you can add her plate number to your list with H.R. Which reminds you, you should talk to someone about getting one of those mirror hangers that you can move it car to car, so you don't have to worry about this shit when you take her car. Because it is the nicer car and you do drive it more often when you are together.

As you enter the building, you take her hand in yours and walk her to her office. The looks and whispers abound as you yet again confirm the rumors of your romance which have been flying since late last week. You hear at least one "Is she wearing a wedding ring?" as you pass the main lobby nurses station, and neither of you breaks your straight faces as you continue on toward the E.R.

Upon reaching her office, you stop and turn to her. Leaning down you place your left hand on her cheek, very purposely showing off your ring, tilt up her chin and kiss her with just a little tongue, before winking, and wandering off back to the elevators. Fun mental games with your team and, of course, Wilson, await a few floors away.

Entering your office first, you toss your bookbag on your desk chair and saunter (as much as a man with a cane can) into the diagnostic room to fetch a cup of coffee. Much to your pleasure, Wilson elected to join your team this morning, and is currently reading over a file with them. Pouring a cup, you wander to the head of the table and take your seat. Rocking ideally in the chair, you slowly sip the hot brew while purposely holding the cup with both hands. You peer over the edge of the cup at your team , waiting for them to look up from the files they are studying.

Cuddy must have dropped off a case.

Now the question is, did Wilson say anything to the group? No. They'd be watching you and waiting if he had. Wilson is doing his best not to draw attention to you, which means he really, really wants the juicy details. He's always overly private with you when he thinks he has the good dirt. Finally he looks up at you, and three, two, one…

Oh yes, the eyes. That wide open deer in headlights look. You smirk at him, place the coffee on the table, grab your cane left handed, toss it up to grab it by the bottom, use the skull handle to knock the file from Wilson's hands, and pull it to you. "You don't need that."

Taub and the rest look up from their files finally and focus on your cane. Taub asks "So, what's with the death's head cane?"

"They didn't have a death's ass cane," you reply as you pick up the file. "So Junior Miss everything — skateboarder, basketballer, science clubber, seal clubber" pausing for dramatic effect before continuing "I'm actually guessing with that last one. Healthy one day, heart arrhythmia the next."

"You didn't?" Foreman asks.

Finally! Now the fun really begins.

"That depends. I didn't have sex with Wilson? Well, we all know that is debatable. I hear the real bet is centered around not whether or not we did the deed, but in who's packing the fudge and whose fudge is being packed. So maybe it's I didn't take Wilson's man-meat deep in my…"

"You're wearing a wedding ring." Foreman interrupts before you can finish. So you wink at Wilson, to get your last little jab in with your friend, who is still sitting there looking dumbfounded.

"God! I knew it. You guys did alope! Damnit House, I would have liked to have been a part of it. You were my best man at my last two weddings." Poor Wilson. He should really know you better than that. You'd never leave him out of your wedding, provided you were sober. And he should know that Allison wouldn't allow a drunk wedding with you at this point nor would she even consider leaving out your best friend. Probably his own guilt over not looking out for you the past couple months.

"And look where that got you. Maybe we thought it would be a bad omen to continue the practice. Or maybe we just did it on a whim and were so distracted with the getting to the naked part that you weren't really on our minds."

Chase pipes in, "EKG, echo and head CT are all spotless. There's nothing on her neurological exam." Well, now that is surprising. Good for him. Fucking right, kid. You half-expected him to storm out after the whole shock of the house purchase, but looks like he decided to move on and not give you the satisfaction.

Taub ignores Chase's attempt to move the conversation back on track."You're seriously married? To Cameron? Well that explains the sour look on Cuddy's face this morning."

"Well, I doubt that Cuddy knows anything about my marital status. She has other issues up her double-wide."

Wilson sighs and stands, "I'm going back to my office," and exits the room. You're going to need to let him off the hook sooner than later. Maybe he'll play along too, once you do.

"So, uh, I feel like we are missing the female perspective, or Thirteen's, on all of this talk of nuptials. Where is she?"

Taub answers, "She's gone." Followed by Foreman, "She said she was taking a leave of absence." He passes you an opened envelope with your name on it. Pulling out the letter, you look it over as Foreman continues. "Wanted us to think it was for a Huntington's study in Rome. They've never heard of her."

"Cell and home phone are disconnected. Apartment's already been vacated." Taub adds.

Well, that's interesting, to say the least. But, for some reason it doesn't surprise you, and you are strangely okay with it. Sometimes, people need to be able to go work out their shit. Doesn't mean you aren't going to look into where the hell she is. But you'll figure that out later. You have lots of fun things in your own life to deal with right this moment. "Well, I guess we'll just have to wait." Tossing the letter to the table, you decide it's time to work. "Conditions that cause intermittent heart arrhythmias."

"Three years, you've been trying to game out Thirteen. Now you don't care?" Foreman asks in disbelief.

"Sorry. Not caring about Thirteen is not part of the differential for heart arrhythmia, but you do get a home version of the game."

Good old Chase, still all business, continues the differential. Now you kind of feel bad, not bad enough, to do anything differently, of course, but poor guy's going to have to deal with it twice. Oh well, sometimes it's better to have a dress rehearsal. "Patient's brother has severe, congenital muscular dystrophy. Life expectancy of about 25. If she's had a latent case of it…"

"Wouldn't be sudden onset. Foreman!" You interrupt his stab at a diagnosis.

Foreman takes it back to your missing team member, "Do you know something about Thirteen that we don't?" Now, that is an even better reason to keep not caring. It's fucking them up as much as the thought that you are married. Today is going to be a great work day!

"She's entitled to her privacy. Just as I'm entitled to a diagnosis."

Taub practically laughs in your face on that one. "And you're glossing over Thirteen's departure because you actually respect somebody's privacy?"

Now you are kind of getting over this. You do have a patient after all and there is a nice long day ahead of you in which you'd like to stretch out your little side game. With an added bit of spite you bite out, "I agree. It's weird of me not to care. So either I'm a changed man because of Allison, or I'm pretending to be a changed man because I do know something about Thirteen and I'm trying to throw you off the scent, or I've just gone nutty bananas because I lost a patient. All of which you are free to discuss—after I get a diagnosis!"

"If it's Long QT Syndrome, any startling stimulus in that skate park could have triggered the arrhythmia. Loud noise, flashing lights." You might have to clue Chase in. He's got balls of steel today. Well, there is one way to figure out if the guy is right.

"Scare the patient to death to confirm Long QT." Everyone looks at you as if you are crazy. It's so cool. "Fine. If you insist, do it in a room with one of those thingamabobs that brings people back to life."

Your team scurries off to run your test and you head to Wilson's office and let yourself in. He looks up at you and you tell him. "We're not married. Yet, anyway. We did get engaged and this," you hold up your left hand and run your thumb over the ring, "is an engagement ring. All the cool guys are wearing them these days."

Looking up at you, his mouth forms an oh, and you continue sincerely. "C'mon, you can't believe I'd really leave you out of my wedding? You're my best friend."

He nods. Slowly a smile works its way across his face. Good. He's not mad. "Damn. She's really got you by the balls if you're wearing an engagement ring."

No sooner than you settle into your desk chair to deal with your email, maybe now that we're engaged Allison will do it for me again, your team barges into the office.

"Well, thanks to Foreman, we've been banned from doing the scare test. You need to go hash this out with Cuddy." Taub is pissed. You're pissed. But it is an excuse to show off the new ring, after all. Unlike Cuddy, you have no insecurities about flaunting your engagement ring off at work.

Standing, you move past your team without a word and limp-sprint to the elevator ready to go to war. What a two faced cunt. She tells me I should stay out of other people's relationships, then she butts herself in on mine. Allison was right. She thinks she's somehow entitled when it comes to me.

Moments later you storm into her office. "What the hell do you think you're doing calling off a procedure I ordered without even consulting me first?!"

Looking up, she gives you her long practiced cold stare. Obviously, she knew you'd be coming and was fully prepared for your wrath. Well fucking bring it bitch. You think, as you place both hands down on her desk and lean in, ready for the fight.

She simply looks you in the eye for a moment "I think I'm protecting a patient from an unnecessarily dangerous procedure, and this hospital from another lawsuit. So basically, my job. What the hell do you think you're doing ordering a procedure like that without running it by me first? I'm pretty sure, at this stage in the game, you understand how this works."

Still perfectly calm she lowers her eyes back to her work, but on the way down, they stop short, staring at your left hand.

Then it happens.

The look of hurt. Dammit. You can take anger, confusion, disbelief even, but as her eyes find yours again, all you see is hurt. Well, she hurt you. Isn't it only fair? Except that's not how it works and you know it. You can't just cut out the part of you that cared for her and toss it away in a few days. She doesn't even seem shocked.

"So it's true, you got married." It's a statement, not a question. "I guess congratulations are in order. Make sure the two of you get the ball rolling on the paperwork with H.R. before you leave today." You're not sure what you should do now, so you remain silent. This was the one reaction you weren't prepared for. "I heard about Hanna. I'm really sorry, House. I'm glad you had someone besides Wilson to help you deal with that."

You nod, standing upright, deflated from her comments and far less interested in playing games. "Thanks. And we're not married. We got engaged and I wanted a ring. Everyone just assumed it was a wedding ring; it was funny, so I let them. So, no need to fill out that mountain of paperwork just yet." You smile, hoping to break the thick tension in the room. "And you can relax a little while longer before you have two Dr. Houses to deal with."

"Either way. I think it's a good thing, House. Last Thursday, I said a lot of things… after I stepped back I realised I had no right to say any of it. Obviously you and I had something, but neither of us ever seemed to be on the same page and honestly, we both know it would be volatile. Lucas is really good for me. Cameron is really good for you. Maybe, if we try really hard, we can be good for them too."

Okay then. Wow.

"So, I can move forward with the scare test?" You jump back on topic and try to slip in a win, with a soft voice and serious expression, because there isn't much more of this mushy stuff that you can handle. The purpose of your visit hadn't been resolution. Quite the opposite, but you'll take it.

"Not on your life. Figure something else out," she replies and returns to her paperwork.

With a raised eyebrow, you juggle air between your cheeks and decide that maybe it's worth it to drop this one in favor of getting your work life back to normal. The other test is almost as effective. Conceding, you turn, exit the office and head upstairs to deliver the news to your team.

As you walk in the conference room, all eyes are on you. "Scare test was not approved. Do an angio and E.P. study instead."

"But that's not nearly as effective," Taub chimes in with the obvious and you simply shoot him a look and order him to go.

Heading back to your office, you sit and swivel around to face your computer once more, in hopes that you'll open your in-box to find it empty. Yeah, right. Well, at least you can read the NSFW ones first to get you in a better mood.

It doesn't take long for your team to come back. Far less time than it should have taken. Foreman explains the situation to you and hands you the updated file. Your patient isn't urinating and given the copious amounts of fluids she's been given, she should be clamoring for a bathroom break.

"So what could cause her heart to stop and her urine not to drop?" you wonder out loud.

Taub still isn't over not getting to do the scare test for some reason and starts badgering you rather than concentrating on moving forward with the case. "I am kind of concerned this marriage thing might be affecting your work, you let Cuddy get the upperhand. Normally you'd simply tell her she's being an idiot, she'd cave and then you'd come back and we'd do the test anyway."

"Are you implying that being with Cameron is making me... nice? How about this for a better answer: I find I can skip the idiot part when Cuddy's not being an idiot, and since the scare test would have led to the same dead end, she was right to stop it. Which means your problem's about you."

"This should be interesting," Taub smirks.

"Losers love company. And if even a misanthrope like me has a chance at a happy marriage, it's gonna be pretty lonely on that landfill of loserdom you call a marriage." You planned on correcting their false assumption, but fuck it. If he's going to be an ass, he needs to remember he's dealing with a far bigger one in you.

"Heart, kidneys, go." Time to get back on track.

Foreman is with you. "Could be Fabry disease. Lipid deposition in her tissues." As is Chase, "Dad's history was clean."

Foreman continues, "What about protein deposits? They wouldn't show in her parents' history." But no, you don't think that is. It might be, "Amyloidosis. Explains both the symptoms. Marrow transplant to treat. Brother's a match," you see from the file which you then snap shut and toss towards Taub. "Confirm and do."

A pretty funny couple of really old dudes come into the clinic today. Turns out one was the father of the other. He should totally be dead, but instead he's hanging out in your clinic room looking for things to explain the symptoms of old age, besides old age.

At least he didn't have crotch rot. You shudder at the thought.

As you get ready to sign out of the clinic, Taub approaches to inform you the patient refuses to take her cripple brother's marrow. Fucking brilliant! Now the team has to find a new donor. In the meantime you need to eat. Maybe Allison would like to grab lunch.

Signing out of the clinic you wander to the E.R. to find Allison.

As you approach the station, you see Rebecca and nod. "Hey," she greets you. "You look about a million times better than last time I saw you here."

"Yet, strangely, I have the same question," you quip as you lean over the station to ritually steal a sucker from the jar.

"She's in her office. And you two are causing quite the uproar in the rumor mill with those rings." You smile and rip the wrapper off placing the candy in your mouth. She looks at your ring as you do.

"I like yours, by the way. It's very rustic and masculine. I bought Tyler a watch for our engagement. I still kinda wish he would have let me pick something other than a ring, or at least had me pick the ring myself. I mean, the surprise, down on one knee thing is fun, but he's paid the price ever since for getting a high and pointy setting. It's a pretty thing, but he has serious wounds from the damn thing accidentally scratching him. You're lucky Cameron wanted the flush settings."

"I never considered the irony of an engagement ring being wielded as a weapon against the giver. I guess this is another win in the Allison Cameron column, although I think she had me at not willing to live in a place without a soaker tub."

With that you wink and meander off to Allison's office.

The door is open, so you walk straight in, without preamble, and take a seat before her desk, thinking all the while about the time you sat here with your head buried between her lovely long legs.

Looking up finally, she smiles. "Hey you. I'm pretty sure we're breaking a record of some kind in the office betting pool. How are the guys? Do they think we got hitched?"

"Yeah. It wasn't even a challenge. So much so, I caved and told Wilson the truth, so he didn't cry over not being invited. I won't be butt-fucked by a man who cries. I do have a standard to uphold."

"Poor Wilson. We were kinda mean over the weekend. But I would have paid good money to have seen the look on his face when you answered the phone."

That makes you smile. It was rather epic improvisation on your part.

"So, I also told Cuddy. I went into her office ready to fight over my patient and instead she apologized for everything she said last week. Told me that we're both with people who are good for us and that she thinks we both should work hard not to fuck that up. I was so shocked, I let her overrule my procedure. So, either she just got a hundred times better at the game or the storm has passed and we all can get back to normal."

"Well, that's good news. But it will be better news once she tells me the same thing. I'm not a fan of second hand apologies." Duly noted to the boyfriend, strike that, fiancé brain.

Enough of that topic though, you came here to have fun, not agitate. "So how long should we let the rumor play out? I'm good letting them be confused months from now by the invitations to the real thing." You say with a straight face, and in truth you'd rather enjoy seeing if the deception could make it that long without a direct lie from either of you.

Smirking at you and shaking her head, as if to say 'why am I not surprised,' she lets herself imagine that scenario for a few seconds before letting out a small grunt of a laugh. "Now that is funny, but we should tell people if they ask us outright and the news will travel quickly enough from there. The really interesting part will be seeing how long it takes for someone to be that direct. Everyone here is so gossipy. I think they'd rather make the shit up than know for real."

Smirking back you give her a quick nod of agreement before asking, "Wanna grab lunch?"

"Yep. Just let me finish this first." She looks back down to her chart, starts scribbling away and your pager goes off. Glancing down you see lunch will have to wait.

"Raincheck," you tell her as you get up and head out of her office and up to find out what has gone wrong with your patient this time.

Standing in the observation deck you overlook your team as they prep the patient for surgery. Cuddy, having received your page, walks in to join you.

"She's bleeding to death. Out of her lung. I want to fill a quarter of it with foam," you explain, still looking into the theater.

"That'd stop the bleeding, all right," she answers.

"Thought it made more sense than diet and exercise," you answer back, with less venom than usual.

"And if she doesn't have enough lung function left, you'll have killed her," she answers equally calmly. Neither of you eager to destroy the equilibrium you gained back this morning.

"The only alternative is slowly suturing the lung, hoping that the bleeding stops in time and she doesn't die on her own. But we would walk away with clean hands." You let your sarcasm return. "Except for all the blood."

Finally glancing to her, you see her fighting an inner battle. After a few seconds of silence she concedes. "You're right. Faster and riskier's better. Foam the lung." Then she turns and walks away to leave you to your work. That was way too easy. But no matter. You have a job to do; Cuddy and you are second to that. Things will blow over completely in time and you'll be back to smart assed comments and fun arguments that help keep you grounded.

But that's just it. She caved way too easily. She also did the thing with her head. Dammit. Who cares? Do the foam; it's the right call.

Chase, seeing that Cuddy departed, intercoms up "Got a green light?"

"Yeah. Foam the lung."

By the end of the day the girl was stable again, but you still haven't solved the case. The last consensus was Goodpasture's and you sent your team off to investigate, packed your backpack and headed back to the E.R. to see if Allison was ready to leave. You had not thought about her long ass shifts when you had chosen to drive with her today, but it worked out anyway, thanks to a hectic day with the patient. In fact, you left the rest of the team to work into the night testing for Goodpasture's.

As luck would have it, Allison has already showered, changed and is packing her things as you walk into her office. "Wanna cash that raincheck now and go out for dinner?"

"Yeah," she nods as she swings her computer bag over her shoulder and grabs her light jacket. "How's Della?"

"And Della would be?" you ask, fairly sure that might be the name of your patient, but after last time, you are even more determined to maintain your distance and therefore your sanity.

Cocking her head to the side, she gives you the cutest frustrated Cameron look. "How is it I know your patient's name, and you don't?"

Rolling your eyes, you give back the 'duh' look and spell out for her what she already knows. "She came through the E.R. yesterday. You do the paperwork and you read that top section that has all of the irrelevant information like name. I like to skip ahead to the good bits, like what's killing her."

She smirks at you and you both start walking towards the door. Once out into the hall, you take her hand and give her the summary. The topic shifts to where to have dinner as you come to the front doors, but before you can exit you hear, "Dr. Cameron. Could I have a word with you in my office?"

Allison raises an eyebrow at you upon hearing Cuddy's request and lets go of your hand. "I'll wait outside. Page me if she turns into a dragon or something like that. I'll limp in and beat her with my cane," you tell her, fully aware that Cuddy can hear you. The sooner you get back to being you, the faster this wound will heal.

Rolling her eyes at you, she turns and heads towards Cuddy's office, following your boss in. You no longer have any desire to be a fly on that wall knowing that Allison is more than capable of dealing with Cuddy in any form. She can kill her with kindness or cut her down to size in an argument. If the subject weren't your love life, you'd be extremely turned on. But it is, so you wander outside and stare up at the passing clouds, waiting for your lover to return to you, so you can get on with your evening.