Cameron, Chase and Foreman were ushered to their table. The waitress came up and smiled. "And how are you all doing this evening? Can I start you out with something to drink?"

Foreman smiled. "The lady would like an ultimate mudslide. I think I'll have one too. Chase?"

Chase studied the drink menu. "Why not?"

The waitress smiled and walked away.

Cameron studied the menu. Foreman cleared his throat and she looked up.

"Two rules. One, no talking about work."

Cameron and Chase nodded.

"Two. Cameron has to order a burger."

Chase laughed.

"Hey!" Cameron said indignantly. "That's not fair."

Foreman shook his head. "You can't come here and order something like a salad. Burger, steak, even chicken is OK. No salads. No soup."

Cameron sighed resignedly. "Why not? How are the fajitas?"

After they had ordered, the three sat around in an awkward silence. Truth be told, if they weren't allowed to talk about work, they didn't really have anything to talk about. Cameron studied the items hung on the walls. She had always hated décor like that. It looked like a telekinetic had gotten drunk and decided to decorate the walls with the contents of a thrift shop.

Chase, on the other hand was busy studying Cameron. She was, as his grandmother would call her, a classic beauty. Creamy pale skin, delicate features, beautiful eyes. He had often fantasized about taking her lovely form into his arms and…

Foreman kicked Chase sharply under the table. "You're staring!" He hissed.

Chase reddened and looked down. Cameron snapped back to reality and eyed Foreman and Chase suspiciously.

The three doctors sat for another painful silence, until Foreman spoke up. "So… anybody see any good movies?"

Cameron shook her head. "I wanted to go see The Constant Gardener but I think it's out of the theatres by now."

Chase nodded. "Harry Potter is coming out soon."

Cameron, who was taking a sip of ice water, snorted. "Harry Potter?"

Chase flushed again. "What? The books are good!"

Foreman shook his head ruefully. "The books are for children."

"Which explains why Chase likes them," Cameron said dryly.

Foreman and Chase stared. "You know who you sounded like just then?" Chase asked.

"No talking about work," Foreman warned. "Where the hell are our drinks?"

As if by magic the waitress materialized with a tray. Three enormous goblets sat on it, whipped cream and chocolate syrup slowly dripping down the side. "I am soo sorry. I thought these had been taken over here already. No charge!"

Foreman nodded curtly. Cameron smiled and took the drink.

The three of them each sampled the cocktail, grateful for something to occupy them, rather than the ponderous silence.

"Wow…" Cameron said after taking a long drink from the straw. "This is… it's better than sex."

Chase raised an eyebrow. "You haven't had any good sex in a long time if you think that this is better."

"Is that an offer, Chase?" Cameron said, wheeling her around to face him.

Any retort that he had slowly melted away, and as usual he was left sputtering idiotically. "I uhhh…"

Foreman held up a hand. "Rule three. No talking about sex."

Cameron chuckled. "So Chase reads J.K. Rowling. What do you read Eric?"

Foreman shrugged. "I was reading The Life of Pi. But I lost the book somewhere between here, home, and the gym. So now… nothing really. A few magazines. You?"

Cameron shrugged. "Right now The Red Tent. My mother gave it to me for Christmas. Other than that, anything I find interesting."

Foreman nodded. As he opened his mouth to reply, they all heard a familiar sound.

Step-thump, step-thump, step-thump. The sound of someone walking with a cane.

The three heads turned and looked towards another table, where a man walking with a cane was meeting a young girl. For an instant, they all saw House. But it was someone older, shorter. They studied the scene, the older man, scowling. The young prim lady sitting at the table, looking forelorn.

The man with the cane cleared his throat, and the young girl looked up. Her eyes lit up, and she stood up and embraced the older man. "Uncle Ralph!"

"Kitten!" The man said gruffly. "Sorry I was late."

The conversation continued, but the trio had lost interest. They sat at the table. Cameron's heart was racing, and so was Chase's, for another reason.

"For a second I was sure…" Cameron muttered.

Chase nodded. "He's got us all paranoid."

Foreman sighed. "Let's just all talk about work then, since we can't seem to avoid it!"

And it was as if an invisible weight had been lifted. Everyone felt relieved.

"I had the worst day," Cameron lamented.

"Tell us about it," Chase said, sympathetic.

Foreman rolled his eyes.

Cameron slowly went into the details of her memorable patient. The frustration she felt when she realized what was wrong. The horror at the fact that someone could commit such unspeakable acts.

"So what would you do?" Foreman asked.

"About?" Cameron said.

"If it was your daughter. Would you have her keep the baby?"

"No way in hell," Chase said.

"Big surprise there," Cameron muttered.

"It's easier to just have an abortion. Then you don't have to explain things that she isn't capable of understanding anyway. And besides, all the pain involved. Can you imagine how frightening it would be for that girl to go into labor? Not understand what was happening to her? And if she could understand somehow, how would she feel, watching her own child grow up and not be able to really participate in her life."

Cameron was surprised that Chase had a seemingly valid argument. She had expected a trite answer about how it was easier. But she hadn't considered the fact that the daughter couldn't really comprehend anything.

She looked at Chase. "I really didn't stop to consider that Chase," she said. "You have a good point." He's cute, a little voice in her head said. He's cute and he's young and he's not House. She shook her head slightly.

Foreman looked at both of them, unable to ignore the subtle electricity between them. Great, I'm a third wheel. I'll have to have a talk with Chase about why it's a bad idea to sleep with your coworkers. He turned again to the drink. Then again, anything that gets her mind off of House may be a blessing.

His train of thought was cut off when the food arrived.

"Thank God," Chase said with a smile. "I'm bloody starving."

"Same here," Foreman said, and began to cut his steak.

"So…" Cameron said, as she delicately layered peppers onto a tortilla. "Friday, should we do this again? Maybe a movie?"

There was a pause, and Cameron's heart hammered in her chest at the thought of rejection. But Foreman and Chase nodded.

"Sound's good," Chase said around a mouthful of food.

"Man," Foreman said. "Didn't your mother teach you not to talk with your mouth full?"

Wilson gave House a sideways glance as he sat in the car. Cuddy had dropped them off at the hospital, and without a word, House had gotten out and walked to Wilson's car. This was, an unspoken invitation to his place, most likely to spend the night. Doesn't matter, he thought, beats sleeping in the office.

"We should do this again," Wilson said. "It was nice."

"Sans Cuddy of course," House muttered.

"You liked having dinner with her. She even paid for your meal!"

"She ate most of it. And my dessert!"

"She had one tiny corner of your sandwich and a spoonful of brownie and ice cream. You gave her the rest."

"It was contaminated with Cuddy cooties," House growled.

Wilson rolled his eyes. "I'm looking forward to the day you grow up."

"Sure you are. You'll just go all 'empty nest' on me anyhow." House said, and smirked.

Wilson ignored the last comment. The drove on in silence and then he cautiously started again. "So… when did Cuddy cook for you?"

"What?" House said, annoyed.

"At the restaurant you said that you recalled she was a decent cook. When did she cook for you?" He made sure to keep both eyes on the road and sound as casual as possible.

House narrowed his eyes and glanced at Wilson. "Breakfast," he said with a wicked grin. "She makes this quiche that has eggs and sausage and ham and all sorts of things in it. It's good."

"Breakfast…" Wilson said. "You don't mean breakfast as in…"

"As in the first meal of the day. The most important one, if you listen to the quacks on the T.V.."

"You didn't…" Wilson said, horrified and intrigued at the same time.

"Didn't what? Screw Cuddy? Please I have some standards." House sat back in the seat. "Why? Jealous?"

"Confused," Wilson said, deciding to leave the bait that House was laying down. "Why would she cook for you, and breakfast of all things."

"Guilt."

As soon as House said it, Wilson was sorry that he had asked.

"Ahhh… I get it."

"People say that love is a motivator. That's bullshit. Guilt motivates people to do more than love ever could. Lisa Cuddy cooked me breakfast lunch and dinner for 2 weeks while I was in the hospital. I wasn't hungry and she begged me to eat. I told her if she was so damned interested in my appetite, she wouldn't try and force hospital crap on me. The next day she showed up with enough food for me and Stacy."

Wilson was oddly touched at the though of Cuddy cooking. "That was nice. Hey…" realization began to dawn on him. "So all of those bagels with everything that you made me get every morning…"

"I'd trade them to the orderly for things…"

"Things?"

"Remember the time that somebody superglued the drawers shut in Hourani's desk?"

"Jesus Christ Greg!"

House smiled, contentedly. "It was worth every poppyseed my friend. Every damned one."