Okay, here's the deal:

My first attempt at a House. I won't get offended by flames, but please, if you didn't like it, let me know what you didn't like about it. This one was hard for me to do and seemed a little difficult to get out and I'm pretty sure House is OOC. Thus, constructive criticism is highly appreciated.

Oh, and there's an established relationship bit in here... just soes ya know.

She's the only one that he will let sit in his chair.

In fact, sometimes people questioned why, sometimes she questioned why. Mind, she was always the first one into the office, taking a seat and sorting through the mail. The chair was comfortable and since House was never in before 9am, she took her hour to be relaxed.

The fact that it was his chair and that she felt more secure had nothing to do with it.

It was a small pleasure she indulged in every morning, along with the natural of coffee and mail. She loved doing it and she had to admit, it made her feel useful.

She really wasn't sure when it started and wasn't sure why she kept doing it. He'd voiced his displeasure at her voluntary choice to be his glorified secretary but she had a routine and she wouldn't let his displeasure stop it. The reason behind him allowing her to sit in his chair – during the day as much as the quiet early hours – was as confusing to Chase, Foreman and Wilson. He'd never let them sit in the chair.

Foreman had asked her once, because he was afraid, why she was the only one why he was so obsessive about anyone sitting in his chair except for her. She hadn't given a reply, just asked about a patient and moved on with her day.

He loved to see her in his chair.

There was something about seeing her in his space that set off a warm, unfamiliar feeling in his chest that, if he was completely honest, wasn't all that uncomfortable anymore. With all of the times he'd seen her in his space it was about time.

He reflected that it might have been because of the way she looked in his personal space, how comfortable she looked rooting through his desk for a missing chart or file. Wilson teased him about it when he'd come to get a good cup of coffee in the time overlapping between his arrival and her exit and saw her there, watched her leave seconds before he entered, like a well rehearsed dance. He'd shrugged it off sniping at his friend with sarcastic remarks.

Then came that one morning

To most, it seemed like another regular day. She came in as usual, though much later since traffic had been a bit of a pain, strolling into the diagnostics department's conference room, putting the coffee on and waiting for it to finish. She then poured herself a cup, wandering slowly into his adjoining office. She settled the cup on his desk, ignorant of the other cup already steaming there. Her concentration was so focused on the envelopes she'd picked up, he had to clear his throat to get her attention

She didn't jump like he expected her to, but she did freeze, her gaze slowly coming up to meet his. He was surprised by the blank look in her eyes.

"Good morning, Dr. Cameron," he spoke.

"Dr House," she replied, taking in his stretched out form sitting in the chair. "You're in my seat."

He was taken aback by her attitude, how easily she rebuked him for sitting in his own chair. "Last time I checked, this was my seat."

"Not until 9 am," she told him, her eyes twinkling. "Ask anyone in the hospital."

There was something off with her attitude, the playful way she was looking at him in what was normally her professional setting. She kept her eye on him over the edge of the envelopes she flipped through, sorting them effectively and efficiently. He didn't move and she looked up in playful annoyance after she'd divided the mail into two piles.

"Dr House, couldn't you pester someone else for while and get out of my chair?" she asked sweetly. Separation in her life was key, work from personal, and the line was beginning to blur.

He didn't move and Cameron, knowing no one else was in the hospital, nor would come around, understood that drastic measures would have to be taken. Carefully, she moved towards him, the mail moving to find a home back in his inbox and leaving her hands free. She stepped close enough to his chair so he hand to look up, her hand, trailing lightly over the edge of his desk.

"You're ruining my routine," she complained, her bottom lip dragging down into a pout. "Why are you here anyway?"

He scoffed. "I can't come in early?"

She snorted, backing up only slightly to lean against the desk. "You don't."

He moved closer, close enough so his knees knocked against hers. From the way her mouth was twitching he could tell she was trying to hide a smile.

"Wilson, Chase and Foreman are getting jealous," he told her, making her legs part by forcing a knee between hers

She grinned, hoisting herself up onto the desk and allowing him to push forward and sat where his elbows could rest on her thighs, looking up into her gaze. "Let them be," she answered nonchalantly.

His eyebrow rose. "Well someone's feeling a little frisky today," he quipped, even as his palms came to rest on her thighs, looking to all the world as if he was trying to hold them apart.

Her eyebrow arched in response, even as her eyes darkened. "Because I'm feeling cruel enough to let the others sweat it out for a little bit longer?"

"You're too nice to do that," he scoffed.

"It's been six months," she pointed out her comment – and the way she slid down to rest on his lap – completely changing the tone and direction of the conversation.

"And?" he asked in reply, his hands shifting with her from her thighs to his favourite part of her body: the curve of her spine just above her ass.

She hummed at the caress. "This is the first time you've ever broken our routine," she said, leaning forward to capture his mouth. He allowed her to kiss him, giving back only what he got. She pulled away with a frustrated sigh, curious as to why he hadn't taken the control he loved and craved so much.

"Some one could walk by," he answered her unasked question, his voice husky with the effect of her unrestrained kiss.

"No one comes in here until 9 am and no one in the conference room until 8:45. I have a routine and anyone with an ounce of sense doesn't disturb it," she answered with an annoyed groan. If he didn't make up for ruining her coveted and adored routine, she was going to find a way to get him back for it.

And she had really no problem with being cruel.

She leaned down to his ear. "People who bug me before I've had my coffee, and interestingly enough, sorted your mail, know nothing will end up pretty."

He put a mock surprised look on his face. "Allison Cameron has a temper?"

Her eyes flashed, but the expression on her face stayed sweet. "Would you like to find out?" she asked.

He shook his head, knowing and having experience with her temper in the early stages of their relationship.

For that was what had developed out of millions of pushes and pulls, pressures to stay and attempts to keep away. It had happened over a tough case, where he'd ridden the whole team and she'd taken it the hardest. They couldn't figure it out, working shift after shift after shift, with little sleep. They'd lost the patient.

The next thing either of them knew she was crying into his chest out of stress and anger and he was comforting her by simply holding her. It was a foreign concept for him and for her but she was too upset and he was still conflicted.

She'd cried herself to sleep and he's been forced to wake her up because he wouldn't be able to carry her. She was surprised at the gesture but followed him into his bedroom and stood awkwardly while he shuffled about, getting into sweat pants. He tossed her a t-shirt to change into and she couldn't stop the surprise and confusion from slipping over her face.

His excuse was that she was in no shape to drive, but his gut knew differently. She'd felt so good up against his body, had felt like she belonged there. He wasn't stupid enough to believe it was because they were soul mates, or two pieces of a puzzle coming together, in fact, he wasn't even stupid enough to believe she'd be doing this on any regular night.

He was wrong.

It started after bad cases, moved to include kind of bad cases and even migrated towards the good cases before she spent time at his townhouse because he'd asked her to, case or no case. Their relationship had shifted and neither of them were really against the idea.

They kept the personal out of the office and the office out of the personal. He didn't treat her any differently at the hospital and their grievances were talked about in third person at home. There were no declarations of love or romantic dinners and dates but it worked for them.

"Greg?"

From the look on her face she'd been calling his name for at least five minutes and her confused eyes still had the dark shade of lust to them. Before she could ask him what was wrong or what he'd been thinking, he fastened his lips to hers, basking in the control she so freely gave up.

She never put her coat on until it was time to actually sit down to work so he had full access to her curves through the satin green blouse and beige work appropriate pants. One hand moved to tangle in her long hair as the other stroked her spine through the blouse. She whimpered in the back of her throat, feeling the heat of his hand through the material, blazing a short trail on her nerves.

It was her hands on his stomach that had him streaking down her neck to nip at her clavicle, his hands going from bottom to top on her blouse. The buttons, though small and frustrating for a man in the throes of passion, were undone quickly, leaving her flat stomach open to his gaze.

But it wasn't her stomach he wanted to look at. He pulled away from her smooth skin, his breath heaving in his chest as much as it did in hers. One glance at her chest had him stopping in surprise. The temptress on his lap giggled.

"The others seemed to be missing when I got dressed at home this morning," she breathed in between pants.

That was all he needed before he was flicking open the front clasp of her bra, knowing most of said garments were at his townhouse with the majority of her clothing. Her head lolled back on her neck as his hands ghosted over her, the bra hanging uselessly from her arms. It wasn't much longer before his lips followed his hands.

"God," she gasped, her head coming back forward to rest heavily on his shoulder.

"Not even close," he quipped back.

"House!"

Cameron's head snapped up to meet his stunned gaze, knowing the sharp female voice anywhere. Still it was two distinct footsteps that entered his office. Cameron buried her head in his neck, hastily trying to refasten her bra.

"What the hell are you doing?" Cuddy barked, taking in the diagnostician with a woman on his lap. Since Cuddy hadn't seen Cameron's face, there was no spark of recognition.

"Allison Cameron," he grumbled, locking eyes with a stunned Wilson.

Cameron giggled.

Cuddy glared.

House's gaze shifted from Wilson to helping Cameron re-button her shirt in the must seductive, yet efficient, way he knew. She tried to keep her back turned as she stood on shaky legs and he stood with her, keeping her back turned and his body in front of her.

"You should be downstairs," Cuddy snapped at him. "And you shouldn't be… doing… that … on company time."

"She's not a 'that' Cuddy. Just because you're jealous doesn't mean you get to belittle the smart ones," House shot back smartly, taking in Cameron's amused gaze. He'd taken a glance through the mail and knew he'd be out of clinic duty. Cameron had found them a new patient.

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "You have five minutes to be downstairs and for her to be out of here."

Cameron couldn't hold in her urge to reply any longer. "Actually, Dr Cuddy, we've got a new patient coming in at 9:30. I don't think Dr House will be down to the clinic until he's sent us off with a potential diagnosis."

The looks on Wilson and Cuddy's faces was much better than either House or Cameron had anticipated. Cameron resisted the urge to laugh, grabbing the envelopes she'd left on his desk and returning, reluctantly to her own.

She kept an eye on the three of them while she sorted through the referrals and letters. Her attention only shifted when Foreman and Chase wandered in, looking slightly exhausted until their first sip of coffee. She kept seeing them glance at the office and Cuddy, Wilson and House and had to continue to bite back her laughter.

"Alright people," House called loudly, his limping gait and the sound of the door slamming open announced the end of his conversation with Cuddy and Wilson. "Tell me about our new patient."

It took them twenty minutes to go through the patient history and come up with a potential diagnosis.

"Foreman, set up an MRI and CAT scan. Chase, get on the blood work. Cameron…" he trailed off meeting her eyes with a glint only she could really recognize. "I believe there is mail waiting for you."

Cameron bit her lips against the smile that was stretching across her mouth. It wouldn't help them if Chase and Foreman caught on as well. The room cleared out quickly, though Cameron took her time gathering the pages on her desk, as much as House procrastinated on heading down to the clinic.

Their eyes met and she approached him slowly, almost prowling. She watched his eyes darken and this time, didn't hide her grin. "I'll be taking my chair back now," she said lowly, a thrill shooting up her spine at the depths of his eyes as his mind moved to their change in routine.

And so, she sat in his chair, and he found he didn't care. In fact, he quite enjoyed it.