Finally, here's chapter 5 of Just What the Doctor ordered. Sorry it took so long I had to move so my PC was down for a while.

Rating T : for language

Feedback: Please. Does my heart good.

Disclaimer: Still working on that World Domination thing but until then not mine, don't sue.

Belligerent-road-pylon: Yeah, puking is a real ice breaker

Samantha-Fitzgerald: Thanks so much. Means a lot to know I keeping them IC

Pandora-Moo: Sorry to make you wait. I'll try not to take so long next time. Bythe way I love your user name, I call my 7 month old daugther "Missy Moo"

Randa05: I'm flattered you like my story. I like your work as well.

To everyone else who commented, my heartfelt thanks. I wouldn't continue without all your support. Now on with the show...

Chapter 5

When House woke up, the only light in his room was coming from the crack underneath the door. This was a good thing, because his head was pounding. In fact, everything was throbbing. His head, his side, and of course, his leg. He had learned early on not to move a muscle when he woke up because of the pain in his leg, which was always at its worst when he awoke. So he lay there without moving, trying to piece together the events of the last day and trying to figure out why there was still a light on in his front room.

He never left his lights on. In fact he preferred the darkness. In the darkness he didn't have to pretend to be something he wasn't. He didn't have to pretend that he wasn't in pain all the time. He didn't have to pretend that living for his work was all he needed. He didn't have to pretend he wasn't a drug addict and he didn't have to pretend that his heart wasn't weathered and scarred and barely holding together. In the darkness he could wallow in his sorrow and his self-loathing and his pain and no one noticed. No one cared. Except Wilson of course. And now Cameron.

Cameron. Damn. He groaned as it all came back to him. Cameron was the reason for the light. She was in his apartment right now, probably snooping through his stuff while she waited for him to wake up. Damn. DAMN! What the hell was he going to do? The only people he had let into his apartment in the last 5 years were Wilson and the cleaning lady. This was his sanctuary,a place where he could give into his pain and the darkness without fear of anyone seeing his weakness.

At the hospital he was constantly in control. He would cure patients, snark at everyone whether they gave him cause to or not, harass his boss (always good for a laugh) and command his ducklings to do his every bidding (well that might be stretching it a tiny bit). And he would do it all with an air of superiority and confidence put in place to mask the truth of what he was feeling.

When he was home he would pop even more Vicodin than he did at work and pour himself glass after glass of scotch to dull the physical pain, but he would let himself wallow in the emotional pain. He would sit at his piano playing Brahms or Bach or Rachmaninov and he would let his mind wander through the past. He would dwell on the 'what if's and the 'what might have been's. Most of the timehis ruminations involved Stacy and the infarction. But lately, Cameron had been making cameo appearances in his daydreams, baffling him and making him question himself, something he absolutely hated.

Gregory House never second-guessed himself. He made a decision and that was that, he never thought about it again. But ever since the 'date that wasn't a date,' he had been fighting the unanticipated and entirely unwanted feelings he got every time she was around—which was all the bloody time, making it even worse. And now the object of his supreme annoyance was in his living room and she planned on staying and playing nursemaid. Damn, damn, double damn.

Breathing out a heavy sigh, he gingerly reached over to his nightstand where he always kept his extra bottle of painkillers. They weren't there. He reached around some more, but he had no luck locating them. His increasingly panicked fumbling caused the teacup he had left there to crash to the floor. The noise it made as it hit the floor and broke into a zillion pieces caused him to jerk and send renewed jolts of pain through his body.

"FUCK! Cameron, get your ass in here!" he yelled.

He heard rustling, then hurried footsteps padding down his hallway. Seconds later his door was flung open and the lights were flicked on, "You bellowed?" she asked sweetly.

"Damnit! Cameron!" The unexpected bright light pierced his eyeballs, sending needles of pain into his brain. He flung his arm over his face and growled, "Turn the bloody light off. You trying to blind me?"

Quickly turning off the light, she walked over to his nightstand, cautious of the broken glass she had seen there, and switched on his lamp. She could see the pain written all over his haggard face but she knew sympathy was not the way to go. So she chose sarcasm instead, a medium House was comfortable with.

"It's not like you need to see to do your job. You hardly see the patients as it is. And besides, if you actually went blind, Cuddy would probably let you out of clinic duty. You should be thanking me," she retorted when he cautiously removed his arm to squint up at her.

Unfortunately, he wasn't in the mood for a snark contest. "Pills. Where the hell are my pills" His voice was cold and uneven in his effort to control his pain and anger.

"Right here," she answered, pulling them out of her pocket.

He snatched the bottle out of her hand, shooting her a glare, and hurriedly popped it open to dry swallow three pills.

"Three?" she said, trying not to show her disapproval, "You usually only take two."

"Yeah well, your presence is making the pain that much more unbearable."

"And that's why I'm going to keep these with me," she said, snatching back the bottle, "so I can keep track of how many pills you are taking."

"I don't need you to keep track of my pills. And I don't need you to take care of me. In fact," he snapped, pinning her with the full force of his glare, "what I do need is for you to drop the Florence Nightingale routine and get the hell out of my home!"

He was yelling so loudly now she wouldn't be surprised if his neighbors called to complain. But she wasn't intimidated. He could harangue her all he wanted, but he wasn't going to bully her into leaving. "I'm staying," she said in a tone that brooked no argument, "You need to eat something. I'll go make you some soup. And then I'll clean up this mess," indicating the broken glass with a wave of her hand.

House watched her walk away and suddenly became aware of a heavy pressure in his lower abdomen. In his panic to get his drugs, he hadn't noticed that his bladder was alarmingly full. Now he realizedthat much to his chagrin, if he didn't get to the bathroom in the next few minutes he was going to embarrass the hell out of himself.

"Thing just keep getting better and better," he mumbled, rubbing his hand over his face in frustration.

Cameron stopped just as she reached the door and turned around to see him squirming in his bed like a little boy. She had to suppress a giggle because she knew right away what his problem was, but he was being such an ass that she decided he deserved a little payback.

"What's the matter?" she asked, plastering a look of pure innocence on her face.

"I have to pee."

"What was that?" He was looking at the opposite wall and had spoken so softly that she wasn't sure she had heard him. Well, all right, she'd heard him; she was just enjoying his discomfort so much that she wanted to make him say it again.

God, he was going to make her pay for this. Using his well-practiced glower that usually sent most people running for cover, he said, "I have to pee and unless you want to see a grown man wet the bed I suggest you hand me my cane and help me to the washroom. That is why you're here isn't it, to help the crippled and infirmed old man?"

Behind his angry words she could see how deeply humiliated he really was. She immediately felt remorseful for getting so much amusement out of his discomfort. Of course this is hard for him you idiot, she chastised herself, a man like House, needing help with the most basic of bodily functions. His control has been completely taken away from him. This must be bringing back so many bad memories for him.

Without uttering a word she quickly grabbed his cane and walked around to the other side of the bed, the side that didn't have glass all over the floorSlicing his foot open was the last thing he needed.

"Do you want me to get your robe?" she asked, helping him into a sitting position.

House shook his head and threw the blankets off of his legs revealing his black cotton boxers, "I don't think I can wait that long. Besides like you said, you're a doctor. There's nothing here you haven't seen before."

He swung his legs around and Cameron let him put his left arm around her shoulder while he planted his cane on the floor with his right hand. "But Dr. House," her voice took on a breathy quality, but remained sarcastic"this is you we're talking about. The object of all my girlish fantasies."

Glancing up at her quickly he noticed the teasing smile that played across her lips and rolled his eyes, "Yeah well, get in line, I have that effect on all the girls."

Cameron chuckled as they braced themselves and, between the two of them, managed to get him to his feet to make the long trip around the bed and to the bathroom. She let him lean against the wall as she went in ahead of him, turning on the light and lifting the toilet seat.

When she turned back to him he was still leaning in the doorway with an odd expression on his face.

"Are you going to hold my penis too?" he asked, wagging his eyebrows lasciviously.

Cameron couldn't help the blush that crept up her face and House smirked, pleased that he had finally been able to make her uncomfortable. Seeing that smirk Cameron shot him a glare and casually moved past him brushing against his arm as she went.

"Call me when you're finished," she said innocently as she left in search of a broom and dustbin.

By the time House finished emptying his bladder, his Vicodin had really started to do its job, so he decided to take the opportunity to clean himself up a bit. Leaning his weight against the countertop he raised his right arm and sniffed, "PHEW!" he said instinctively turning his face away from the offending odor, "How the hell could she stand to be so close to me? I stink."

He pulled the shirt slowly over his head, careful of the bandage on his abdomen. He turned on the water and grabbed the cloth that was hanging in its usual spot on the rack beside the sink. When the water was warm enough he gave himself a clumsy sponge bath. His limited mobility made it impossible to be thorough but he managed the important areas.

"What I wouldn't give for a shower right now," he moaned. But he knew that wouldn't be possible for at least another couple of days so he continued with the cloth, cursing all the spots he couldn't reach. He had just loaded his toothbrush with a daub of Colgate when there was a knock on the door.

"House, are you okay in there?"

"I'm fine," he snapped, rolling his eyes. Apparentlythough she hadn't heard him, because the next thing he knew the door was swinging open.

"House, you oh…" Cameron pulled up abruptly, her eyes wide and her mouth in a little 'O' shape as she took in the sight before her. A shirtless House in nothing but a pair of black cotton boxers. His arms and chest were damp, causing the sparse, graying hair to lie flat. She couldn't stop her eyes from leisurely following the path of that hair as it narrowed over his flat and surprisingly taunt navel and disappeared into the waistband of his shorts. Even with the white bandage marring the picture he was still the sexiest man she had ever seen

"Take a picture, it lasts longer."

Cameron's head snapped up and she let out a gasp as a blush graced her delicate features for the second time in less than 15 minutes. He was looking directly at her, his expression unreadable. The diagnostician in him couldn't help noticing that her breath had become shallow and her eyes had dilated until the blue was almost totally eclipsed. He knew she was aroused; he just didn't know whether this pleased him or not. Before he could consider it any longer she quickly turned and he was presented with the straight line of her back.

"Sorry, you were in here so long and I didn't hear anything. I got worried," Her words came out rushed and strung together.

"S'okay. I couldn't stand my own stink any longer so I just decided to clean up a bit."

Cameron nodded but refused to turn around, "Do you think you can make it back to your bed?"

"I'm as high as a kite right now, so if I go slowly I should be ok. Unless, of course, you want another excuse to get that close to me again." The sarcasm just came so naturally, he couldn't resist.

Choosing not to respond to that, she just nodded again and started to leave the room. "I'll just go get you soup then," was all she said.

After she was gone, House stood there for a while, trying to figure out what had just happened. He knew she had a crush on him. He'd suspected it for quite some time and his suspicions had been all but confirmed during that ill-fated conversation where she'd asked him if he liked her. He'd always thought of it as nothing more than a schoolgirl infatuation with a little hero worship thrown into the mix. But the look on her face just now had been one of pure, unadulterated lust. There was nothing school-girlish about it. He had hired her because she was nice to look at, but in that moment, he had seen her as a woman—rather than a girl—for the very first time.

The part he couldn't quite understand was what the hell she saw in him. He wasn't great looking, he wasn't charming, he wasn't even nice. He especially wasn't nice to her. He'd taken every opportunity to insult her and push her away in hopes that she would get the message and just give up on him. But every time he looked at her he would see the desire and the longing in her eyes and it was all he could do to keep his body and his heart (yes he had a heart) from responding.

And now this girl—correction: woman—was all but living in his apartment and there was nowhere for him to escape. How long would he be able to resist her when she was so close? He didn't want a relationship. He didn't need a relationship.He didn't want to risk the inevitable pain that a relationship would cause. He took risks everyday on patients, but when it came to himself and to letting people get close to him, it was better to justnot make the effort. It was easier that way. No complications. No pain. No happiness.

"I'm to old for this shit," House groaned.

Giving his head a shake to clear his maudlin thoughts, he grabbed his cane and slowly hobbled back to his bedroom. When he got there, he noticed that Cameron had wheeled in his TV and DVD player and had placed them where he could easily see it from his bed. There was also a stack of his movies sitting beside it. So she was snooping around. He glanced over at his bed and saw that she had laid out a clean t-shirt for him. And she went through my drawers too. For some reason he wasn't nearly as angry as he thought he should be. Fortunately, he was too exhausted to analyze this lack of anger, so he simply slipped the tee over his head and painfully crawled back into bed.

When Cameron returned with his soup he was lying in bed with his eyes closed. He looked so peaceful she wished she didn't have to disturb him. She put down the tray she was carrying and, thinking he was asleep, gently brushed her hand across his forehead.

"Something smells good," he said without opening his eyes.

Cameron jumped about a foot in the air, "Shit, House! You scared the hell out of me."

"That's what you get for assaulting a man while he sleeps." House opened his eyes and smirked at her.

"I wasn't assaulting you. I was… I was checking for fever. First sign of infection." She placed her hand back on his forehead to prove her point.

"Riiiight," he drawled, "That's your story and you're sticking to it."

She smiled shyly and ducked her head, looking at him through lowered lashes. "Maybe I just wanted to see if your hair was a soft as it looked."

Their eyes locked and for a moment neither was able or willing to look away. They looked deep into each other's blue orbs, both looking for something that neither of them was able to name. Surprisingly, it was Cameron who looked away first and broke the tension.

"You're soup is getting cold," she said fussing with the tray to cover her nervousness.

"Chicken and Stars?"

"House, you have 10 cans of Campbell's soup and they're all Chicken and Stars," she laughed, helping him into a sitting position and fluffing his pillows.

"I happen to like Chicken and Stars," he replied petulantly, jutting out his lower lip for dramatic effect.

Cameron was struck by the fact that he really was just a little boy with the body of a man and a brain of a genius. My heart really knows how to pick 'em. Shaking her head she placed the tray on his lap, careful not to bump his bad thigh.

"Eat," she ordered walking over to the pile of movies she had placed there earlier. She picked one and put it in the player. When the opening credits for There's Something About Mary started playing, she turned back and saw House staring into his soup as if he expected something to come crawling out of it.

"What's the matter?"

He looked up, his face contorted into a strange grimace.

"What?"

"You sure you didn't lace this with arsenic?"

Cameron rolled her eyes and plopped down in the overstuffed easy chair by the window, preparing to watch the movie. "House, just shut up and eat."