House/Cameron SmutAThon entry
Title - PUSH (5000+ words - had to post in two parts, link at bottom for continuation)
Beta: The lovely gabesaunt - many many thanks! Especially as I'm always frantic, particularly in this piece where I'm a little bit out of my element (and it's not because of the smut...lol)
Pairing - House & Cameron
Rating -NC-17
Spoilers - No spoilers here!
Summary - Cameron makes a bet with House... can he play the game?
Disclaimer - I don't own House or any of the characters...really wish I did... ;)
Comments and feedback very welcome:) ...especially because this is a different POV than I usually write in... many thanks!

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PUSH

She gave him a shove. She'd had it with him. His innuendoes, his games, the way he treated her, the words he hid behind. Time to up the ante...

House is actually quite amused that he generated a reaction out of her... finally; especially lately, when he has only received the silent treatment. And it's not that he didn't deserve it from her, he actually asked for it, encouraged it with his actions. He hoped that if he treated her like shit, she would just go away, especially out of his mind and out of his dreams.

But, no, not Allison Cameron. No, she didn't go away. She crept under his skin. Her voice and laughter floated like music through the office, always seeming to land on the grumpy doc's desk when he wanted to be alone or miserable, left alone in his mind, not her voice echoing in it. Allison Cameron had a way of asking questions or even making little (sometimes big) demands that made everything seem so fiercely personal. Her lively eyes demanding everything from him, never backing down, never giving up. Everything she spoke was a question - a question that even if turned around on her became an inquiry into his soul.

She was daring enough to dip her toes into his dirty, murky moat waters, digging under his fortress walls and tunneling her way into his life - into his mind. She was a life force of her own accord. She just made Greg House crazy, all kinds of crazy and he just couldn't take it. Change was not a good thing for him, nor was he interested in lowering that draw bridge. So he had taken it upon himself, in his Housian manner, to make her life equally as miserable as he felt her intrusions to be. He didn't care if she was confused by his actions; he wasn't planning on explaining his reasoning.

Over many months, House berated her, harassed her, put her down, ignored her, and ignored her medical judgment (even if she was correct). Pretty much did everything and anything an eight your old boy might do or, well, just House himself. He just insulted her. She said nothing. Nor did she betray any look of hurt, shock or anger on her face or in her eyes, she kept quiet, and she kept to herself.

He thought he would be relieved by this silence, the slight removal of her butting into his private life, but he just pondered why she never reacted, never said anything. He grew harsher. The boys actually complained to Cuddy, who warned him of disciplinary action, which was a half-assed threat since Cameron, herself, did not make a complaint. Wilson tried to probe him, but House successfully evaded all Cameron-related questions. Besides, Wilson had enough of his own problems going on.

House grew to hate the weekends. Not only for all the time he had to himself now (a whole other issue), but having to deal with the potential on-call person, especially if it was her. When there was no patient in their care, they had implemented a rotating schedule between the three fellows for emergencies. House hated the schedule, though it did give everyone a much needed break. House just wanted to avoid Cameron at all costs. No talking. No seeing. No hearing.

This particular weekend morning, House was woken not kindly by the soft hues of the sunlight and the normal pain in his leg, but rather by the shrilling sound of his pager and, well, the normal throb in his leg. He reached for the phone and called the hospital. The still sleepy doctor gave his medical orders, had them page his on-call person and got ready to head in to the hospital. He was not looking forward to spending the day together with just Cameron.

House arrives at the Diagnostic Department expecting to find his pretty protégé fluttering around with files, having already brewed a fresh pot of coffee and ready to update him on the condition of the patient. But Cameron and her belongings are nowhere insight. He checks-in with the nurse handling his patient, orders some tests, and sets a pot of coffee to brew. Still no Cameron.

He sits at his desk, the morning sun pouring strongly through the windows, drinking bad coffee, thinking about Cameron, which is the last thing he wants to be doing. He's becoming increasingly frustrated and annoyed at her tardiness, the unusual lack of responsibility she is showing. He's trying to decide what hateful words he will spit at her when she arrives today. He cringes inwardly as he thinks of some of the phrases he might use, he hates that this is what has become of them. He hates that she seems so unaffected. His mind reflects back to times when they had conversations, little underling to mentor discussions that were often really little heart to hearts, which at times he privately enjoyed. He hates that he's thinking about it.

Over an hour passes, and House has already started his own whiteboard meeting. He's fuming. (And privately, starting to get a little concerned by her absence.) He's about to pick up the phone to page Cameron when the door swooshes open and Cameron glides in without a care in the world on her shoulders and with a young man in tow. They are having a quiet chit chat, light laughter floating over the room; they are in total ignorance of House's presence.

House lifts his eyebrows as they proceed to ignore him, surprised by her continued behavior. "Uhem."

"Oh, good morning House, I didn't see you there," Cameron lightly responds, turning back to her conversation with her young friend.

("She just did not!" he thinks to himself.)

House eyes her up, taking in her young fella and her ridiculous outfit... his target for the day. A relatively normal V-neck maroon sweater, a tweed skirt and child-like maroon tights? If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn she just came from church or teaching five year olds.

"Cameron what took you so long? The hospital paged you two hours ago?" His tone dripping with some bitterness.

Just as she opens her mouth, House cuts her off, not a chance he's letting her get a word in, not a chance. "And this isn't 'Take your kids to work day' so please escort your guest to the nearest exit and perhaps he can take that ridiculous schoolmarm outfit and stockings with him so you can wear something more sensible for working today."

Cameron's face turns a lovely shade of rose. House contemplates the color momentarily, thinking it might make nice paint for his bedroom walls, and heads off to the haven of his office. He doesn't care to hear whatever she might say, nor does he want to stand in the awkwardness with her and her friend. From his office, House watches from the corner of his eye as Cameron and her new man exit the conference room. He wonders if he may have generated a response from her, if she'll fly into his office with vengeance in her. The thought makes him grin.

He's standing with X-rays in his hand when Cameron does come flying into his office. Her cheeks still flushed with that lovely shade of pink, her hair is coming apart, her eyes are dilated with anger, and her breathing is hitched. He imagines this might be what she looks like when she's turned on and he starts to melt - the room feeling smaller with her presence. God, he wishes he didn't know her and that she wasn't angry, because in her anger she is so damn sexy.

Cameron quickly crosses the room and pushes him. She gives him a good shove that pushes him up against the desk (he quickly feels the heat of her small hands burn through the fabric of his shirt). "House! I've had it with you!"

He shrugs. He actually doesn't blame her. He already knows he's a SOB. He smiles, he can't help himself. In some ways, he just enjoys pissing her off, because she pisses him off so much.

"House, I've had it with you!" She repeats herself. She is out of breath. She must have run back here just to yell at him. "You are so rude!"

"Well, no surprise there," he snorts.

"If you have something to say to me, you say it to me in private! Got it? It's bad enough that you ridicule me all day long in front of everyone, and I take it, but in front of my friends? Is that necessary? And to make comments about my clothes, what I wear, how I look? I don't do that to you! No one does! How rude, mean and immature is that?"

He looks at her and says nothing. She knows better. She knows he's never going to say he's sorry, he never does. He knows she knows enough that she doesn't expect it from him. He just looks at her. The humor is starting to fade. By the way Cameron is biting on her lip and pacing a bit, Gregory House knows she is calming herself down, moving into her "serious" tone.

"House, why is it that you can't deal with me?" Cameron asks flatly, not in her normal pleading manner. "You ridicule and pick on me more than the others. I never complain, I never say a thing," she has her arms across her chest. "I take it. I have always liked you and admired you, and you, you just treat me horribly, why is that?"

By her honesty, House senses her confidence returning. House is silent. He can't even laugh inside now for some reason. He can't look at her clear eyes, he looks at the floor.

She laughs a little evil laugh. He glances up at her in surprise. "You know what House, it's a good thing I do keep my mouth shut, and just keep away from you."

He's becoming confused now. Damn woman. This is why he doesn't want to talk to her, part of the reason at least. He doesn't know what she's talking about or what she's going to say. His urge is to put his head in his hands and scream to block her out, afraid of her possibly whip-lashing words.

"You," she begins, stepping back and forth on her high heels, "could not handle me. See," drawing out her speech, consonants and vowels rolling off her tongue slowly and sweetly, "you see me in a lot of ways as a young naive girl that I am not; I am a woman. I think you struggle seeing me that way. But you know what, you couldn't handle that. It's easier for you to hide and hang behind your words and your hookers and whatever else. So we just stopped talking. Any easier?" She raises an eyebrow.

House feels the office walls closing in on him even more. The glass not providing any sense of escape to the man who is usually running away to hide and used to hiding behind those particular glass walls.

"Care for a wager?" she baits.

House is frozen; he can never turn down a bet. He hasn't been able to say anything, confused by her words, even her body language has changed, her stance stronger, more dominant. She comes to where he is leaning on the desk. She straddles her legs across his ankles, her skirt hem grazing his jeans.

"I am much stronger and different than you think. There is a lot you don't know about me. Or, I, about you." She pauses, leans in and puts her hands on the desk in-between his hands and waist. "I bet you two hundred dollars," she starts to lower her voice and whisper in his ear, "that you can't take these, what did you call them? Oh yes, ridiculous stockings off with your teeth, fuck me and go home." She backs away, her long hair tickling his neck in her motion. "And we don't need to discuss it to death, so we'll leave it at that."

He tells her he'll take that bet. She puts her hand out. He takes her small hand in his larger one, hers warm and dry (she's not nervous at all). She turns to leave. She hesitates in the doorway and says, "My place, when we're done here."

She's gone. He gulps and asks himself, "What did you just do?"

First, he goes get himself a big cherry slurpy and some trash reading. He's going to be around a while waiting for test results and, thankfully, Cameron will be in the lab. He tries to imagine that she has gone there to hide. He tries to ignore the fact that she walked out of his office holding her back straight and her head high. Her stride had a slight sway in her hips, leaving House to enjoy the retreating view as she left him alone to ponder this bet. His immediate thoughts after her lusty strut are thrill that he's going to feel her ass, bare, with his hands.

At first, he thinks that he's got it made. She's going to pay him two hundred bucks to have sex with her. The only thing is he won't be at his own home (he likes his comfort), so he'll have to get up and go home. So, it's a little colder out than his leg might like, but he's had to deal with it every day. No problem! This is better than a hooker. He thinks about calling Wilson to tell him about his little deal, but then thinks better of it, in case Cameron backs out, besides, Wilson might disapprove. If she backs out, he'll still make her pay up. Oh, did he mention already that she's paying him to have sex with her? And she's hot! No problem! This is gonna be cake.

Then House starts thinking about the sway of her hips again, the round edge of her ass; the movement of her hair along her back, her legs longer in heels, and he immediately has an erection. He recalls her scent as she leant in toward him and tempted him with her bet, that lascivious bitch! And he sees her eyes, those green eyes looking at him; in a way they haven't looked at him in a long time... he shakes his head, trying to sweep those memories and ideas out of his mind. He can't look at her in any way but a one night stand. That's what she's giving him, that's all he needs. He doesn't know why she's doing it, but what the hell! If she can handle it, he most certainly can handle a one night stand with a beautiful woman, even if she does work for him.

He works on his slurpy, giving himself a brain freeze and hoping that helps freeze his mind. It does for a while. He puts feet up and starts flipping the pages of his magazine: Jennifer Aniston, Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie, Jessica Simpson, Nick Lachey, Britney Spears is a bad mom, yada yada yada. Nothing new.

Cameron enters his office, patient file in hand. House takes it from her and starts reading it, ignoring all the words coming out of her mouth. He needs to; he can't look at her mouth. He gives her orders for meds and knows that will stabilize the patient and send them off to the healing world. He continues with his magazine and slurpy, trying to ignore her presence and it's not easy, especially as he's being tempted.

"So," she begins, "I'm going to get going. I'll see you in a little while?"

"Yup," he responds, not looking up. She's about to exit the door when he reminds her not to take those silly maroon stockings off. He swears he hears her smile.

END PT 1