"This is stupid."
Cameron leaned back in her chair, ears straining towards the conversation in the next room.
"It's not," House said.
"It's monumentally stupid." Wilson spoke with genuine regret.
"It is not."
"It won't end well."
"That's stupid. If things ended well then there wouldn't be a reason for ending them, would there?"
Cameron heard Wilson sputter a bit. "What?"
"Go in there and do it."
"Why?"
House's response was not audible, but it was apparently convincing because a few moments later Wilson came skidding through the office door. Cameron snapped her gaze down to the file she was supposed to be reviewing.
"Hey," Wilson said.
"Hey," she said.
"Do you maybe…wanna get a drink?"
--
The bar might once have been very nice, what with its plush red booths and high, heavy wood tables. But it seemed to have grown dark and inclusive and Cameron noticed the management didn't bother to change light bulbs once they burnt out.
One such burnt-out bulb was directly above her head and would have been casting a comforting glow on their little party. Instead it was dark.
House looked scary in the dark.
The thought ran through her head before she could stop it and she decided to just let it keep running, and to keep swallowing her scotch and soda instead of trying to figure out what it meant.
House did look scary in the dark. The shadows fell just right to outline the sharp angles of his face and cast shadows where his eyes should be.
Wilson, on the other hand, (literally, his arms inches from her fingers) was in a pocket of light that fell, diagonally, across the lower half of his face and exposed the soft place his collar fell away from. He'd tried to start several conversations but they kept fizzling out.
Cameron wondered what she looked like, sitting here in the dark between these two men. She wondered if her lipstick looked too bright, if her blouse was too low, if the bartender thought she was a hooker.
She remembered her roommate in college, the one who everyone thought was her sister because they looked so much alike, small and brunette and breakable. The roommate had confessed to the occasional stint as a hired dominatrix to pay the bills.
For the life of her, Cameron couldn't figure why she remembered that then.
"So," House said and the noise made her jump.
"So," Wilson said.
--
She took them home with her.
Her heart beat fast in her throat as she unlocked the door and fled into the kitchen with vague words about coffee. The bright, airy paint she'd chosen for the kitchen looked so childish now, like a little girl's playhouse. She wrenched the coffee pot from the maker and filled it with water. She fumbled a bit with filters and buttons and let out a little gasp as the jar slipped between her fingers and spilled coffee grounds all along her tile floor.
She sighed and fetched the broom and dustpan from a corner, breathing deep to calm her nerves.
She'd never done this. She'd done it another way, once, for a friend, but never like this. She went to the sink and dumped the dustpan, jar and spilled coffee into it without bothering to clean up any more. She washed her hands and dribbled some cold water on the back of her neck. That helped a little.
The tension in the living room was thick and immobile. House flipped disgustedly through her CD collection. Wilson sat on the couch, his head tilted back, Adam's apple bobbing.
House managed to find a CD he didn't completely hate and he slipped it into the stereo as Cameron let herself fall onto the couch, curling her feet up beside herself.
Wilson's body felt warm next her.
Cameron leaned into his side, feeling awkward as she laid her head onto the bone of his shoulder. He was tense and distracted.
"So," she said quietly.
--
She felt hot all over and Wilson's hands were melting into her body at her hips as they twirled through the living room and into her bedroom. House walked behind them slowly, watching.
She pushed at Wilson's jacket and he hurriedly pulled it off, letting it drop to the floor. House sat on the bed. Wilson pushed her until she fell, bouncing on the mattress, pulling him down on top of her.
House's hands were cool and dry as they slid around her throat, removing her heavy necklace and trailing fingers through her hair. She swallowed and felt her ears pop.
Wilson rolled off her, to the side, hand reaching for her buttons. The sudden loosening of clothing and then Wilson's hand on her skin, under her blouse and House leaning close to her, reaching around to undo her pants.
They kissed above her and she felt suddenly insubstantial, a spectral succubus wedged between two men in love. House pulled her zipper down and pressed his hand against the throbbing place between her legs. She leaned back into him, eyelids fluttering.
"Oh," she said in the quiet of the room. "Oh."
--
"You're being stupid."
Cameron woke aware of residual warmth on either side of her. She sat up, pulled the comforter up against her bare breasts, and listened.
"Well, she did it, didn't she?" House asked from the living room.
"Don't say it like that."
"Like what? Did she or did she not do it?"
"She did."
"So I was right."
Cameron heard a sigh that sounded very much like Wilson. "Don't do this," he said.
House's response was inaudible, but she heard the front door slam.
Cameron got out of bed and found her bathrobe, the thick white terrycloth comforting against the bruises on her neck. She walked purposefully through the living room, saw Wilson standing awkwardly, and went into her kitchen. She poured herself a cup of the warm rich coffee still sitting in the pot. She took a sip.
Wilson came to the doorway. "Hey," he said.
Cameron put her coffee cup down a good inch away from the table top. Her body tensed as the mug cracked into several pieces, hot cofee spilling across the kitchen floor. Her hand fluttered to her mouth, two knuckles pressing into her lips.
Wilson had his jacket over his arm, his shoes on, ready to go. He reached out and gently touched her hair. "I'll see you around," he said, dropping a kiss onto the top of her head as he moved away from her. She flinched.
"Why?" She asked, suddenly.
Wilson stopped in the doorway, turning to look at her. "What?"
"I understand House." She paused, dropping the hand. "Alright, I don't understand House, but I get it. I know why, but you…"
Wilson smiled in a sad way. "It's complicated."
"So, what? It's complicated so I don't get to know why?"
"No," Wilson said, anger rising in his voice, "I don't think you do. I don't think it's any of your business."
Then there was that sigh again and he cocked his head, staring the floor.
"Are you in love with him?" She asked.
"That would certainly explain a lot."
They stood for a moment in silence. Something twanged between them like a guitar string and it hurt her to look at him.She turned and looked down at her sink, still messy with scattered coffee grounds.
"I'm going to go," Wilson said, and she nodded. He left slowly, as if waiting for her to say something, the door hanging open a moment before clicking shut, quietly.
Cameron sighed and squatted down, picking up the broken crockery pieces and piling them into her hand.
"Stupid."