Forgive me as I write a rather longer author's note than usual; feel free to skip down to the first break. You have my word that this trend won't continue, and I appreciate your indulgence.
I'm guessing that everyone has heard of "method acting", where actors prepare for a part by actually doing whatever it is they'll be pretending to do. Well, there's a scene in this chapter set in a bar, where several drinks are consumed, and I used the "method writing" approach - i.e. I wrote the bulk of this chapter (and indeed this note) fairly late at night with the help of my very good friend Jack Daniel (neat, of course - no ice, no water), in one long, continuous stream of prose. Whether that makes it better or worse is up to you, but it at least feels true to me. (And whether true in this context means "in-character and believable for the show" or merely "an accurate reflection of what I was feeling at the time" is naturally up for debate. As the reader, I guess you're the final judge.)
I just want to say once again that I truly appreciate your kind reviews - we actually topped a hundred after chapter eight, which is a milestone I never even remotely believed i would reach. Of course, it's not about the number of reviews, or how positive or negative they are, or even about getting reviews at all; the reason I do this is both to satisfy my compulsion to practice the craft, and also (far more importantly) to attempt to create an emotional response in the reader.
Whoever you are, sitting reading this in your web browser from wherever you are in the world, I've no doubt never met you and perhaps never will. As I sit here writing in the north of Edinburgh in Scotland, with rock music playing quietly so as not to wake the neighbours, my goal is just to create something that seems true to you, too - and this time, true means what we'd like to happen, delivered as believably as I'm capable of.
If I've managed to achieve that even in a small and temporary way, then I've succeeded in what I set out to do, and you genuinely need feel no pressure to leave a comment. If however you do still feel the desire to write a few words to that effect, I'll certainly be very glad indeed to read them. Validation is always a welcome thing, no matter how much you believe in the cause.
And if you choose not to leave a comment, but you're enjoying the story anyway? Let me offer a suggestion: write one of your own, whether you publish it or not. Fanfic has a reputation as being derivative and trite; a genre for amateur authors who either can't or won't come up with their own characters and settings. I don't think that's true at all. Fanfic has a lower barrier to entry, sure, but my feeling is that it's at least as valid a literary form as the mighty novel or screenplay, and I have an argument to support that somewhat bold assertion.
Television and movies saturate our lives, and a lot of people are worried that creativity is increasingly becoming a quality that other people have. When I browse fanfic, what I see is that hundreds of thousands of people have experienced a passive entertainment medium like television or cinema, and the end result is that they've been inspired to write. What's more, a single episode of House M.D. or Grey's Anatomy or, hell, even a Pokémon cartoon spawns a hundred pieces of original fiction. I think that's a pretty good return, especially since those works are often created by people who would never otherwise even consider writing a work of fiction if it wasn't a homework assignment which was due the next morning.
That's a rather powerful realisation when you think about it, and it's something that gives me hope when I switch on the news and hear of another arrest or car-bomb or nebulous threat. Am I claiming that fanfic, of all things, is somehow a robust and complete counter-argument to the fear and sadness that assault us all on an almost daily basis? Of course not; that's clearly a ludicrous proposition. But what I am saying is this: there's a basic, fundamental truth hidden in all this "House/Cam pairing - rated M for safety! (Slight Wuddy)" text that we all pore through on here, and it's a truth about optimism for the future and the fact that things maybe aren't quite as bad as they sometimes seem.
Draw your own conclusions, though; after all, I have the plausible deniability of it being late at night and having had a few drinks. Maybe I'll even recant all this in the cold light of morning. But I have a strong feeling that I won't, and that you'll be reading this when the chapter is published. Maybe that's an argument for publishing late at night; it's sometimes easier to write truthfully when everyone else is asleep. You can decide for yourself whether there's any metaphor to be found in that statement.
Oh, and just to be clear: we're certainly not done yet.
Cheers (this time in both senses),
-Matt (RGB)
23:48 (UK local time), Tuesday 7th August 2007
An unfamiliar and immediately irritating beeping noise dragged House roughly from sleep, and he was momentarily unsure where he was or what was going on. He felt a brief pressure on his chest, and then the noise stopped, and a moment later a slender arm snaked around his waist.
He opened his eyes to see Cameron blinking up at him, illuminated by the sunlight filtering through the curtains of her bedroom. He immediately smiled at her, and she smiled back briefly before frowning.
"It's seven-thirty," she sighed.
"You get up at seven-thirty?" he yawned, with disbelief in his voice. "I thought the power only came on at eight."
She shot him a sleepy look, curling herself around him once again. He moved his hand from her back and slid it downwards.
"Did I ever tell you you've got the most perfect ass?" he said innocently, squeezing her gently, and she laughed out loud, blushing a deep pink and burying her head in his chest.
He chuckled, and she could feel the vibration through his ribcage.
"Ok, we are definitely getting up now," she said, at last pushing herself up onto her elbows but still lying mostly on top of him.
"I don't have to be at work til ten," he said in a smug voice, and she rolled her eyes.
"That may be, but I have a grumpy boss who insists I'm at work before nine," she said with a wry smile. "So that means: We. Get. Up. Now." She punctuated each word with a small kiss, and he grinned and nodded.
"Fine," he groaned, and kissed her on the tip of her nose. She smiled and then rolled off his chest and sat up on the edge of the bed.
"I can make us breakfast if you want," she said, and he grinned.
"Sounds great," he replied. "I'll go home when you leave and meet you at work later."
She nodded and then tugged at the corner of the sheets, but he clamped his arms down on top of the portion covering him, smirking. She sighed elaborately and then shrugged before standing up.
The bedcovers slid from her waist and fell back onto the bed, leaving her once again completely naked, and he lifted himself up to a sitting position to watch appreciatively as she slowly strolled around the bed and towards the door. Her breasts bounced slightly as she walked, and his eyes also moved to catalog the smooth curves of her thighs as she went past.
"Great view," he said, and she smiled without glancing around as she left the bedroom and headed towards the bathroom.
He shook his head, still grinning. He suddenly felt an almost overpowering urge to call Wilson and boast, but he dismissed the thought immediately. It would be better to see his face when he found out at some later point.
Not too much later, he thought, and a plan began to form in his mind.
He glanced around the bedroom's floor, locating both his cane and his discarded boxer shorts, and threw back the covers. He could hear that she had just switched on the shower, so he had a few minutes to familiarize himself with her kitchen.
Today, he would be the one to make the coffee.
It was ever so slightly later than usual - just before 10:10 am - when House walked through the front doors of the hospital and made straight for the elevators. Rush hour traffic had made the bike ride from Cameron's apartment to his own take almost 25 minutes, and he had taken plenty of time getting showered and changed.
It wouldn't do to arrive too early, after all; people could get suspicious.
It took less than two further minutes to arrive at the conference room, and he pushed the door open with the end of his cane before striding in.
"Good morning, loyal henchmen," he said loudly, drawing a raised eyebrow from Cameron and only bemused glances from Foreman and Chase.
He had barely reached the table when he noticed Wilson standing behind the chair at the opposite end, and he nodded a greeting to his friend.
"Where the hell have you been?" the younger man asked, drawing several curious looks.
House frowned in puzzlement, and Wilson sighed in frustration. He was about to continue when the door opened once again, and Cuddy walked in, to be greeted by silence.
"Um... don't let me interrupt. Yet." she said, wondering what was being discussed. Wilson nodded a greeting to her and then turned to address House again.
"I called you last night; got your voicemail," he said, already beginning to gesticulate. "I called back later, and your phone was switched off."
"Oops," House replied, taking the phone out of his pocket and switching it back on again.
"I drove over around ten, just to see what was going on, and there was nobody home," he said pointedly, and House grinned involuntarily.
Wilson walked towards him, his eyes narrowing in curiosity.
"And you're slightly late this morning, even for you," Wilson continued, before stopping a few feet away from House and folding his arms. "What gives?"
House glanced down at his own feet with a mock bashful expression for a moment, and then raised his free hand in capitulation.
"You got me," he said. "I only got home about an hour ago."
Chase's eyebrows shot up, Wilson uttered a satisfied "Aha!", Foreman gave an impression of perfect disinterest, and Cameron's expression was carefully neutral. Cuddy actually took half a step forward, eager as she was to hear the rest of whatever was going on.
"And?" Wilson asked, unfolding his arms and once again gesticulating, and House grinned.
Oh god, thought Cameron, holding her breath without being aware of it.
"Truth is," House said, "I'm seeing someone. Had a few dates over the past week. I spent last night at her place."
Wilson's mouth had fallen slightly open, and he began to grin slightly despite his annoyance at being kept in the dark.
"A few dates?" he asked, incredulously. "By which you mean to say..."
"That I have a girlfriend," House finished. "Shocking, isn't it? Yet there it is."
He glanced around the room, and saw with enormous satisfaction that Foreman, Chase and Cuddy were all genuinely stunned. Cameron made eye-contact with him only briefly, seemingly with no response at all. He gave her the tiniest wink, and she returned a very subtle smile, both of which were missed by everyone else in the room.
"I'll be damned," Cuddy said. "I didn't think any woman in her right mind would want to put up with you."
House glanced pointedly at her, half-grinning at her faux pas, and Cuddy suddenly remembered that one such woman was standing at the opposite side of the room. She blushed deeply and looked away, and House had to try very hard not to laugh out loud.
"So," Cuddy hurriedly continued, "Who is she? When can we meet her, and perhaps give her a free MRI?"
House's grin now disappeared, to be replaced with his best serious face.
"Funny you should ask that," he said, and every set of eyes in the room fixed upon him.
Oh god, thought Cameron again.
"I'm planning to bring her to the bar down the street after work tonight," he said. "Anybody who wants to meet her is welcome to join us."
"Seriously?" asked Wilson, already burning with curiosity.
"Seriously," House replied.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Cuddy said gleefully, drawing general noises of agreement. Once again, she realized the potential awkwardness of the situation, and glanced sympathetically at Cameron, but she quickly saw that she needn't have worried about the younger woman. Cameron was grinning.
"Can't wait," Cameron said, and all the men turned to look at her. "If she can put up with you, she must be a real piece of work."
Wilson grinned and couldn't help but nod in agreement, and House could only stick his tongue out at her. Foreman snorted a laugh, and Chase wore what could only be described as a smug grin.
"Ok, well now that that's settled, I have some admin notices for you all," Cuddy began, and the attention of everyone in the room turned towards her, with only a few brief amused glances in House's direction first.
As Cuddy began outlining the usual assorted minor changes in hospital policy and general announcements, House furtively glanced over at Cameron. She was already looking at him, and immediately raised an eyebrow in a silent question - Are you sure you know what you're doing?
He winked at her again by way of response, and then glanced away.
She felt her stomach flip-flop, but she was also suddenly wishing that the rest of the working day would disappear, and that it would be 5:30 pm already. It would be a long wait, but it might just turn out to be worth it.
It had indeed been an impossibly long day, but by the time 5:30 pm arrived, Cuddy and Wilson had both once again joined the three younger doctors in the conference room. Everyone already had their jackets on, and all but Cameron were sitting around the table, engaging in speculation as to who House's mystery girlfriend could be.
Cameron pretended to be occupied with a few last-minute emails, and listened with growing amusement at the conversation. After a few minutes of this, House came through from his office, carrying his leather jacket under one arm, and all eyes turned to him.
"You're still serious about this?" Wilson asked, and House smirked.
"Yes, Jimmy," he replied. "Been looking forward to it all day."
"So are we going?" Cuddy asked. "Is she meeting us there?"
House merely smiled.
"Patience," he said. "You can all go get us a decent table. I'll meet you there shortly."
Cuddy shrugged, and they all stood up and began to gather their various belongings. House limped over to Cameron's desk in the corner, pretending to look at what was on her computer screen.
"Go with them," he said quietly. "I'll see you there in twenty minutes or so."
She nodded.
"But what are you going to say?" she whispered, and he shook his head.
"Quit worrying. I'll think of something," he replied. "Just keep me a seat beside you."
She glanced up at him and then nodded once more. She was getting very nervous about this, but she also felt a great deal of anticipation. She was excited, and she found that she was eager to get to the bar.
She stood up, and House gave her one last look and then walked back towards the door leading to his office.
"See you there," he said to no-one in particular, and returned to his own office for just long enough to switch off the lights and lock the outer door.
By the time another five minutes had passed, both rooms were empty and in darkness.
Cameron swirled the wine in her glass nervously for perhaps the tenth time since they had arrived fifteen minutes earlier, but the others were too engaged in their own conversation to notice.
"Maybe it's Restraining Order Girl," Chase suggested, and Foreman snorted with laughter.
"It had better not be," Cuddy growled, and the smile vanished from Chase's lips immediately.
"Could it be someone from a conference?" Cuddy asked, looking towards Wilson, and he simply shrugged.
"He hasn't told me anything," he sighed. "I honestly don't have a clue."
Cuddy frowned, but Wilson noticed that she also clasped her hands together and rubbed her thumbs over each other. It was a gesture which spoke of a barely-contained eagerness and curiosity, and he allowed himself a small grin.
He was just beginning to wonder when the man of the hour would actually arrive, when Foreman spoke up.
"There he is," he said, and everyone looked around.
Cameron felt a frenzy of butterflies in her stomach, and looked around and down to the other end of the long room to see House coming through the main door from the street. He was alone.
"So where is she?" Cuddy asked, thinking aloud.
They all watched as House, with a slightly puzzled expression, looked around and eventually noticed them. He gave a cursory nod, and then continued to look around, seemingly searching for someone.
"She must already be here," Wilson said, automatically glancing around too, as if he could somehow recognize the mystery woman by sheer force of interest.
After a few moments, House shrugged and turned to walk towards the bar.
"I guess she's late," Chase observed, and there was amusement in his voice, drawing a reproachful look from both Cameron and Wilson. He blushed slightly and his eyes fell to his drink.
They all sat in silence for a minute or so before Wilson spoke up.
"Here he comes," he said, and everyone suddenly became very interested in their own drinks.
"My five favorite people," House said as he arrived at their booth, drawing a nod and a weak smile from Wilson.
Cameron scooted to the side to allow House to slide into the booth beside her, and he set his scotch down carefully in front of him. He put on an exaggerated grin and looked around the table at his co-workers.
Cuddy was looking at him intently, seemingly waiting for him to say something, and when he didn't she decided to speak.
"If you were just screwing with us all this time, House, I swear -"
"Fear not, Mistress Cuddy," he said, drawing a raised eyebrow from her. "You'll be meeting my girl tonight."
Cuddy frowned.
"So, I guess she's... running late?" she asked, and House shook his head.
Foreman laughed, and five pairs of eyes turned towards him. He was looking at House, and he was grinning.
"I think you got stood up," he said, and House raised an eyebrow, looking at the neurologist for a long and uncomfortable moment before speaking.
"On the contrary," he said. "She got here before I did."
Cameron shifted her feet nervously under the table, and took a quick sip of her wine. She was glancing between Foreman and House as they spoke.
"O-kay," Wilson began, and House looked round at his friend. "So... where is she?"
Without breaking eye-contact with Wilson, House extended his right hand to pick up his glass of scotch, and raised it to his lips, taking a large sip and then setting it down again. He released his grip on the glass, and brought his hand back towards him, resting it on the table not far from the glass.
Wilson glanced briefly down at House's hand, puzzled, and then looked back up as his friend spoke.
"She's right... here," he said, noting that everyone was focused on him. He slowly turned his hand so that his palm was facing upwards.
There was a moment of silence at the table as everyone looked at him, and Cameron took an unnoticed deep breath. She was sitting beside him to the right, and when she lifted her left hand away from her drink, no-one noticed at first. After hesitating for only a fraction of a second, she reached over towards him.
Cuddy, Wilson, Foreman and Chase watched in hypnotized fascination as she put her hand on top of his palm, and his fingers curled up to interlace with hers. She glanced up at him, her cheeks flushing slightly, and he turned his head to meet her gaze. His lips curled into a small grin, and she smiled widely as she blushed an even deeper shade of pink.
Wilson's eyes darted from their hands to House's face, to Cameron's face, and back to their hands. His mouth fell open.
"Oh," he said, sitting back slightly and pointing at them. "Oh my god!"
Cuddy's hand was frozen about two inches above the table, paused in its journey towards her wine glass. A very small, dazed smile was beginning to play around the edge of her lips.
Chase was simply stunned. His gaze bounced back and forth between Cameron and House several times before fixating on their hands clasped together.
Foreman was least surprised of all. He merely shook his head in silence, but he was smirking.
Very slowly, the tentative smile on Cuddy's lips became a full grin, and she shook her head.
"I never thought I'd see the day," she said at last, and House tilted his head slightly as if to say Tell me about it. Cameron simply smiled, perhaps very slightly smugly, then released his hand and instead took his arm, sliding closer to him.
"God help you," Cuddy said, looking pointedly at Cameron, but her tone was warm, and the younger woman laughed. House gave an exaggerated frown and then picked up his whiskey, this time with his left hand since his right had been claimed by Cameron.
"Well," Wilson said after a long pause, clearing his throat and raising his bottle of beer as he looked at his friend, "in that case I'd like to offer a toast, to Cameron hopefully not killing you even though you frequently deserve it, and to you seemingly having the luck of the devil himself."
House grinned and raised his glass, and Cameron mirrored the gesture.
"And to not letting this get in the way of your work," Cuddy said warningly, raising her wine glass, to which House nodded solemnly.
"Glad you got what you wanted," Foreman said after a moment, looking at Cameron and raising his beer, "even though he's still an ass."
House glanced down at Cameron with a exaggerated look of hurt, and she simply fluttered her eyelashes at him. He then turned his attention to Chase, raising an eyebrow expectantly, and the Australian shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"Uh," he began, raising his beer, "Good luck, I guess. She'll need it." There was a noticeable bitterness in his voice, and no-one was surprised.
Cameron poked House in the ribs, knowing he was about to make an unpleasant comment to the young intensivist, and he remained silent and nodded, taking a sip of his whisky. There was silence for a few moments, and then Cuddy spoke once again.
"So, Allison," she began, causing Wilson to share a look of surprise with House at her use of the younger woman's first name; "How did you finally get him to open his eyes?"
Cameron smiled and opened her mouth to begin, and then frowned slightly, unsure where to start. She glanced briefly at House, but he simply nodded at her - It's your story - and she thought for a moment before smiling once more.
Cuddy and Wilson both leaned forward, Wilson folding his arms on top of the table, and House grinned and shook his head at his friend.
"Well," Cameron began, "I guess it all started, as he's told me most good things do, with Led Zeppelin..."
Cameron was now on her third glass of wine, and was most definitely feeling pleasantly tipsy. They had been in the bar for just over two hours, and Chase and Foreman had left almost an hour ago. They had all ordered food from the bar earlier for the sake of convenience, and had long since finished their meal.
The remaining four now occupied the middle two-thirds of the large, semicircular booth, with Cuddy beside Cameron in the middle. The two women were engaged in their own conversation, as were the men, leaning across the middle of the table.
"I just want to say this," Wilson said, his brow slightly shiny in testament to the four-and-a-half beers he'd already consumed, "I'm really happy for you."
He patted the table with the palm of his hand in emphasis.
"Really, really happy for you."
House grinned and nodded twice in thanks. Wilson was clearly getting drunk. House himself was on his fifth scotch, but he was something of a professional in the drinking stakes, and felt only a vague but pleasant buzz.
"Thanks, man," House replied, and Wilson gave him a rather goofy smile before frowning as if something had just occurred to him. He lifted his hand to point a finger at his friend, and leaned forward further, lowering his voice.
"Don't push her away, House," he said. "Most people don't get a second chance like this. This is right. It's... you just cannot afford to screw this up."
Wilson nodded to himself, seemingly satisfied he had imparted some sage advice, and took a swig of his beer.
"And you can always call me at any time if you need advice," he continued, completely earnestly, and House could contain himself no longer.
He laughed out loud, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mirth - some genuine and some borne of alcohol - and Wilson looked comically stunned for a moment before bursting out laughing with him. The two women looked around in surprise, and this somehow only increased the humor of the situation, causing Wilson to slap the surface of the table several times as he cackled.
House watched his friend being temporarily incapacitated with drunken amusement, and he shook with laughter. He could barely remember the last time he had enjoyed the company of a group of people so much, and he glanced briefly around at Cameron, who smiled at him with shining eyes and cheeks which bore the flush of wine.
He returned the smile, and a simple yet momentous truth sprang clearly into his mind.
I'm in love with that woman, he thought.
His eyes widened at the realization, and though he knew it was impossible, he saw that she had picked up at least the general shape of the thought. Her gentle smile somehow softened further, and everything around them seemed to slow and to fade and to quieten until there were only her eyes looking back into his.
A communication slipped between them in only the time it took for the light of the candle in the middle of the table to reflect a hundred times in her eyes, and a thought which didn't seem to be his own nevertheless crystallized in his mind.
And she's in love with me.
He was only dimly aware of it on an intuitive level, but within his mind a heavy door, closed and barred for years and even now only very slightly ajar, blew apart in a silent storm of fading images and whispered thoughts. The place he had been - isolated; conflicted; damaged - suddenly became Before.
She watched a stream of expressions run across his face, and she knew that she was the only one who could see them. Wilson, if he was stone cold sober, could perhaps have had an inkling of the fact that something large had happened, but this perception was hers alone, because she understood that in some sense she was seeing what he himself was feeling.
The specific details were soft-edged and difficult to discern, but the nature of what she saw was more than clear enough. She watched him realize how he felt about her, and she watched him understand how she felt about him in return. And then, as simply as that, without fanfare or fireworks, it was somehow now After.
I love you, she thought, and she was unsure whether it was just the wine which made her certain that he had heard it.
She felt that she would surely cry now, but somehow this time alcohol made it less likely rather than more, and instead she simply held his gaze, knowing that he at last understood. She reached out towards him beneath the table, and felt him take her hand and squeeze it.
"I actually feel a little drunk," Wilson suddenly remarked, seemingly addressing his bottle of beer in front of him, and House reluctantly dragged his eyes away from her and towards his friend.
"No kidding," Cuddy said, and Wilson glanced at her and grinned guilelessly.
"I think I could use an orange juice," Wilson continued, and House rolled his eyes, reaching for his cane.
"And I could use another scotch," he said, glancing at the two women with a raised eyebrow - Same again? - who both shook their heads. He shrugged, squeezing Cameron's hand once more before releasing it, and stood up.
"I can only carry one drink at a time," he said to his friend, tilting his head towards his cane, and Wilson nodded and got up.
Once they had both left the table and were heading towards the bar, Cuddy turned to look at Cameron, considering her for a long moment, and then she smiled before speaking.
"You love him, don't you?" she asked gently, and Cameron's eyes flicked briefly down to her wine glass before meeting Cuddy's gaze again. She returned the smile, vaguely aware that her cheeks felt warm, and after a short pause she simply nodded.
Cuddy's smile widened, and then she leaned forward and briefly hugged the younger woman. Cameron was taken by surprise for a moment, and then returned the embrace.
As Cuddy sat back once again, she put a hand on the side of Cameron's shoulder, squeezing it in a sisterly gesture.
"I'm really happy for you," she said, and Cameron nodded.
"I know," Cameron replied, smiling. "I really hope this works out."
Cuddy gave a small laugh.
"Oh I have a feeling it just might, if how he was looking at you is anything to go by," she said, picking up her wine and taking a sip.
Cameron tilted her head, grinning, and again her cheeks felt warm.
She turned her head to glance down towards the bar, and this time it was she who laughed.
"Wilson looks a little worse for wear," she grinned, and Cuddy followed her gaze.
Wilson was standing about a meter behind House, who was engaged in conversation with the bartender. The younger man's tie was pulled down level with his second button, and the top button of his shirt was undone. He was running the fingers of one hand through his hair, and his expression was one of bemused tranquility. His eyes were partly closed, and he occasionally swayed slightly.
Cuddy laughed out loud, and Cameron giggled with her for a few moments until she heard Cuddy sigh. Looking round, she saw the other woman shaking her head, though she was still smiling.
Made brave by the alcohol and the sense of near-invincibility which had come from her relationship with House now being out in the open, she spoke the thought as soon as she had it.
"You like him!" she said, lowering her voice even though the two men were at the other end of the room.
Cuddy glanced towards her, startled, and opened her mouth to speak, but then simply gave her a small smile. She shrugged, wearing an expression of exaggerated innocence, and Cameron grinned.
Cuddy suddenly cleared her throat, and Cameron looked up to see House and Wilson returning. Wilson had already drained half of the glass of orange juice he held, and he slid into his side of the booth somewhat heavily. House moved with the same awkward grace as he always did, but the sparkle in his eyes gave away the fact that he was not unaffected by the whisky he'd drank.
"So what did you two talk about when we were away?" House asked, smirking in the automatic assumption that he himself had been the topic.
"Girl stuff," Cameron said innocently, and the two women wore matching grins.
It was after 10:30 pm when they finally left, having called taxis a few minutes before, but it felt much later. Cuddy had offered to share a taxi with Wilson since his hotel was only a few minutes away and more or less on her way home, and House had playfully punched Wilson on the shoulder.
"You dog," he said, and Wilson blinked in puzzlement for a moment. Cuddy simply shot House a look and then took Wilson's arm, raising an eyebrow towards House as if daring him to make a further comment.
House frowned slightly and opened his mouth to speak, but Cameron dragged him towards their taxi, calling their goodnights as she did so.
They had gone to Cameron's place since it was closer, and it was barely ten minutes later when she was unlocking her apartment door and ushering him inside for the second evening in a row.
"Do you want anything?" she asked, locking the door and engaging the chain before turning to him as she took off her jacket.
"Maybe some water," he replied. "And about ten hours of sleep."
She smiled.
"Well you've got time for about eight," she said, walking towards the kitchen. "Go ahead and I'll bring your water in a minute."
He nodded, shrugging off his jacket and dropping it onto the couch, and then walked through to her bedroom. The bed was immaculately made, of course, though he couldn't remember seeing her do it that morning. He grinned.
Tomorrow night it's my place, he thought, sitting down on the edge of the bed and beginning to untie the laces of his Nikes.
Ten minutes later they lay together in her bed, the only light coming from the lamp on the small table just outside the door. She felt amazingly relaxed. It had been a good night, and she had to admit to having enjoyed everyone's reaction when they finally found out.
"Pretty good evening," House murmured, and she smiled, tightening her arms around him.
"Yep," she said, and he also smiled in the darkness. "And thanks. I really wanted people to know."
"Wasn't so bad after all," he replied, feeling her nod against his chest.
"Hopefully Cuddy will be cool with me paging you for sexual favors now," he said, and she laughed out loud, jabbing a finger into his ribs.
"Go to sleep," she grinned, and his arms tightened around her shoulders.
He once again placed a small kiss on her forehead, and she once again returned it at the base of his neck.
Let it always be like this, she thought, as her mind quietened and her breathing shallowed.
Barely five minutes later, they were both asleep.