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What I Like About You
by Laura Smith
"There's a flaw in your logic."
House simply stood in his doorway, refusing to do anything more to acknowledge Cameron's presence. "You said that everyone likes me and that you didn't like me."
"Well, I must have been lying."
"Right." She nodded and shifted from foot to foot. "So, the key is just to figure out which one's the lie."
He raised his eyebrow in the approximation of a nod. "That would be the scientific way to go about it." He leaned on his cane and lifted the glass of golden liquid to his lips, a mocking smile curving them. "What's your first test?"
She held his gaze for a long moment until he sighed and shifted his weight to take a step back from the door. Then she moved as he did, pinning him to the wall and holding him there, her eyes wide as they stared into his. "This."
He tilted his head. "Effective." He shifted slightly and cleared his throat. "Not conclusive though. One could classify this as a biased test. You've stacked the odds in favor of getting a result you want." He shifted again, pursing his lips together as she moved closer, parts of her body brushing his as she seemed to smooth against him. "Besides, you're testing for the wrong thing."
"Oh?" She took his free hand and pinned it to the wall above his head. Her fingers trailed down the pale blue shirt and he suppressed a slow shiver. Her breath was hot against his stubbled jaw. "How so?"
"Well, while this test is indicative of whether or not I want to see if your panties actually do have the days of the week printed on them, it doesn't say much as to whether I actually like you. In fact, if I were to do what it is that you're," he paused as her hand slid down his chest, stopping just above his belt, her fingers grasping at the loose fabric of his shirt to slip beneath it, "...Cameron."
"You think I won't respect you in the morning, Dr. House?"
"I think I won't respect myself."
"Do you want this?" Her hand splayed over his stomach then moved down, past his belt buckle to curve around his erection. "Want me?"
"Do you doubt the empirical evidence?"
"Well, if there's one thing I've learned from working with you, Dr. House-" she tightened her hand just enough to cause him to catch his breath. "You're never wrong."
He laughed and swallowed as she raised her hand to unfasten the metal clasp of his belt. "Ah, but this is your idea and you're often wrong."
"So I should stop?"
He closed his eyes as she unzipped his jeans, bouncing his head very slowly off the wall behind him. "Have I ever stopped you from making a mistake? I always assumed my policy was let you learn from them."
"And what will this mistake teach me?"
His leg spasmed and he bit back a groan as she pulled away. "Well, first of all, not to try to have sex standing up with a man who can barely stand on his own." He moved away from her, catching his jeans with his free hand as he gripped the handle of his cane with the other. He avoided the brandy soaked spot on the carpet and the broken glass as he headed for the couch. "Secondly, mood's important. Pour us both a drink, would you?"
**
Cameron brought the brandy over to him and sat nervously on the edge of the couch. The corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile and he shook his head as he took his first drink.
"What?"
He shook his head, feigning innocence. "Nothing."
"Nothing is never nothing with you." She took a drink and made a face. "So what is it?"
"You." He took another drink and leaned back against the arm of the sofa, watching her carefully.
"What about me?" She shifted uncomfortably, edging further away from him.
"Well," he leaned forward and set his drink on the coffee table, resting his elbows on his knees and folding his hands together. "Not five minutes ago, you had me pinned to the wall of my apartment and were ready to do something seriously debauched to me or with me or whatever." He rolled his eyes slightly. "Now you're sitting on the edge of my couch like you're scared to death and liable to break land speed records getting away from me."
"I thought you weren't interested."
"No," he ducked his head to emphasize his point. "We determined I was very interested, but that wasn't the diagnosis you were looking for." He watched her take another drink. "Relax. Mood, remember?"
"Mood is getting me drunk on really amazing brandy?"
"I have few vices. Unfortunately for me, all of them are expensive and addictive." He smiled. "Except for being right all the time. That one doesn't cost me a thing."
"Except friends."
"Why do you want everyone to like you?" He picked up his drink and finished it off, licking his lips as he set the glass down. "I could understand you wanting them to respect you or value your opinion or even look into your eyes rather than down your shirt, but I don't get like. Why would you want someone to like you? It's a mediocre emotion. It's...like." He shrugged. "No one likes me."
"I don't want to be like you."
"Well, that makes two of us. I don't want you to be like me either. If you were like me, I'd be here drinking alone." He took the glass from her hand and set it on the coffee table. "And that's just depressing."
"Don't you want to be liked?"
"No." He rubbed his jaw and gave her the shadow of a smile. "Besides, it's a fair trade off. I don't like anyone."
"But what about the people who care about you?"
"Isn't the bigger question why those people care about me when I'm like this?"
Cameron sighed and nodded slowly. "Well, I guess I should go then."
He reached out, his hand cupping the back of her neck and turning her toward him. "Allison." Stubble ghosted over her cheek as his breath warmed her ear.
She swallowed hard, her breath caught in her throat. "Yes?"
His lips feathered over her skin as he spoke. "I thought you wanted me to like you."
She shivered and blinked rapidly, turning to face him. "Will this help?"
"God, no," he assured her as he found her mouth, his lips warm on hers as his tongue slipped inside. The rough brush of his stubble caught her chin as he moved closer as he traced the inside of her mouth with the tip of his tongue, finally curling it around hers and sucking the sweet, slick taste of brandy from it. He unbuttoned her shirt with sure fingers, stripping away the silk as she stole the kiss from him, treading her fingers through his short hair. She turned his head, grazing his earlobe with the tip of her nose before capturing it between her teeth.
House groaned quietly as he snaked his hand behind her and unfastened her bra, caressing her skin as he slid his hand beneath the lacy fabric, curving his palm around her breast.
Cameron shrugged out of her shirt, pulling away from him to remove her bra as well. He gave her a low whistle of appreciation, smiling wickedly as she blushed. She held his gaze as she undid his shirt, fingers exploring his chest, nails catching his nipples experimentally. "Do you...you have a high tolerance for pain."
"I have a low tolerance for pain," he assured her, placing his hand over hers to keep her from removing it. "I have a high tolerance for pain medication." She pulled her hand away and he sighed, the sound melting into a gasp as she bent her head and flicked her tongue across the hard nub.
"What about pleasure?"
"I've never said no to it before." He caught her chin and lifted it, bringing her closer and inhaling the subtle scent of her. He shifted his grip on his cane as he guided her back onto the couch, moving slowly down her body.
Cameron moaned, the sound trapped low in her chest as House scraped her flesh, the hair on his chin branding her as he tasted the trail of her skin down to the creamy swell of her breast. His lips closed around the tender flesh, tongue teasing the nipple to a hard, tight peak. Cameron's body arched upward as his teeth grazed the taut skin.
House chuckled low, the sound reverberating against her chest as he moved to her other breast, teasing it as well. Cameron's hands stroked through his hair, holding him against her as her body pressed up against him. He shook off her grip with a smirk and shook his head, planting hot, taunting kisses over her breasts and abdomen as he moved slowly and carefully down her body, the soft tap of his cane on the floor marking his progress.
Her hands lit nervously on his shoulders as he stilled, staring up at her over the havoc a nearly full day's growth of beard had marked on her skin. She stared back at him, wide-eyed and wanting, inhaling audibly as he licked his lips before bending his head.
Her thighs were creamy peach, darkened with shadows of the underlit room. He kissed the inside of one and then the other, breathing in the sharp scent of her arousal. One hand rested on the flat juncture of her thigh as the other tightened around his cane, his tongue slipping down to edge the slick skin apart.
Cameron caught her breath, releasing it in a shuddering sigh as his tongue slid further past flesh to the hard nub of her clit. The muscles of her legs clenched around him and he pressed lightly against her upper thigh, letting his thumb brush through the velvet tangle of hair at the apex of her thighs.
The thick taste of her coated his tongue as it slid down, stroking the slick, wet flesh languorously before returning to her clit, lashing the nerves with quick darts of his tongue. Cameron moaned above him and he slid his hand down to part the swollen flesh further. His tongue brought her distended clit to his teeth, capturing it between them. He scraped the skin gently, adjusting his grip on his cane as he prepared to do it again.
Cameron's body bucked in response, her movement and orgasm catching him both off guard and off balance. House spluttered a hard curse as he fell off the couch; his cane skittered across the floor. He twisted and groaned; rolling onto his back and turning the wrist he fell on as Cameron look down at him. Her eyes were bright and hazy all at once, fogged with need. Her hair hung around her fast as she turned on her side, concern tight in her thick voice. "Are you all right?"
"Balance is a bitch."
"Is that my third lesson?"
He grunted a laugh. "Sort of ties into the first, actually."
"Then lesson number three must be that -" she sat up, her high heels nudging his side, the black lather smooth and cool against his bare skin. Her chest and stomach were marked red from where his stubble had scratched her. She straddled him, her trim skirt sliding up to her hips to reveal the top of her stockings. "Gravity isn't always your enemy."
He lifted his hands, long fingers smoothing over the curve of her breasts. "It does have some advantages."
Cameron's eyes closed and she bit her lower lip. He cupped her breasts, stroking the sensitive tips of her nipples, teasing them with the pad of this thumb. She made a soft sound low in her throat as she rolled her hips, grading down against him. "House..."
He laughed low, his ever-present mocking tone softened as he shuddered in response to the movement of her body. "I think it would be safe for you to call me Greg."
She eased off of him, smiling as he groaned. "Not until I get your pants off."
"Don't let me stop you," he encouraged as she hooked her hands beneath the waistband of his jeans, tugging them down his body. He groaned again as she eased them over his erection. "It is, as they say..."
Cameron released his jeans and moved up his body again, the dark blond hair that peppered his thighs rasping against the silky sheer of her nylons as she sank down onto him. "The equivalent of a formal introduction?"
"Oh...Christ." House's hands fisted in her skirt, nails scratching at her skin through the material. "Not exactly standard operating procedure, Cameron." She rested her hands on his flat stomach, her short, polished nails scraping lightly at his blond-gray hair as she began moving over him, her body clenched around his cock. "No scrubbing in. No asking about latex allergies." He smirked, the gesture ruined as his mouth opened in a silent groan as her nails dug into his abdomen, her hips moving in earnest. "Oh...fuck." His hands clenched at her waist as he braced his feet on the floor, thrusting up inside her. "No," he swallowed hard, "no latex."
Perspiration held tendrils of her hair against her face as she closed her eyes, her breath catching in quick soft pants, her rhythmic thrusts growing more erratic. "If you can't trust your doctor..."
"God," House gasped. "You trust your doctors?"
Cameron stilled, her body shaking with tension until he rolled his hips up to hers and she moaned, her orgasm flooding around him. She panted roughly as she stared down at him, taking his hands and threading her fingers through his. "I trust you."
"I thought you were smarter than that."
She used his hands for leverage as she began moving again. He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply, tightening his grip on her hands as his muscles clenched. Pain creased his features and he shook one hand free of hers to grasp the leg of the coffee table, biting back a rough curse as he came.
Concern marred her features as she slowed her movements, reaching out to smooth the wrinkles of pain from his face. "Do you need something for the pain?"
"Normally you ask that beforehand. Lesson number four." He closed his eyes as she moved off him. "Not, mind you, that I'm going to say no now." He used the sofa and table for leverage as he sat up. Cameron followed his nod to the small brown bottle of pills and handed it to him.
House shook one out and swallowed it dry. He caught her gaze and smirked at her sympathy. "Drugs are bad. Don't do drugs."
"Were you like this? Before?"
"Half naked with my pants around my ankles and painfully aware of how humiliating the act of getting to my feet is going to be?" He chuckled dryly. "Only on Thursday nights."
"I could..."
"I knew there was a reason I preferred this in the dark."
"I need a drink." She picked up her nearly full glass and carried it over to the bar, not looking at him as he levered himself up enough to turn over and get his feet under him.
"I'll...be back."
"I could go." She turned then whirled back to the bar abruptly. "Oh. Er...sorry."
"One of the unsung advantages of the condom. Should I alert Trojan, do you think?" He hobbled toward the back of the apartment, holding the wall for support.
**
When he came back into the room, Cameron was perched on the edge of the sofa, hair fixed and clothes aligned, though her glass was empty. Her eyes raked up his jean-clad legs to his bare chest, pausing at the pale red scratches she'd left there before finally meeting his eyes. "I...I should go." She searched his expression as she stood, handing him his cane. "This...this doesn't change anything between us, does it?"
He smiled, his knuckles white as he gripped the handle. "You mean are we going steady?" He raised an eyebrow as she smiled. "Or do you still just want to know if I like you?"
"Goodnight, Dr. House."
He watched as she walked toward the stairs, not smiling until she disappeared from sight. "Goodnight, Allison."
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of Fox Television, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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