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Time Is On My Side
by Houseketeer
Disclaimer: the author does not, in any way, profit from the story and all creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).
Author's Note: This is my first official fanfic. I am as eager for your constructive criticism as for your accolades. For maximum enjoyment, try reading as you listen to the song: if you read the same speed as me, you will reach the quotations as they play, and finish the story as the song ends.
House watched as Cameron left her table and crossed the now mostly deserted bar make a jukebox selection. He was surprised to hear the opening notes of Time is On My Side, but more surprised when she turned and walked straight towards the bar where he stood with Wilson.
"May I have this dance?"
"Absolutely not."
"Come on," she said, gripping his right hip with her left hand. "I paid a quarter and everything." She started to sway in time as the lyrics started, and he couldn't help but start to dance along. He continued to lean on his cane, but placed his left hand at her waist. She snaked her right arm up to grip his shoulder. Slowly they moved toward the vacant dancing area.
"I wouldn't have pegged you for a Stones fan."
"You only *think* you have me pegged."
"Well I've got everyone else in the room figured out," he said, scanning the other patrons. "They're thinking, 'how did an aged relic like him score her?'"
"Why can't they be thinking something more flattering, like 'lucky son-of-a-bitch'?"
He scoffed. "Because I'm not lucky. I'm forced to dance against my will by a stalker."
Her eyes dropped to the floor. "I get that you don't want me. Just shut up and let me enjoy my dance."
He held her imperceptibly closer, and soon her forehead was touching his cheek. "I told you I'd just end up hurting you," he whispered.
Defeated, she dropped her forehead to rest on his shoulder. "That's patently ridiculous. What makes you think that you'll hurt me less by denying me the one thing I want most?"
"You don't know what you want."
She looked directly into his eyes. "I want you."
"Then you're quite the little masochist. How many times do I have to turn you down before it sticks?"
She dropped her gaze, and they danced in silence for a few moments.
You'll come running back,
You'll come running back,
You'll come running back,
To me-e-e.
"I've pitched woo, and been shot down by you many times."
"That's my point--"
She cut him off. "You can talk when I'm finished. Just now, I thought: Wow. I don't know how much more of this I can take before I give up."
"Success!"
"Shut UP. Then I realized-if there's a limit to how much rejection I can take, that means there's a limit to how much you can dish out."
"What are you talking about?"
"You like me just as much if not more than I like you. AND you don't want me to suffer. You must be feeling the strain worse than me. You can't stand to shoot me down forever. Time is on my side."
Time is on my side, yes it is.
Time is on my side, yes it is
He opened his mouth to answer back, but snark failed him. He closed it, and she silently accepted his defeat. She ran her hands up is back to grip his shoulders, pressing her body against his. She could feel his heartbeat. She took a deep breath of his smell, in case it was her last chance. Later it would take an hour in the department store to identify it. He rested his chin on the top of her head for a moment. Although she did not detect it, he then dropped the softest of kisses at the part of her hair. Later, he would remember that action as the beginning of the end.
She met his eyes, and smiled. "Have dinner with me tomorrow?"
"Under no circumstances."
Confident that his resolve would one day fail, her smile didn't falter. "Maybe next time."
When the song ended, she turned and walked out of the bar without a backwards glance, leaving him alone with Wilson, and the certain knowledge that his days were numbered.
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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 NBC/Universal, 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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