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A Little Less Miserable
by Teenwitch
Halfway through their belated dinner, Wilson started fielding calls from his edgy, abandoned wife, and House sat back in his chair, smirking as he watched the proceedings. His friend stalked the length of the room in his mounting exasperation, gesturing his arms in uncharacteristically irritated movements. House tapped his fingers vaguely in time to the sound of the Rolling Stones CD filtering softly in the background, eyes drifting idly over to where Cameron puttered around in the kitchen, looking surprisingly at home in his living space as she put away dishes and cutlery with swift, agile movements.
House studied her for a moment, taking in her feminine curves and the graceful sweep of her long, dark brown hair. He would never admit it, but he liked watching her move around so casually in his apartment, finding where things went, and making herself accustomed.
She wiped her hands on a dishtowel, glancing over at him and catching his stare. He easily glanced away again, returning his attention to Wilson, whose usually relaxed counternance had twisted into a grimace fit to beat one of House's own. Well, maybe on one of his better days.
"Okay. Yes. Julia, I'll be home as soon as I can. I'm heading to the door as we speak. Really. Okay, bye".
He replaced his cell phone in his pocket, looking extremely apologetic. "Sorry, guys. I'm afraid I'm going to have to call it a night".
House felt something brush against his shoulder, and realised Cameron had come to a halt behind him, resting her palms vaguely on the back of his armchair. "That's okay. We understand".
House wasn't quite as forgiving. "You know, you'd think after three rounds you wouldn't buy so easily into this martial bliss, flowers and candy crap. Maybe you should consider therapy."
Wilson shot him one of his standard, long-suffering looks. "Goodnight House." He draped his coat over one arm, offering Cameron a much friendlier smile. "Allison".
There was a level of commiseration there that House found difficult to miss, and it irritated him as the door closed gently on the oncologist's departure. He could understand it when it came from other people, but it stung just a little to know that even his best friend had doubts about their relationship.
Cameron, on the other hand, appeared to have missed the entire exchange, returning to her post in the kitchen. House glanced at her for a moment, contemplating the television briefly as he considered turning on the day's reruns of General Hospital. At last, he used his cane to rise to his feet, briefly wincing at the stiffness in his leg before limping behind the counter where Cameron stood.
"You know, you could consider being a little nicer to him", she said without turning to face him, in that sweet, little girl voice that managed to irritate and enamour him all at once.
He gave an indifferent shrug, studying her for a moment. "Yeah, but it's so much funner this way."
"I'm sure you're the only one who sees it like that".
"Well, that's the fun", he countered dryly. "Besides", he added as an afterthought, coming up behind her until he was close enough to smell her unique vanilla scent. "I'm not nice to anybody".
His breath tickled the back of her neck, and she shivered slightly, feeling the dishtowel slide vaguely through her fingers. She focused on her task, determined not to let his husky, mocking voice distract her. "You're nice to me".
"True", he allowed, reaching out one hand. "But Wilson just doesn't service my needs quite the way you do."
She closed her eyes, curving back as he slid a finger slowly up the length of her arm, the simple caress burning a searing path along her exposed flesh. He smirked vaguely, enjoying the reaction he was creating. "Of course, you might just want to keep that between us", he went on. "Wouldn't want to jeopardise my unsavoury reputation. People might start to think I like them".
"We wouldn't want that", she agreed faintly, feeling the soft cotton of his shirt as he leant against her back, cane coming to rest near her side. He smelled faintly of aftershave and scotch, and the antiseptic smell of the hospital that somehow never seemed to fade.
The bristle of his cheek brushed against the curve of her neck as he dipped his lips, placing a soft kiss there that made her shudder with surprised pleasure. He was rarely this gentle or affectionate, and usually she was the one to initiate it if he was. He did, on occasion, show her a gentle side that she knew others never saw, and she was quite content to wrap up this unknown side of him and keep it to herself. But something in particular was sparking his behaviour tonight, and she couldn't help thinking it had something to do with Wilson's recent presence.
His fingers tangled in her hair as he swept her mane of brown locks to one side, and he continued to trail a path of kisses along her neck, lingering on the silky soft skin below her ear. Cameron drew in a breath, and he stifled another smile.
Sometime during his ministrations, she had let the towel drop limply onto the counter, and she swivelled slowly around, glancing up at him through blue eyes that clashed so distinctly with her dark hair, they reminded him of his own.
He lifted an eyebrow questioningly, waiting for her to say something typically Cameron, something that prompted him to be more romantic or open. She merely stared at him, slowly extending her hand and running her slender fingers down his arm until they came to rest with his on his cane.
"I like it when you're nice to me", she whispered softly, voice so heavenly and sweet it caressed him with its touch. She represented everything he hated about the world, and yet it was the one thing that drew him to her more than anyone else. He wasn't happy, but Allison Cameron somehow managed to make his existence a little less miserable.
"I like it when I'm nice to you too", he replied quietly, knowing that this was about the time he would make a jibe about when they had arrived back in grade school. Yet he didn't. He never held his sarcasm back for anyone, yet he resisted consciously hurting Cameron in a way that almost made his head hurt. And he realised it was true. He did like being nice to her, seeing her smile or laugh at him in return. Cameron, in all her niceness and beauty, was just as flawed as he was. Just as damaged.
She smiled faintly, as if realising how much he humoured her. She inched forward, closing the almost non-existent space between them and leaning up to press her lips to his. He was voluntarily yielding, and savoured the taste of her, the inviting curve of her mouth and the warmth that flowed into him, banishing his coldness.
When they broke apart, he rested his cheek against hers, closing his eyes to ignore to flurry of emotions being this close to her evoked. Cameron trailed a confident hand over the back of his shirt, caressing the fabric between her fingers, murmuring against his cheek. "I'm not going anywhere, you know".
He nodded slowly; surprised she had been able to work out what was secretly worrying him, accepting her words at face value. "I know".
He felt pain flare faintly in his leg, and knew he would have to sit down soon, or down some Vicodin to relieve it. Cameron pulled away, allowing her back to come flush with the counter, meeting his gaze with a small, reassuring smile. "Want to watch some TV?"
He blinked; inwardly amazed she had been able to read him so thoroughly, and that she was graceful enough to pretend television was the thing forefront on his mind. "You have to ask?" he made himself mutter; watching her as she carelessly rounded the counter, striding towards the sofa and switching on the TV.
He riffled in his pocket for the offending medication, gaze drawn to her again as she slumped into the cushions, queuing General Hospital up for him as if it was the most natural thing in the world. For some unknown reason, in that simple, split-second moment, he decided he might just be in love with Allison Cameron. Niceness and all.
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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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