All Bets Are Off The House Fan Fiction Archive Home Quicksearch Search Engine Random Story Upload Story   All Bets Are Off by phineyj Cameron sat on a hard, uncomfortable chair in the church, entertaining herself during the interminable wait for things to get started by making a mental list of the things she most disliked about weddings. As she pondered, she made sure to smile at the various people who were walking by, looking confused as they tried to figure out which side they ought to be sitting on. Her parents were still back at the entrance, talking to someone or other. The first thing she hated was trying to remember people's names, when they could all remember hers. That, and the fact that the next thing they invariably recalled was that she'd lost her husband. She had come to dread the sympathetic smile, followed by the polite, "How are you doing these days, Allison?" It was something she rarely had to deal with in Princeton, where no-one knew much about her; in fact, it had been a major motivating factor in her moving there in the first place. Then, there was the tactful table planning, where she would be seated next to some single, or these days, possibly divorced man. He would be a lawyer, or a realtor, and would have been briefed in advance by her mother or some other of her family. He would start the conversation by saying, "So, I hear you're a doctor." Because of course, she really liked talking about work at the weekends. Then, within minutes, everyone at the table would have come up with a handy list of their own and their relatives' various ailments for her to diagnose. It was a shame she couldn't just charge them all a consultation fee; at least then she'd get some benefit out of the weekend. She really missed House. Where had that thought come from? She hadn't even considered inviting him along; she wasn't sure enough of their relationship to take that sort of step yet. But, suddenly, as the bride walked in - she noted absently that there was rather more of Lizzie than there had been five years ago, and in fact her cousin resembled nothing so much as a giant meringue with a lace trim - she would have given anything for House there by her side to whisper a witty comment in her ear. ------ Later, lying on the pink quilted coverlet of her old bed, in what had been her childhood bedroom, Cameron looked around at the faded swimming certificates, school photographs and the other detritus of her pre-med student life. She regretted going to bed so early, but the reception had reached the stage where drunken uncles were looking for people to dance with, while one of the bridesmaids vomited in the flower tubs outside the entrance. She couldn't be bothered with it all. She picked her cell phone up off the nightstand and examined it for the tenth time that day. Still no messages. She hadn't expected House to call her, but she did kind of wish he would. She decided she might as well try to get some sleep, even though she didn't feel tired, so she got under the covers, switched the light off and closed her eyes. She was fully prepared to lie awake, so when the strident ring tone woke her an hour later, she was so befuddled she knocked the phone on the floor, along with a box of tissues and most of the contents of her water glass. Retrieving the phone from the soggy lump of tissues, she answered it without even looking to see who it was. "You sound dopey; one too many beers with the folks?" "No," Cameron replied, with as much dignity as she could muster, "I was sleeping." "What are you wearing?" "Leather jacket, fishnets and black thigh high boots...pajamas, House; what do you think?" She was in no mood to humor him, after listening to her father moaning about the iniquities of HMOs all evening. "I think I'd like to see that first outfit," he said, sounding amused. "Yeah, in your dreams. What are you wearing?" "Nothing," House said smugly, "I'm in bed." "Thinking about me?" she asked. "No, I just hit last call redial by mistake," he said, sarcastically. "How was the wedding?" "Dull," she said, honestly, "In fact, this call is the best thing that's happened all day." House was silent for a moment. "You are in a bad way, if that's the case," he said, lightly, "Now, tell me what you're really wearing." "Hang on a minute," she said, and placed the phone down on the nightstand. She went over and locked the door, quickly stripped her pajamas off and lay back down. She put the phone to her ear again. "Nothing, now," she said, softly, slightly out of breath. "Good. Now, wet your fingers and touch your nipples." Cameron did as he asked; sucking two fingers shallowly into her mouth and swirling them around first one nipple, then the other, pretending it was House's tongue. "They're hard now," she confirmed, and was rewarded by a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. House laughed. "That's not all that is," he said, softly. She visualized him taking his shaft in his hand, pumping it in quick strokes and imagining it was her doing it. She ran a hand down to her clit and started to circle it. She was already wet. "I'm touching myself now," she informed him, arching her back off the bed a little for better access. Back in Princeton, House moaned. Cameron imagined him lying in bed, the orange lamp illuminating his face as he jacked himself off. "I wish you were inside me," she said, wistfully, "But you're not, so my fingers are going to have to do." She matched her actions to her words, clamping the phone between her ear and her neck so she could touch her nipple again, while continuing to thrust her fingers into and out of herself. "House," she said, "Talk to me..." "Just as well I'm great at multi tasking," he said, breathlessly, and she heard the bed creak under his weight. She remembered him making her come in that meeting with Cuddy, while telling bare-faced lies about his budget overspend, and thought happily that, yes, he was, as stars exploded behind her closed eyelids and her body contracted rhythmically around her fingers. She was vaguely aware of a shout on the other end of the line, and then that faded away as the phone escaped her grip and fell onto the carpet. --- "I really hate weddings," Cameron admitted, picking the phone back up and attempting, one-handed to disentangle the covers from the mess they'd got into on top of the bed. "So, next time, tell them your mean boss won't give you the time off. Or you can invite me, and I guarantee neither one of us will get asked to anything else," he suggested. She smiled to herself. She was learning to speak House. Under all the snark, and competitiveness, and one-upmanship, he liked having her around, and it was mutual. She would bring him next time. He was part of her life now, not just her work, and her colleagues and her family would accept that, or not, as they chose. In the meantime, she was going to get some sleep so she was fresh when she got back home, so she said goodnight, and so did he, and neither of them said anything else; but they both thought it. FIN   Please post a comment on this story. 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.