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  Anything You Can Do 
 by phineyj  

 It was several weeks before Cameron got her chance. House's mother didn't
call him all that often, and who could blame her? He hardly ever answered
the phone, and when he did, getting him to chat was like getting blood out
of a stone. 

His mother did better than most, though; he definitely moderated the
sarcasm a bit and she even got him to laugh sometimes. Cameron had picked
up a call from her once, when she had happened to be at House's place
fetching some books he wanted. She wouldn't normally answer his phone,
obviously, but she had thought it might be him. Blythe had remembered her
from their brief meeting at the hospital, which was flattering. 

The question was, should the fact that House's mom was a nice person and
had been pleasant to her a couple of times, affect what she was planning
to do, at all? Then she remembered her most recent conversation with her
own mother, and how thanks to House, she had basically ended up agreeing
to go to a family wedding she could normally have quite easily wriggled
out of. 

Now, not only would she have to sit through the event itself, and all the
usual gossipy discussions, not quite out of earshot, concerning her own
short-lived marriage, career prospects and appearance, but she was going
to have to spring for a wedding present and some sort of acceptable
outfit. And all for the benefit of annoying, whiny Lizzie, whom she hadn't
seen for at least five years. Cameron's mind was made up; revenge was only
just. 

------

Cameron was in the kitchen, cleaning up the remnants of the lasagna they'd
just eaten; House kept the fact he could cook a closely guarded secret,
but on the evidence of the last few months, he was really quite good at
it. The only downside was he invariably used every pan in the place and
would leave them soaking in the sink for days afterwards, if she didn't do
something about it. 

The phone rang; she had a quick look through into the sitting room to see
what House was doing. He was settled comfortably in an armchair, shouting
abuse at the Flyers, who were losing heavily to the Rangers. He showed no
signs of getting up to answer the call. 

The phone carried on ringing and they both continued to ignore it. Anyone
who wanted Cameron would call her mobile. Her and House's relationship was
pretty much an open secret now; Cuddy and Wilson were definitely up to
speed, and while no actual conversation had taken place on the subject
with either Chase or Foreman, their boss's much improved mood spoke for
itself. 

House sat forward a little, smiling in amusement as one of the Rangers
took a heavy hit and collapsed on the ice. The phone stopped ringing, and
a few seconds later his cell phone rang instead. He retrieved it from his
pocket and said, "Hi mom," picking up the TV remote with his free hand and
turning the sound down a little. 

Cameron stacked the last of the washing up on the draining rack and dried
her hands on a dish towel, considering her next move. First, she pulled
the elastic out of her hair so it hung loose around her shoulders. Then,
she removed her comfy old sweatshirt, revealing the red cropped sports top
below, from her trip to the gym earlier.

"Everything's fine, mom. Work is...work. You know, show up, fix people, go
home," House was saying, while flicking through the channels, probably
looking for some commentary on the game during the intermission. 

Cameron walked through into the other room and knelt down in front of him,
making sure she wasn't blocking his view of the TV. She didn't want to
push her luck too much. House looked puzzled for a second, then narrowed
his eyes and looked at her suspiciously. She said nothing, instead, she
lowered her head to his lap, mouthing him through his jeans and enjoying
the roughness of the fabric against her tongue. 

After a little while, she undid his zipper and sniggered, despite herself,
when she noticed the `As Seen in Porn' logo on his boxer briefs. They were
most probably a gift from Wilson; not that she would put it past House to
purchase such an item himself. He shifted a little in his chair as she
extracted his cock and ran her tongue slowly over it, lingering on all his
most sensitive spots. 

"Of course I've seen her," he was saying now, in an impatient tone, "She
works for me, I see her every day." He paused while his mother replied,
watching as Cameron continued to work her tongue around the head of his
rapidly stiffening cock, supporting it with one hand at the base, while
her other hand took hold of his balls, running her nails gently over their
furry surface.

"She is most definitely not a nice girl," House said, looking down at her,
"I can vouch for that-"

He inhaled tensely as she took his shaft as far as she could into her warm
mouth and applied pressure to the head, humming an indistinct tune. House
released his tight grip on the chair arm enough to turn the sound up on
the television; now she could hear the commentary, which was getting more
and more excitable. She didn't really get hockey; she suspected House just
watched it for the fighting.

"Yeah, I am watching the game," he said matter of factly, "No, it was
looking bad earlier, but they're winning now." 

Cameron pulled back a bit and shot a quick glance upwards; House was
leaning back in the chair, eyes closed, his head angled back so that the
long lines of his throat were illuminated by the flickering light from the
TV screen.

She started to work him harder, pulling away and then dropping down again,
while reaching underneath him to massage his balls. He moaned,
involuntarily and started to thrust into her mouth. She could taste the
unmistakable sour flavor of his impending orgasm, when the crowd on the TV
behind her erupted in a frenzy of noise; just as House came violently into
her mouth. 

"Knuble scored," he said into the receiver, weakly, his voice hoarse. And
so did House, thought Cameron, swallowing, sitting back up on her heels
and wiping her mouth with one hand. 

His mother must have complained about taking a back seat to the hockey,
because his next comment was, "Yeah, sorry, I'll do that. Speak to you
later," and he hung up. He didn't look pleased. 

"Turnabout is fair play; you said it," Cameron reminded him, getting
slowly to her feet and working the kinks out of her neck. Then, as his
face didn't change, she added, now slightly worried, "Are you really
pissed?"

Suddenly, House's wintry expression dissolved into a mocking smile.

"Are you kidding me? A blow job and the Flyers beating the Rangers,
simultaneously? It's pretty much my ultimate fantasy; although that
normally also involves Angelina Jolie and the sun revolving around the
earth." He scowled, "Of course, unless you factor in that I was talking to
my mom at the time..."

"You'll live," Cameron said dismissively, and continued, "Now then, about
me not being a nice girl..." 

  
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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.