thinlysliced

IT LIVES!

Tue, 10 Jul 2007 23:03:52 GMT

Yes, I'm aliiiiive! But I've been running around like a headless chicken that's having its apartment renovated while trying to teach three courses - which is why I've been sticking to commenting rather than posting for the last few months.

Now I return, though, with a meme from maddoggirl:

1. Leave me a comment saying anything random, like your favourite lyric to your current favourite song. Or your favourite kind of sandwich. Something random. Whatever you like.
2. I respond by asking you five personal questions so I can get to know you better.
3. You WILL update your LJ with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and offer to ask someone else in the post.
5. When others comment asking to be asked, you will ask them five questions.

maddoggirl's questions:

1. If you could have been in any band, no matter what instrument you may or may not play, what would it have been?
Great question (and it definitely has to be disregarding musical talent!). I'm not sure about a band, per se, but I really would have loved to be able to be like Billie Holiday. I've dreamt of being a jazz singer - the small obstacle being my inability to carry a tune at all.

2. Do you have any hats?
Oh, yes! I love hats. I once had a gorgeous cream-coloured one, with a turned-down brim, but I left it on a Greyhound bus and never saw it again. The only trouble with hats, though, is that even when it's really cold they tend to make my head so warm that I get a severe headache; as well as terrible hat hair. My favourite is a black vintage cloche hat that my grandmother bought me years ago at a Paris fleamarket, when I was there staying with her.

3. What nickname do family/friends have for you?
'Monty'. Two of my (then) young cousins came up with it - can't remember why, now. I sometimes get variations like 'Montego' and 'Montenegro' from my friends! I prefer to think that my namesake is the venerable Field Marshal Montgomery, who led the British to victory during WWII at Al Alamein.

4. Going on holiday this year?
Not really, but I am about to move halfway around the world, if that counts! (More about that in my next post...)

5. Alcoholic beverage of preference?
I think that would have to be dry red wine. Happily, here in Cape Town we have numerous wine farms and some really excellent vino.

A funny thing happened on the way to this meme...

Mon, 09 Apr 2007 19:15:35 GMT

I'm not much of a meme girl - actually, this is the first I'm posting. Bu-ut... one of the instructions for this was to open the nearest book to page 23 and, when I grabbed the nearest book, I managed to open it first time on... yes, page 23! So, I decided that this was obviously something that needed sharing:

1. grab the nearest book
2. open the book to page 23
3. find the fifth sentence
4. post the text of the next three sentences in your journal along with these instructions.
5. don't dig for your favorite book, the cool book, or the intellectual one: pick the CLOSEST.
6. go on, you know you want to play, too

Sometimes I saw him all wrapped up in the cloud, and invisible, like a cat in a burlap sack. At other times it floated, about the size of a sofa, three or four feet above his head, following him wherever he went. One could think about the man under the cloud before going to sleep; the image of him wandering around from town to town was a sure soporific.

'The Thurber Carnival', James Thurber

Any other Thurber-lovers out there, btw?

These ships have sailed

Sun, 18 Mar 2007 18:39:40 GMT

[1] House/Cuddy
[2-5] House/Cameron
[6-8] House/Wilson
[9] Cuddy/Wilson
[10] Chase
[11-21] House
[22-26] Wilson
[27] Cameron

My first go at making icons! It's a mixed bag of stuff from all three seasons.

1	2	3


4	5	6


7	8	9


10	11	12


13	14	15


16	17	18


19	20	21


22	23	24


25	26	27

Icons: thinlysliced
Credit: would be great
Comments: are hugely appreciated

*No hotlinking, please.*

Icon table: created with angelamaria's Icon Table Generator @ Bauble

Darn! They've Boiled the Missionary

Wed, 07 Feb 2007 14:23:57 GMT

It’s dark; it’s benighted; it’s savage... It’s beyond bad!fic – it’s vile!fic!

Vile!author has taken my entire continent and thrown up on it in words. She sends House and the ducklings to save the Africans, who have never before beheld the majesty of white!Cameron but are just smart enough to rejoice at the sight of the metal bird.

Yup, this fic has a ‘metal bird’ in it. Srsly.

A/N: MST is House-Wilsony, with a dash of Cam, and PG-13-ish. Fic is G, for God-awful. Also, one teeny little spoiler for ‘One Day, One Room’.

Normally I’m a bit of a sap, who feels somewhat guilty about MSTing bad!fic authors’ heartfelt but useless attempts at story-telling. This time I felt nothing. Well, that’s not strictly true: I felt overwhelmed by scarcely-containable rage. Enjoy!

House: *leaning way back in his chair, feet up on his desk; looking suspiciously as if he’s sleeping*
Wilson: *bursting into House’s office* House, wake up!
House: Wah! Uh– Wilson, I was sleeping.
Wilson: Too bad, you have to wake up; I need a diagnosis. I found this map of Africa clutching its head and running around in the hospital foyer screaming. And, no, there’s no cockroach.
House: *glancing at the wild-eyed continent Wilson has dragged in behind him on a gurney* Seems perfectly calm now.
Wilson: It’s pumped up to the eyeballs with Ativan!
House: What are those papers in its hand?
Wilson: Don’t know. Dosed it with extra muscle-relaxant as well, but even that couldn’t loosen its grasp. I’ve never seen a patient this unresponsive to meds.
House: *sighing dramatically* All right – wheel it into the conference room.

Ducklings: *look up expectantly*
House: Differential on –
Wilson: Uh, it says ‘Africa: student study map’ at the top here.
House: Differential on Africa; go.
Foreman: We don’t know anything about it!
Chase: That’s because you’re American.
Cameron: *approaching gurney* Hi! I’m Dr. Cameron. How are you feeling?
Map: Mhhhargh.
Cameron: What’s that you’re holding... mind if I have a look?
Map: *gurgles quietly; loosens grip on papers*
House: *to Wilson* See? All it needed was a woman’s touch.
Wilson: *glares*
Cameron: *reads papers; pales* No. No.
Foreman: Let me see. *grabs papers* Oh, man. *passes them to House*
House: *glances through papers; flicks a Vicodin to Map*
Wilson: House! It’s already full of drugs!
House: Settle down – it’s going to need that.
Map: *slugs down Vicodin*

Prologue: Four doctors, six months

Wilson: *scans ahead* More like four viewings of Mean Girls, six flicks through the 1952-edition of That Dark Continent.

The sun positively throbbed in the cloudless sky. The pulse of heat and light beat down on the sliver of silver descending to the parched land.

Foreman: We have another adjective discount-shopper.

Rural Africans ran outside of their mud-brick huts,

Chase: Be difficult for them to run inside a hut.
Cameron: Vile!author means ‘out of’.
Map: Wh– where are we?
Cameron: You’re in hospital. You’re all right now – we’ll get you better.
Map: No, I mean, where in Africa are we; Egypt? Cote d’Ivoire? Namibia? The DRC? I’m a big continent.
Wilson: That’s okay; Cameron has this fantastic grapefruit diet...
Cameron: Maybe the oinkologist could do with a few grapefruit himself.
Wilson: *glares*
House: *chuckles*
Foreman: Kenya?
Map: Could be.

cheering at the familiar sight they associated with full stomachs. Young children clutched at their mother’s skirts,

House: That one woman was quite a breeder, but then you know what Africans are like...

staring with wide eyes at the metal bird that made the air hum. But the older children, the teenagers, started to run towards the long strip of cropped grass that they remembered where such a bird landed, once a month.

All: *stare in abject horror*
Foreman: Metal bird? Metal bird?!
Map: I had quite a time with security at your JFK metal-bird resting place, you know.
Cameron: Oh, what brings you to the US?
Map: Well, I’m actually a map by night and a chartered accountant by day–
Chase: Just like Flashdance!
Cameron: Exactly like Flashdance. Except for their being no welding, or dancing.
Map: I’m here for a risk management conference. But, really, my dream is to pack it all in and be a map full time.

And with it came people with food and pale skin that went red in the sun.

Chase: Yeah, because, as we know, all Africans are black.

Their clothes were odd and they jumped at simple things like cobras in the huts,

House: Well know fact – all Africans are also impervious to cobra venom. Apart from the dying, of course.
Map: *mutters* Feel as if I’m dying... *to House* Say, do you have any more of those Vicodin?
House: *looks cagey* One more. *flicks pill to Map*

but they were very kind. One woman from the last lot stayed behind and married the chief; she stood stoically by the side of the grass strip, trying to hide a wide smile.

Cameron: She alone knew that it was not a colossal avian cyborg, but an aeroplane.

Her husband, surrounded by his other wives, looked on in disapproval with his wife’s show of emotions,

Chase: I think vile!author is thinking of Calvinists.
Wilson: Or perhaps House.
House: No Greg privileges for you this week.
Cameron: *quirks an eyebrow*
Others: Overshare!

but seemed nevertheless glad that resources and medicine had been brought to his village. He knew the white people would circulate throughout the other villages, bringing resources to the area,

Foreman: God bless ’em!
Map: Neo-colonialism gives me – aaagh! – pains. Dr. Wilson, I think I need some more of your medicine in a plastic stick. You know, with the sharp metal pointy bit at the end...
Wilson: *rolls eyes; administers Ativan*
Map: Aaaaaah, that’s the ticket.

and for that he was thankful, although he remained wary. Tales of white-skinned demons he had grown up with still haunted the recesses of his mind,

Cameron: His mother always told him he shouldn’t read so much Fanon.
Chase: How do you know all this fanfic jargon?
Cameron: Frantz Fanon, you goon! Wait, how did you know his name was also a fanfic term?
Chase: I’m, uh... well read.

and he knew the pain the white men had caused his people many years ago.

Wilson: Many, many moons ago.
House: Luckily, all’s right with the world now.
Wilson: You mean I haven’t really lost my Greg privileges?
House: No, you’re still in trouble.
Wilson: *pouts*

They extended a hand of friendship now, but it would take decades before his people would fully trust them.

The Africans, swarming

House: ... like an amorphous human mass...

out onto the landing strip, suddenly started to move back to the trees to see the plane land. They knew that the food would not come unless every soul had left the strip.

Foreman: Sit! Paw... Okay, now you can eat.
Map: I really need another–
House: *fixes Map with terrifying stare* Stop that thought right there.
Map: You know, suddenly, I’m A-okay.

The plane circled overhead once and slowly landed. The whirring in the air grew, throwing dust up and outwards towards the Africans.

Wilson: None of them was a distinct individual with a name; this due largely to the fact that they could never tell one another apart.
House: *eyes Foreman warily* Who is that man, and why is dressed as a doctor?
Foreman: *gives patient sigh*

Cool waves of air ruffled the grass, disturbing little dirt-coloured savannah birds into a flurry of feathers, cheeping wildly as they soared into the sky.

The plane landed with a high, keening thrum, running the full length of the landing strip and slowing down at the end. It made a 180º turn and slowly drew parallel to the Africans cautiously emerging from the bush.

Map: It’s true – we’re terrified even of our own airports.
Foreman: So how did you get here?
Map: Made a raft.
Foreman: Seriously?
Map: No.

When the blades stopped rotating, the chief’s white wife walked forwards. The door opened with a thump and a few black men jumped the five-foot drop, hurrying around to the cargo hold and dragging out calico sacks filled with mealie and brown rice.

House: Some of them had boot-black on their faces and wore striped waistcoats and boaters. From time to time they grinned widely and broke out into a song-and-dance routine. *does jazz hands* Oh, mammmmmy!
Wilson: *tries to roll eyes and look disapproving; fails; starts laughing*

A ladder for the other occupants was dropped from the door and out appeared four doctors.

Chase: No jumping for the brittle doctors!

First came a black man with dark eyes

Foreman: Contact lenses. My eyes are really an even more dreamy, crystalline blue than House’s.

and a blue shirt.

Chase: To match House’s eyes.
Foreman: *glares*

He was conversing rapidly in the English language

Map: Commonly known to my people simply as ‘English’.

to a woman behind him, a white woman who made the men stir slightly in discomfort. They were not used to such beautiful creatures.

House: All African women are as ugly of sin, of course.
Wilson: “Cameron blended right in...”
Cameron: *smirking* My Greg privileges haven’t been revoked, you know.
Wilson: House!
House: I’m afraid I’ve been captivated by the beguiling demon woman. She blinded me with her hauntingly white skin.

She wore a wide-brimmed straw hat and a light, colourful dress without sleeves. She laughed at something the black man said and smiled brilliantly at the gawping Africans.

Foreman: If only they could close their mouths. Too bad those sub-standard drugs being off-loaded by pharmaceutical multinationals had had irreversible side-effects.

More than one boy had fallen in love when she moved forwards to let a blonde man forward,

House: Who could possibly resist the way she moved forwards?
Cameron: *grins*
Wilson: *sulks*

who seemed to feel uneasy with the African’s stares. His hair was longish and perspiration clung to his forehead underneath the fair strands. The long pants and shirt did nothing for his level of comfort,

Foreman: Or for his image.

the heat oppressively closing in. He wiped his forehead and sighed, the backs of his arms already red.

Cameron: The villagers surmised that he had not used a sufficiently high SPF.
Chase: I’m a bloody Australian – it’s not like I’ve never seen the sun before!
Map: Do they teach geography in schools here? Do you have schools?

When he moved out of the way, another man walked forward, or rather, limped. He held a wooden cane in his right hand and leaned on it as he watched the Africans watching him. He made a comment that the woman seemed to disapprove of as she turned to him and made a scathing remark.

Wilson: *to Cameron* So, um, what kind of Greg privileges were you talking about, exactly?
Alison: Sorry, you have to be this slim *holds up hands to demonstrate* to get on that ride.
Wilson: *wails* How-oww-ouse!

He shrugged and limped forward, blue eyes narrowed as he scanned the Africans who were starting to grow nervous at his heavy examination.

House: *to Wilson* Hmm, perhaps you’ll get a heavy examination later.
Wilson: *perks up*
Cameron: *peers out the window* Nice weather, today... for a climb up Mount Gregory. *gives Wilson pwnd look*
Wilson: *wilts*
House: Sorry, Jimmy – it’s that glaringly pasty skin; I can’t help myself.

But he nodded and said something in a low voice which was obviously a signal as the chief’s wife walked forward, hand outstretched in greeting.

She shook hands with all of them, then turned to her husband and spoke quietly to him. He turned and announced in a loud voice, “These people come from America. Come, meet them.”

House: *screams a sentence in Japanese*
All: *stare at House in stunned silence*
House: *jabs Wilson in the ribs with his cane*
Wilson: Oh, Dr. House, please do tell us why you tried to perforate our eardrums.
House: Just a little scientific experiment – to see how loudly I have to scream that before you understand.
Chase: I think vile!author meant that the chief was speaking the indigenous language.
House: Whatever. I still stand by my hypothesis: anyone; any language. It’s just a matter of the right number of decibels... *yells a snatch of Latin at deafening volume*
Chase: Did that last word mean ‘spleen’?

The Africans slowly stepped forwards, still wary at the sky-eyed doctor’s glare. Unexpectedly, a small child, barely walking, toddled forwards, arms extended. His bright brown eyes, like liquid drops too large for his face, were spread out in expectation.

Foreman: His eyes were spread out?
Cameron: Like cheap margarine on toast.
Wilson: Ooh, I could really go for some hot, delicious French toast right about now.
Cameron: *whimpers*
Wilson: Mmm, mmm – toaaast.
Cameron: *starts chewing her lip*

The four people stared at him, momentarily stunned,

Chase: Because, come on, who expects a small child to toddle?
Wilson: *pulls chocolate from his pocket and begins eating it slowly, savouring each bite* Mmm, so much – hmm-nmm – chocolaty goodness.
Cameron: *drools*
House: *swipes and eats remaining chocolate*
Wilson: *produces replacement chocolate, and a sandwich*

but then the woman gave a little cooing noise and stooped down to pick him up. He chuckled a little and grabbed at a strand of dark brown hair, laughing quietly to himself.

House: As he plotted the downfall of Western civilization.

This was enough for the Africans. They thronged forwards, laughing, cheering, helping to carry the sacks to the village. The men hugged the black and blonde men; they were more courteous to the woman,

Cameron: Whom they did not mistake for a whale.
Wilson: Weak!
Cameron: *makes whale sounds*
Wilson: *whimpers*
Chase: Hey, Cameron, you’re pretty good at that!

politely introducing her to other women and unburdening her of the baby, but to the other doctor, they were at a loss.

He did not seem to want or expect any greeting; instead, he led the way back to the village, slapping at bugs and taking out a little bottle filled to the brim with white, oval pills.

Foreman: They wondered if it they could sell him their stash of E at an inflated tourist rate.

He swallowed one with obvious relief, snapped at the woman who berated him about rationing them, and limped straight into a mud-brick hut. He didn’t seem to mind the few furnishings, instead, sank into a chair

House: Made of mud.

and rubbed at his thigh irritably, for what reason the Africans could not perceive. They had assumed that the problem was in his foot, but decided that they would know by the time this party left in six months time.

Foreman: Still, six months... wonder if that will be enough time for them to grasp the basic principles of logic and draw a conclusion about the leg.
Map: *sobbing into its pillow*
Cameron: Oh, hey, don’t cry. Is this fic making you homesick?
Map: *wails* No! I’m from Lagos!
Foreman: In Delaware?
Chase: *sighing* It’s in Nigeria.
Map: We have skyscrapers and traffic jams and everything. I have a laaaaaptop! I did see a lion once, though – that time Dad took us to the zoo.

The woman was allocated a small hut across the village to the men’s. The male doctors had to all share a room, which neither seemed happy about,

Chase: Neither of all of them? Both of us six are starting to come up with ways to permanently prevent vile!author from ever putting fingers to keyboard again.

and the limping man was seen dragging a bed outside. Generally the chief would have been offended,

Wilson: All the villagers knew that if there was dragging going on, he better be in on it.

but there was something about this man that made him feel inferior.

House: That’s okay, Europeans feel it too.
Wilson: And Camerons.
House: Come on, can’t you two get along? If you know what I mean... *leers*
Wilson and Cameron: *look shocked*

Unused to this, and unsettled, he prided over his place on the head mat, but the man did not seem to notice; instead he threw himself into the food.

House: *hurls himself towards Wilson’s sandwich*
Wilson: *whips his lunch away just in time*

But, with a smug feeling of satisfaction for the chief, the unfortunate doctor was hung over the toilet pit for the rest of the night.

Wilson: Trussed up like a hog and hung over the pit, while the natives cackled evilly and danced around him in grass skirts.

MDMDMDMDMD

Chase: Mental disorder?
Cameron: Massively dumb?
House: Mindless drivel.

Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: Yes, a little different to what I’m used to. I’ll probably branch out into a ship

Chase: A great metal fish.

eventually, but I want to see how these characters will respond to the harsh rural African experience. I think the only reference in here that most people wouldn’t know about is mealie; it’s just an ear of corn.

Cameron: Ooh, actual research!
House: I’m presuming she means ‘a mealie’ or, if she’s really intent on not using an indefinite article, the kind of porridge-like starch ‘mealie pap’. Of course, when it’s dry and in large quantities in sacks, as she mentions it, it’s far more commonly referred to as ‘maize’.
Wilson: Where do you pick up all this stuff?!
House: I get around.
Foreman: *snorts*

I know you’re wondering what the heck would get House into Africa to cure little sick kids; all in good time!

Foreman: Oh, yeah, promise us more of this – that’s what we want.
House: I so am wondering – not!
Chase: I need some steel wool to scour my mind clean.
Cameron: *whispers to Wilson*
Wilson: *whispers back*
House: What?
Wilson: We-ell, we...
House: *smirks* Oh, good!
House/Cameron/Wilson: *exit*

Heroes meta - 'Distractions'

Wed, 07 Feb 2007 13:57:20 GMT

Well, 'meta's probably too generous a term for it...

Whoa, so Nathan is Claire’s dad. All very exciting – but I was more struck by Simone, this episode. Those writers must really hate her; I mean, “You know, I never figured out how those pigeons got up here.” W. T. F.?! She thinks it’s mysterious that pigeons got onto a roof?

I was inclined to think that her hysterical exuberance at the end of ‘The Fix’ was just her being freaked out because she finally realised that all the end-of-the-world stuff was real, but now I’m starting to come round to the school of thought that says she’s on crack.

And Hiro’s father - he looked like some kind of evil sea monster; an impression in no way lessened by that awesome growling–grunting noise he made when Hiro said his sister should take over the company. Marvellous! I think he’s my favourite character to date.

Finally, I just have to ask (and please forgive me if this has already been discussed to death; I’m new to the fandom) – Zach: is he or is he not gay? Because if he isn’t, then Claire is clearly a colossal bitch to keep up the whole ‘you’re my new BFF, now drive me around’ thing and not throw the poor boy a bone. Either way, he has to be just about the only teenaged boy on planet Earth who makes absolutely no references to sex, ever. So I’m assuming that means he is the token gay person in this show. “Ah, yes, I think we do have one in here, somewhere right at the back of that closet.” All I have to go on here is Jackie’s homophobic slurs, though, so I’m on shaky ground.

Puppeteer in a Volvo

Tue, 23 Jan 2007 12:56:07 GMT

Ever heard the joke about how many elephants you can fit in a car? While the answer to that may remain one of life's enduring mysteries, read on, and you will discover just how many adjectives you can jam into one short bad!fic.

Plus, you'll gain such valuable insights as why Wilson can only cut the strings that control him if he hangs around while House mopes on the beach!

PG for the MST, I guess, and G for the fic.

A/N: Happy Birthday, elizabethswan! I’d dedicate this MST to you, but I’m afraid it doesn’t actually have any House/Cam in it (sorry! I promise to write some asap ;-). Hope you’re better soon, and have a great birthday all the same.

Cameron: *entering Exam Room Three* It’s Nurse Brenda, she’s– I, uh…
House: Piss off, we’re busy.
Wilson: We were just, just consulting.
Cameron: Um, yeah, the image of that consultation is currently searing my retina.
House: Tell her to–
Cameron: Look, it’s serious; you better come with me.
House: *glowers*
Wilson: Come on, let’s go see what she needs.

Brenda: *cowering in a corner of House’s office and whimpering* I was just trying to find your clinic notes.
House: This better be good. I was close to a diagnostic breakthrough.
Cameron: *shudders*
Wilson: *blushes*
Brenda: It’s, it’s so hideous. Make it stop!
House: *looking alarmed* Brenda, what the hell’s got into you? *moves behind his desk* Oh, sweet Jesus!
Cameron: What is it?
House: *pales*
Wilson: House, you’re scaring me!
House: Page the troops.
Cameron: *pages Foreman and Chase* We’re going into the breach!
House:*sighs* Over the top. For the last time: It’s over the top. Do you know nothing about the First World War? Never seen the last season of Blackadder?What do they teach the youth nowadays…
Cameron: *muttering* I hate war metaphors.
Foreman: *rushes in* What’s happening?
House: You’re going to need to sit down.

This sorta came to my mind whilst watching the 1st season of house for the upteenth time, just revie and tell me what you think...

Cameron: *making for the door* House, I think I sorta gotta go do some extro dutie in the clinac.
House: Sit right back down and suffer with the rest of us.

Disclaimer: i honestly do not own anything

Wilson: My sister lent me her teeth and these clothes are stolen.
House: That’s the spirit.
________________________________________
He was on the beach, not a place he is particularly fond of but soothing nonetheless. Solemn, delicate, an abandoned, crestfallen beach; covered in snow.

Wilson: Yay, verily, it was a beach of moroseness such as had never before accosted the eyes of man.

He was never very eloquent and romanticism was not his strong point, but an oddly poetic selflessness

House: Malapropisms already. I assume purple!author means ‘an entirely unsurprising poetic self-absorption’.

entranced him as he watched the surely lethal torrents of rushing water crashing upon the snowy sand.

Foreman: Adjectives are remarkably affordable if you buy in bulk.

The painted surrealist drawing on a pale grey backdrop, enhanced by the blindingly violent

Foreman: *heading for the conference room* I need a nice calming cup of milky white tea.

blasts of wind; holding the call of the devil, the signing of the witches’ book. Some kind of prophesy that only the zephyr understood, silently foretelling the future that mortal kind was inattentive to.

Greek chorus: Oh, Gregory, cursed amongst mortals – look to the zephyr that you might hear the silent prophesy.
House: What the hell?! Cuuuudddy!
Foreman: *returning with tea* Don’t think she can hear you in her office. *to Cameron* Made some for you, too. *gives tea to Cameron*
House: Cameron, page her.
Brenda: I’ll get her. *runs out*
Chase: *returning with test results* Turns out it was just indigestion. Who are these people in masks?
Cameron: Greek chorus.
Chase: What are they doing here?
Cameron: Trying to warn House of impending doom.
Foreman: *reads next line* Uh, I think you mean the impending future.

Only few he had allowed in his life were ever conscientious of the impending future.

House: That would explain why Stacy was always so surprised when the sun came up.
Wilson: Well, you know her, constantly losing conscientiousness and not paying her bills on time.
House: She kept passing out from the drinking, too.

Few he knew understood how powerful the future was,

Chase: *contemplatively* Funny thing is, I kicked the future’s ass once.
Cameron: Oh, yeah?
Chase: Put myself through college working as a professional wrestler.
Foreman: *inhales tea*
Greek chorus: Oh, Gregory, cursed amongst mortals – look to the future and beware its terrible power!
House: Cuuudd–
Cuddy: *just arriving* What now?
House: Nothing, really; I was only shot twice. Now, if it had been three times…
Cuddy: *looks at her watch* Spit it out – I’ve got a hospital to run.
House: Nothing to worry about; just me over-reacting. I couldn’t expect you to employ a security firm so effective as to be able to spot a dozen cloaked and masked figures and prevent them from colonizing my office!
Cuddy: House, you– *starts as she finally notices Greek chorus standing in the shadows* Oh my god! I’ll... just… *exits at speed*

nor how quickly life could change, after all it took a mere three days for the infarction to destroy his leg and thus his past athleticism.

Wilson: Fie! No more the finely chiselled torso of his halcyon school days.
All: *look askance at Wilson*
Wilson: *blushes*

A past to present shift, holding the knowledge of the world; only to be forgotten moments later as reality takes roots in the brain. Emotions destroy the core understanding between people.

Greek chorus: Oh, Gregory, cursed amongst mortals – we have precious little idea what this means, but it cannot be good.
House: *flings paperweight at them*
Chorus: *duck*

Stacy loved him too much; or perhaps too little,

Wilson: Or possibly just an average amount.
House: *smirking* Not like you.
Wilson: The torso doesn’t really matter to me.
House: Luckily, I’m rather partial to a spongy middle myself.
Greek chorus: Oh, Gregory, cursed amongst mortals – mark our words and eschew the dangers of the sponge. Look to the–
Security: *arrive and drag members of the chorus out*

to just let him alone in his pain because the minute his back was turned…

BAM

…she’d betrayed him, or at least his wishes.

Foreman: She betrayed him like an outhouse door banging in a gale.
Cameron: … like a deafening gunshot in the night.
Chase: … like a child’s party balloon over-filled with air.

They’d been engaged, she should have walked in knowing that arrogance and stubbornness came along for the ride. That his personality was an enigma and she shouldn’t thrust her traits with his lest they explode with the intensity of an atomic bomb tenfold.

Cameron: *clutches head and whimpers*
Foreman: *pats Cameron* Oh, hey, don’t worry, it’ll be over soon.
Wilson: Want to, um, thrust your traits with me later?
House: There’s no time like the present.
House/Wilson: *disappear behind House’s desk*

But he wasn’t being fair to her, she had cared; but he was unsociable and cruel and everything that would poison a relationship from the start because of the toxicity.

Cameron: My high-school boyfriend said I poisoned our relationship because of the flowers and plush toys.
Foreman: Thrust your traits with mine and together we will unleash the power of the atom!
Cameron: Here, have this furry rabbit holding a heart.
Foreman: Ooh, adorable! Have a copy of my acceptance letter from the New England Journal of Medicine.
Cameron: Ooh, cutting! Have a syringe of plague to the leg.

Enough to kill, after all if something was toxic to the organs, it would surely kill the owner, same for a engine, or anything that is in existence.

Cameron: Whatever semblance of logic remained was swiftly poisoned by the toxicity that is the fallacy of equivocation.
Foreman: *meekly* Cam, read the letter.
Cameron: Enough! I get it, already. I’m not hard-nosed enough to be successful; I don’t have the tough-minded realism that sets you and House apart.
Foreman: *thrusts letter in Cameron’s hand* Seriously, just read it.
Cameron: *starts reading letter*

Then again, here he goes into his usual medical spiel; something that irritated most everyone he knew, save for a select few who, God forbid, enjoyed it.

Wilson: *emerging flushed from behind desk* People like his dying patients, or his fellows, or Cuddy – anyone who might have an interest in him doing his job, really.
House: *handing Wilson his tie* So bad!fic author is suggesting that that rant about toxicity is representative of my usual medical diagnoses?
Chase: Nah, the ranting’s actually representative of any time your mouth is moving.
Wilson: *smacks Chase*
Cameron: What the! My article! They’re publishing– but I didn’t even send it in to…
Foreman: *grins*
House: ‘Hearts and flowers: A preliminary study of their use in the treatment of non-responsive weeping sores.’
Cameron: *to Foreman*Lucky I didn’t actually give you the plague – it was just a shot of B12. Here, have this adorable little plush penguin.
Foreman: *snuggles penguin* Thanks.
Cameron: *makes eyes at Foreman*
Foreman: *smiles coyly*

One who did barely understood the world around her, assaulted by the paranoid voices telling her to do ‘bad things’. Or sometimes, telling her things that meant nothing to anyone but her. He remembered sitting next to her on a chipped green wooden bench, listening to the sounds of nature; he remembered her in so many ways. Sometimes it was when she lay in the hospital bed erupting in powerful laughter that rung through the grave doorways of the psychiatric ward, and sometimes it was holding her hands to her very large belly and whispering to the child that she believed could hear her through the blood, mucus, and skin.

Wilson: So insane was she that she even claimed that the baby had things she termed ‘ears’.

He mustn’t be thinking about her though, he was here to forget her, to leave her behind and move on. So few knew about her, the enticing lass he’d met, married, and watched die at a painfully slow rate.

Cameron: Oh, hey, snap!
House: *moves to strangle Cameron*
Wilson: *grabbing House’s hands* Wow, I’ve never noticed what, uh, powerful hands you have.
House: *calming down* I have my father’s hands… in a jar, at home.
Chase: Ooh, that one just never gets old, does it?
Wilson: *attempts to slap Chase*
Chase: Not fast enough, old man! *puts Wilson in headlock*
House: *leering* My, aren’t you two frisky today.

Looking back, he wasn’t sure he even told Stacy, thinking that perhaps Stacy would think him incapable to have held any strong relationships with anyone but her.

Again his emotions clouded his judgment, Wilson was waiting for him in the car to drive him to rehab, he should leave and abandon the past but he couldn’t. He was here to leave those strings that controlled him, a puppeteer if you will.

Cameron: Will not!
Wilson: Right, so fic!me is a puppeteer, who himself has strings…
Chase: A hive of bees, if you will.
Wilson: …that he is attempting to leave behind by waiting in the car for House while he mopes on the beach.
Foreman: A vivid slash of granular saffron, lapped at by a hundred thousand droplets of moist azure blue – if you will.

Deciding that the end has come, he casts one more look at the sky that begins to show signs of the sun poking through. As if to show that no storm lasts long, but taking another look at the ocean, he witnesses the still brutal waves breaking along the shore. Showing him that the happiness only covers the pain, as it had done his whole life.

Chase: Hey-ey, I think we have a coherent – if awful – metaphor!

Unable to take any more he drops the piece of paper he had been fiddling with in his overly restless hands, and stomps off the beach; determined to not look back

Wilson: To boldly split…

and run to pick up the paper that was currently floating to the ground with the delicacy of a feather and the rare divinity of a mythological phoenix.

Wilson: Gack!
House: There, there.

He made his way to the Corvette where his one friend was loitering for him,

Wilson: I loiter only for you, baby.
House: Skulking?
Wilson: I’d have to think about it.

ready to drive him to the hopefully enlightening sermon in the rehabilitation clinic.

Cameron: House had particularly requested a clinic run by the Jesuits.
House: You know how I like Catholics. *winks at Chase*
Wilson: *frowns*
House: Relax; Jews are fine too – just as long as you’re not a Protestant or anything.

The lone paper on the deserted shoreline, floated along on the wind gusts before falling precisely beneath a crashing wave. And on the paper, were written three women’s names…
Veronica Collete Walker, Stacy Yvonne Warner, Allison Emma Cameron

Foreman: Robert Pritty Hairs Chase.
Chase: Eric That 70s Show Foreman.

…all of which were important to the maverick fleeing from them…

Wilson: *to House* Actually, you remind me of Mad Max sometimes.
House: *snorts* Let’s go finish up that clinic case.
Wilson: I’ll just go get my thermometer.
House: Oh, very droll. Chase, you’re needed for a consult in Exam Room Three.

________________________________________
Good, Bad, Atrocious?? Tell me what you think...

Foreman: Dear Author, it was my profound misfortune to have to read–
Cameron: Oh, Foreman, you do have a way with words!

Night after the Dead

Mon, 08 Jan 2007 01:49:16 GMT

Title: Night after the Dead
Author: thinlysliced
Pairing: House/Cameron
Rating: R
Spoilers: none
Summary: Cameron is drunk. House is… undecided.
Disclaimer: not mine
A/N: Apologies to my fellow MSTies for slipping into Ham – hope you can forgive me ;-) Also, I'm looking for a thoughtful beta. I am (hopefully) pretty good at grammar and typos, but I generally write op-ed/features and would really appreciate some guidance with writing fic.

He stroked her thigh languidly, each time closer, but never close enough. His hands looked rough but felt smooth, running up and down the skin of her leg. Cameron’s mind whirled; she wished she could just quiet it and lose herself to the soft scrape of House’s fingertips, now trailing up from her knee – almost… then right back down, pausing to grip her ankle and pull it a little more toward were he sat, his back pressing against the arm of his couch.

She tried desperately to focus her eyes on his face, the same few days of stubble, the same deep cleft above his lip; but she just couldn’t do it. House’s hand is on my thigh. Cameron just kept cycling endlessly back and back to two hours ago.

Such a – day. Their patient was dead and she just couldn’t go straight back home and infect her apartment with the hurt and self-flagellation. So, tequila shooters it was. Cameron hated tequila, that burning trail down the back of her throat; no subtlety, just alcohol; but that was what she wanted tonight.

Three shots down and she still felt completely, painfully sober. Over to her left was some guy – very expensive jeans, well-cut shirt with a restrained stripe. So much better dressed than Chase, was the thought that came unbidden into her head, and she snorted wryly to herself as she looked at him. He took it as encouragement and sloped over to her.

“You look like you’re in advertising.” Cameron said brusquely. Evidently, the tequila was beginning to bite. Every time she forgot that lag that first lulled you and then bit you in the ass.

He chuckled affectedly and cocked an eyebrow at her. “Buy you another?” He gestured at the empty shot glass in front of her.

“Sure.” She tilted her head and smiled.

He didn’t say anything more until he had ordered their drinks, then knocked his back and smacked his glass down on the counter. One side of his mouth curled up and he looked at Cameron as if he thought he’d achieved something. A boozy haze had descended on her and she was having trouble disguising her contempt.

“Let me guess,” he said through a grin and ran an appraising eye over her. “You’re… hmm, you look like a professional girl. An architect?”

She gave up trying to hide her lack of interest. It was all she could do not to out and out wince. House never makes lousy, jumped-up guesses. She felt the thought physically, as if someone had just kicked her in the gut. It hurt, and it felt good.

Cameron looked him square in the eye: “Next round’s on me.”

They slammed back their tequilas and, though they’d hardly exchanged two sentences, he looked supremely confident.

“You’re so…” Her mind stopped abruptly, mid-sentence. It seemed to have room for only one thought.

“So…?” That bloody smile just wouldn’t leave his face.

“You know, I just have to–” She leaned in toward him. His eyes widened expectantly. “Leave.” Cameron stood up quickly, and staggered slightly to the left. Then she walked straight out of the bar, not even bothering to look behind her.

“Where to?” The cab driver was laughing faintly at her. Now she was drunk.

***

“As far as I know there’s nothing in my job description that says I have to deal with liquored-up employees.” He actually made to close the door on her, but she was far gone enough that she stuck the toe of her high heels against the door jam to stop him. Why the hell did she wear these painful shoes for the long hospital days? But she knew perfectly well why. They got her a little closer.

She said nothing, just wound her hands around his neck and pulled herself up toward him. If she expected him to be surprised she still didn’t know him well enough. He backed up and set her down on the couch.

“I’d offer you some of my Scotch, but it’s expensive. It’d be a complete waste in your current state.” House lent back in his chair and looked her over.

Bastard and gentleman in one. No way he was going to take advantage of an inebriated woman half his age.

“I’m 27 years old. You think I’m just a kid.” He couldn’t help himself; Cameron’s self-satisfied smile went straight to his cock. Damn it.

“Come here.” She tilted her head to indicate he should join her on the couch. “I won’t bite… hard.”

She couldn’t help smiling – watching the conflict play out so obviously on his face. He hated to lose control. He hovered, on the edge. Cameron arched her back and her shirt rode up. That glimpse of her stomach above the waistband of her fitted pants was too much. He pushed up and lent his weight on his cane – just two steps and he sank down onto the couch, as far from her as possible. The smile faded from her face and her eyelids fluttered closed. That was even worse. House tried to drag his eyes away, but failed.

“I not a kid.” Her eyes flicked open and locked onto his. No kidding.

His hand reached out. There was no thought involved. His hand was on her calf. Fuck. He wrested back power the only way possible; his hand moved as slowly as he could manage.

Absolutely no point pretending any more. House was more than happy with the idea of avoidance, but nothing if not a realist when it came to what was already done. She had him. Now the question was how he could have her. House’s hand ran up Cameron’s inner thigh.

Gambit one: “So, she’s dead. Who knew naphthalene was such a downer?”

Cameron couldn’t conceal her slight flinch, but she took a deep breath and eased back into the soft leather. “Yeah, well, some things shouldn’t be mothballed.” Still on message. Damn – unexpected. He didn’t retract his hand.

Cameron placed the ball of her index finer against the single button of her pants. That one button – he was transfixed. She stretched the moment out deliberately, then slipped the button through and slipped the zip down. If she’d taken a long time over unfastening her pants, she didn’t take much time in getting them down her legs and kicking them clear. They arced across the room and fell over the end of House’s baby grand.

Gambit two: He hesitated. Oh, for god’s sake.

For a moment she thought he was going to stop, but it was really only seconds before his fingers were back tracing up and down her thigh. Eventually, he slipped his hand up and fingered the edging on her panties. House rubbed his finger back and forth against it – back and forth. She simultaneously loved and hated the frustration. Cameron curled two fingers under the fabric and lifted it slightly, but enough. He gave up too.

House pushed one long finger into her.

Cameron had already started unbuttoning her shirt – she sped up. The bottom button was undone; she pulled the two halves of the shirt apart. House ran his gaze up her body. She unfastened the buttons rapidly, bottom to top. His mind seized and broke apart on her breasts, on her hard pink–brown nipples pushing up through her balconette bra. Enough. He wasn’t going to throw her out now and he’d had more than enough Scotch to stop thinking and just do this.

There were times when he’d worried that he was drinking too much. Now he thanked the gods for his proclivity for drinking alone. Just a little less and they would both already be asleep, and alone.

She was no idiot, but he knew he was sharper than her. He always had the upper hand, except that now she was lying in front of him in just her underwear and she’d know since she forced her way in the door that she was in charge. Beauty. A strange thing. She desperately desired him, but she was still more beautiful; she was still in charge.

Far too much consideration. House grabbed her wrist and pulled her to his bedroom as fast as he could move.

“You are so beautiful.” That tequila just kept on coming.

House just snorted in return, but that was enough for her. He had her backed up against the headboard, but she pushed up and ran the tip of her tongue down his neck. This time she got a low-pitched moan in return for her effort. Cameron worked the flat of her tongue over House’s jugular, then bit down hard.

“Ah, fuck!” He started.

She laughed lightly. “I lied. I am going to bite – hard.”

“Bite then.”

She ran her teeth down his left pec and nipped the tip of his nipple. He bucked back, but a smile was playing over his face.

There was a second where neither of them moved. Cameron lay back, motionless against his pillows; House hovered, suspended over her. Then he ducked down and pulled gently at her bottom lip with his teeth. She hadn’t known she was holding back at all until that moment, but as soon as she felt his lips and she closed her eyes, the room was spinning and there was a prickling pain in her chest. Open your eyes, Allison. You’re drunk. Except that that was bullshit. She was drunk, true, but the pain wasn’t just from alcohol.

She kissed him back and the pain eased up.

They kissed, alternately softly and desperately for three slow minutes, until it wasn’t enough. Forget tongues, forget fingers. His cock was rock hard and there was nothing else but to push up into Cameron. What started as a whimper on the first thrust, turned into a moan each subsequent time. House himself began silently, but, as he gripped under Cameron’s arms, hands hooked over her shoulders, he couldn’t help crying out. It felt ridiculously good for both of them.

There’d been no-one but hookers since Stacy. Sex with them was purely perfunctory, and half-baked reunion fucking was… unsatisfactory. As a widow Cameron had had nothing except for a bad drunken one-night stand and sex with Chase that she’d been too high to remember clearly.

But this, this was – life.

Farewell Hawaii

Fri, 05 Jan 2007 16:38:56 GMT

Why would Cameron go to Hawaii to kill herself? And perhaps even more puzzling is the question of who is tormenting House in the afterlife…

Things get tense amongst the PPTH MSTers when Cuddy forces them to express their feelings and they are faced with a spirituality-laced crack!fic. Can Chase come back from hair envy? Can House head off a Cameron/Wilson bitch fight? So many questions.

Foreman: Uh, not to be rude – but isn’t this a Diagnostics-only thing?
House: Wilson’s here for moral support. If I have to suffer through this team-building workshop, he’s going to suffer right alongside me.
Wilson: Thanks for dragging me into this.
Chase: It’s not as if you’re doing it out of the goodness of your heart, House…
Cameron: We know you forced Cuddy to let you off 10 hours of clinic duty for this.
House: But kindly Uncle Greg didn’t forget about the rest of you – oh, no! Cameron gets a whole afternoon of talking about feelings and bonding; Wilson gets to wallow in her neediness; Chase and Foreman… okay, you’ll hate it. It’s a cruel world.

Marcy: Everyone! Welcome – let’s gather round and take our seats people. Hi, I’m Marcy, your team-building workshop mediator here at the World of Bonding. Go-oh team!
Ducklings: *shoot hateful looks at House*
Wilson: *whispers to House* World of Bond–
House: The faster you shut up the sooner this will be over.
Marcy: *squinting at House’s name-tag* Dr, uh, McQueen, do you have something to share with us before we start?
House: *glares silently*
Marcy: Right-o! Our first exercise is all about learning something that’s so important in a team, how to criticise constructively.
Wilson: *snort*
House: *hits Wilson in the shin with cane*
Marcy: Ok-ay, let’s get started. Here we have a beautiful story that someone has lovingly crafted, but perhaps there are helpful ways in which we can encourage the author to make their work even better. I’m going to go ahead and put it up on the overhead projector; let’s all read it together as a team.

Cameron looked down into the azure blue of the ocean beneath her.She remainedas still as the rock on which she stood, overlooking the waters off Oahu.She was at Kaena Point, a place that the natives called `The Jumping Off Place"

House: How I wish I were there now.
Cameron: Why did I go all the way to Hawaii to chicken out of suicide?
Foreman: And why are ‘the natives’ into mixing their single and double quotation marks?

because they believed that this is where lost souls departed the island from.Fitting, she thought to herself.But as tempted as she was to throw herself into the blue abyss something held her back.She lifted her gaze to the blue of the sky and suddenly knew what it was. All this blue, she thought to herself...his eyes, his eyes were all around her.

Wilson: They felt kind of squishy.

She knew instinctively that he wouldn't want her to do this.

House: Actually, I really would.
Cameron: *smacks House playfully*
House: *grins*
Marcy: Let’s express ourselves using words, rather, Dr. Cameron. I’m sure Dr. McQueen has some unique insights that we could learn from.

Her knees buckled under her until she couldn't stand anymore.She was overwhelmed with grief and longing.Of course her legs would give out on her, she thought to herself.Or was it something more?

House: The rock loves you so much its holding onto your feet. It’s weeping stony little tears.
Cameron: Thank you for your unique insight, McQueen. I would hate for me to have to make you weep.
House: Ooh, feisty!
Wilson: Can we just concentrate on the story, please?

Gregory....
He heard the whisper in his ear.
Wake up Gregory, wake up now...

House: Calling me Gregory is not much of an inducement for me to wake up.

The voice was commanding yet soothing.He opened his eyes and took in his surroundings.All around him was the color white.As white as the lab coat that he had always refused to wear.But he wasn't in a room.Andhe wasn't outdoors either.He was...nowhere.

Wilson: All that nothingness – so reflective.
Foreman: Right, so House is in time but not space. I’m going to go out on limb here and say that general relativity passed this bad!fic author by.
Marcy: But there’s a lot to say about the beauty of their unique personal vision, isn’t there?
Chase: The lack of spaces after the full-stops is certainly unique.
Cameron: You don’t read much bad!fic, do you?

Oh you are somewhere Greg.No one is never nowhere.

Wilson: The double negative – deadliest of the grammatical idiot-traps.

"Oh now we're buddies so you're calling me Greg?"he said out loud.

Wilson: Yes, because all your buddies call you Greg.
Cameron: I call him Greg.
Wilson: He hates being called Greg!
Cameron: Not when I say it.
House: *smirking* Claws in, kittens.

What kind of crap is this?House thought to himself.For once he was almost at a loss for words.Almost.

"First of all I don't like white and secondly I don't like playing hide and seek.Unless of course you are some gorgeous blonde getting ready to ravage me."
"Come out come out wherever you are...."House spun around, "You aren't playing fair."

Chase: And House is all about playing fair.
Foreman: Not like you, rich boy.
Chase: Oh, yes, poor little Harvard grad!
Marcy: Now I don’t want to be too judgemental, but I’m picking up on some tension dynamics in this team.
Cameron: It’s almost as if you can read our minds.
Marcy: *blushes* Ever since I was a child I’ve had this gift of sensitivity.
House: As I child I was blessed with the gift of frankness, and I –
Wilson: Look over there! It’s, uh, a famous jazz pianist… *trails off; winces*
House: Dude, you’re a philistine.

He stopped dead in his tracks.Two thoughts emerged nearly simultaneously;one was the fact that if he could stop that meant that he had been going which also meant that he had been walking

Marcy: The author has clearly put a lot of thought into this.
House: Which is a pity, because they don’t think very well.

and two, the dead part was more accurate than how he initially meant it.How many times did he tell patients and his own staff that there is nothing on the other side of death.The thought hit him so hard that if he had been breathing it would have taken his breath away.

Foreman: My neurology-sense is tingling.
Chase: He’s got a brain that he’s thinking with, but he’s not breathing.
Cameron: He is walking, though; through nowhere.
Wilson: So his muscles are working, but just not his lungs.
Cameron: Wonder if all his muscles are working…
Chase: Wish my ears weren’t working.
House: *leers at Cameron*
Wilson: Trollop.

He sat down (on what he wasn't sure)

Foreman: But it definitely wasn’t extended in space.

and ran his hands over his body.Yep, everything was intact, he was still him right down to the stubble on his face.He brought back the last memory he had.His crew was standing over him.He looked up at Cameron.She was crying.

Wilson: Isn’t she always?
Cameron: At least I don’t have foppish hair.
Chase: *laughing* Foppish!
Foreman: Jealous?
Chase: Of course not! *sulks*

She held his hand and stroked his cheek and he had wished to hell that he could have felt it.They still hadn't figured out what was wrong with him and he was totally helpless to lead them on the hunt.He couldn't move, couldn't speak, could barely even blink and then finally he couldn't breathe.He saw Cameron place her hand on his chest feeling each labored breath he took.

House: Perhaps she should have taken her heavy hand off the dying man’s chest, then.
Wilson: *smirks*
Cameron: And where were you as House lay dying, Wilson? Perhaps Tritter was having a two-for-one day…
Wilson: Don’t go there, Dr. Bambi.

He knew that there was nothing left for them to do except watch his suffering.He wasn't angry at them, he knew they had done everything they could do.

House: …everything except actually cure me! I would be trying to summon every ounce of strength so that I could smite you three before I died.
Cameron: Smite us? I’m almost beginning to regret comparing you to god. Almost. *bats eyelashes*

He was beyond hope now.

Foreman: Only now?
House: You know, a Diagnostics team doesn’t really have to have a neurologist on it…

All encompassing panic took hold but he was unable to convey it except through his eyes.

Wilson: He could hardly blink but he could still convey all-encompassing panic through his eyes?
Cameron: *dreamily* His eyes are so expressive.
Wilson: That’s it! You and me outside, now, toothpick!
Cameron: Oh, you so did not just go there, pudge-boy!
Wilson: Believe it, Tinkerbell.
Cameron: You are so dead. *cracks knuckles*
House: Hey, hey, simmer down, kids. Cameron, admittedly your ass looks particularly luscious in those tight little pants…
Cameron: *looks nauseatingly smug*
Wilson: *slumps in chair*
House: …but my heart will always belong to Wilson. *pokes Wilson affectionately in the stomach* Hey, now I can’t run any more, we can be podge-pals.
Wilson: *perks up*
Cameron: *bursts into tears*
Marcy: See there, everyone – what Dr. McQueen just did? He took a situation where emotions were getting the better of his team and he gently diffused the conflict.
All except Marcy and House: *eyeroll*
Marcy: Why don’t we all share how we feel about this?
Wilson: I’m feeling pretty good, actually.
House: *waggling eyebrows* You could be feeling ever better.
House/Wilson: *start with the eye!sex*
Marcy: Uh, right, perhaps we should get back to reading the story.

Cameron saw it, so did the rest as they stood helplessly by.His lungs, stiff and unmoving were not able to be filled by even artifical means."No" he heard Cam sob as she returned his desperate gaze.

Cameron: *bitterly* That wasn’t a sob, it was a sigh. I’m hoping he dies soon so I can leave early to go shopping.

His body was on fire with the pain of death.

Chase: He couldn’t even feel Cameron touching him earlier, but he can feel the fiery pains of death?
Cameron: You know, I think this story is under-rated. I’m not sure it is bad!fic after all.
Wilson: *Puts arm around protectively around House*

His lungsThey watched his chest become still and the EKG machine flatline.And finally his blue eyes closed forever.

Foreman: Not that he needs eyes if he can watch stuff with his lungs.

We are sorry you had to suffer like that Greg.Let the memory go, you are home now.

"Home?"he muttered, "pardon me but this doesn't look anything like my home"

House: The hookers are conspicuously absent, for one.

Here, will this make you feel better?

At his feet was his cane.House almost laughed at the irony of it.

Chase: In the end, though, he decided not to laugh, since it really wasn’t all that ironic.

He reached down and picked it up, felt it's familiar weight in his hands and somehow it DID bring him comfort.He smiled.

House: Yes, reminding me of the hellish pain and disability brought on by my infarction has always been a sure fire way to cheer me up.
Wilson: *nuzzles House’s shoulder* Perhaps I could cheer you up?
Cameron: *gags*

`Thank you" he found himself saying as he used it to lift himself to his feet.
He felt remarkably well.So well in fact that he began to feel a touch of anger at not having felt this way in life.

"So a person has to die to feel alive?"

Foreman: This might have been a slightly better place to slot in that irony comment.

he muttered to himself shaking his head in the process."Where am I anyway?" the thought was immediately met with a response.

You are were you always expected to be.This is your idea of the afterlife Greg.It is what you always expected to find.

"But there is nothing here!" he yelled out to his invisible companions.

Exactly

House: Wilson, this must be your god. Mine’s too into the forgiveness and love stuff to taunt me about my leg and play semantics with me.
Cameron: *makes a face at Wilson behind House’s back*
Wilson: Better stop that – House is watching you with his lungs.

The realization hit him hard.He understood what they meant.He didn't believe in an afterlife so consequently there was no pearly gates, no tunnel of light, no `anything.'Essentially he got exactly what he wanted.

Foreman: Actually, he got only what he believed – I have a feeling what he wants from the afterlife is a lot more debauched.
House: *singing* All I want is a room somewhere…
Wilson: *joining in*…far away from the cold night air.
House/Wilson: Oh, wouldn’t it be lov-e-ly! *start making out*
Cameron: That’s the final straw! *stalks out*
Marcy: But Dr. Cameron –
Chase: My mum used to sing that song to me when she was drunk… *starts crying; stumbles out*
Marcy: Dr. Chase!
Foreman: Thank you, Marcy. I for one learnt a lot about feelings this afternoon. *exits*
Marcy: Dr. Wilson? Dr. McQueen?
House/Wilson: *continue making out*
Marcy: I, uh… *gives up and leaves them to it*

A Simple Threshold

Sun, 17 Dec 2006 17:12:23 GMT

Title: A Simple Threshold
Pairing: Cameron/Wilson
Rating: PG-13
Warnings/Spoilers: no real spoilers
Summary: Wilson and Cameron had an indulgent weekend, but now it’s time to face House.
Disclaimer: not mine
Notes: This is a sequel to my first fic What Wasn’t Secret, but don’t let that put you off ;-) I’ve done away with the dreadfully ill-advised second-person perspective in this one.

It hadn’t made a difference that what she’d needed was House. Need is need. When you can’t get the real thing the craving only worsens; you need the substitute even more. Being a second choice matters if you want to be chosen for love. It was too inflexible an emotion, Wilson found. But need – much easier. There’s a simple threshold, need me enough, and beyond that no ranking.

Cameron was a martyr to fidelity, though, even when the vows were unspoken, given voice only inside her head. Her need was useless to him, but no less compelling for it, so that he was forced to subsist on their smatterings of conversation.

“Dr Wilson,” with the accompanying nodded greeting, sometimes a smile, as they passed in the passageway.

“House needs you for a consult,” her hand on his door, neck curving towards him, body half in, half out.

It became intoxicating, the presence of this need that was at once tangible and completely inaccessible. Except that one morning Wilson walked into the Diagnostics conference room, chipped in as the team threw around ideas, and suddenly saw that it was gone. There was nothing really determinate he could say was different about her, but it was clear enough. For some reason the image he found before his mind’s eye was that of thin glass vial, snapped in two; never going to hold water again.

It was that week that she had started to look at him. Generic substitutes made no sense to her, so she’d had no reason to see Wilson before. Now she saw him. What confounded him, was that he still took the care to notice. She had no use for him, didn’t need to wring out sympathy or drum up jealously. She didn’t need Wilson, just wanted him. The thought terrified him. Before he’d even caught her, she could escape. But he couldn’t look away.

Now, he’s here, holed up in his office, and he would be working out his next move if he even knew what he was moving towards. Just walking to the cafeteria and back he would bump into at least a one woman whose need he’d let seduce him into thinking it meant anything, but he’d long since shrugged off any kind of workplace embarrassment over it. He’s hiding from Cameron, though, because the things she says are so much harder to avoid than his own thoughts.

There’s a sharp sound from the door to the balcony. Wilson turns to see it being opened with the rubber-capped end of a cane and sinks back into this chair resignedly. House comes in, flops down on Wilson’s sofa and gives him a quizzical grin, head slightly to the side.

“Not a nurse,” he announces.

Wilson sighs and steels himself for questioning. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s not a nurse?”

“You don’t go to ground like this just for one of your nurses. But since you’re cloistered away in your office it has to be someone in the hospital. Another patient snared you with her feminine wiles? Bald girls are so hot.”

“House, just get out. I’m tired.” Wilson can think of nothing to placate his friend’s curiosity. He can’t seem to think about much of anything at the moment. To his surprise House boosts himself up from the sofa and makes for the door. Wilson lets out a breath of relief a beat too soon.

House flings open his main office door, limps out into the passage and finds his team, come looking for him.

“The LT came back–” begins Foreman, but House has started shouting theatrically.

“I demand to know what heartless wench has left Dr Wilson pining in his office.” He sweeps his gaze up and down the corridor, seeing nothing but the odd startled patient and a few nurses rolling their eyes.

“A mystery for another day,” House concedes, looking back at Wilson, who’s now standing in his doorway, seething.

“The LT came back negative,” Foreman perseveres, ignoring the scene. Chase gives Wilson a puzzled look.

“Cameron, I need you to speak to the patient and–” House turns his attention to her, and notices the faint blush just fading from her face. He stares at her, his whole body stiffening, then makes an about-face and heads for his office.

“What the hell?” Chase looks down the passage after him. Foreman just sighs, before the three of them follow House.

Wilson closes his door and falls back heavily into his chair. He pinches the bridge of his nose. Surely House had noticed that Cameron jumped overboard the Good Ship Gregory months ago? Certainly he’s perceptive, usually to the point of discomfort – he can’t actually have missed it; but that’s not really the same as allowing it to be true. House is honest. But he is arrogant first, dedicated seeker of truth second. Avoidance isn’t lying, just cowardice. Wilson pushes his palms hard against his temples and gives a short laugh. The cowardice of avoidance. He might know a little about that himself.

The worst thing was the look he knew had been in his eyes when she turned towards him, as they lay there together on his sofa last Saturday morning. He’d seen it in her surprise that turned into warmth. They both got partially dressed again, he in his boxers and pants, her in her underwear and shirt, but didn’t budge from the couch – just lounged there for hours watching television and chatting idly. There had been a moment right after they’d had sex when Cameron stood up hesitantly, clearly wondering if she should leave. But he caught her wrist and pulled her back down next to him. Her eyebrows went up slightly, questioning, but Wilson was too scared to let himself even think the answer.

Cameron had left at about six for dinner with friends. They kissed goodbye and the soft warmth of her tongue sliding along the edge of his own made him struggle to let go of her waist, clasped between his palms, when they finally broke apart. Neither had said anything about was going to come next.

Two days later, and the only fully-formed conclusion Wilson had so far come to was that he was going to spend as little time outside the safe confines of his office as he could manage. It was a plan with little long-term potential, but he’d stick to it for now, in lieu of something better.

***

House is standing behind his desk as his team walk into his office. His voice is quiet, but too controlled for it to bode well. “Chase, go speak to the patient. I want a completely new history.”

“But Cameron was going to–”

“Cameron is busy now.” House’s tone is ominous.

“I’m going to…” Foreman begins, but House isn’t looking at him. All his attention is focused on Cameron. Foreman makes an exasperated gesture and leaves with Chase.

There she stands, just across the desk from him. So trusting that she’s even followed him in here for punishment. House glances down at the handle of his cane for a moment, then looks straight at Cameron.

“You think you’re different.” His voicing rises as he speaks and she glances behind her, but there’s no-one around outside the office. “You’re different; you’re the one that’ll stick!” He’s almost shouting now.

“First you try to tame the heart of the curmudgeonly old cripple, as if you’ll get to skip off into the sunset with him like some goddamned Little Lord Fauntleroy; and when that doesn’t pan out you start working on your next project, teaching the troubled divorcee how to love.”

“You’re not different.” House’s voice has dropped now, but it’s completely hard and devoid of feeling. “You’re exactly like every wife, every nurse, every doe-eyed patient before you. And exactly what happened to them is going to happen to you.”

He sees tears start in her eyes. He did that to her. Cameron’s hand twitches and he grips his cane tighter, bracing himself for the slap, almost welcoming the idea of her lashing out at him and taking away some of the guilt that’s suddenly drowning him. But her hand stays by her side.

“You’re wrong,” she says, but she’s looking down and talking so softly that he can hardly make out the words. “You’re the only one who’s not different.” She looks up and holds his gaze then, until he can’t take it any more and drops his eyes to the floor, before she walks out.

House hurls his cane across the office and collapses back into his seat.

***

Wilson is again contemplating cowardice. He hasn’t spoken to Cameron since the scene outside his office and he’s avoided House like the plague. His friend he isn’t about to bring himself to speak to, but he knows he can’t wait much longer to talk to her about this. He wipes his hands across his face and picks up his keys from the table by the door of his apartment. May as well see her now. She might not be there, but he doesn’t feel up to speaking to her on the phone.

Standing outside her door, the protection of being a few miles of phoneline away suddenly seems appealing. Still, he raps his knuckles on the door and waits.

“Wilson.” She’s surprised for a second, but she knows why he’s there. “Wine?”

Thanks.” He’ll take a little Dutch courage to help him through this. “Mmm, nice,” he remarks as he takes a sip and examines the bottle’s label. Cameron sits on the sofa and motions for him to join her.

“So, House knows?” He tilts his head and looks sideways at her as he asks.

Cameron looks for a second as if she’s going to say something. She opens her mouth to speak, but no sound comes out, and as she closes her mouth again tears start sliding down her cheeks. James shuffles over and puts an arm around her. She makes no sound, just cries silently, wordlessly, as he holds her. He bends his head down to hers, his lips on her hair. What the fuck did you do, House?

***

House is sitting next to his door when he arrives home.

“Thought you might be out all night.”

Wilson gives only a curt nod in response. House heaves himself up to his feet, as Wilson unlocks the door. For a moment Wilson thinks of slamming it in his face, but he leaves it open and lets House follow him in.

“Why are you back so early?” House asks, glancing up at the wall clock.

Wilson aches to punch him, wipe away the reason why that question prompts such rage. He could hate House at this moment, for once again zeroing in on precisely where it hurts. There’s never any wound so raw that it’s spared.

“Bored of her already?”

“God, House, you did nothing but humiliate her when you could have had her! You don’t even want her; you just don’t want me to have her. You can’t bear the thought of us having lives that don’t involve you, that aren’t controlled by you.” Wilson took a breath and continued more quietly, “I care about her.”

“Then why aren’t you with her?”

Because she really didn’t need him. He’d felt that familiar lull come over him as he held her and let her cry. But once it was over, she was composed again. She could be perfectly happy without him, and he had never wanted anyone like this, someone he’d have to step out into empty space for without the safety-net of her dependence beneath him.

“Why aren’t you?” Wilson finally replied. He didn’t feel he owed House the truth right now.

“Fine, I don’t want her,” House spat out. He was directing his comments at the opposite wall. “But you’re still going to hurt her.”

“You’ve already hurt her!” Wilson snapped back. “Now my duties include comforting the women you leave in tears.”

House recoiled from his words. He stood up and moved quickly to the door.

“I’m a bastard; she’s better off without me. But you break this one, there’ll be far more than tears.” House let himself out, leaving Wilson trying to puzzle out what he meant. He gave up on it, too drained to think, and dragged himself off to bedroom to sleep alone.

House Gets a Girlfriend

Wed, 13 Dec 2006 22:12:16 GMT

It’s an OOC fiesta! House turns into both a teenaged girl and a heartless monster, and Cameron gives up on sex…

Luckily MST!House makes up for it by spanking MST!Cameron, while MST!Foreman worries his valuable skills aren’t being effectively utilized. Also featuring the diagnostic talents of MST!Wilson and outraged protests of MST!Chase.

A/N: I feel slightly bad MSTing this since it’s obviously (hopefully) by a pretty young author and well meant, but it just had to be done. This piece is actually part five of a 20-part series, but I think you’ll pick up the plot easily enough. I’m sure it gave some of its readers great joy, but it just gave me pains in the head.

[Wilson walks into House’s office. House is staring intently at his computer.]

Wilson: House, I need a consult.
House: Can’t, busy.
Wilson: My patient’s dying.
House: So is a little part of my soul.
Wilson: *puzzled* What are you doing, anyway? You look almost like you’re working.
House: Like a ten-year-old Asian kid in a Nike sweatshop.

Wilson: *sneaking around behind House* Hey, is that –
House: Bad!fic, but it’s mine. You have to go heal the sick.
Wilson: My patient’s not actually dying right at this moment. I could spare a few minutes.
House: *snorts* You’re a fickle man, Wilson. Cameron!
Cameron: *enters from conference room* You bellowed?
House: Ready the troops. We’re going over the top.
Cameron: Um, does that mean you want the whiteboard in here?
House: Forget the whiteboard. Just get Chase and Foreman in here, now.
Cameron: *fetches ducklings*

Chase: What’s going on?
Wilson: Bad!fic.
Foreman: I’m a highly trained neurologist. I shouldn’t have to –
Cameron: Belt up, Foreman. We’re going in.
House: *sighs* Over the top. Enough chit-chat; it’s time to concentrate. So much has happened already: Cameron and I have eaten at a diner, shared a milkshake and kissed in a playground. Then Cameron slept over in my guest room, and the next day we went shopping at Macy’s and watched a movie. Apparently, I chose War of the Worlds. At the end of part four we were making out in the parking lot. Now this…

Cameron woke up in his arms. They were in his bed, their bodies entangled. 'How far did she go with him last night?' was the first question that came to mind.At that moment she became nervous. Quickly looking down, she was relieved that all her clothes were still on.

Cameron: Yeah, thank god I didn’t get any.
House: I’m saving myself.
Wilson: For Lindsay Lohan.

Not that she didn't want to sleep with him, but she wasn't ready for that yet. Their relationship just started.

Foreman: Just started what – figure skating? Macramé? Making a strange rattling sound?

Their relationship? She was still amazed, she never thought that her secret worshiping of him would turn into so much.

Chase: So far it’s turned into a sleepover.

She turned and kissed him. House's eyes opened, he was awake now.

"Good Mourning" she whispered.

House: Oh, yes, terrific funeral. Loved every minute of it.
Foreman: I’m in mourning, for my career. I can just see my next job interview: “Well, mostly I helped Dr House out with MSTing bad!fic, but –”
House: *throws book at Foreman’s head*
Foreman: *ducks just in time*

He yawned. Their little make-out fest last night tired him out. Just the thought of that made him smile. The images replayed in his head.

House: Squee! Making out with Cameron is, like, so hot.
Cameron: House?
House: Ooh, Cam, I’m totally going to braid your hair!
Cameron: *frowns worriedly*
Wilson: Hmm, I’ve seen this once before. It’s a rare bad!fic-induced condition – very sudden onset, with the patient manifesting characteristics of a 14-year-old girl. Luckily, it’s easily cured. A sharp slap usually does the trick.
Cameron: *administers slap to the face*
House: *rubs cheek* Haven’t you been paying attention to the fic? I’m clearly not into the kinky stuff. You might be able to persuade me, though…
Cameron: He’s cured.

"Good Mourning, sleep well? I sure did. Your a good kisser,

Foreman: Your ‘a good kisser’ is over there on the table. I’m beating myself over the head with mine.

not as good as me though. Don't worry with some practice ..."

House: Damn, I’m wry.
Cameron: *raises an eyebrow* Just out of curiosity, what kind of persuasion were you thinking of?
House: Ever seen Ilsa: The Wicked Warden?
Cameron: I could rent it.
Chase: You two are making my eyes water.

Cameron put her hand over his mouth.

"I will get changed, then I'll make some breakfast" She released her hand

House: …and it went on a murderous rampage.
Cameron: That’s not all it can do.
Wilson: *sotto voce* I’ve met 10-pound tumors subtler than you.

and walked out the door, to the guest bedroom. She took out the bags from their shopping trip and put on the lavender Juicy sweats. By that time, he was already out of bed, making his way to the kitchen. He could help but catch a glimpse of her changing. More then a glimpse. Lets be honest, he saw the girl in her bra and panties. He would be slightly embarrassed, but they were dating now.

House: You have no idea how ashamed I feel staring at Cameron’s ass every day outside the sanctity of going steady.
Wilson: You’re a tortured soul.
House: Still, you can never really tell how you’ll react in a situation until it actually happens; in the interests of science, I propose Cameron strip down to her underwear right now and I’ll monitor my level of embarrassment.
Cameron: *rolls eyes* Yeah, you’re all about the empiricism, House.
House: *leers* I’m a Humean at heart.
Cameron: Perhaps we could do some research a little later, though…
House: *slips hand onto Cameron’s thigh*

Officially for a few hours, Unofficially since Friday. That didn't matter to him. At least he told himself it didn't.House walked into the hallway and got the newspaper. He sat down at the counter and read. Cameron was in the kitchen now, cooking eggs.

"Scrambled or Sunny-Side up Greg?" she said

Cameron: I managed to get dressed, head to the kitchen and make eggs, all in the time it took House to pick up a newspaper?

"Scrambled"

"To Bad, because they are Sunny-Side up."

Chase: Snap!
House: *looks at Cameron* I’m going to have to discipline you for that.
Cameron: Not fair, that was fic!me!
House: *smacks her on the butt* The line between reality and fiction is a fluid and every-changing one.
Cameron: *smirks*
Wilson: You’ll find there’s a somewhat clearer line between what’s workplace appropriate and what’s just plain vulgar.

she handed a plate to him. They were almost finished eating, when her cell phone rang.

Foreman: How about at least a paragraph break to suggest time passing?

"I should get that." she walked into the Guest bedroom, shutting the door. Her phone read 'Eric F.' in tiny letters.

"Hey Eric" she said.

"Allison, thank god, your phone was off all weekend. I thought you died." Eric said.

"Oh, no. I am fine. I am Just peachy, you?"

"Great. You sound happy. Anyways, Rob and I were going to catch something to eat today. You in?"

Chase: Rob? You have got to be kidding me.
Foreman: What are you whining about? I’m the one who’s turned into Cameron’s best girlfriend.
Cameron: *squeals* Oh, Eric, you can buy matching lavender Juicy sweats and we can be sisters!
Foreman: *curses under his breath*
House: *still with hand on Cameron’s leg* You don’t actually have any tight-fighting sweatsuits, do you?
Cameron: *trailing a finger over House’s hand* No, but we could go shopping together.
House: I hear there’s a sale at Victoria’s Secret.

"Thanks but I am busy right now."

"Aww come on. It would be just Chase and I. What a snore."

Chase: Hey, I’m an interesting guy!
Foreman: But what if you back out on me? Then it would just be I.
Wilson: And you’re a total doze.
Cameron: Complete snooze-fest.
Foreman: *glowers*

"Invite someone else from work. Or one of your friends, you have any?"

"Very funny. Who you want me to call House? Ha."

"He is busy now anyway" Cameron covered her mouth.

House: Those almost finished eggs are going to keep me occupied all day.
Cameron: I’m a complete idiot.
House: *eyes Cameron suggestively* Fic!you’s just a pale imitation of the real thing.
Wilson: *gags*
House/Cameron: *start kissing passionately*

She knew she shouldn't of said that. There was a long pause.

Foreman: During which it occurred to her that she shouldn’t have used “of”.

"Oh, thats where you been. With him." he laughed. She didn't reply. "Wilson said he didn't pick up his phone all of yesterday. And we all know House has no social life. You didn't sleep with him, did you?"

"House and I are going out now. He took me out Friday night, and we went shopping yesterday. Are you going to tell everyone like you are in eighth grade?"

"Did you sleep with him?"

Wilson: Of course not, House is really into platonic sleepovers.
House: *tries to kick Wilson*
Cameron: Ow!
House: Oops! I think I’d better kiss that better.
Chase: I’m pretty sure you didn’t kick her in the neck.
House: *successfully kicks Chase*

"NO! But when I do, I will be sure to have a tripod handy. I'll send you a copy."

"I can tell his sarcasm is rubbing off on you. " Foreman laughed "I am happy for you Allison. If this is what you want. I am really am."

Cameron: *coming up for air* Becoming more sarcastic is what I want.
Wilson: What you really, really want.

"Thanks Eric. I gotta go now"

"One more thing, I am going to expect the WHOLE story tomorrow."

Chase: During recess.
Foreman: *facepalm*

"Good Bye now Eric!" she clapped the phone closed and tucked it in her bag.

Eric laughed at the thought. How long would they last? He would put his money on only a week.

Cameron ventured into the living room, where she saw her new boyfriend on the couch watching General Hospital. She snuggled next to him.

Cameron: You’re so my new boyf!
House: I’m only using you for your body.
Both: *much kissing*

"It was Eric"

"What that did he want? Sex?

Foreman: Yes, because you can just cut the sexual tension between me and Cameron with a knife.

Your mine now Cameron, remember." he laughed.

"He wanted to know how I was doing. I told him about us Greg."

"Did he drag it out of you?"

"No, I am not ashamed. Are you?"

House just started laughing. "I am not. But you realize that we are going to be interrogated tomorrow. By Wilson, Cuddy, Chase, Foreman, the Nurses, the Orderlies. Hell, even the janitors."

"Well just tell them the truth. How you think I am irresistible. " she got up onto his lap, and bit his ear.

"Your blocking my view. My show is on for God's sake!" he looked into her eyes. They kissed. Slowly, openingand closing their mouths.

Wilson: Like dying fish.

He put his arms around her waist.

"I hate to ruin our little moment. But I should get home soon. Before you captivate me and we go into the bedroom.

Cameron: *doing up the top button of her shirt* Remember, I’m dead set on self-denial.
Chase: *has coughing attack*
House: *smirks* I can be very captivating.

Before you know it, I'll be spending the night. We have work tomorrow". She kissed him openmouthed, now.

"Its only noon though. O I see, your sick of me." she made a sad-puppy face.

Cameron: Oh, please, no.
House: I have some puppy biscuits stashed in the clinic.
Cameron: Perhaps we should go check on them.
House: *slowly running a hand up Cameron’s back* The moment we finish reading this fic.

"Gregory House, I can't get enough of you." she kissed him once more on the neck. He let out a little moan in reply. "I have to go home though. You understand. You can come with if you want!"

He thought for awhile. "No, I think your right. To much of one person is never to good. Look at Wilson and Julie"

She laughed. "They're married. I would be on eggshells if I were his wife. He stares at every single woman he sees." she got off his lap and walked to the guest bedroom. Cameron gathered her bags and walked right back where she left him. She sat back down next to him, draping her skinny arms around his body. She squeezed him, like he was a Teddy Bear.

All: *cringe*

"What are you doing after work tomorrow?"

"Wilson and I have plans. We're going to a car show tomorrow. He is in the market for a new car. Or so he says. Wilson just wants to see the girlson top ofthe cars.

Wilson: First I spend too much time with Julie, now I’m a pubescent boy.
House: Bad!fic author is completely off. Those girls are far too popular; no way are they needy enough for you.
Wilson: *glares*

You can tag along if you want. "

"Nah. That isn't my thing. Don't you be looking, staring, kissing, or making any kind of pass at those girls. You won't be happy"

"Wilson can and I can't! Thats not fair." he crossed his arms.

"I am sure Julie wouldn't be happy with him either. What about Tuesday?"

"One of my favorite medical shows is on at 9:00 on Fox." (authors note-ha ha Ihad to include that.)

"How about, you come over to my place and we'll watch it."

"Alright" he got his cane and walked with her out the door. They drove to the hospital where he dropped his new lover off by her car. Once again she squeezed the death out of him.

House: I’ve never felt so alive! *jumps up and grabs Cameron; dips her over his arm and kisses her; clutches leg; sits down hurriedly*

"Hunny, I had a fantastic time this weekend" Cameron cooed.

Foreman: Of course, that’s a lesser-known abbreviation of ‘honey bunny’. Or ‘House bunny’. *shudder*

"Wish I could say the same." She jabbed him in the chest.

"Ouch. That hurt" He put her arm around her back and leaned into her. She replied with a deep kiss. For the second time in one weekend, in the Hospital Parking lot, they made out.She held his hand, not wanting to let go.

"Bye, I'll miss you" he said, letting her go gently.

Chase: Now fortified with extra OOC goodness!

"I will miss you too! I'll see you at work. Good Bye Dr.Gregory House" Cameron stepped in her car, smiling at him.

"Good Bye Dr.Allison Cameron" he walked back into his own car. He watched her pull out of the parking lot and down the street. House sat there staring into space. He had to pinch himself. Was he really dating her? At that moment he realized, he was not only attracted to her, he couldn't live with out her.

House: Not like my appendix – I could totally live without that.
Foreman: Take away those italics, though, and you might just be been able to cling onto life sans Cameron. And who knew ‘with out’ was two words?
Chase: I did.
Foreman: *Rolls eyes*
House: *pulls wistful face* I could live without you, but why would I try?
Cameron: *grabs House*

Little did he know, Cameron was thinking the same thing about him. He put his car in drive. All of a sudden, his cell phone rang. He picked up, before realizing it was Wilson.

"What the fuck do you want? Julie finally kick you to the curb? You are not crashing at my place." he yelled through the mouth piece.

House: *absent-mindedly stroking Cameron’s hair* Then I realized it was Wilson and, in a furious mood from the horror that is requited love, I started screaming at my best friend.
Wilson: Fic!you should really stick to cutting insights into my personal shortcomings if he wants to stay in character.
House: Fic!me wouldn’t know where to start.
Wilson: Fic!me might consider punching fic!you.

"I heard about you and Cameron" Wilson smirked.

"Good for you"

"I'm am happy for you. Here, I'll come over there and you can tell me all the details". Before House could protest, Wilson hung up.

________________________________________

House found Wilson, sitting on his couch, watching his TV.

"What the hell?"

"So tell me? You get any ass? Ha ha. Just kidding. Tell me the whole entire story, every juicy detail". House sat down and explained to his only friend the whole story. The diner. The park. The shopping. The movie. The talks. Of course he left out most of the kissing and there argument in the car. He could tell Wilson was impressed.

Cameron: Who wouldn’t be!
House: I also left out all that gratuitous hand-holding.
Wilson: You went into detail about the BDSM, though.
House/Cameron: *exchange meaningful looks; go back to making out*

"You do realize, you are older then her." Wilson asked

"Yes. But by like sevan years. Not a huge gap."

Chase: ‘Sevan’?
Foreman: It’s medical slang – means ‘approximately twenty’.

"You also realize she is a gorgeous girl. She could have a younger more attractive guy."

"I do. She does also. She could of been a model. She could of married super rich. But Cameron didn't. She took the hard way out, she became a Doctor".

Wilson smiled. Maybe he was over the 'I am going to get hurt thing' .For once, he had faith in his friend. Allison on the other hand, he was worried about.He wondered how long it would last.If he was putting money out it, it would be a month.James Wilson didn't tell him that though.

"Lets order pizza!" Wilson announced

Wilson: I would never announce a suggestion.
House: You’ll let me pick the food if you know what’s good for you.
Cameron: I pick puppy biscuits!
House: *waggling his eyebrows at Cameron* Let’s go.
House/Cameron: *exit*
Foreman: Diagnosis?
Chase/Wilson: Terminally awful!