I Can Never Say No to You - Chapter 4
Title: I Can Never Say No to You
Chapter: 4 of 8
Author: daisyb10
Genre: Romance/Angst
Rating: Teen. 13 years +
Warning: Spoilers for 5:13 “Big Baby”
Pairings: House/Cameron
Summary: When Valentine’s Day plans go terribly wrong …
Disclaimer: I do not own House M.D. or its characters, nor do I profit from this story.
Chapter 4
The ebony Mercedes purred to a stop under the porte-cochere of L’Auberge Garoche.
It was sinewy, sexy, arrogant and proud - the sleek CLK was the embodiment of House.
But the man behind the wheel was fraught with worry.
His brave-hearted risk, that had once seemed so noble, felt like an ill-conceived plan than was destined to fail.
House leaned on the headrest and closed his eyes.
Why am I doing this? To prove Wilson wrong? Or to prove Wilson right?
Is Cameron a pawn in my childish game? Or the soul mate I never deserved or wanted?
He checked the clock in the burled walnut dash. “6:45. It’s time to go.”
A watchful valet stood at the ready as House stepped out of the car.
“Good Evening, Sir. May I park your car?”
“Thank you.” House dropped the keys into his outstretched hand. “Be careful.”
Bowing slightly, the valet slipped into the driver’s seat and gingerly drove the Mercedes away.
At least he didn’t rug it in front of me …
The L’Auberge Garoche was the former home of Philippe Garoche and his family. After the Second World War, the fledgling industrialist emigrated from France and amassed his fortune from textiles and steel. Five years ago, the aging Garoche sold his country retreat to a consortium from Princeton. Fortunately for House, one of the owners was the grateful husband of a former patient. Without connections or a stroke of blind luck, one could expect to wait weeks to dine at its five-star restaurant.
House lingered on the steps of the limestone inn, taking deep calming breaths of the cool night air. A whisper of wind caressed his face. He looked to the west where a hedgerow of trees stood stark and serene against the twilight sky.
The stars will be out soon …
The soft black wool of his new overcoat flared dramatically behind him as he limped up the steps.
“Welcome to L’Auberge Garoche,” greeted the elderly doorman, dressed in top hat and tails.
The lobby of the Inn embraced House in warmth the moment he walked in the door. Its wainscoted walls were a soft apple green, papered in delicate brocade imported from France. A spectacular chandelier presided over the room and its chocolate oak floor was polished to perfection.
House checked his coat and glanced in a mirror to inspect the knot on his crimson silk tie. Satisfied with his appearance, he meandered through the milling crowd towards the dining room entrance.
“My name is Doctor Gregory House,” House announced, emphasizing his title for a little extra good measure.
“I have a reservation for two at seven o’clock.”
“Good Evening, Dr. House. I’m Jacques, your Maitre D’.”
“Good Evening.” A carefully folded hundred dollar bill slipped from man to man as they shook hands.
“Dr. Cameron will be arriving shortly. Is everything ready?”
With the tiniest hint of a smile, Jacques pocketed the tip. “The Veuve Clicquot is on ice and our chef has reserved two of our finest lobsters for you and your date. Would you like to wait here and greet Dr. Cameron when she arrives, or shall I seat you now and escort her to your table?”
House scanned the room. Damn. Elegantly dressed patrons were perched on every loveseat in the crowded lobby.
It was standing room only and his leg hurt like hell.
He stroked the ornate silver handle on his evening cane. It was a gesture discreetly noted by Jacques.
“If I might make a suggestion, sir, if you were to wait inside, it would be a wonderful opportunity for your lady to make a grand entrance …”
Kindness and pity went hand-in-hand in House’s distorted view of the world, but with surprising grace, House acquiesced and followed Jacques into the dining room.
~~~~~
Jacques led House to a raised centre island with a dozen tables for two. It was easy to spot which one was his. All the rest were filled with guests.
House hooked his cane over the burnished brass railing and settled into his seat. Everywhere he looked he saw couples of all ages; some held hands and whispered sweet nothings, while others stole kisses in the candlelit room. This was a bad idea. He felt as if the eyes of the world were upon him.
He nodded his chin at an anxious young man fidgeting alone at his table. A kindred spirit.
Poor bastard’s probably waiting for his date, too.
He sighed with relief as a waiter approached.
“Good Evening, sir. My name is Michael. I’ll be your server for this evening. May I offer you a drink from the bar? Perhaps a glass of wine?” he inquired pleasantly.
Skip the glass, just bring me a bottle of Glenlivet … “I’ll wait for my guest to arrive, but I would like some water. Oh, and maybe something to nibble on …”
“Certainly, sir. I’ll be right back.”
Alone once more, House inspected his table. A crisp white tablecloth showcased the sparkling silverware and hand-cut crystal; tea lights glowed in a low centrepiece of bright red roses and lime spider mums. House touched the velvety petals. I wonder how Cameron liked her roses …
“Here we go, sir. Your water,“ Michael filled a glass with ice water for House. “And I brought you some rosemary breadsticks to tide you over.”
“Thank you.” House dived in eagerly. It had been hours since he last ate.
He looked at his watch. 7:25.
Where could she be? I should have picked Cameron up instead of sending a limo. I wonder if they’re stuck in traffic?
Oh, great … even the poor bastard’s date has arrived.
A wave of nausea swept over House.
For the first time in his life, he knew how it felt to want something so badly, he could never obtain.
He slumped in defeat.
Cameron wasn’t coming.
It was the card. Maybe that’s where I blew it. Was my message too arrogant?
Dinner. Valentine’s Day. 7 pm. L’Auberge Garoche.
Your limo will arrive at 6 pm.
It wasn’t a request, it was a command. Wilson was right. I suck at romance!
It serves me right. Taking her for granted. Mocking her feelings. Rejecting her love.
Even with Chase out of the picture, I don’t stand a chance.
She’s moved on. It’s over.
House fumbled for his wallet and threw a hundred on the table.
He reached for his cane and rose to his feet.
He saw Jacques walking towards him. Just what I need … he’s coming to ask me what happened to Cameron.
But he wasn’t.
He caught a glimpse of flaxen blonde hair.
Blood surged through his veins.
Cameron.
She looked like a goddess.
Men stared. Women glared.
She smiled when she saw him.
Jacques guided her to his table.
“House …” she murmured.
Words failed him.
His mouth gaped open as he hungrily drank in her radiant beauty.
Her one-shouldered cocktail dress in scarlet chiffon flowed over her body like raspberry syrup on a sundae. A narrow satin belt, adorned with a crystal buckle, cinched her tiny waist and her hair tumbled to her shoulders in loose shining curls.
He could see every rise and fall of the swell of her breasts, as her heart rate soared at the sight of him.
“You look so handsome.”
She had never been more attracted to House than she was at that moment, standing there, his beard neatly trimmed, in an impeccably tailored black suit and snowy white shirt.
“I like your tie … red suits you.”
He blushed. “I thought I’d go out on a sartorial limb, it being Valentine’s Day and all …”
He took her hand. “You’re exquisite.”
Cameron looked at the floor nervously. “I was surprised …”
House spoke at the same time. “I was afraid …”
They both laughed.
“You go first.”
“No, please, you go.”
“Won’t you have a seat?” House asked.
“House, I …”
“Allison?”
A handsome young man touched Cameron’s waist.
“I called my service. It was a false alarm. My patient’s not going into labour. I thought I’d lost you. Pierre’s waiting to seat us.”
Cameron looked at House, her face a blur of emotions.
“I have to go. My date’s waiting …” she managed to whisper.
“Your date?” House’s voice cracked as he choked out the words.
“Dr. Kent Sutton. How do you do?” The man offered his hand.
House could see Cameron’s eyes welling with tears.
“Kent, this is …” House couldn’t bear to look at her any longer. “… my former boss.”
Cameron turned away.
“Dr. Gregory House.”
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