Title: Here again [2/5]
Characters/Pairing: Cameron/House
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Don't own House
Spoilers: Future fic-ish
Summary: He's been dead for years, but she hadn't stepped foot into his study, their study.
A/N: Est. relationship as she explores the one room in the house they'd bought. Expect short flashbacks. And firstnames! Ohnoes.
The fake gold arm has turned to tarnished metal, chipped and cracking at certain spots. Resting on a plain wooden stand she’d once housed in her apartment, the antique globe barely comes to the top of her waist. He’d never saw the point of it. Actually, a few times, he’d tried to pawn it off to Wilson while they were still living in his apartment. She likes it. Gingerly, her fingers touch Africa, somewhere between a smudged Libya and a once water soaked Chad.
“It was all him.”
“What?! No, it was all him!” Wilson pointed his finger at House, who was still pointing at him.
“Tattletale!”
“You’re the one who ratted on me!”
“You’re supposed to be my bestest friend! Take the fall so I can still get laid.”
She interrupted. “Wilson, would you mind leaving us alone?”
He shook his head. “See you." He glanced at House. " Maybe.”
“Oh, shut up,” House muttered.
“And take those damn water guns with you!”
“Uh," Wilson smiles, "sure thing.”
“Whipped,” House snickered, watching as Wilson did as he was told.
“Shut up, House.”
The door closed and for the first time, his heart fluttered as he looked at her. Pure...rage.
“Kid--.”
“Stop,” she replied softly, her arms crossing her chest as she signaled she would not be won over by her nickname. Her mouth clenched tightly. “I don’t want to hear it.”
This was it. He felt it deep down to his core, and suddenly he fought it. She’d wanted him this whole time, and one stupid water gun fight was not about to change her mind, or his for that matter.
“It’s just a globe.”
“It’s just my memory.”
“Your dad wouldn’t care if you have a globe that looks like one he had.”
She picked the globe up by the golden arm and headed towards the sink. “I do.”
Shaking her head, she remembers that first trying year when she’d still been Cameron and he’d still been House. So many times it had almost ended for good, and each time, one of them hadn’t backed down from the challenge. With a careful push, the globe spins on its axis, just like before.
“What do you want?”
“My leg hurts. Thought a doctor should look at it.”
Her eyebrows rose as she signed her signature on some patient files at the front desk. “Go ask Cuddy.”
He rested beside her on the station and watched as a new resident stitched a man’s arm. So, she knew about his and Cuddy’s make-out session.
“My reputation precedes me.”
“It always has,” she responded, leaning far over to try and grab some departmental paperwork. One foot off the ground and her body completely stretched, her fingers tickled the papers. Without warning, she felt the warmth of his body pressing almost on top of hers and she instinctively tried to pull herself away. When he gave the papers to her, she could have sworn that this time, his fingers lingered on hers.
“House?”
He looked at her with that look that would never quite leave her, the one that seemed to be only for her.
“You’re right. I should go ask Cuddy.”
His back to her, she rested her hands on her hips. “Robert’s leaving!”
“He had to run out of hair product sometime.”
She waited until he’d turned back to her. “You should tell him goodbye.”
“What for?”
Without replying, she turned back to her paperwork, never knowing until years later, that on his way back to the office, he’d found Chase.
Just two feet between them, the white board looms above the globe, though at this point, she’s sure it’s cream, not white. And there, scribbled in dark, near illegible letters, are seven words: Milk, Toilet Paper, Peanut Butter, My Soul.
Her eyes burn, but she doesn’t stop herself from touching the cool hardness of the board. She barely remembers a time when her life didn’t involve this inanimate object.
“Hey.”
He didn’t say anything from where he stood in front of the board in the conference room.
She’d come to expect this when he was working on a difficult case. It didn’t mean she’d be defeated.
“You going home tonight?”
A shrug of his shoulders was all she received.
Nodding her head, she made a note that this was the third time in two weeks she’d wait for him at his apartment for him to not show.
“I guess I won’t stop by then.”
“Okay.”
The brooding silence sent a shiver down her spine. She wasn’t sure if she was prepared for this, for him.
“If you’re hungry, I could stop by that new Chinese place. I know they’re complete germophobes, and the take-out boxes are faulty, but it doesn’t mean the food’s not good. What are you--.”
The marker slammed down at the same time he grabbed his cane. As he limped past her, he leaned in close to her.
“Kid.” He loved that the name made her shiver. “You better be naked by the time I get to my place.”