Round Robin FIc Part two
Here is the second part of the fic. Accolades to everytimeyougo for taking me out of my comfort zone and making me write in present tense. lol
And chlorinehamster, you're up next!
They find themselves in an unoccupied examining room, which is refreshingly cool against their skins. Cameron gingerly rubs her elbow and fixes him with what she hopes is a look of disapproval. “What do you want, House?”
House leans forward so that his tall frame towers even more dauntingly over her. “I want . . . you.”
Cameron’s face crimsons, and her stomach jolts unnaturally. “What?” she manages to sputter, as her purse tips seemingly of its own accord out of her arms, spilling its contents everywhere.
House smirks. “Gosh, you’re so easy!” Before she can retaliate with what he is sure will be a pathetic comeback, he adds, “As the resident doormat of my team, I was thinking you could do my clinic hours for me.” He blinks his eyes rapidly, trying to simulate an imploring look.
For an instant she is lost in his baby blues, an irresistible pull bridging the already small gap between them. And then his words register. “What do you mean I’m a doormat?” she demands, setting the rest of her contents on the examining table. She crosses her arms against her chest in full defense mode.
House shrugs and redistributes the weight in his legs, favoring his injured one more. “You’re so eager to please everybody that you’d do just about anything within the law to get what you think you need.”
Cameron’s temper flares at this insolence of this arrogant man, yet she finds herself inexplicably fascinated by him as well. What is the reason for his hostility? Why must he analyze everyone’s motives? Why is House . . . House? “That makes me a people pleaser, not a pushover,” she counters.
“To-may-toe. To-mah-toe.”
“One can be assertive and be nice to people,” she protests.
“That’s true,” he concedes, “But you’re not.”
“I can be assertive when I want to.”
House scoffs, the corners of his mouth turning up into a cocky simper. “Puh-lease. I’ve seen coma patients more assertive than you.
“Now, will you take over in the clinic for me? I was supposed to start working an hour ago.” He points at his watch to illustrate his point.
Cameron fights back tears of frustration and embarrassment. Instead of telling him that he could have used the last hour to work instead of searching for her, she bends down to collect her purse-and her thoughts.
“Fine. I’ll just get the brown-nosing wombat to do my bidding.” He makes to leave and is surprised she doesn’t stop him. He’s halfway out the door when she finally calls to him.
“Wait.” She stands and faces him, confidence brimming from her slight frame. “How much are you willing to bet?”
House blinks in confusion. “Bet on what?”
A coy smile tugs on her lips. “On me.”
To Be Continued!
And chlorinehamster, you're up next!
They find themselves in an unoccupied examining room, which is refreshingly cool against their skins. Cameron gingerly rubs her elbow and fixes him with what she hopes is a look of disapproval. “What do you want, House?”
House leans forward so that his tall frame towers even more dauntingly over her. “I want . . . you.”
Cameron’s face crimsons, and her stomach jolts unnaturally. “What?” she manages to sputter, as her purse tips seemingly of its own accord out of her arms, spilling its contents everywhere.
House smirks. “Gosh, you’re so easy!” Before she can retaliate with what he is sure will be a pathetic comeback, he adds, “As the resident doormat of my team, I was thinking you could do my clinic hours for me.” He blinks his eyes rapidly, trying to simulate an imploring look.
For an instant she is lost in his baby blues, an irresistible pull bridging the already small gap between them. And then his words register. “What do you mean I’m a doormat?” she demands, setting the rest of her contents on the examining table. She crosses her arms against her chest in full defense mode.
House shrugs and redistributes the weight in his legs, favoring his injured one more. “You’re so eager to please everybody that you’d do just about anything within the law to get what you think you need.”
Cameron’s temper flares at this insolence of this arrogant man, yet she finds herself inexplicably fascinated by him as well. What is the reason for his hostility? Why must he analyze everyone’s motives? Why is House . . . House? “That makes me a people pleaser, not a pushover,” she counters.
“To-may-toe. To-mah-toe.”
“One can be assertive and be nice to people,” she protests.
“That’s true,” he concedes, “But you’re not.”
“I can be assertive when I want to.”
House scoffs, the corners of his mouth turning up into a cocky simper. “Puh-lease. I’ve seen coma patients more assertive than you.
“Now, will you take over in the clinic for me? I was supposed to start working an hour ago.” He points at his watch to illustrate his point.
Cameron fights back tears of frustration and embarrassment. Instead of telling him that he could have used the last hour to work instead of searching for her, she bends down to collect her purse-and her thoughts.
“Fine. I’ll just get the brown-nosing wombat to do my bidding.” He makes to leave and is surprised she doesn’t stop him. He’s halfway out the door when she finally calls to him.
“Wait.” She stands and faces him, confidence brimming from her slight frame. “How much are you willing to bet?”
House blinks in confusion. “Bet on what?”
A coy smile tugs on her lips. “On me.”
To Be Continued!