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30 June 2009 @ 01:44 am
seven letter word for liar 13/19  

“Of course if you do decide to come into my bedroom, you better not be wearing any of that,” House remarked, motioning to the clothes she was wearing as well as the clothes he’d thrown to her.
“House,” she began slowly, clutching the loaned clothes as she made her way over to him. She took exaggeratedly small steps, and she could tell as she moved closer that she was making him nervous. He had no idea what drunk Cameron would do.
house, md. part 13


Cameron replayed the message five times, just to make sure she’d heard it right the first four times.

Al...I’m just...look, you take your space and do what you have to do. I can’t keep...it’s just not fair to me. I can’t keep waiting around like this. I know you love me, but if you can’t say it, then we have a problem. I know this isn’t fair to you either, but I’m taking a week to reevaluate this relationship and I hope you do the same. I want to make this work, but I just need to know that you do too.”

Cameron blinked. She still wasn’t sure what had happened.

She and Chase had gotten into a huge fight the night before about her reluctance to commit. He thought she was afraid and she kept telling him that she was invested in their relationship...she just had a weird way of showing how much she cared.

He’d stormed out and she never called to fix things like she usually did. They avoided each other at work and now this...this message. She wasn’t sure what he meant. Were they broken up? Why did he get to decide that? What was he really asking for? It was all so ambiguous.

Pausing by the door, she wondered if she shouldn’t change her plans and opt for a night in with Ben & Jerry’s to comfort her. Suddenly, a night out seemed like the absolute last thing she wanted to be doing. She wasn’t even sure if she was upset, or angry, or perhaps hurt.

She glanced down at the cell phone in her hand, wondering if she should call Foreman and cancel. It was just dinner and drinks. It was no big deal.

She shook her head, reaching for her jacket. If it was no big deal, then she shouldn’t cancel. She wouldn’t cancel just because of Chase. He’d be sitting there grinning about how he had finally hurt her, and she wasn’t about to give him that satisfaction. If he wanted to break up with her answering machine, then fine. She wasn’t going to sit at home and wallow, even if she didn’t feel like facing the general public just yet.


“Where’s Chase?” Foreman asked as Cameron rushed over to the table, blonde hair flying wildly.

Cameron raised an eyebrow reproachfully, scanning the crowd. “I uh...” She hadn’t been prepared for this. She had already been running late for dinner when she noticed Chase’s message, and after replaying it incessantly, she’d added an extra twenty minutes onto that tardiness. Yet, here she was, and Chase, well, Chase was very much not in sight.

“Sorry!” Thirteen said, rushing in and joining the two at the tall pub table. “Kutner had car trouble so I had to drive him home,” she explained quickly.

Cameron smiled at her in acknowledgment, grateful for her perfectly timed interruption.

“It’s fine,” Foreman insisted as she slid into the chair next to him.

“Where’s Chase?” Thirteen asked, more out of habit than genuine concern.

Crap, Cameron thought. And Thirteen had been doing so well.

“He’s um...well, didn’t he...”

“You didn’t tell me she was going to be here!” House exclaimed dramatically as he and Wilson entered the restaurant.

Cameron shot Foreman a knowing look. She hadn’t known House was coming out.

“He claimed he was offended that we didn’t invite him,” Thirteen explained quickly, in a hushed tone.

Cameron looked baffled. “House? Offended? Come on.

Thirteen shrugged. “I’m with you. But that’s what he said.”

Cameron tried to compose herself as Wilson and House made their way over to the table. House eyed the only two open seats, both on either side of Cameron. He made a face.

“You’re splitting up the dream team,” he exclaimed sarcastically.

Cameron rolled her eyes.

“Where’s Chase?” Wilson asked.

Cameron kicked him from under the table.

“Ow!” Wilson exclaimed, not so subtly. “Wrong question?”

Cameron sighed. “Since apparently it’s all anyone can talk about, I do not know where Chase is. Last I knew, he was coming here.”

“Didn’t think to check in on him?” House asked, curiosity peaked.

Cameron fumed inwardly, turning sharply to meet his gaze. “He probably wouldn’t answer,” she remarked, giving away the information she knew he was searching for.

“He still hasn’t figured out how to work a phone?” House chided. “I tell you, those Aussies get dumber and dumber every...”

“What can I get for you?” the waitress asked. She flashed an all too eager smile at Wilson.

“I’ll have a Heineken,” Foreman began, than turned to Thirteen. “Gin and tonic?” he asked, and she nodded in response. He looked at Cameron, squinting as if trying to remember. Cameron usually opted not to drink. But tonight was different. She was trying to hold herself together, and Foreman knew her well enough to know that much. Tonight was a night for alcohol. “Make it two Heineken’s,” he insisted, nodding to the waitress. Cameron grinned.

“Gee, extensive drink knowledge?” House commented, belittling Foreman. “I do think you missed your calling.”

Foreman ignored House as he and Wilson placed their orders.

“So, where’s Kutner?” House asked. “He owes me fifty dollars.”

“For what?” Wilson asked, usually in on the betting pools.

House,” Foreman warned, knowing full well it wouldn’t help.

Thirteen shifted uncomfortably in her seat, eyeing the table as if it had suddenly become very interesting.

“What?” Cameron asked, feeling like all of the tension was being cast onto her.

“Oh nothing,” House replied, apparently reveling from something.

Cameron sighed. “What was the bet?” she asked, now certain that it had involved her in some way.

House looked unfazed. “We just had a small wager on how long it would be before you broke it off with Chase.”

“What?” Cameron snapped. She eyed Thirteen and Foreman suspiciously. “Who’s we?”

Thirteen looked up guiltily. “All of us,” she admitted. “Well, not Wilson. But me, Foreman, House, Kutner, Taub...”

“Cuddy,” House remarked.

Cameron snickered. “Knowing Cuddy she probably bet that I wouldn’t break up with him.”

“No, that was me,” Foreman insisted, raising his hand.

“Well, thank you,” Cameron remarked. She eyed Thirteen,

“Hey, at least I gave you guys another year!” she defended.

Cameron shook her head. “And Kutner? Taub?”

“Well, Kutner only gave you guys three more months. And House and Taub both bet on this month, so...”

“So that makes them the winners,” Cameron remarked, eyeing House angrily. “What was Cuddy’s bet?”

“Wouldn’t tell us,” Foreman and Thirteen said in unison.

Cameron laughed, turning to House. “Meaning she gave you a specific scenario?”

“One that would never come true,” House remarked, emphasizing the word never theatrically. He turned back to Cameron. “So tell me...did he cry?” he asked dramatically.

Cameron scowled. “Well,” she began, grabbing her beer bottle as the waitress handed it to her. “I hate to spoil your party, but no one won the bet.”

“You and Chase didn’t break up?” Foreman asked carefully, and Cameron could almost feel him calculating her response, wondering if he had summed up her emotional state inaccurately.

Ah,” Wilson remarked, figuring it all out. He turned to Cameron. “I would let them suffer. After all, they did place a bet at your expense.”

Cameron smiled gratefully at Wilson, but House being House figured it all out on his own.

“Really?” House asked, shocked. “Chase broke up with you?”

Cameron took a long gulp of her beer. “It’s...he...it’s complicated,” she insisted.

“So you guys didn’t break up?” Thirteen asked.

“Well...yes...no...sort of...”

“But you guys aren’t together?” Foreman asked.

Cameron thought about his statement. “Technically...no,” she remarked. “At least, that’s what my answering machine told me.”

“Ouch,” Thirteen and Wilson said in response.


It had taken almost ten minutes, but Cameron had been able to change the subject. Foreman and Thirteen left right after dinner and Cameron had excused herself to the bar, not wanting to be the third wheel with Wilson and House. Actually, she was avoiding House and his sarcasm. She wasn’t in the mood for his jokes, but she also wasn’t ready to go home.

“Another beer?” the bartender asked.

Cameron nodded eagerly, playing idly with the round coaster in front of her.

“I got it,” the guy next to her called, winking at her.

Cameron scrunched up her face in disgust. He had been hitting on her nonstop since she’d sat down at the bar.

“No thanks,” Cameron said, turning away before he could say anything else.

The bartender exchanged a knowing smile with her as he handed her the drink.

“Thanks,” she mouthed, raising it to her lips.

“Looks like I’m d.d. tonight,” a voice behind her said.

Cameron spun around, matching voice with face. “Do you even know what the qualifications of a designated driver are?” she asked.

House looked mildly amused. “Pretty much the opposite of what you are at this moment.”

“I haven’t had that much,” Cameron lied. She had. She assumed she’d call a cab to take her home.

“Right,” House nodded. “Five beers at the table, and god knows how many over here.”

Cameron turned back around, ignoring him. “Hurry up,” he said, tapping her shoulder repeatedly. “Gray’s Anatomy is on in five.”

“I’m not going on your motorcycle,” Cameron insisted. The thought of it made her queasy.

“Kinky, but not quite what I had in mind,” House remarked. “Wilson drove me here and Wilson has conveniently disappeared. So, you’re as much my ride as I am yours.”

Cameron was unable to refute that logic, so she quickly finished her beer, pushing a fifty towards the end of the bar.

“Fine,” she said, grabbing her jacket.

House grinned. “If you don’t start acting nicer to me, people may think we’re actually married.”

Cameron smirked. “Just drive,” she insisted, tossing him her keys as she ambled through the parking lot to her car.


“Shh, it’s Dr. McDreamy,” House hissed, closing her lips with a pillow, using the plush object to push her back against the couch. “You really are an annoying person to watch tv with.”

“That’s why I don’t watch tv,” she remarked, her voice muffled from the fabric of the pillow. She waited until he thought he’d sustained her before ripping the pillow from his grasp.

“Twelve year old girls watch this show,” she commented. “You know that right?”

House’s eyes lit up, amused. “Got any phone numbers?” he teased.

Cameron hit him over the head with the pillow. “Oh! Oh! The credits!” she remarked. “At last! I thought it would never end!”

House grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. She gasped, startled by his forcefulness and fell silent at his touch.

He cracked a smile. “Don’t ever insult this show again,” he warned, letting her go.

Cameron laughed, reaching into the bowl of popcorn. “I’m so hungry,” she remarked.

“One, you may have cleared the bar out of Heineken. And two, contrary to popular Cosmo! belief, you actually do have to eat in order to stay alive.”

Cameron threw a spare piece of popcorn at his head. “For someone so dead set on not conforming to societal standards, you sure do have a lot of rules.”

House rolled his eyes. “I have to set guidelines for drunk girls. They never seem to know when to stop.”

Cameron eyed him coyly. “Trust me,” she teased. “You couldn’t get that lucky.”

House laughed, turning the television off. “Night!” he remarked, propelling himself up with his cane.

“Oh no,” Cameron remarked, crossing her arms haughtily. “I’m not staying here. You’re driving me home.”

House popped open his pill bottle, dropping three pills into his mouth and washing them down with the half empty glass of scotch he’d poured for her. “Can’t,” he remarked, swallowing. “So drunk. Plus, your car’s here.”

Cameron narrowed her eyes. “You are such a child.”

House shrugged. “You’re a thirty something year old woman who goes out and gets hammered when she can’t figure out why she can’t commit to a relationship she’s claimed to have wanted for years.” He paused. “But I suppose I have my bad points too.”

Cameron’s eyes widened, jaw tightening. “You’re a fifty something year old doctor who gets his kicks from toying with other employees because he has no real friends or prospective girlfriends to amuse himself with.”

“Ooh, ouch!” House remarked, rolling his eyes. He started towards his bedroom, but then turned around, considering something. “You know, for someone who, has no real friends or prospective girlfriends I certainly can’t seem to shake you.”

Cameron grinned. “Exactly. You can’t shake me, but I can shake you...” She stopped. “Wait...did that...I don’t know if that said exactly what I meant to say....” She paused, rubbing her head, then surprised House by laughing.

House shook his head, disappearing into his bedroom and then returning with a long sleeved flannel shirt and a pair of sweat pants. “Here,” he remarked, tossing them at her. Cameron met his stare with confusion. “Well, you can’t sleep in that,” he insisted, eyeing her outfit.

Cameron looked down at her dark blue silk blouse and black skirt. “Um, thanks,” she replied, her usual vulnerability breaking through the alcohol induced carefree front she’d created.

House rolled his eyes. “Don’t get any crazy ideas,” he warned mockingly. “You’re not sleeping with me.”

Cameron snorted. “Wasn’t planning on it,” she told him.

“Of course if you do decide to come into my bedroom, you better not be wearing any of that,” House remarked, motioning to the clothes she was wearing as well as the clothes he’d thrown to her.

“House,” she began slowly, clutching the loaned clothes as she made her way over to him. She took exaggeratedly small steps, and she could tell as she moved closer that she was making him nervous. He had no idea what drunk Cameron would do.

She arched her neck back so that she was looking straight up at him, her breasts pushed into his chest. She leaned in, eyes remaining firmly on his.

“Get over yourself,” she whispered, smiling coyly as she steered past him and into the bathroom.


It was six when she woke up, head pounding and body pleading for her to shut her eyes. But, hungover or not, she was entirely too practical to fall back into the temptation of sleep, and reluctantly, she hoisted herself up off of the soft, firm...bed?

She froze, taking a moment to collect herself before allowing her head to whip around, panicked. She was in House’s bedroom. In House’s bed. Under House’s sheets.

She jumped up and onto the floor and was nearly to the door when she realized something was irrational about her terror. Yes, she was in House’s bed, but he was certainly nowhere to be found.

That’s when it came flooding back to her. She’d gone into the bathroom to change and when she came back out, House had set up camp on the couch. He feigned being asleep for about two minutes, until he couldn’t resist throwing yet another couch pillow at her. She insisted that he take the bed, and he turned over onto his side, resting his weight on his good leg, and told her to go to hell.

She’d smiled but knew better than to thank him.

Grinning from that memory, she slipped on her shoes and grabbed her clothes from the evening before, setting them on a chair with her purse. She quickly made the bed, knowing that this effort would make House cringe, and then she grabbed her things, heading out into the living room.

He was sleeping soundly, looking oddly small under the light cotton blanket draped over his body. Cameron smiled at the sight, then disappeared into the kitchen in search of paper. She found a small pad of post-its and grinned at her luck. She dug through her purse until she found a pen and quickly scribbled a small note.

House –

I should tease you and call you ‘chivalrous’ but we both know you’re sleeping on the couch because you secretly know you couldn’t handle me.


She scrutinized the note for a moment. She hadn’t meant to use her first name, but now that it was there, in writing, it looked like it belonged. Still, she felt it somehow made the note all the more personal and worried he might get the wrong idea.

Despite her minor worries, she ripped it off of the stack of scratch paper and walked into the living room, wondering where to put it. She considered the bathroom mirror, or his vicodin bottle, or perhaps even the tv, but as he let out a slight snore, proving that he really was dead asleep, she thought of a better place.

And that was why when House woke up an hour later, wondering why the entire world was bathed in pink, he found his forehead had been attacked by a crazed woman who decided it would be fun to leave a note stuck to his skin.

Even if she hadn’t been the only other person in the apartment, he knew those loopy g’s cold.

Current Mood: draineddrained