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Title: The Symptomatology Of Things
Author: rolleson
Fandom: House
Rating: PG
Character/Pairing: House/Cameron
Spoilers: Set between 4.12 and House's Head.
Warnings: None really.
Summery: House is actually thinking about this.
Notes: I'm calling this the H/C fic-of-doom. Cameron is getting cheekier. This fic is brought to you by the word Symptomatology and that word was brought to me by million_moments. 1262 words.

i.You Can Never Be Too Careful
ii.Treading Water
iii.Illogical Maybes
iv.Irrelevant Changes



"Where the hell were you last night?" For a moment he saw Cameron, hands on hips, looking all cute and doctor-y in pink scrubs, one leg slightly bent with her weight shifted on the other. He blinked hard and saw Wilson, same stance but looking moody and pissed off in his brown shirt and tie combination. He tried not to analyse any of that too much.

"I had dinner with Cameron."

"You were supposed to be having dinner with me."

"I had dinner on you," he said, chucking the man's credit card over the desk at him. "Cameron has a better chest."

"This is mine!"

"Thanks."

"You stole my credit card and had dinner with Cameron." Wilson put the card back in his wallet then resumed his hands-on-hips stance in of House's office.

"Not the first time I've done either," he said, "I just combined the two this time, and I'm sure Cameron will be along to apologise for the credit card later."

"What are you doing?"

"Saving money, the interest is higher on my credit card."

"No, with Cameron."

"Making a new friend."

"You don't have friends."

"What about you?"

"I'm not your friend, I'm your enabler."

"It's nothing, we're just friends," House said, grabbing his cane and standing up, "she's with Chase."

"She'd dump him for you." House didn't reply to that, limping past Wilson into the other room.

"It was just dinner," he muttered, looking for a clean coffee mug.

"That you paid for."

"With your credit card."

"Yes, but..."

"But nothing, if it was anything else Cameron would put a stop to it. We're talking about little miss morality here," House said, tone angry, "she wouldn't cheat on Chase."

"No, but maybe she'd go along with anything you wanted until you decide what you want from her."

"I don't want anything from her."

"Everybody lies, House."

"Get your own catchphrase," he said leaving the diagnostic department completely.

*****

Cameron would have clean mugs, and a full pot of coffee, he could guarantee that. She might not have a television yet, but he was working on that and he knew she kept various magazines in her office. He was starting to find Cosmo strangely compelling, and of course he could always sit in the ER and flirt with her nurses. That was always fun.

He didn't know what he was doing with Cameron. Dating seemed like the obvious answer, but she was with Chase and there was nothing else to indicate it was anything more than drinks or dinner with a colleague. If you discounted them playing footsie under the table and the brief touches of fingers against faces.

An affair seemed like the better answer.

"The symptomology doesn't make sense, at all, and the ER can't deal with cases this complicated. All I can do is stabilise her."

He walked in and ignored the conversation between Cameron and Foreman, heading straight to the full pot of coffee in the corner of her office.

"Got a case," Foreman said, waving the file at him.

"I figured that by the words 'symptomology' and 'complicated'," he said, pouring a mug of coffee, "want some?"

"No," Cameron and Foreman answered together.

"Are you going to take the case?" she asked then, her hands drifting to her hips. She was genuinely annoyed and it surprised him for a moment, because she hadn't been annoyed with him for a while. In fact, everything he did almost delighted her right now.

"Go rouse the kids pa," he told Foreman, "I'll be up after coffee and donuts."

"I don't have any donuts."

"Danish?" She shook her head, "No donuts, no pastries, no tv. It's almost like you don't want me here."

"I'll get a start on this," Foreman said, holding up the file again before leaving the room.

"What's wrong?" House asked, once they were alone.

"Nothing."

"You're annoyed with me."

"No, I," she paused, "I'm not not annoyed with you."

"Then with who?"

"It doesn't matter," she muttered, turning away from him.

"Looks like it matters."

"I was supposed to have dinner with Chase last night."

"But you had dinner with me," he pointed out, leaning against her desk.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I'd forgotten about Chase."

"No you hadn't," he said. He knew her, too well, she'd never forget about Chase and suddenly this slow and almost lazy friendship-cum-courtship was ending. And he felt sick. He pulled his bottle of pills from his inside pocket and swallowed a Vicodin.

"No."

"So, you're annoyed with yourself, and Chase is annoyed with you. Get him a present, make it up to him," he said quickly, looking away from her and at his coffee, "you know what a really great present for a guy is? A blow job, he'll love it, love you." She didn't say anything, but didn't blush either, which pleased him. She was getting immune to him. Or she was angry, it was hard to tell when she wasn't saying anything and he wasn't looking at her for longer than a moment at a time. "Anyway, I have a case," he said, putting her coffee mug down. He started out of her office, as quick as he could, running away from the end of whatever had started between them until she spoke.

"Lunch today?" He paused and turned around to look at her from the office doorway.

"Sure," he said smiling, "you can pay."

*****

He took the seat opposite her in the corner of the hospital cafeteria, sliding his tray across the table. She looked up and smiled, and he forced himself to contain a small smile of his own. She should not still have an affect on him, not like this.

"I thought you were paying."

"I got hungry waiting for you," she said.

"Mmmuh," he said around a bit of his sandwich.

"I'll reimburse you," she said and he smiled at that.

"No need, I can afford a sandwich even on my merge diagnostics pay."

"Just don't get paid as much as an oncologist huh?"

"I don't bend over for Cuddy as much."

"Yeah, yeah," she said, trying not to laugh. A stupid part of him wanted to reach over and tickle the laugh out of her. But that wasn't the kind of guy he was, and he didn't even know if she was ticklish.

Everything that was going on, and everything that he was feeling, (the fact that he was feeling anything other than pain at all), all meant that, for him at least, this was more than him making a new friend. He had a friend, Wilson was the perfect friend, why would he need another. He wasn't sure why would want or need another person in his life, other than for sex but he did. He wanted Cameron.

He didn't think he could have her while she was with Chase, and Wilson was right, she'd leave the younger, prettier doctor for him in a second, or he could string her along for as long he liked. Or for as long as Chase could take.

"What are you thinking about?" Cameron asked.

"Article in the latest copy of Hustler." She raised an eyebrow and leaned over to one side, looking under the table, he leaned back in her chair to see what she was doing and found her looking at his crotch.

"Well that's a lie," she said, sitting back up and grinning. He laughed then, louder than he intended too and she smiled back at him.

The symptomology of this meant he was in trouble.