escapingreality | (no subject)

Title: The Inhibition Of Enzymes (and other things)
Author:

rolleson
Fandom: House
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing: House/Cameron, Cameron/Chase, past House/Cuddy
Spoilers: Up to House's Head.
Warnings: Mentions of sex.
Summery: Scotch, wine, lips.
Notes: Part Seven. Two parts in one night. Brought to you by the number 7 and the word enzyme. 1605 words.

i.You Can Never Be Too Careful
ii.Treading Water
iii.Illogical Maybes
iv.Irrelevant Changes
v.The Symptomatology Of Things
vi.The Eye Of The Beholder

House liked being friends with Cameron. It was a bit like working with her, he had decided, but instead of arguing about ethics over a patients bed, they did it over a dinner table, or a drink. And she was much prettier than Wilson, the hair, the curves, the smile. Her laugh. He couldn't make Wilson laugh this much, though he was worried she might choke on her wine at any second.

And the wine made her cheeky. Or cheekier, and bolder, braver. Or something, because she was already pushing back a little. He was enjoying it, enjoying her company.

It scared him a little.

He tried not to think about it too much, and instead thought about the story he was telling her about how Wilson had broken an arm falling from a fence House had convinced him to climb. And how flushed her face was.

"Wait, this was before this infarction?" she asked, voice light with laughter.

"Yes, but I didn't want to add another item to my criminal record, Cuddy was already out for my head."

"Have you always pushed Cuddy like this?"

"Since I've known her. She didn't start pushing back until she was the boss though, talk about power trip," he said, rolling his eyes with an exaggerated turn of his head, making her laugh again, "it's more fun this way though. Less sex but still..." He shrugged.

"You and Cuddy did have sex in college."

"Of course, and a couple of times since," he said with a grin, and she smiled back. "I'm drunk." Why else would he be honest with her about his past, and his personal life.

"Me too," she finished her wine with one long gulp. "Want another?" He frowned.

"You okay Cameron?" he asked, signalling for the barman. "Most people get blind drunk when they're upset about something, especially if they don't usually drink."

"How do you know if I usually drink?" she snapped.

"I know you. You're too smart to regularly drink like this."

"What about you?"

"I'm an idiot, I'd not denying it."

"Not going to blame it on your leg?"

"There is that component, but I was always a miserable drinker," he said, "so, again, are you okay?"

"No," she said, voice almost getting lost in the crowd around them.

"Want to talk about it? I can have Wilson here in twenty minutes, or Thirteen if you need a girl?"

"No, it's okay."

"Want to talk to me about it?" he said with a grimace.

"I want to drink."

"Good idea," he said, ordering a double scotch and a large glass of red wine.

*****

They stumbled out of the taxi a few hours later, House thrusting several bills of various values into the drivers hands, wobbling on his cane, growling as he tried to keep his balance. Cameron stood on the sidewalk laughing at him, bent over, looking dishevelled and sexy, hair sticking out in places, jacket open, blouse undone an extra button. House was sure he didn't look nearly as good but had to concentrate on staying on his feet because he knew, given both their levels of inebriation, he'd never get up again.

She went up to him when the cab drove away, taking House's arm and supporting him as they walked to her apartment building. She pulled him against her side as they leaned heavily on the wall as she fumbled with her keys, laughing at herself and her own drunkenness. Trying to ignore the throb of arousal she felt with House's tall, lean body pressed up against her.

"Okay, I think I got it," she mumbled, looking at him. She stopped still when she realised how close his face was to hers, her lips suddenly millimetres from his cheek, the stubble a light prickle.

She forgot about her keys, her apartment and just how drunk she was and leaned into him. Her lips brushed his cheek and she was sure House had stopped breathing. So had she, and she pressed her lips firmly to his skin and he turned his head to face her. Their lips connected for a whole second before they pulled back a little to look at each other, look into each other's alcohol glazed eyes.

She pressed her lips against his once more, dropping her keys and wrapping her arms around his neck. He kissed back, lips soft against hers. House tasted of scotch and pills and him and she sighed, letting him slide his tongue into her mouth tasting her, hands on her hips. He pushed her back against the door of her building with a little force and she moaned into his mouth, their tongues fighting, tasting and taking what they could from each other, while they could.

Cameron arched her hips into his, feeling no pressure where she wanted it through their thick coats. She moaned, frustrated, and House pulled his lips and his body away from her, breathing hard, head bent down.

"House," she whispered, her hands caressing his face, trying to coax him back down for another kiss.

"Can't," he mumbled, "we can't."

"Why not?" she said looking up at him.

"Because you're drunk," he told her.

"So are you."

"I'm usually just high. You're drunk," he repeated, "I don't want to take advantage."

"Since when were you such a fucking gentlemen!" she cried, hitting his chest with both hands.

"Since..." he paused, since I wanted more from you, he thought. "I'm better than Chase," he said, voice a harsh whisper, hoping she hadn't heard but then she pushed him back, pushed him away hard enough to have to help him stay on his feet a moment later. He stumbled back a few feet onto the sidewalk, sobering up, and watched her pick up her keys with more grace than anyone that drunk should possess.

"Good night House," she snapped, leaving him alone in the night, running his fingers over his lips.

*****

He woke up with a hard on, a hangover and a new dying patient called Hargreaves. Which solved the problem of his hard on, as Taub rambled the case down the phone to him, but didn't do much for his hangover.

But then, he did have plenty of Vicodin.

He'd dragged himself to his office, had made it for lunch, alone, sitting in his office, with music playing as loud as he could stand it with his head thumping and his stomach lurching with every beat. Probably a bad idea, it wasn't helping, it was making him feel worse, but he didn't think he deserved to feel better. So while his pets were off testing a dying man who seemed incapable of making enzymes (that was a puzzle), he was making himself feel worse, and worse, until he either passed out or died.

Or one then the other.

The music cut out and he opened his eyes to see Wilson looking down at him.

"What did you do?" he asked, hands on hips. Always hands on hips.

"Can't you put your hands in your pockets, or fold your arms like Cuddy. I know you don't have the breasts she does..."

"What?"

"Never mind."

"What did you do?" Wilson asked again, helping the man up.

"Nothing."

"Right..."

"I went out, I got drunk, a hot blonde kissed me and then I insulted her boyfriend."

"Cameron kissed you."

"How did you know I didn't mean Amber?" House said.

"Because you like to insult me to my face," Wilson said, "and Amber was with me last night."

"It's more fun to insult you to your face." House said.

"What did you say to Cameron?"

"She kissed me you know. I was just there, leaning, cause, you know, cripple," he said, holding his cane up.

"Like you'd ever let me forget."

"And then I said I didn't want to take advantage like Chase," he finished, ignoring his friend.

"Ah." House shrugged.

"If she hadn't drunk a bottle of red wine, I would've done her."

"Of course."

"And if I hadn't drunk a bottle of scotch."

"Naturally. Despite Chase."

"I don't care about Chase."

"But you care about Cameron."

"Apparently." He seemed as surprised as Wilson was about this. "I don't think she'll come bowling with me now."

"I'll go bowling with you," Kutner said. Both men looked to the door where Kutner stood, holding a folder in his hand.

"No, how's enzyme guy?"

"Shouldn't that be lack of enzyme guy?"

"How is he?"

"Not good, and all the tests came back negative."

"All of them?"

"Yep." Kutner smiled and handed House the file, skipping back nervously a few feet.

"Then it was a giant wasp," he said, looking at the results. Kutner laughed loudly, making House raise an eyebrow

"A giant wasp?" Wilson asked.

"Only cool people watch Dr Who," House told Kutner.

"You need to talk to Cameron, apologise," Wilson said.

"What did you do?" Kutner asked.

"Nothing, go test his liver again, another biopsy. Test everything again."

"He might not survive another biopsy."

"See these results," he said, waving the file in the air, "they are meaningless, I want more." He threw the file across the room, bits of paper flying to the floor. He switched his music back on, lifted his legs onto his desk and leaned back in his chair.

"Apologise to Cameron!!!" Wilson yelled over the music. House closed his eyes. His hangover was still stopping him from really doing anything, from thinking about Cameron and Chase and enzyme guy and even eating. All he could think about was that every beat threatened to burst his ear drums, and his lips were still tingling.