Disclaimer: Yeah. I don't own any of it.

Author's Note: You clicked on my story! Thanks. Hope you like it. It's a WiP, so updates might be a little slow in coming.

Chapter One

As a rule, Dr Allison Cameron did not like swearing. After all, she personally prided herself on her poise and good manners; there were far more appropriate forms of expression.

This morning, however, was different. She sat in her car, staring out at the hospital parking lot. Black clouds blanketed the sky, sending down sheets of driving rain, turning the tarmac into a quagmire of puddles. Cameron did not have an umbrella. She had searched the car. Twice. No umbrella. Which meant a two hundred yard dash to the hospital doors, during which she would become completely and utterly drenched.

She glanced at her watch; thanks to terrible traffic, she was already five minutes late for work. Heaving a sigh, she grabbed her bag from the back seat. "Okay," she muttered, setting her jaw. She took a deep breath, braced herself and flung open the door. The rain immediately swarmed down at her, seemingly becoming twice as heavy in its glee at finally having enticed her from the car.

She started across the parking lot at a jog, feeling as if she were swimming. The relentless cold droplets seemed to seek out the warm space between her neck and her collar, like icy fingers against her skin. To make matters worse, her shoes were brand new, made of soft, expensive leather; nice, but not exactly suited to splashing through puddles.

And so, as her foot sank ankle-deep into a particularly muddy pool of water, she broke her ethical code and swore, loudly and vehemently.

"Do my ears deceive me?" came a familiar voice, . She spun to see Dr Robert Chase smirking at her from beneath a wide black umbrella, looking nauseatingly dry and well-groomed. He held out the umbrella and she ducked gratefully beneath it, sharing its shelter. They set off towards the hospital at a more leisurely pace.

"Cameron? Did you just swear?"

"Chase, I have mud seeping between my toes. Seeping. Please, shut up."

He folded the umbrella as they reached the main doors, then stepped back to let her through first. "Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

"Hey," said Dr Eric Foreman, coming in behind them and shaking out his umbrella. The three of them made for the elevator. "You guys get stuck in traffic too?"

"Yep," said Chase, pressing the fifth floor button. "We're ten minutes late. House is not going to be pleased."

Cameron glanced at herself in the mirrored walls of the elevator, and grimaced. Her hair hung in dripping ropes, mascara had dribbled down her cheeks, and her soaked blouse was plastered to her body, slowly turning transparent.

She looked up to see Foreman staring at her, eyebrows raised. She sighed, wiping her cheeks clean. "No coffee. No breakfast. No umbrella. Bad morning."

"She actually swore a minute ago," Chase added in awe-struck tones.

Foreman whistled, looking suitably impressed, and Cameron couldn't help grinning. She felt a twinge of surprise as she did so; since when did I get so close to these guys? she wondered. Since when could they cheer me up so easily? They certainly had their differences at times, especially as far as patients were concerned, but friendship had snuck up on them over the months. These days they shared an easy, relaxed camaraderie, and Cameron was entirely comfortable in their company. She only wished it was the same with certain other members of the hospital staff…

The elevator doors pinged open, jerking her back to reality. They set off for the office, dodging the usual hospital bustle.

"Maybe House is late too," Chase said hopefully. "Then he can't get angry with us."

Foreman snorted. "House? Late? Sometimes I don't think he actually leaves the hospital. Ever."

"Listen to yourselves," Cameron grinned. "You sound like two naughty schoolboys being dragged off to the headmaster's office." But even she was relieved to find their office empty.

"Thank God," Chase sighed. He and Foreman sat down at the table and started sorting through a pile of patient files. Cameron went straight for the kettle, then settled behind her computer with a steaming mug of coffee. Slipping on her glasses, she logged on and opened her e-mail; her customary first task every morning. She trawled through the usual hospital admin reminders, smiled to herself over a thank-you message from a past patient, and came to a note marked Invitation. Frowning, she clicked it open.

Doctor Allison Cameron,

You are cordially invited to attend the Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital Charity Ball, to be held on the fifth of January at the Princeton Town Hall. Cocktails will be served at seven o'clock, followed by a three course meal. The cost will be $300 a head, with all proceeds funding new hospital developments. Dress will be formal. RSVP.

Cameron blinked. A ball? Treacherously, her thoughts flew straight to House. Would he be there? Somehow she couldn't picture it. And anyway, she reminded herself severely, did she really want anything to do with House after that disastrous first date? She could hardly expect a romantic evening after that debacle. He'd made it quite obvious that he wanted nothing to do with her. Still, she supposed that a ball might be fun, a chance to dress up, let her hair down…

"Cameron?" She started, and turned to see Chase and Foreman looking at her quizzically, one of them obviously having just asked her a question.

"Sorry?"

"We've got a case you might want to check out." Foreman held out a file and she moved to the table to take it, sitting down next to Chase and flipping it open. As she scanned the stack of charts and X-Rays, she forced thoughts of the ball from her mind. After all, it wasn't like House would be there anyway.

"You're going." Lisa Cuddy folded her arms and surveyed House across her desk, eyes steely.

"Actually, I'd rather pull my fingernails out with rusty pliers."

She raised her eyebrows. "Do you even know what I'm talking about?"

"No, but it was a dramatic moment, and I didn't want to spoil it." He grimaced. "A muscle just twitched in your neck. Bad sign."

She sighed. "The ball, House. The one you avoid religiously, every single year? Well, this time you're going. Important people will be there; board members, politicians, benefactors. You're Head of Diagnostics. I need you to schmooze."

He gaped at her. "Schmooze? Do I look like someone who enjoys schmoozing?" He tapped his cane against the floor, and gave a calculating grin. "I could always give a speech, though. Remember the little gem I did for Vogler? Give me a topic and I'm there."

Cuddy gave him what he liked to call The Look. "No. No speeches, House." Her eyes suddenly narrowed. "But speaking of Vogler-"

"He's going to be there? Oh, goody. Maybe we can dance together."

She blinked, struck dumb for a moment at this surprising mental image, then forged onwards. "What I was going to say was, after scaring off Vogler- and losing the hospital a hundred million dollars- the least you can do is make an appearance at the ball."

"Cuddy, you know I'm all eaten up with guilt and self-loathing over Vogler. It's cruel to keep bringing it up like this. You'll make me cry one of these days, then you'll be sorry." He got to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane.

"You can't just leave! We need to discuss this, House."

"There is no discussion involved here. You need to bleat at me for another five minutes, and I need to keep fobbing you off with witty retorts." He pushed the door open. "However, I am a busy and important person." He collared the unfortunate Dr Wilson, who happened to be walking past, and steered him into Cuddy's office. "Here. Bleat at him instead. Though he probably enjoys schmoozing."

He set off down the corridor. After shooting a bewildered glance at Cuddy, Wilson jogged to catch up with him. "I'm not even going to ask what that was about," the oncologist sighed, straightening his skewed tie.

"Cuddy wants me to go to the ball."

"You are coming, aren't you? Don't abandon me to Julie and the vultures all night."

House halted. "The vultures? You refer to your wife's friends as vultures?" He clapped Wilson on the back. "After all these years, your bitchy streak is finally revealing itself. I'm so proud of you, Jimmy. I must be rubbing off on you."

Wilson grinned. "Well? Are you coming?"

"Hell, no." He stepped into his office and shut the door in Wilson's face, giving him a small wave through the glass. Wilson threw his hands up in disgust and walked away, muttering to himself.

House shook his head. Him? Go to a ball? They were both completely insane.

Author's Note: Well? Good? Bad? I'm kind of struggling with House, he's so hard to write. If anything's glaringly out of character, let me know. Constructive crit is good, people! Any review is good, for that matter.

Sorry there isn't much House/Cam goodness yet, it's coming.

Now, please, press the darn button!

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