Title: It's Darkest Just Before Dawn
Main Disclaimer: This is fiction, I hope everyone realizes this... (I've had problems before). The opinions of the characters in this story are strictly for this fiction (story) and may not be completely accurate, and I do not expect everyone to agree with it.
and umm... I don't own anything (shrug)
Pairings: GH/AC – That's House and Cameron.
Ratings: PG rating will change later (most probably)
Spoilers: Nope this is completely on the side... well anything that has aired is fair game, so up to and including "Cursed"... but no spoilers in this Chapter.
A/N: I have tried to research the medical terms and all that, but I am limited to what I find (that's why I'll try to keep it simple to avoid really big medical blunders (mixing up diseases, curing them wrong, wrong symptoms, etc.) This fic came to me whilst frustrated at waiting for new CSI and new House eppies, and the fact that ship progress on House seems to move at warp speeds compared to CSI, LOL!
Um... if you don't like "House, M.D." you are in the wrong place. If you are not a "House/Cameron 'shipper" than you are in the wrong place. "Uh, strippers are down the hall ladies. This is clowns."
It was safe to say that Cameron was not having a good day... Chase or was it Foreman? She was too angry to even remember, but one of them had spilled coffee on her nice white lab coat and her nice light blue shirt – luckily it missed her pants. Here she was rummaging through her locker looking for another shirt, but of course – her alarm clock died, she was late and forgot her change of clothes. Like it could get any, a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts,"Something wrong Dr. Cameron?" House asked – worse.
"No," she responded evenly forcefully re-arranging the items in her locker.
"Maybe you should have your eyes checked," he suggested moving closer.
She stopped her movements to look at him, "What?"
He pointed to stain on her shirt, "You have a large coffee stain ruining that lovely blouse of yours," he explained smugly.
She rolled her eyes and turned back to her locker, "Thank you captain obvious," she retorted quietly.
"Maybe you should button up your pretty little lab coat the next time you are in the vicinity of dangerous chemicals," he directed.
"Coffee is hardly a 'dangerous chemical'," she pointed out, "except if it's hot and someone is throwing it in your face," she added.
House pondered a moment, "So the person who spilt the coffee was drinking... cold coffee? What's the point in-"
"It was hot," she interrupted, "and if you're done I need to go and find another shirt," she turned to walk out past him.
"The medical profession is often a messy place to be – one should always carry extra clothes." He kept pushing her waiting to see if she would explode on him. House could get pointed glares, un-amused stares, and even get her angry, but she would never hold onto that for long. He wondered how he could push her almost non-stop and never muster a heated response from her. She was a puzzle and he was determined to figure her out, albeit sneakily.
"Well I don't, and unless you have a shirt to offer me... I'll be back once I find one," she turned to head out the door, but House stopped her again.
"If you need one... I mean if you can't find one... I-I have an extra," he stumbled. Damn! He thought, Damn her! Only she could hit that soft spot he had and he didn't know why she could affect him like that or how. More and more frequently he found himself saying things he wouldn't normally say. She could unconsciously get him to go from ornery to polite and cultured in less than a second flat.
His offer caught her completely off-guard, "Wh-what, well... thanks," she smiled and then left with a nod. He stood there contemplating the possibility that she would send him into cardiac arrhythmia... possibly cardiac arrest. That girl was going to be the death of him – or something very close.
Cameron was back in the locker room with House's shirt lying on the bench just behind her. She was staring into the shallow depths of her locker arguing with herself. This is stupid; she shook her head and grabbed the shirt. She disappeared into a washroom and changed. She had asked Chase and Foreman, neither offered her a shirt. Cuddy was in a meeting – the nature of which was of 'do not disturb'. She could have found some scrubs, she could have raced home and grabbed a shirt, but nope here she was... changing into House's shirt.
To make it even worse the coffee – the scorching hot coffee she casually played down as mildly hot – had indeed burned her. Her shirt wasn't stuck to the burn and it didn't feel all that bad, but it was red and starting to blister – she was so not going to see House, Chase, or Foreman about this so she took it to Wilson.
"You know you could have taken this to Cuddy, or a nurse, or something?" Wilson questioned.
"Cuddy is in a meeting, word travels and I hear you keep your mouth sealed if asked," she responded.
"So is that a request?" He asked playfully.
"Yes... consider it one."
He checked the area of the burn, "It's starting to blister, and its red, and I think its beginning to swell... differential diagnosis?" he prodded.
She groaned, "It's starting to become quite painful, so I would say first to second degree... just hand me some anti-biotic cream."
"I'm no burn expert, but it's usually recommended to cool the burn in water to prevent further damage... and I do recall elevating the burned area is recommended to prevent gravity induced swelling."
Cameron cocked her head to the side, "How the hell am I supposed to elevate my stomach?" Wilson moved back and forth considering her question, "No..." she put a hand up, "don't answer that!" He passed her a tube of anti-biotic cream. She propped herself up on one elbow and unscrewed the cap, just as she started to apply the cream a quick knock on the door and House entered.
House's eyes were drawn to his shirt on her and then to where it lay open at the bottom exposing her stomach. He didn't seem to notice her burn as he stared. Blinking rapidly he pointed at her stomach and tried to say something but no words formed. He turned to the door, back to Cameron, closed his eyes, shook his head, and then exited.
"Well this day couldn't be worse," she moaned.
"I don't think he thinks we're real, probably thinks he is hallucinating," Wilson smiled.
There was another knock at the door; Cameron re-buttoned her shirt before beckoning the visitor to "Come in." House stuck his head in the door, "I, um, you realize other people use this room right?"
Wilson sighed, "Coffee burn... your shirt, jealously, I know way more than I want to," he commented before pulling the door from House's grasp and exiting. House looked at Cameron expecting an explanation. She just rolled her eyes, shoved the tube of anti-biotic cream in his hands and then left accidentally brushing by him in the doorway. House reached for his bottle of vicodin – this was going to be a long day.
To Be Continued... (I think.)
A/N: My first attempt at a House, M.D. fic, I like the show and thought I might give it a try. Please review!
Note: Don't flame because this isn't House/Cuddy or House/Wilson or House/HisLeftShoe... it has been stated several times that this is House/Cameron. Concrit is always welcome!