DISCLAIMER: I do not own any aspect of House MD...yet. Give me time to win the Lotto.
AUTHORS NOTE: Sorry this is so short.... as I read this over before uploading, I realised I really think there should be a sequel... eventually. So, story ideas, do you want a sequel? Feel free to suggest.
Also, I'm sorry if you've read a lot of my other stories and think it sounds familiar. I've put way much thought into why Hameron is not a reality, and my theory is the same, but there's really only 1 or 2 ways I can say it. But it's possible, so that's the important thing, right?
Wilson stumbled out of bed, fumbling until he reached the hall light and turned it on, wincing at the bright light. Still half-asleep, he reached the front door and opened it, quickly so as to cease the insistent banging.
"House?" he asked in confusion.
"Hi. Is Cameron here?"
Wilson paused, even more puzzled. "It's three am."
"Yeah. Is Cameron here?"
Wilson opened his mouth to argue, changed his mind and stepped back, pointing down the hall. Cameron met him halfway, her hair tousled by sleep and in comfortable old sweatpants and a long-sleeved cotton top.
"Hey. Nice pjs."
She raised an eyebrow. "Thanks. What's going on? Is it a case?"
House stalled. "Uh, not exactly. Can I talk to you?"
She led him down the hall into her bedroom, past Sara, who was not impressed with her wake up call, and shut the door behind them. As they sat on her bed, Cameron looked at House patiently.
"I like you," he said awkwardly, and Cameron's eyes widened.
"I- I like you. As in, I would like to try a relationship with you. And I don't know how that will work, I mean... because I'm me, and you're you. But I want to try, because I meant what I said earlier... that I could easily find ten people in the hospital that want to date you. Because you're you, and anything that's happened to you shouldn't factor in whether a guy is attracted to you. And then I realised that's what I was doing with my leg, in a way. I ignored the fact that I like you, because I thought it would be better you were with someone whole."
Cameron sat very still in a stunned silence, and House, misinterpreting her silence, became embarrassed and stood up.
"Just forget it."
As he headed for the door, Cameron found her voice. "House, wait. Wait!"
He turned, surprised to hear anger in her voice.
"You cannot just dump all this stuff on me in the middle of the night when I'm half asleep, and then not give me a minute to think!" she cried angrily, rising too.
"Fine," House snapped. "Have you had enough time to think?"
Cameron paused. "House, I haven't been in a relationship since my husband. I don't think I know how to be in a relationship after being a widow. And I don't know how the rape is going to affect me, psychologically."
House shrugged. "I don't know how to be in a relationship as a cripple and a drug addict. That's how I wrecked my last relationship."
He stepped closer to her tentatively. "Do you trust me?"
Cameron met his gaze steadily. "Yes."
"Then that's enough. The rest will come with time," he said quietly.
Cameron bit her lip. "But I don't know how much time."
House nodded. "I know. We've waited this long, I don't think a bit longer will kill us. And we can always take it slow."
She raised an eyebrow quizzically. "How slow is slow?"
House cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. "About that slow. Is that okay?"
Cameron grinned. "That'll do," she murmured and their lips met again in a sweet, tender kiss, filled with trust and the promise of a fresh start.