A/N - So, these are just drabbles that have been floating around in notebooks and they didn't really have a place in my other stories, so this is another 'story' of little Hameron moments. Just because I love them. Enjoy :)
Disclaimer - I don't own House MD :(
House listened carefully as he heard the front door click open. It was in the first few seconds of Cameron walking through the door that he could usually tell what mood she was in. After living together at his apartment for nearly 3 months, he had already figured out a pattern.
Most of the time, she would open the door and say hi very softly before closing it again. Depending on her tone, this usually meant she was in a good mood and her day had been no worse that usual. Sometimes, she would joke around and say 'honey, I'm home,' in a sing-song voice that made him smile – this usually meant her day had gone pretty well. Then they'd spend the night watching comedy shows on TV with pizza and beer, or she'd read her book curled up next to him on the sofa while he watched CSI. These were the days he liked most.
Other days, the door would open with an annoyed growl if she had been struggling with the stiff lock for a while – generally, the time of the month had something to do with this. On days like these, House took care of her – he'd make her dinner, run her a bath and lie in bed with her with his hands resting over her abdomen.
Every once in a while, she would enter so quietly and so softly, he almost didn't hear her. She would take a long time to go over her ritual of removing her coat and shoes and placing her bag and keys on the table. Without a word, she would either go and run a bath, or go straight to the kitchen to make tea. This was the mood he hated most – it meant something had upset her or something bad had happened in the ER. She was sad, and he hated that. Usually, she would come to him first, curling up next to him on the couch, just looking for comfort or sometimes she'd tell him about her horrible day. But, every so often, he would go into the bedroom to find her sobbing on the bed. He provided comfort, just lying next to her, letting her crawl into his embrace. He would stroke her hair and let her tell him everything as he whispered that everything would be alright.
Anger was the easiest mood to determine from the way she shut the door – well…slammed the door. If House, or anyone for that matter, had pissed her off during the day, she took it out on the door when she came home.
As he listened that night, he heard the door click slowly and a faint sigh of relief as Cameron kicked off her shoes and slung her purse down.
"Hi," she called and House smiled slightly, recognising her tone as pure tiredness.
He heard he scuttle off to the bedroom and she returned moments later wearing his Rolling Stones t-shirt and her yoga pants. She slumped down beside him and House looped his arm around her pulling her into him.
"Tired?" he asked, kissing her hair and she nodded, curling into his warmth.
House smiled. "I thought so,"