Title: Candy Cane
Recipient: hughville LJ
Rating: Adult
Disclaimer: Given the state the show is in, it should be obvious I have nothing to do with its creation or maintenance.
Spoilers: Nope.
Summary: AU of Season 4. Assume Cameron stayed at PPTH but Chase hopped back to Australia like a good little wallaby. And assume an established but still fairly new House/Cameron relationship.

What I would like:
1. House/Cameron as they look now. (S4 on) (I like blonde Cam better.)
2. Something funny and lighthearted with lots of smutty romance.
3. Wilson involved in some funny way as only he can be.

What I would not like:
1. Any mention of Huddy or Chameron.
2. Any mention that Cameron has left.
3. House being an ass to Cameron.


Cameron leans her head against House's shoulder, her newly blonde tresses cascading over his arm and down his chest in oddly rippling waves, catching in places against the worn cotton in a disarray that reminds House, when he turns his head to look at her, of the way her tousled hair looks against his pillows when she collapses after a particularly good orgasm. He feels himself begin to harden, and a half smile forms on his lips. Hit your sexual peak at eighteen my ass, he thinks to himself. In the few weeks he and Cameron have been together, he's been half-hard almost constantly. Must be the hair.

He snorts out a tiny breath, and Cameron tilts her head to see what has amused him. Oh, I know that look, she thinks. She grins; her few girlfriends had scoffed when she'd told them she was dating an older man. If only they knew. Cameron had laughed; their concerns about his ability to perform amused her to no end. With age comes greater experience, she'd told them, and that's something few men have ever been able to offer her.

"So, I've been thinking," Cameron says, running her fingers across his chest and snuggling further into the leather sofa, "I know you're not a…Christmas cheer sort of person. And I don't…I don't expect you to change. But it is Christmas, and I'd really like to…get you something."

"Cameron you don't…"

"I know I don't," she cuts him off, "I want to. Something…"


Cameron blushes and pulls away from him, and House is intrigued. She's uncomfortable about whatever is she's about to say, and as far as he's concerned, that just means one more piece of the puzzle, one more clue to figuring out why the hell she's still sticking around.

"Something….girlfriendy." She bites her lip and waits, angling herself away from him because she just can't say it and look him in the eye. They've so carefully avoided putting any labels on this…well, whatever this is. She knows why he's so reluctant, and to the outside world she's really okay with it. But inside, for her, she really wants, she really needs some kind of acknowledgement that this is really…something, not just sex and Chinese food. She doesn't want to be Wilson with benefits.

"Girlfriendy? Is that even a word?" He smiles at her back. He's been expecting this, and he's surprised she waited as long as she has to bring it up. "What did you have in mind?"

Cameron turns to look at him. His tone is amused, and she figures he's probably been expecting her to push him for some kind of commitment. She smiles ruefully; will she ever be able to really surprise this man? "I'm not looking for something from you. And I don't care about anybody else. I just…I want to do something for you that…a girlfriend would do."

"Just for us," he says, making it a question.

"Just for you," she says, and he thinks she really means it. It's a little passive aggressive, he supposes, and really it's pretty manipulative, if he cared to put that kind of spin on it. By giving his consent, he'd be all but admitting she's his girlfriend. On the other hand, she's manipulating him into agreeing to what she wants by offering it to him on his terms. It's moments like this that make him think, quietly and quickly so he can deny it later, they might really be in this for the long haul.

"Well, there is something. Something that all men have been asking their girlfriends to do for them probably since the beginning of time." He levels a deadly serious look at her, and Cameron braces herself for what she's sure is going to be either completely ridiculous or downright filthy. "Thirteen's bisexual, you know. And she thinks you're hot. She'd probably go for it."

"You want a threesome," Cameron says and House can't help but note the slight distaste.

"Doesn't have to be Thirteen, if she doesn't do it for you. Could complicate things, sleeping with her boss," he tries to joke, because he can already see she's thinking about this too hard.

"Right," she says, and offers him a half-hearted smile. She stares at him, and thinks that maybe her friends were wrong. It isn't her sexual experience she should be worrying about. Maybe it's his. And how has she never considered this before? He's older, he's been with…Cameron closes her eyes, who knows how many women. Professionals, even. What if the reason he's always interested in sex is because he's never quite satisfied? And asking for a threesome? Oh, it's House and he's probably just being his usual self but isn't that the point? He's being himself.

"Cameron? You know that was a joke, right?" He leans forward, catching her chin in his hand. "Cameron?"

She opens her eyes and looks into his.

"Yeah," she says.

He doesn't believe her.

She doesn't believe her either.


Cameron pauses outside Wilson's door, steeling herself for what she knows is going to be the most embarrassing conversation she's ever had in her life. She shouldn't be doing this, she knows she should just fluff off House's comment as part of the endless stream of innuendo and double entendre that is practically part of his speech pattern and just buy him a sweater. But she can't. Squaring her shoulders, she knocks on the door.

"Come in."

Cameron enters and sits in one of Wilson's chairs. Well, not sits so much as perches on it. She's so tightly clenched she can't really manage the amount of relaxation necessary for sitting.

"What did he do?" Wilson asks tiredly, assuming her stiffness to be withheld anger. At nearly a month, Wilson is favorably impressed it has taken House this long to screw things up with Cameron. There could be hope for him yet.

"Nothing. It's something I did. Or, didn't do, I guess."

"Okay. Not what I was expecting to hear." She can't have done anything too terrible, Wilson surmises, or House would have already been in here knocking over my pens and decapitating stuffed animals.

"This is…" she falters, faced with Wilson's concern she finds it even worse to seek his advice.

Wilson stares at Cameron, waiting, and watching her become more and more agitated. Whatever she thinks she's done, or not done, it's clearly upset her a great deal and as much as Wilson's first concern is always for House, he can't silently watch her in distress either.

"Cameron, whatever it is you think you've done, or not done…does he not know about it? Because he would have…."

"Has he said anything to you about sex?"

Wilson stared incredulously. "House? Talk about sex? Nooo." He waits for the laugh, but none is coming. Cameron is deadly serious and that's when it clicks. "Are you two not…I mean it's okay if you aren't…"

"No we are. All the time. Enough to make me really appreciate yoga classes," Wilson cringes but Cameron doesn't notice. "But…is he, I mean has he said…if he wasn't, happy," she sighs heavily. "Happy is…not the right word. If he wasn't…"

"Cameron, are you trying to get me to ask House 'was it good for you' by proxy? Because first let me just say, ew. Second, the only thing House has ever said about your sex life was to rub it in my face that he was tapping that and how I'd never be able to keep up with someone half my age. I don't think disappointed or unhappy are even in the realm of possibility," Wilson says. He leans forward and rests his elbows on the desk. "Did he say something to you?"

"Not…no, he…I'm sure he was just…"

"Being House," Wilson supplies.

"I guess I'm just feeling a little insecure," Cameron says, offering Wilson a weak smile. Wilson returns her smile with his best reassuring Dr. Jimmy grin and makes a quick decision.

"I'm going to regret this, but, not long after Stacy left House got really drunk and he might have babbled on about a certain…fantasy he had."

"Should you be telling me this?" Cameron asks, intrigued but concerned about the consequences for Wilson when House finds out he told this secret.

"No. Do you want to hear it?"



Cameron stands outside House's apartment trying to gather up enough courage to enter. She has a key, and if she's going to pull off what she wants to do, what he wants her to do, she's going to have to be quiet. He's not a heavy sleeper, too many years of answering middle of the night phone calls from the hospital have seen to that.

She goes over the plan in her head one more time, being sure she knows exactly what needs to be done and in what order. Precision and careful timing is going to be key. She unlocks the door and slips into the apartment. It's just past 2am; he'll have been asleep for several hours at least.

Cameron sneaks into the bathroom and removes her overcoat, hanging it on the hook on the back of the bathroom door. It isn't really cold enough for the heavy coat, but the outfit she's wearing underneath is certainly not fit for public viewing. She checks her reflection in the mirror and straightens her hat, readjusting the pins in her hair that hold it in place. She unzips the bag she brought with her slowly and takes out the first of the items she needs.

This is certainly the trickiest and most important part of her mission. Once accomplished, the rest will be easy. She turns off the bathroom light and gives her eyes a minute to adjust to the new darkness. Any light from the bathroom might wake House, and she can't have that happening so soon. She slips into the bedroom and lets out a silent sigh of relief. He's sleeping on his back.

Quickly she makes her way to the head of the bed and begins her work. It takes her only a few minutes before she's ready to attempt the most dangerous part of her plan.


House wakes with a jerk as he feels something slipping over his head. He surges forward but finds that he can't pull himself up off the bed. Whatever was pulled over his head while he slept is blocking his vision, but a sharp movement of each arm confirms that he's been restrained.

"Allison, what the hell are you doing?"

He gets no response and he stills himself to listen better. He can hear her moving around in his bedroom, and smell the faint scent of her shampoo, a distinctive coconut lime combination that reminds him of the tropics. He tests the restraints at his wrists again and smiles; he recognizes the feel of the fur-lined straps as something she'd found in his closet and asked him about but that they've yet to try.

"Allison, not that I don't approve of whatever it is you're doing but don't you think…aaaahhh," He sighs as he feels her hands at his waist pulling his pajama pants over his hips and down his legs. She makes quick work of removing his boxers and he's already hard from anticipation. He waits, tense, to see what she plans to do next.

"Shit, Allison!"

Something soft but somewhat cold is brushing over his erection and he's having a hard time deciding between discomfort from the cold and arousal at the tickling, tingling sensation of whatever she's rubbing over him. The exquisite torture continues for long, uncountable minutes until she's satisfied. He can hear some rustling noises and then nothing but silence.


Hair brushes across his chest and a series of pillows is placed under his head and shoulders, propping up his upper body so that, were he not blindfolded, he'd be able to see himself laid out before her.

"When you asked about a threesome," she whispers, and his erection twitches at the breathy excitement he hears in her voice, "I thought maybe it was because…you weren't satisfied with just me."

"Why would you…"

"Don't talk," she says and even though it's not even close to the command a dominatrix would use, he obeys. "But then I thought, you wouldn't really want to share me, and you also wouldn't want anyone else to know about us, except Wilson of course, and I know you're not inviting Wilson into our bed."

House feels his cock throb when she says our bed, and he thinks that maybe he should rethink the whole girlfriend issue. He likes the idea of things being theirs far too much to deny it.

"And then I thought," he can hear her voice is getting closer now, "there must be some other fantasy that you have, something that a girlfriend would be willing to do, not just some casual partner. And, it is Christmas, so I decided to get myself a present."

She removes his blindfold, and he blinks a few times against the soft light filtering in from the bathroom. He looks down at himself and gasps. She's painted some sort of body paint onto his erection. Red and white body paint.

"I got myself a nice, fat candy cane," she says and for the first time he turns to look at her. As she walks to the foot of the bed and settles between his legs, he admires the outfit she's chosen. She's dressed as an elf, but an elf straight out of Hugh Heffner's private harem. In a forest green fur-trimmed velvet bra and a low-riding velvet micro-mini skirt with green and white striped thigh-high stockings, House doesn't think he's ever seen her look quite so hot. "And now," she says, bringing his attention to her bright pink lips, "you're going to watch me eat it."

He bellows when she leans over him and takes him into her mouth. He expects more teasing, and the surprise catches him off guard. She sucks him hard for a minute, and then switches to swirling her tongue over him in sloppy circles. She laves his cock, chasing the red and white spirals until he's clean, and then plunges him into her mouth again. He's panting far too soon and begs her to stop.

"Please, need to get inside you."

She crawls over him, letting her hair tickle his hips and ribs, drawing delightful groans from him as she teases her way up his body. She positions herself over him and hovers there, torturing him. She hasn't considered that giving him his fantasies would make her so hot, but she's panting for him too and she knows that it won't last much longer now. While she still has the chance, she leans over and brushes a sweet kiss to his lips.

She sinks onto him slowly and he groans.

"No panties?"

She shakes her head, concentrating on taking him in. He waits until he's sure he won't hurt her before bucking his hips hard. She gasps and there's no more slow build. She leans forward, plants her hands on the mattress on either side of his head and claims his mouth in a fierce kiss. He can taste the peppermint body paint she used on him and the fruity lip gloss she used to pink her lips and he can't hold back any longer. He's thrusting up into her desperately now, his body screaming for release.

Cameron can feel her orgasm building, just there beyond her reach. House is bucking too wildly for her to keep any sort of rhythm and she knows he won't last much longer. She reaches up with one hand and grabs the headboard and slides the hand between them to touch herself. She gasps and groans but she can't get there, and House can sense that she's riding on the edge, needing something from him to push her over. Bound as he is, he can't encourage her body with his hands.

"Ally, this is…the best….Christmas present…any…girlfriend…ever got me," he growls out, and he feels her contract hard over him. He stops trying to hold back and lets himself follow her into oblivion.

She collapses on him and while they catch their breath, House remembers who it is who knows about this little fantasy of his.

"I'm going to kill Wilson."

"You're going to give him all the details until he's so uncomfortable he'll have to leave the room, and then you're going to thank him," Cameron says. She reaches up to unfasten the wrist bindings, and curls into House's arms when he pulls her into his embrace. "Merry Christmas, House."