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A sequel to my last House snippet, Unannounced, still unbetaed. Because, really, it's all about the Ducklings. Minor spoilers for the most recent episode, Sports Medicine.
Cameron had just decided not to say anything when Foreman came back to the table and said, "So what did you do to House this morning?"
She blinked, trying to control her expression and already knowing it was too late. "What did I do?"
"Yeah," Foreman repeated, "What did you do? You came back from taking him that report looking like he'd torn a strip off your hide, and he was extra-crispy-surly for the rest of the day. What happened?"
"It was nothing," she said, because, really, in the final analysis it had been nothing. So they'd been touching each other, so...
"Oh, come on," Chase said, "You're not going to leave us in the dark, are you? It's only fair to warn us what he's on about."
Cameron sighed and took a bracing sip of her drink. "I walked in on him and Wilson," she said, staring at the glass.
When neither Foreman nor Chase said anything, she looked up; Foreman looked shocked, Chase baffled.
Foreman said slowly, "You walked in on him and Wilson?"
Cameron shrugged, determined to be blasé, or as close to it as she could manage. "That's what I said."
Chase shook his head, looking like he suspected them of deliberately using Americanisms he wouldn't understand. "You walked in on him and Wilson... what?"
Cameron raised an eyebrow--Chase couldn't actually be this dense--and Chase's jaw dropped. "No--seriously?--no. What were they--?"
And here they were, right back to the reason she'd decided not to say anything. She shrugged stiffly. "Nothing, exactly, they were--sort of--" She couldn't describe it, she could hardly bear to remember it, it was so intrusive.
"Oh," Foreman said, sitting back. "I see. Soulful gazes or something? Honestly, Cameron, just because the man doesn't want to get into your pants doesn't mean he's gay."
Cameron narrowed her eyes at Foreman in her best impression of House's scowl, and deliberately straightened up and looked around the bar. Foreman looked appropriately panic-stricken at the thought that House might have been in earshot, as he so very often turned out to be. When she settled back, Chase was smiling. "It's true, though," he said. "For example, some men are blind. Or very, very old."
Cameron glared at Chase and Foreman. "I hate you both," she muttered, fiddling with her glass. If she got up to order another, they'd only get worse.
"Ah ah," Foreman said, because the only thing he liked better than embarrassing Cameron was embarrassing Chase. "The patient exhibits no visual impairment, nor is he old enough to fit that diagnostic profile. Occam's razor. If he's not after Cameron--and Cameron's not making this up because she made a pass at him over the patient's white counts--"
Cameron flipped him off without actually looking up, earning a snort of laughter from Chase.
"--Then it might just be the simplest explanation."
"Well," Chase said, thoughtfully. "We didn't see Dr. Wilson the rest of the day, did we? He blushes--"
"Ha!" Foreman crowed, and this time he sat up himself to look around, while Cameron raised an eyebrow at Chase.
"Fair skin," Chase snapped defensively, ducking his head as pink bloomed on his cheeks. "It's an affliction we happen to share, that's all."
"Uh-huh," Cameron said, smirking, because she was finally going to stop hearing crap from the two of them about that Monster Truck rally--it was all on Chase now.
"Hey," Foreman said, settling back, "Chase, didn't you go to seminary school?"
Chase looked up warily, but said, "Yes."
Foreman tilted his head. "Did your dad happen to tell House you used to be an altar boy?"
Chase turned bright red as Cameron tried to stifle her laugh, and hunched lower in his seat, trapped between them. He took a long swallow of his drink and muttered, "I hate you both."
Cameron had just decided not to say anything when Foreman came back to the table and said, "So what did you do to House this morning?"
She blinked, trying to control her expression and already knowing it was too late. "What did I do?"
"Yeah," Foreman repeated, "What did you do? You came back from taking him that report looking like he'd torn a strip off your hide, and he was extra-crispy-surly for the rest of the day. What happened?"
"It was nothing," she said, because, really, in the final analysis it had been nothing. So they'd been touching each other, so...
"Oh, come on," Chase said, "You're not going to leave us in the dark, are you? It's only fair to warn us what he's on about."
Cameron sighed and took a bracing sip of her drink. "I walked in on him and Wilson," she said, staring at the glass.
When neither Foreman nor Chase said anything, she looked up; Foreman looked shocked, Chase baffled.
Foreman said slowly, "You walked in on him and Wilson?"
Cameron shrugged, determined to be blasé, or as close to it as she could manage. "That's what I said."
Chase shook his head, looking like he suspected them of deliberately using Americanisms he wouldn't understand. "You walked in on him and Wilson... what?"
Cameron raised an eyebrow--Chase couldn't actually be this dense--and Chase's jaw dropped. "No--seriously?--no. What were they--?"
And here they were, right back to the reason she'd decided not to say anything. She shrugged stiffly. "Nothing, exactly, they were--sort of--" She couldn't describe it, she could hardly bear to remember it, it was so intrusive.
"Oh," Foreman said, sitting back. "I see. Soulful gazes or something? Honestly, Cameron, just because the man doesn't want to get into your pants doesn't mean he's gay."
Cameron narrowed her eyes at Foreman in her best impression of House's scowl, and deliberately straightened up and looked around the bar. Foreman looked appropriately panic-stricken at the thought that House might have been in earshot, as he so very often turned out to be. When she settled back, Chase was smiling. "It's true, though," he said. "For example, some men are blind. Or very, very old."
Cameron glared at Chase and Foreman. "I hate you both," she muttered, fiddling with her glass. If she got up to order another, they'd only get worse.
"Ah ah," Foreman said, because the only thing he liked better than embarrassing Cameron was embarrassing Chase. "The patient exhibits no visual impairment, nor is he old enough to fit that diagnostic profile. Occam's razor. If he's not after Cameron--and Cameron's not making this up because she made a pass at him over the patient's white counts--"
Cameron flipped him off without actually looking up, earning a snort of laughter from Chase.
"--Then it might just be the simplest explanation."
"Well," Chase said, thoughtfully. "We didn't see Dr. Wilson the rest of the day, did we? He blushes--"
"Ha!" Foreman crowed, and this time he sat up himself to look around, while Cameron raised an eyebrow at Chase.
"Fair skin," Chase snapped defensively, ducking his head as pink bloomed on his cheeks. "It's an affliction we happen to share, that's all."
"Uh-huh," Cameron said, smirking, because she was finally going to stop hearing crap from the two of them about that Monster Truck rally--it was all on Chase now.
"Hey," Foreman said, settling back, "Chase, didn't you go to seminary school?"
Chase looked up warily, but said, "Yes."
Foreman tilted his head. "Did your dad happen to tell House you used to be an altar boy?"
Chase turned bright red as Cameron tried to stifle her laugh, and hunched lower in his seat, trapped between them. He took a long swallow of his drink and muttered, "I hate you both."