Unexpected Guest
Title: Unexpected Guest
Rating: PG
Spoilers: slight mention of season 3
Disclaimer: Don’t own House MD
Authors note: random bit of fluff/ Cam's POV
You were shocked when you got the invitation to a friend’s wedding who you haven’t seen since college. There were several reasons why you felt that you shouldn’t attend:
1) A case could come at any moment and you may be needed
2) Your boss is Dr. House
3) You didn’t have a date
4) There would only be a few people you knew
The ridiculous part was the fact that you didn’t have a date was the only thing really keeping you from going. Not the cases or your boss, but that you would be going stag. It isn’t necessarily frowned upon to go dateless, but what’s the fun in that?
You tried to find a date. Foreman’s girlfriend didn’t like the idea, Chase claimed to be busy, but you knew it was because he still felt awkward after your arrangement and three rejections. Wilson had to work, and House (yes you asked House) just said no way.
‘I hate weddings,’ he told you.
Since you missed the rehearsal, you were left driving aimlessly the next day to find the church, using crappy directions in a city that you couldn’t even remember the name of. Maybe you could if you tried, but driving around the same block more than three times was pissing you off, and you didn’t care to think about anything else except where to find the sign that said ‘Hudson St.’
It might have been easier if you had someone with you. But, oh, that’s right, you came alone.
**
So here you are, sitting in a church at the end of a pew, waiting for the bride to come walking down the aisle. Somehow you felt incredibly uncomfortable and nervous. This wasn’t even your wedding, it was Sarah’s, but you could still feel the sweat building from unease.
The organ played as Sarah slowly made her way down the aisle with her father, a smile on her face, eyes never leaving her soon-to-be husband’s. For a second you thought of your wedding, but ignored it entirely because you didn’t need those thoughts on what was supposed to be a ‘happy’ day.
As you sat down, a body that wasn’t there before brushed against your shoulder.
House.
Staring for a moment, he leaned in, but not too close,
“Don’t tell anyone,” he warned. You couldn’t stifle a laugh, but it was quiet enough that it didn’t draw attention.
Having him there made it almost...better, relaxing. The sound of rubber rhythmically beating against the ground, his untidy hair, crooked tie, and Nike Shox settled your nerves, allowing you to actually enjoy the rest of the ceremony.
It was a challenge not to lock your arm with his, grab his hand, and place your head on his shoulder, but it didn’t stop you from picturing it, and that simple thought made you smile.
You were hoping he’d speak, just say anything. It didn’t matter what it’d be. Possibly about the other guests and their choice of clothing. The comments would probably be rude (of course, it was House), but you could count on it being somewhat humorous.
Before the ‘I do’s,’ a tear rested beneath your eye, not yet ready to stream down your cheek. The source wasn’t known because nothing dramatic had happened to cause such emotion towards a friend you haven’t seen in years.
At a sudden touch on your hand, you jumped slightly and looked down to see that it was covered by his. You didn’t bother to face him, but he whispered in your ear,
“Stop crying. People might think its me.”
“Nobody here knows who you are so you’re safe,” you answered. His hand hid yours for a moment too long, and after a few strokes of his thumb on the back of your hand, he pulled away,
“Wuss.”
**
After the wedding, everyone stood outside the church, ready to head over to the reception. House limped away as everyone cheered while the bride and groom ran down the aisle. You figured that he was going home because just coming to the wedding was enough.
The reception was when people mingled. House didn’t mingle, and you shrugged off your disappointment with understanding.
Walking down the steps of the church, you heard,
“Cameron let’s go.”
You saw House in his sunglasses, on his bike, helmet in hand raised as a silent command for you to take it.
“I thought that you would be on your way back to Princeton already.”
“Do you want me to go back,” he asked, brows elevated and eyes narrowed slightly. Instead of answering, you took the helmet and lifted your leg over the bike until you were settled behind him.
“Do you know where to go,” you asked.
“Nope.”
**
House had asked a random guest where the reception would be held. Knowing the place, he sped off immediately, breaking several laws as you squeezed your eyes shut the entire way to hold back your squeals from fear and...thrill.
At the reception, you and House sat in a booth with a few people who you had never met before. House was silent most of the time, only giving a few comments (more not-so-obvious insults) for his own amusement which you awarded him with a glare.
When the comments became dull, he would graze your hips with his fingertips, stroke your knee, or gently pinch your thigh whenever you were asked a question to provoke some reaction from you: discomfort and embarrassment.
There wasn’t much you could say, and you sure as hell weren’t going to indulge him, but he knew that you were greatly effected by every touch. Every jerk you gave or sound of surprise you’d make when he touched you caused a smug expression to appear across his face, and you had to fight every tingle, every urge to just cup his face and kiss him.
But then he’d leave, and you didn’t want that.
Every one went on to the dance floor, leaving you and House at the booth. You noticed that he scooted further away from you as one by one the other guests went to dance.
He could mess with you when others were around, but when you were alone he kept his distance.
You circled the rim of your wine glass with the tip of your finger, debating on asking him for a dance. More a sway really.
Danny (old boyfriend) came up to your table, offering you a dance. You couldn’t say no because you really wanted to join everyone else and their fun. Taking his hand, you side glanced at House who gulped down a full glass of wine, showing no intentions of interference.
**
Saying that you were surprised would certainly be an understatement when House held out his hand to you a few minutes later with your arms wrapped around Danny’s neck.
“My turn. Now,” he said, ignoring your dance partner and focusing his gaze on yours.
You smiled sweetly at Danny and House seized your hand, tugging a bit more forcefully than necessary, leading you to the corner of the room.
He rested his cane against the wall, limped over to you and placed his hands on the side of your waist. You could tell he was nervous, but you didn’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his neck, allowing your fingers to run through his hair as you did so.
When he slid his right hand to your lower back, he gripped some of your dress in his fist as he pulled your body against his own, his thumb grazing your hip bone with his left.
You knew that he didn’t like to hear a thank-you directed at him, but you couldn’t stop yourself,
“Thank you for coming,” you whispered and before he could say anything, you rested your head against his chest, listening to the beat that played only for you in your ear.
Another smile crept across your face when his lips pressed into the top of your head, his cheek resting next. The tickle from his breath on your cheek sent a chill through out your body causing goose bumps to present themselves on your skin.
At least that was your excuse.
You didn’t really expect him to respond to your gratitude, but he always seemed to surprise you,
“Couldn’t have someone else groping my immunologist could I?”
“Right.”
After a short pause, no words or sway, you looked up to find out what was wrong.
“You asked me to come,” he finally said. His tone serious, his stare pensive, and his hands still holding on to you and continued,
“Besides, if I weren’t here some other loser would be in this position.”
“Can’t have that,” you joked with a smile.
He held you tighter again as you rocked from side to side. With his chin rested on your shoulder, your eyes closed when he whispered,
“No,” pause, “I can’t.”
Rating: PG
Spoilers: slight mention of season 3
Disclaimer: Don’t own House MD
Authors note: random bit of fluff/ Cam's POV
You were shocked when you got the invitation to a friend’s wedding who you haven’t seen since college. There were several reasons why you felt that you shouldn’t attend:
1) A case could come at any moment and you may be needed
2) Your boss is Dr. House
3) You didn’t have a date
4) There would only be a few people you knew
The ridiculous part was the fact that you didn’t have a date was the only thing really keeping you from going. Not the cases or your boss, but that you would be going stag. It isn’t necessarily frowned upon to go dateless, but what’s the fun in that?
You tried to find a date. Foreman’s girlfriend didn’t like the idea, Chase claimed to be busy, but you knew it was because he still felt awkward after your arrangement and three rejections. Wilson had to work, and House (yes you asked House) just said no way.
‘I hate weddings,’ he told you.
Since you missed the rehearsal, you were left driving aimlessly the next day to find the church, using crappy directions in a city that you couldn’t even remember the name of. Maybe you could if you tried, but driving around the same block more than three times was pissing you off, and you didn’t care to think about anything else except where to find the sign that said ‘Hudson St.’
It might have been easier if you had someone with you. But, oh, that’s right, you came alone.
**
So here you are, sitting in a church at the end of a pew, waiting for the bride to come walking down the aisle. Somehow you felt incredibly uncomfortable and nervous. This wasn’t even your wedding, it was Sarah’s, but you could still feel the sweat building from unease.
The organ played as Sarah slowly made her way down the aisle with her father, a smile on her face, eyes never leaving her soon-to-be husband’s. For a second you thought of your wedding, but ignored it entirely because you didn’t need those thoughts on what was supposed to be a ‘happy’ day.
As you sat down, a body that wasn’t there before brushed against your shoulder.
House.
Staring for a moment, he leaned in, but not too close,
“Don’t tell anyone,” he warned. You couldn’t stifle a laugh, but it was quiet enough that it didn’t draw attention.
Having him there made it almost...better, relaxing. The sound of rubber rhythmically beating against the ground, his untidy hair, crooked tie, and Nike Shox settled your nerves, allowing you to actually enjoy the rest of the ceremony.
It was a challenge not to lock your arm with his, grab his hand, and place your head on his shoulder, but it didn’t stop you from picturing it, and that simple thought made you smile.
You were hoping he’d speak, just say anything. It didn’t matter what it’d be. Possibly about the other guests and their choice of clothing. The comments would probably be rude (of course, it was House), but you could count on it being somewhat humorous.
Before the ‘I do’s,’ a tear rested beneath your eye, not yet ready to stream down your cheek. The source wasn’t known because nothing dramatic had happened to cause such emotion towards a friend you haven’t seen in years.
At a sudden touch on your hand, you jumped slightly and looked down to see that it was covered by his. You didn’t bother to face him, but he whispered in your ear,
“Stop crying. People might think its me.”
“Nobody here knows who you are so you’re safe,” you answered. His hand hid yours for a moment too long, and after a few strokes of his thumb on the back of your hand, he pulled away,
“Wuss.”
**
After the wedding, everyone stood outside the church, ready to head over to the reception. House limped away as everyone cheered while the bride and groom ran down the aisle. You figured that he was going home because just coming to the wedding was enough.
The reception was when people mingled. House didn’t mingle, and you shrugged off your disappointment with understanding.
Walking down the steps of the church, you heard,
“Cameron let’s go.”
You saw House in his sunglasses, on his bike, helmet in hand raised as a silent command for you to take it.
“I thought that you would be on your way back to Princeton already.”
“Do you want me to go back,” he asked, brows elevated and eyes narrowed slightly. Instead of answering, you took the helmet and lifted your leg over the bike until you were settled behind him.
“Do you know where to go,” you asked.
“Nope.”
**
House had asked a random guest where the reception would be held. Knowing the place, he sped off immediately, breaking several laws as you squeezed your eyes shut the entire way to hold back your squeals from fear and...thrill.
At the reception, you and House sat in a booth with a few people who you had never met before. House was silent most of the time, only giving a few comments (more not-so-obvious insults) for his own amusement which you awarded him with a glare.
When the comments became dull, he would graze your hips with his fingertips, stroke your knee, or gently pinch your thigh whenever you were asked a question to provoke some reaction from you: discomfort and embarrassment.
There wasn’t much you could say, and you sure as hell weren’t going to indulge him, but he knew that you were greatly effected by every touch. Every jerk you gave or sound of surprise you’d make when he touched you caused a smug expression to appear across his face, and you had to fight every tingle, every urge to just cup his face and kiss him.
But then he’d leave, and you didn’t want that.
Every one went on to the dance floor, leaving you and House at the booth. You noticed that he scooted further away from you as one by one the other guests went to dance.
He could mess with you when others were around, but when you were alone he kept his distance.
You circled the rim of your wine glass with the tip of your finger, debating on asking him for a dance. More a sway really.
Danny (old boyfriend) came up to your table, offering you a dance. You couldn’t say no because you really wanted to join everyone else and their fun. Taking his hand, you side glanced at House who gulped down a full glass of wine, showing no intentions of interference.
**
Saying that you were surprised would certainly be an understatement when House held out his hand to you a few minutes later with your arms wrapped around Danny’s neck.
“My turn. Now,” he said, ignoring your dance partner and focusing his gaze on yours.
You smiled sweetly at Danny and House seized your hand, tugging a bit more forcefully than necessary, leading you to the corner of the room.
He rested his cane against the wall, limped over to you and placed his hands on the side of your waist. You could tell he was nervous, but you didn’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his neck, allowing your fingers to run through his hair as you did so.
When he slid his right hand to your lower back, he gripped some of your dress in his fist as he pulled your body against his own, his thumb grazing your hip bone with his left.
You knew that he didn’t like to hear a thank-you directed at him, but you couldn’t stop yourself,
“Thank you for coming,” you whispered and before he could say anything, you rested your head against his chest, listening to the beat that played only for you in your ear.
Another smile crept across your face when his lips pressed into the top of your head, his cheek resting next. The tickle from his breath on your cheek sent a chill through out your body causing goose bumps to present themselves on your skin.
At least that was your excuse.
You didn’t really expect him to respond to your gratitude, but he always seemed to surprise you,
“Couldn’t have someone else groping my immunologist could I?”
“Right.”
After a short pause, no words or sway, you looked up to find out what was wrong.
“You asked me to come,” he finally said. His tone serious, his stare pensive, and his hands still holding on to you and continued,
“Besides, if I weren’t here some other loser would be in this position.”
“Can’t have that,” you joked with a smile.
He held you tighter again as you rocked from side to side. With his chin rested on your shoulder, your eyes closed when he whispered,
“No,” pause, “I can’t.”