five ways it could happen
1) "It's going to be negative," Cameron tells him. "Stop pacing. You're giving me motion sickness."
"Don't be such a wimp." House hops over to the sink. "Why is Chase sick? It was his turn to bring those little cookies with marshmallow bits in them. Party pooper."
"Negative," she insists. "I'll bet you anything. Stop pacing."
"Five clinic hours," he says instantly.
She nods. "And if I win? You stand still. For at least twenty seconds. No movement whatsoever."
"You're a freak," he tells her, and washes his Vicodin down with lukewarm coffee.
Foreman leans around the door, waving a printout. "Blood samples were negative for those antibodies. Will you let me get that MRI now?"
"Fine, fine," House says sullenly, and when he's gone again, "I'm counting, Cameron. One. Two. Three. Four."
She kisses him on five.
2) "Oh, God." It's Foreman's definitive-diagnosis voice. "Thyroid cancer. It fits everything."
"Can you just - excuse me," Cameron says. She pushes the door open and walks down the corridor.
"What the -" Chase starts, just as Wilson says "Oh," and then House remembers. Wilson's making well? eyes at him, so he rolls his eyes in return, gives a long-suffering sigh and catches the door with his cane before it's swung completely shut.
"Good. Fine. Start the treatment."
He finds her in the ladies' toilets, leaning against a sink and gazing at her own reflection. He twists his fingers around the head of his cane so tightly that they turn pale. He mutters: "This is a pathetically unprofessional response." He mutters: "Are you okay?"
She doesn't look at him for a long time, just watches herself in the mirror and pulls a few locks of hair over her shoulder, patting the wisps absently into place. Vivid and lovely against the white of her coat. When she finally looks at him, he's searching for tears, but he doesn't see any.
She gives him an unsteady smile, takes two step forwards and kisses him briefly on the mouth. "Thank you," she says. "I will be."
3) "So," he says loudly, as she's checking the IV of their fifteen-year-old patient. House has a whole speech stored up about how half the symptoms are caused by drug use, but he's saving it for when the kid's not asleep so that he can stamp happily all over his denials. "So. You and Chase, huh?"
She surprises him: she quirks a smile. "It's not a big deal. It's just sex."
"Just sex? Who are you, and what have you done with Cameron?"
She shrugs, her eyes averted. "I can't have casual relationships?"
"You? No. You'd give it all away in the kiss." He watches her, wondering when her body language became so obscured. "Sure, it'd start off all kinky romps and experimental drugs -" and she flushes "- but soon enough you'd be all tender smiles and kisses that mean forever." He drawls the word out. She's moves closer to him to check the charts. She's starting to unravel; now he can see it. "Come on, Cameron. How do you kiss him? One hand in that unnaturally shiny hair? Eyes open? Up against a -"
Her lips are warm, slightly chapped. She holds the first kiss for a few long seconds and then pulls away; darts in again; small teasing nips with heat behind them. She still looks a bit embarrassed, afterwards, but holds his gaze. "Kind of like that, actually."
"This," says their patient fervently, "is an awesome hospital."
4) He's halfway through a really cool metaphor that will end up being about cerebral malaria (once it's stopped being about baseball) when she kisses him. Just wanders over like she's going to draw pathetically optimistic smiley faces on his whiteboard, and then stops. Puts a hand at his jaw. Kisses him; slowly, with lots of tongue, like they've done it a thousand times before.
By the time she pulls away all of the cutting remarks have flown straight out of his head, so first he looks at Foreman, whose eyebrows are performing acrobatic feats previously unknown to man. And then at Chase, who's staring at them like they're the hottest thing he's seen since Nymphomaniac Lesbians Gone Wild IV. It takes a moment; then it clicks.
"So what does he owe you, now?" he murmurs, very close to her ear.
He feels her breath ripple with amusement. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
5) "Oh, for God's sake," she snaps, and pulls him into an empty room; gently, he notes, and by the correct arm. Leave it to Allison Cameron to remember that his leg is giving him hell today, even in the midst of a hissy fit. If that's what this is. "What?" she hisses, affirming that hypothesis. "What is it with you lately? Am I doing something wrong? Is this some kind of life lesson for me? Because I really don't think that you being a complete jerk is going to teach me anything I didn't learn months ago."
Before he can even think about it, his hand hits the wall just above her right shoulder, and she jumps. They're very close.
"Look." She sounds calmer. "Do you...um, is something..."
"Cameron," he says, frustrated, irritated beyond words.
Silence for a moment, and then her eyes go very wide. "Oh," she says.
He lifts each finger and then replaces it on the wall, one by one, not quite able to look at her. "I don't -"
"I do," she says, and then she does.