Cameron kicked off her shoes and socks, and wriggled out of her running shorts, leaving it all in a neat little pile next to the bed. She wiped the sweat away with a damp towel and then let herself flop onto the bed, though in more of a sprawl than a neat little pile. She didn't allow herself to remark on the strangeness of sleeping there alone, even if she had made sure to get the most use out of that as possible.

Even with two people living there, the hut had never been loud. Cameron was sure it was just her mind playing tricks on her, that it was so quiet now.

Either way, she curled onto her side, and let herself doze off before she'd have to clean up and go back to the compound for some dinner.

Cameron was irritated with herself.

She should never have let it slip to House that she had been jealous (even in this unquantifiable amount). Somehow it seemed like a confirmation of everything she'd ever suspected anyone here of thinking about her, at least where her personal life was concerned. When thinking about it in the most reasonable light she could, it didn't seem like a big deal. They'd been sleeping together for a while now and living together longer. Even if it was supposed to be platonic in other senses, it wouldn't be totally out of the question for her to feel a twinge that there was someone else (she didn't count Jack, too complicated).

You're freaking out over nothing.

Except that she'd been out at the new clinic for the past two days, and House had spent the night elsewhere.

Paranoid, Allison, paranoid.

She sat on the bed, scowling at the big leather bag that the island had seen fit to gift her with, full of old and slightly terrifying medical instruments. Well, at least she'd be able to pump someone's stomach now, assuming they could wait a few hours for it to finish up.

...was that a jar of leeches in there? Oh, very funny.

Please leave any between the lines plotting in this post.

Mornings did not smell this way, which was the first thing he noticed when he woke up on Friday morning, and mornings did not snore quite so loud in the Doctor's ear, if mornings were the usual.

It was symptomatic of how he felt in the mornings now that he was human that it took a full twenty seconds for that to register, and he rolled over onto his stomach, but something got in the way, and something else, and he had hair in his mouth.

"whatheuck," he mumbled, and tried it again. Something got in the way again, and he slid one hand up to see what.

oh shit, not again, he thought, and heaved a long sigh. "fuck."

At first, Cameron had thought she wouldn't be able to sleep with House in the same bed as her. It would be weird, and she hadn't had to share with anyone in... years, now. While she hadn't really missed it-- at the end, he hadn't slept in the same bed as her anyway, her husband-- she was surprised that the change didn't bother her.

Sure, she slept at the edge, most of the time. She didn't know how it would work, if her body would automatically seek out the new warmth, if she'd wake up in an embarrassing tangle with House. With House. There wasn't a lack of attraction on her part, but just a firm reminder, in her own head, that she would be That Woman. And she didn't want to be her.

So far it hadn't happened. Cameron had been lucky, maybe.

She wasn't lucky anymore. For whatever reason, she woke up in the middle of the night in the exact position she'd feared she'd find herself in since the beginning of it all. Her t-shirt had ridden up her stomach and she was practically cuddled against him. She was warm, comfortable, and horrified that he'd wake up and be... well... horrified.

Mailbox for Allison Cameron.

It was luck of the draw that Cameron had managed to get her hands on alcohol at all.

She'd met the redhead in the kitchen while he cut lemons, and after discovering he'd known Chase very well, she'd also persuaded him to let her have a jar of her very own backwater moonshine. Really, she'd been TRYING not to make the Southern jokes, but after a while, the buzzing in her ears made it so much harder to be nice.

Red had been worried about the ease with which she got tipsy, but she'd sworn herself to secrecy and tip-toed off when he wasn't looking. Maybe he'd tattle to Chase. Cameron didn't really care at the moment.

She sat at the back of the compound, looking at the garden and getting progressively more tipsy, easily sailing into being drunk. The stuff even stopped tasting awful, and she closed her eyes, humming to herself.

It might have been irresponsible, but the first thing Cameron had done upon getting back to the compound (and after watching her fellow group members be reunited with people who were actually looking for them) was shower. For as long as she could, though frankly, she still smelled a little bit when she was done, and her arm was bleeding badly enough that she figured she'd need a few stitches.

She was both hoping and not hoping to find Chase or House there. A familiar face was all she wanted, but House wasn't for crying on and Chase already seemed to think she might jump off a cliff or something.

Holding a dishtowel to her arm, she peeked in.

House, of course.

Rallying herself, she went in. "Are you busy?"

Testing.