Hey guys!
This is my newest fanfic venture :) It's based around the idea of: what if Cameron's husband hadn't died and she'd still been married working under House?
The rating is pretty much Teen for themes, situations etc, but I'll put a warning explicitly on the chapter if it's anything higher :)

Hope you enjoy it, and please R&R as it does help me better my writing getting your opinions and suggestions.

Peace & Cheers
Amylia
-x-

What If

Chapter One – Happily Married

"You like him, admit it. You like House."

"Foreman, just drop it, would you? I'm married. Happily married. And he's happy with Stacy…as happy as House can ever be."

"Come off it, you know that relationship with Stacy isn't going to last much longer. And you're not answering the question."

"There was no question to answer, you made a statement."

And Eric Foreman knew he was beaten. The quick wit of Allison Cameron was a force to be reckoned with, especially when she felt the need to be defensive. No matter what Foreman said to try and coax even the smallest slither of 'truth' from her, she was far too sharp and stubborn…and it was proving damn near impossible to crack her.

With a smug smile, satisfied she'd shut him up at least for the moment; she finished loading the centrifuge and headed out of the lab, heels clicking sharply on the tiled floors as she left Foreman to contemplate news ways of getting into her head.

It somewhat amused her how certain he was that he was 'onto something' with them. But nobody liked House. She certainly didn't. At least, not in the way Foreman believed. She was married, as she kept reminding herself when a tiny stirring of doubt crossed her mind under intense interrogation from both Chase and Foreman. Ok, so she had a soft spot for House, she'd admit that much. But she loved her husband, and their child. And she was sure that the stirring of doubt her co-workers had manage to create in her was solely down to their stupid, far-fetched ideas planting seeds in her mind. They were psyching her out. And yes, ok, House did have some kind of dark magic about him that fascinated her…but only because he was a kind of puzzle to her. As much as she was a puzzle to him. He challenged her and pushed her in ways no other employer ever had. He expected everything she did to be right, which was nearly impossible, but it gave her such a thrill when she did get it right and his gaze lingered on her appreciatively for a fraction of a second longer than usual. That gaze sent shivers up and down her spine, but she refused to acknowledge it was because of any deeply buried feelings she had for him, rather, the fact that he could evoke that effect on nearly every woman in the hospital. It wasn't just her.

As she neared the office she slowed, steeling herself against his bad mood. His mood had been progressively worsening all week and by now – Friday afternoon – things were almost at breaking point. They all knew he'd been fighting with Stacy all week so, as Chase quietly noted, he probably wasn't getting any, ergo his crankiness.

As she entered the differential diagnosis office, her logical side took over and she headed straight for the coffee machine. He'd be less likely to start throwing things around the room if she was bearing gifts of black walnut and ginger. And if all else failed, she could simply use the scalding herbal tea as a weapon. Win-win situation.

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"House?"

She prayed she wasn't stepping willingly into the lion's den. Noting his closed blinds with darkness preceding them, she'd paused for a moment before pushing open the glass door as gently as possible.

"You better have coffee."

She smiled, picking up on the sleepy huskiness in his voice and involuntarily shivering as it reverberated through her and left the tiny hairs on the back of her neck standing up.

Once her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw his desk chair was empty and frowned in confusion. Before her brain could register it, she felt a warm, firm figure close to her back and in an instant he was against her. He reached for the cup, Cameron still too dazed to react but every muscle in her body tensing at his proximity, her heart skipping more than just a few beats.

"This coffee for me? Aww, you shouldn't have."

His breath was hot on her neck and the sudden invasion of her personal space rattled her. All she could do was let out a breathy "yes" which sounded pathetic even to her own ears.

He took a sip of the hot liquid and almost spat it out.

"We've got to teach you the difference between coffee and whichever of your fancy teas you're poisoning me with this time."

"Black…walnut and ginger."

Her voice was still far too breathy for her own liking and she stepped away from him, needing the space to get herself together. She was a grown woman, for God's sake. Yet here she was, acting like a lovesick teenager and falling all over herself just because this man – her boss, no less – stood a little close or brushed his hand against hers. Glancing at him whilst trying to keep the heat from rising on her cheeks, she saw the smirk he was doing nothing to hide. He was enjoying this; it was like a game to him. Tormenting her and…her eyes widened as a thought occurred to her. Did he believe she liked him too? Had he heard Foreman and Chase's stupid ideas and believed them? Dropping a mortified gaze to the floor, she planned the fastest escape route. She couldn't be acting like this, she couldn't be having these…conflicting thoughts and doubting herself. Because she was married. Happily married.