Chapter Text
The hotel room door slotted open, and House slumped in first, pushing through into the middle of the room and flopping down into a plush armchair by the window. The ducklings filed in after him, taking in their unfamiliar surroundings. The valet had brought their bags up hours earlier and set them in the entryway, and Foreman was the first to crouch down beside his, unzipping it and rifling through the compartments in search of his toothbrush. Cameron and Chase sidestepped him as they passed through the doorway, Cameron sitting on the edge of the bed closest to the entryway and Chase sidling into the center of the room to have a look at the sleeping arrangements.
“Wow,” He said Australian-ly, “this is nice.”
“Chase, you’re with me,” House declared flatly from his comfy spot slumped into the chair, as if purposely stopping Chase’s excitement in its tracks.
Chase shot House a look that said “Are you serious right now?”. He huffed an amused breath in House’s direction, but there was no punchline.
“No, I’m not.” He retorted firmly. “We’re adults. There’s no assigned seating.”
“There is when the alternative is being woken up at 2:00 AM by the sounds of loud, clumsy lovemaking,” House replied, casting a coy glance in Cameron’s direction and receiving an unamused glare in return.
“Tch. I’m gonna have to second that,” Foreman said as he entered the main alcove to set a days-of-the-week pill box on his chosen nightstand, toothbrush and toothpaste clutched in his other hand. Chase was not pleased by the two of them ganging up on him.
“Oh, don’t you two make a good pair,” He huffed, spite and frustration rising up in his throat. “It’s too bad you didn’t go to school together. You would’ve made a great couple of hall monitors.”
“Chase,” Cameron interjected, causing him to whip his head around expectantly. “It’s fine. I’m too tired to argue.”
Chase sighed with resignation and flopped onto the far side of the bed nearest the window, turning away from Cameron and shutting off his bedside lamp, huffing quiet, frustrated breaths.
After that, everyone settled down for the night fairly quickly.
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Cameron sat in bed reading by the light of the bedside lamp, dressed in pajama shorts and a tank top, while House and Foreman busied themselves with other tasks.
House was seated by the window in the same armchair from earlier, now with his feet up on an ottoman. He sat with the window cracked open, engrossed in thought as he peered down onto the darkened street and meditated on the sounds of passing cars below. He rested the base of his cane on the floor as he rotated the head around in steady, rhythmic motions, flipping it from one side to the next with every flick of his wrist.
Chase was technically facing House, but with a posture that was purposely closed off to him, his brow still knitted with frustration and his eyes scrunched shut against the partial light still shrouding the room.
Foreman was getting cleaned up in the bathroom, the sound of the running water trailing through a crack at the bottom of the bathroom door. Beneath it was the sound of bristles skritching back and forth, back and forth, which persisted for at least a minute before it stopped and gave way to the sound of Foreman spitting into the sink. He did so in one single calculated move, not too loudly, as if embarrassed to let on that he had a body like everyone else which he had to clean and maintain. Letting her head loll back against the headboard as she tired of reading, Cameron listened to what she could only assume was Foreman rinsing off the toothbrush, then swishing water around in his mouth to get the excess toothpaste out, then lathering water on his face to rid himself of the day’s heat.
In her drowsy state, she had nearly forgotten that this chorus of white noise was produced by someone whom she had barely spoken to over the past few weeks, and she hastily fixed her attention back onto her book when she heard him come out of the bathroom, trying to resume her usual breathing rate and keep herself from looking in his direction.
The words swam in front of her eyes as she heard him settle onto the edge of the bed, taking off his rings and setting them quietly on his bedside table, metal clicking against wood. In her peripherals she could see him straighten his socks, slide the cuffs of his silk pajama pants down over the exposed skin of his ankles so he didn’t get cold at night, and peel back the covers.
Against her better judgment, she turned her head slightly towards him, hoping for at least a “good night.” Instead, he curled onto his side without giving her a second thought, hooking his arm underneath his pillow and getting into a comfortable position. Cameron heard the faint sounds of Chase snoring as the outline of Foreman’s sleeping form turned fuzzy and particulate against the warmly-lit backdrop, and she decided it was time to set the book down and flick off her light. She turned onto her side to face Chase’s sleeping form. Behind him was House, still seated at the window, eyes fixed on the passing cars below.
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