Cameron doesn't flinch at his hard voice, doesn't look over her shoulder, though she does smile, knowing House's eyes are sliding up the bare expanse of her calves as she stretches - pulling her skirt a bit higher - to tack up the last of the decorations. "Christmas party."

"We don't have Christmas parties."

She steps down slowly, gracefully and brushes her hands off as she surveys the room with satisfaction. "We do now." She moves over to the counter, still smiling, still feeling his gaze on the sway of her hips. "Eggnog?"

"Is there rum in it?"

"Clinic hours are over. Patient's are all recovering snug in their beds."

"Is that a yes or a no?" His cane hits the floor harder than necessary as he moves closer to her, crowding her.

"It's a party." She hands him a cup and smiles. "What do you think the answer is, Dr. House?"

He takes the cup from her and tastes it, his sharp blue eyes watching her. He doesn't comment though he keeps the cup. "Is this a test of the maxim 'what happens if you give a party and nobody comes'?"

"You're here."

"Ah." He sets his cup down. "I thought we were through with this."

"With what?"

"This." He gestures with his hand. "You. Me. Us."

"I think you're paranoid, Dr. House." She sets her eggnog aside and boosts herself up onto the counter, crossing one leg over the other. She hides her smile in her drink and waits silently as he comes closer. "Just spreading a bit of Christmas spirit."

"Is that what this is about spreading?" His voice is sharp and cutting, but she ignores it, sipping her drink slowly. He starts to speak again when the door opens and Chase and Foreman and Wilson filter in, laughing about something until they see the tableau.

Cameron slides off the counter as gracefully as she'd dismounted the stepstool. "There's eggnog."

Their conversation starts again, not quite as easy, not quite as light as she brushes past House. "Maybe it's not my motives you should be worried about Dr. House."

He reaches out and almost touches her, and for all her ease, her heart almost stops. "Merry Christmas, Allison."

"You are allowed joy, House." She smiles, though she knows it doesn't reach her eyes, so she turns away. "Maybe you even deserve it."

"Maybe?" He asks softly, his hand actually grazing her elbow. When she turns to look his smile is caught somewhere between self-deprecating and amused.

"The jury's still out. But who knows?" She matched his smile with one of her own, as she moved away. "Even Scrooge managed to have a merry Christmas."