Stacy had never really considered herself overly sentimental. She didn't attach a meaning to every song she heard, color she saw, tree she sat under, but when Cameron's son, Gregory, put on one of his favorite songs, she felt tears prick her eyes.
The memories flooded in and she remembered that night with Greg that she associated with the song.
"Stacy?" his voice carried from somewhere in the apartment as she came through the door.
"Yeah," she called back. She tossed her jacket over the back of the couch and made her way toward the most delicious smells from the kitchen as Mick Jagger crooned "Gimme Shelter" from the stereo. "What are you doing?" she asked him as she stepped into the doorway.
He looked up from the pan on the stove, blue eyes bright with mischief. "Making dinner. Ready in a minute."
Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Why?" House didn't cook on a good day, so she had to wonder what he was up to this time.
"Birthday," he replied, turning back to stir the contents of the pan.
"Whose?" she asked.
Now he looked confused. "Yours. It's tomorrow, but you have that big case so you'll probably be late. I wanted my culinary exploits to be appreciated."
She laughed. "They are, Greg." She kissed him, then reached for a pepper strip from the pan. "Thanks."
"Happy birthday, Stacy," he told her with a big toothy smile. If he kept that up, she wasn't going to make it to dinner before she jumped him.
The whole situation was almost surreal, since she couldn't recall anything he'd be trying to make up for, but that was also what made it so special. He was thinking of her, wanting her to feel special and she loved that.
She hadn't expected such a strong emotional reaction to a memory associated with a song, but she was pleased it was a happy memory. Gregory looked mortified and Stacy wanted to hug him.
"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Warner," he said, reaching to turn off the music.
"Leave it. It's okay. Good memories." She smiled at him and waved for him to sit next to her so she could tell him stories of his father.