[house/cameron] we lift the veil at night
Title: we lift the veil at night
Fandom: house, md
Characters/Pairings: house, cameron, house/cameron
Word Count: 1,779
Rating: r for naughty words
Summary: He stops but doesn’t turn around. He’s sure there’s something that looks a little like relief and ohgod, she’s okay, she’s okay written on his face and he doesn’t want her to see that. Even now, he knows, he can’t let her see that.
Author's Notes: For the ever wonderful fated_addiction -- my first try at apocalypse!fic. Hee. It was fun.
we lift the veil at night
It had been dark for nearly three weeks.
He kept count, still, of each day. Of each hour. Of each minute. His wrist watch faithfully continued to tick forward, proving despite everything that was happening, time still existed. Sixty seconds still made a minute. And for this knowledge, House was grateful. He needed the stability, the comfort of knowing that some things never changed.
He walked the streets sometimes, though he didn’t know why. It was dangerous now -- mugging and looting and people setting fire to buildings and the constant sound of screams echoing through the air -- and he had no reason to be out. He should’ve been inside, in his apartment, playing the piano and drowning himself in an endless stream of scotch and cigars but then there is only so much a body can take.
He’s not ready to die.
He clutches at his jacket and pulls it tighter around his form. He almost flinches when a small group of teenagers run up beside him, carrying bricks and baseball bats, and smash in a store window. They whoop and holler and laugh as they rush into the store, the glass crunching under their feet.
House continues to walk, his cane slipping a couple of times from the stones and glass and God knows what else that covers the pavement. He glances across the road from the corner of his eye; watches as a mob of people crowd around a car that drives down the street, yelling and screaming as they rush at the car, grabbing it and rocking it side to side. They break the windows (the sound of glass breaking is a familiarity now) and reach for the people inside. They pull them out, force them to the ground, punch them, kick them, and fight with each other for the chance to get into the car.
For the chance to get away from here.
House wonders where they would go, even if they managed to get out of town safely. It’s like this everywhere. No lights, no alarms, no way of communication. It’s as if the Y2K bug finally caught up with the world years later -- technology is dead.
He thinks as he walks, and he pictures the hospital. Pictures it like it was the last time he was there. Dead, quiet, hollow and pitch black. He walked the clinic floors one night, out of boredom (desperation), and didn’t like it. He didn’t like the heavy silence that hung low in the air. Once upon a time, the hospital had been filled with sounds. Beeps and whirrs and noises that said that lives were being saved with every click of a machine.
He didn’t like it quiet. He didn’t like it empty. For a moment, he thinks about what he could’ve done if he had known that this was coming. If he would have appreciated the noise of the hospital more. If he would have appreciated the people -- but he stops himself because he doesn’t think like that, in pasts and maybes and what-ifs. He doesn’t allow himself to.
Rounding the corner, House makes his way back to his apartment. Because it’s cold and (he checks his watch) it’s almost eleven-thirty and it sounds like someone is following him and he doesn’t want to get mugged again...
"House?"
He stops but doesn’t turn around. He’s sure there’s something that looks a little like relief and ohgod, she’s okay, she’s okay written on his face and he doesn’t want her to see that. Even now, he knows, he can’t let her see that.
She catches up to him, her footsteps soft and small against the debris on the ground. Her hands are cold when she clutches at his shoulders, he can feel it seep through his skin. Her grip is firm as she turns him around to face her, and he starts to think about how deceptively strong she must be (inside and out) to survive this, but the look on her face stops his thoughts cold.
“House,” she murmurs, and her eyes are bright and wet and there’s an ugly bruise billowing across her cheek. Her voice is low and she mumbles and he isn’t even sure if she’s talking to him. “I didn’t know... I couldn’t call or -- I tried to, I tried to -- but you didn’t answer the door and I thought you had, I didn’t know...”
He slips his hand around hers, his thumb smoothing over the back of her hand. “Come on,” he barks as he glances over his shoulder, smells smoke. “This party is over. Time to go home.”
She stops muttering under her breath, and she curls against his side as he leads her down the road and to his apartment.
They rush in the door, because they heard screams behind them and heavy footsteps and the wind whipped at their backs and blew smoke in their eyes.
Once inside, Cameron stands in the middle of the room and watches him as he takes off his coat and hangs it by the door.
He notices that she’s staring. He wants to make some smart remark, something about her standing there and staring at him for the rest of her life, but it doesn’t seem that funny anymore so instead he asks, “Are you alright?”
She nods, and her hair tumbles around her face and across her shoulders. She’s shivering, and she bites at her bottom lip for a minute. “I’m glad I saw you. Out there.”
He almost replies, Me too, but there would be too much in that. He nods, limps towards the kitchen. “Thirsty?”
“Please.”
When he walks back in, two glasses filled with scotch in his hands, she’s sitting on his couch and her jacket is lying on the floor. Her blouse has rips in it.
He places the glasses on the table in front of them, and he sits beside her. “What happened?”
She looks at him, confused for a moment, but he nods towards her shirt and she looks down and it’s like she forgot because her hands fly up to clutch at the tattered material. “Oh, it was nothing. Some guy wanted my bag, and I, I fought with him and he grabbed me and pushed me down and I guess that’s how it happened.”
Something inside of him twitches as she speaks, and his stomach feels as though it’s boiling. He wishes he had seen her earlier, weeks ago; wishes he had driven her home when the power first went out in the hospital. He wishes he had been there to protect her.
Her voice breaks him out of his pathetic lament. “Did you think it would come to this?”
“They predicted this would happen seven years ago. They just got the timing wrong.”
“No,” she shakes her head. “Did you think we would come to this? Us, as a species. We lose our technology and we lose ourselves? Lose our control?”
He shrugs, picking up his glass and tossing the liquid down his throat. “Our technology is what made us human. It’s what separated us from the rest of the animals on this planet. It brought order, control, a system.”
Glass shatters outside, and Cameron jumps and starts to shake again. He frowns, places a hand on her knee to try and hold her steady.
“Without it, we are no different to a pack of dogs. We revert back to basics; we rely on the things that we’ve known since birth, things that society hasn’t taught us. We survive with our primal animal instincts. We do what needs to be done to get by, to live and keep on living, and nothing more.”
He can hear the sound of a fire crackling, and knows that it can’t be far away.
He moves his hand further up her leg, curls his fingers around her thigh. He hears a breath catch in her throat -- and that makes him smile -- so he continues to move his hand further.
“We see something. We want it, we take it, we have it.”
She licks her lips, her eyes trained solely on him, and he knows that he wants her. More than he’s ever wanted her.
There’s a crash and scream from outside and her eyes flicker from his for a moment and so he does the first thing that enters his head.
He kisses her.
Her lips are stiff and unmoving at first, so he wraps his arms around her and pulls her flush against him, and she starts to respond as she melts into him. She kisses him back, needing and desperate and he feels like he can’t catch his breath. When his tongue darts out, sweeping across her lips, he feels her tongue against his and it makes his stomach do funny things.
They pull apart, breathing heavily, and House reaches out carefully, slowly, and peels away Cameron’s tattered blouse. Her eyes flutter closed as he pulls the material away from her skin and he leans forward and trails kisses along her jaw line.
Her hands are at his shoulders, and she leans back into the couch and he follows, until she’s lying down and he’s on top of her. His hand works at the buttons on her jeans, and she shifts and wriggles so that he can take them off. She pulls his shirt over his head, and hooks her fingers in the waist band of his pants. She can feel his erection against her palm.
“I want you,” she whispers, and he wonders when her voice cracks if it’s because of lust. Or because she’s scared.
She unzips him, her hand wrapping around his cock. He hisses and his hips jerk forward and he palms at her nipples through the material of her bra. She arches her back and moans, and he pushes her panties to the side and slides two fingers into her cunt and she bites back a scream.
When his cock pushes inside of her, there are flames licking at the windows. When she comes, the sound of glass shattering fills the air. When he comes, not long after, they decide silently that they need to leave.
House watches as the time ticks forward on his wrist watch, and they shift so that Cameron lies heavy on his chest. He starts to complain about how much she weighs and how she’s crushing him, but her hand curls in his hair and massages the back of his neck and instead he stays quiet and watches his watch again.
They lie there for two more hours.
END
Fandom: house, md
Characters/Pairings: house, cameron, house/cameron
Word Count: 1,779
Rating: r for naughty words
Summary: He stops but doesn’t turn around. He’s sure there’s something that looks a little like relief and ohgod, she’s okay, she’s okay written on his face and he doesn’t want her to see that. Even now, he knows, he can’t let her see that.
Author's Notes: For the ever wonderful fated_addiction -- my first try at apocalypse!fic. Hee. It was fun.
we lift the veil at night
It had been dark for nearly three weeks.
He kept count, still, of each day. Of each hour. Of each minute. His wrist watch faithfully continued to tick forward, proving despite everything that was happening, time still existed. Sixty seconds still made a minute. And for this knowledge, House was grateful. He needed the stability, the comfort of knowing that some things never changed.
He walked the streets sometimes, though he didn’t know why. It was dangerous now -- mugging and looting and people setting fire to buildings and the constant sound of screams echoing through the air -- and he had no reason to be out. He should’ve been inside, in his apartment, playing the piano and drowning himself in an endless stream of scotch and cigars but then there is only so much a body can take.
He’s not ready to die.
He clutches at his jacket and pulls it tighter around his form. He almost flinches when a small group of teenagers run up beside him, carrying bricks and baseball bats, and smash in a store window. They whoop and holler and laugh as they rush into the store, the glass crunching under their feet.
House continues to walk, his cane slipping a couple of times from the stones and glass and God knows what else that covers the pavement. He glances across the road from the corner of his eye; watches as a mob of people crowd around a car that drives down the street, yelling and screaming as they rush at the car, grabbing it and rocking it side to side. They break the windows (the sound of glass breaking is a familiarity now) and reach for the people inside. They pull them out, force them to the ground, punch them, kick them, and fight with each other for the chance to get into the car.
For the chance to get away from here.
House wonders where they would go, even if they managed to get out of town safely. It’s like this everywhere. No lights, no alarms, no way of communication. It’s as if the Y2K bug finally caught up with the world years later -- technology is dead.
He thinks as he walks, and he pictures the hospital. Pictures it like it was the last time he was there. Dead, quiet, hollow and pitch black. He walked the clinic floors one night, out of boredom (desperation), and didn’t like it. He didn’t like the heavy silence that hung low in the air. Once upon a time, the hospital had been filled with sounds. Beeps and whirrs and noises that said that lives were being saved with every click of a machine.
He didn’t like it quiet. He didn’t like it empty. For a moment, he thinks about what he could’ve done if he had known that this was coming. If he would have appreciated the noise of the hospital more. If he would have appreciated the people -- but he stops himself because he doesn’t think like that, in pasts and maybes and what-ifs. He doesn’t allow himself to.
Rounding the corner, House makes his way back to his apartment. Because it’s cold and (he checks his watch) it’s almost eleven-thirty and it sounds like someone is following him and he doesn’t want to get mugged again...
"House?"
He stops but doesn’t turn around. He’s sure there’s something that looks a little like relief and ohgod, she’s okay, she’s okay written on his face and he doesn’t want her to see that. Even now, he knows, he can’t let her see that.
She catches up to him, her footsteps soft and small against the debris on the ground. Her hands are cold when she clutches at his shoulders, he can feel it seep through his skin. Her grip is firm as she turns him around to face her, and he starts to think about how deceptively strong she must be (inside and out) to survive this, but the look on her face stops his thoughts cold.
“House,” she murmurs, and her eyes are bright and wet and there’s an ugly bruise billowing across her cheek. Her voice is low and she mumbles and he isn’t even sure if she’s talking to him. “I didn’t know... I couldn’t call or -- I tried to, I tried to -- but you didn’t answer the door and I thought you had, I didn’t know...”
He slips his hand around hers, his thumb smoothing over the back of her hand. “Come on,” he barks as he glances over his shoulder, smells smoke. “This party is over. Time to go home.”
She stops muttering under her breath, and she curls against his side as he leads her down the road and to his apartment.
They rush in the door, because they heard screams behind them and heavy footsteps and the wind whipped at their backs and blew smoke in their eyes.
Once inside, Cameron stands in the middle of the room and watches him as he takes off his coat and hangs it by the door.
He notices that she’s staring. He wants to make some smart remark, something about her standing there and staring at him for the rest of her life, but it doesn’t seem that funny anymore so instead he asks, “Are you alright?”
She nods, and her hair tumbles around her face and across her shoulders. She’s shivering, and she bites at her bottom lip for a minute. “I’m glad I saw you. Out there.”
He almost replies, Me too, but there would be too much in that. He nods, limps towards the kitchen. “Thirsty?”
“Please.”
When he walks back in, two glasses filled with scotch in his hands, she’s sitting on his couch and her jacket is lying on the floor. Her blouse has rips in it.
He places the glasses on the table in front of them, and he sits beside her. “What happened?”
She looks at him, confused for a moment, but he nods towards her shirt and she looks down and it’s like she forgot because her hands fly up to clutch at the tattered material. “Oh, it was nothing. Some guy wanted my bag, and I, I fought with him and he grabbed me and pushed me down and I guess that’s how it happened.”
Something inside of him twitches as she speaks, and his stomach feels as though it’s boiling. He wishes he had seen her earlier, weeks ago; wishes he had driven her home when the power first went out in the hospital. He wishes he had been there to protect her.
Her voice breaks him out of his pathetic lament. “Did you think it would come to this?”
“They predicted this would happen seven years ago. They just got the timing wrong.”
“No,” she shakes her head. “Did you think we would come to this? Us, as a species. We lose our technology and we lose ourselves? Lose our control?”
He shrugs, picking up his glass and tossing the liquid down his throat. “Our technology is what made us human. It’s what separated us from the rest of the animals on this planet. It brought order, control, a system.”
Glass shatters outside, and Cameron jumps and starts to shake again. He frowns, places a hand on her knee to try and hold her steady.
“Without it, we are no different to a pack of dogs. We revert back to basics; we rely on the things that we’ve known since birth, things that society hasn’t taught us. We survive with our primal animal instincts. We do what needs to be done to get by, to live and keep on living, and nothing more.”
He can hear the sound of a fire crackling, and knows that it can’t be far away.
He moves his hand further up her leg, curls his fingers around her thigh. He hears a breath catch in her throat -- and that makes him smile -- so he continues to move his hand further.
“We see something. We want it, we take it, we have it.”
She licks her lips, her eyes trained solely on him, and he knows that he wants her. More than he’s ever wanted her.
There’s a crash and scream from outside and her eyes flicker from his for a moment and so he does the first thing that enters his head.
He kisses her.
Her lips are stiff and unmoving at first, so he wraps his arms around her and pulls her flush against him, and she starts to respond as she melts into him. She kisses him back, needing and desperate and he feels like he can’t catch his breath. When his tongue darts out, sweeping across her lips, he feels her tongue against his and it makes his stomach do funny things.
They pull apart, breathing heavily, and House reaches out carefully, slowly, and peels away Cameron’s tattered blouse. Her eyes flutter closed as he pulls the material away from her skin and he leans forward and trails kisses along her jaw line.
Her hands are at his shoulders, and she leans back into the couch and he follows, until she’s lying down and he’s on top of her. His hand works at the buttons on her jeans, and she shifts and wriggles so that he can take them off. She pulls his shirt over his head, and hooks her fingers in the waist band of his pants. She can feel his erection against her palm.
“I want you,” she whispers, and he wonders when her voice cracks if it’s because of lust. Or because she’s scared.
She unzips him, her hand wrapping around his cock. He hisses and his hips jerk forward and he palms at her nipples through the material of her bra. She arches her back and moans, and he pushes her panties to the side and slides two fingers into her cunt and she bites back a scream.
When his cock pushes inside of her, there are flames licking at the windows. When she comes, the sound of glass shattering fills the air. When he comes, not long after, they decide silently that they need to leave.
House watches as the time ticks forward on his wrist watch, and they shift so that Cameron lies heavy on his chest. He starts to complain about how much she weighs and how she’s crushing him, but her hand curls in his hair and massages the back of his neck and instead he stays quiet and watches his watch again.
They lie there for two more hours.
END