[house/cameron] determine a winner
This is in answer to a prompt that vartanluvva left me MONTHS ago. I finally got around to finishing it.
The big deal about this fic? It's like, not heart breaking. Which is a BIG step for me, guys. *laughs* It's not all about the angstpainsuffering that I normally love. So, yeah. I'm a bit nervous. This is my first attempt at something that is sort of a semi-happy ending. I hope you enjoy. ♥
Thanks to the gorgeous gabesaunt for the beta job. Love you, sweetness!
For: vartanluvva
Title: determine a winner
Prompt: alcohol, smut, and a dare [house/cameron]
Fandom: house md
Rating: r for sexage
Word Count: 3, 787
determine a winner
Cameron blames Chase.
It had been a hard few weeks. Their latest case had been especially draining; both physically and mentally. There had been sleepless nights spent working in the lab, with no results. While the team struggled, a little boy was dying. And for a while, there was nothing they could do.
Tension ran high (even higher than usual). Foreman and House clashed over different diagnosis, tempers flaring and voices raised. Chase and Foreman battled over what to tell the parents. And Cameron, Cameron couldn’t help but feel a pain sharp in her chest every time she looked at the little body fighting for life in that hospital bed.
Eventually, House and Foreman decided to work with each other, rather than against, and they managed to discover a growth hiding in the little boy’s -- Simon’s -- brain. He was rushed into surgery, and the tumour was removed.
That was four days ago. Today, Simon had been discharged. Healthy. Smiling. Alive.
For the first time in almost two weeks, Cameron felt like she could breathe again. She knew that the others felt the same way; she could see it in the way Foreman smiled at her, in the way Chase relaxed into his chair when he sat down. The tension in the air was easing, but they were still on alert, their bodies still coiled and tightly wound.
So when Chase suggested that they spend a night drinking and dancing and letting their hair down at the local bar, no one thought it was a bad idea.
***
Cameron steps into the bar, freshly showered and feeling cleaner than she had in a long time. Her hair is pulled back into a loose pony tail against her neck, and she sweeps her fringe away from her eyes and tucks it behind her ears as she walks towards the bar and stools. She notices Chase and Foreman immediately; Chase is wearing a shirt that’s so loud and bright its impossible not to notice him. They’re both laughing together; laughing so hard that Foreman lifts a hand and wipes away a tear from his eye. Cameron smiles and steps towards them, and then hesitates when she realises who is sitting beside them.
House. House and Wilson.
She’s taken aback by their presence, or more specifically, House’s presence, as he normally isn’t one for team outings. But she watches them talking together, watches as Wilson’s face breaks into a wide grin as he speaks, and how House manages to let a smile slip past his lips for just a second, and Cameron notices that there’s something about him that’s different tonight. There’s something in the way his eyes are crinkling in the corners ever-so-slightly; something in the way he taps his foot against the floor in time to the jukebox music playing in the background. Something in his face.
He seems younger tonight, somehow. Younger than he’s looked for the past few weeks, at least. Cameron realises that House needs this night out just as much as they do -- he almost had a patient die too, after all. He was up with them all those sleepless nights as well. He spent hours and hours sitting in the dark in his office, trying to think about what connected all the symptoms, about what was making this boy die. He had been there, right along with them.
She smiles gently to herself, and continues to walk across the room to greet them. Wilson spots her first, and gets up from his stool. “Cameron. Good to see you.”
She nods back and places her hand on Foreman’s shoulder as he smiles up at her. “Hope I didn’t keep you guys waiting too long.”
Chase grins at her, goofy and almost childish. “Couldn’t decide what to wear?”
“I didn’t want to get out of the shower,” she answers, the corners of her lips turning upwards. “It was far too warm and lovely in there. I had to convince myself to get out and leave.”
Foreman laughs a little, and she smiles, but her eyes meet House’s gaze and he’s not smiling. He’s looking at her, his eyes narrowed a little and the intensity in his gaze makes her look away.
Wilson suggests ordering dinner, and the others get up from their stools and follow. She walks alongside Foreman, and House is walking behind them. She thinks she can feel his eyes on her; burning and hot at her back. She ignores it, pushes down the feeling it raises in the pit of her stomach, and turns to talk to Foreman.
She can still feel him watching her.
***
After dinner, Wilson and Chase get up on the dance floor when “Play that funky music” starts to blast through the jukebox speakers. They are twirling around, waving their arms in the air, smiling, laughing and singing along to the words and Cameron, Foreman and House all can’t keep their amusement contained. They watch them dance, they cheer them on, and they can’t help but fall apart with laughter when Chase nearly stumbles over his own foot and missteps, almost knocking Wilson over in the process.
Cameron spares a glance at House, sitting a few chairs away from her, and she watches as he raises his glass of scotch to his lips and swallows. She watches as he tries to stifle back a chuckle as he watches the two men on the dance floor, but it escapes past his lips anyway. Then his eyes meet hers, and she feels herself go red.
“Don’t think you’ll be getting me up there,” he motions to the dance floor. “I don’t do public humiliation.”
She lets out a half hearted giggle, and smiles a little. The thought of House dancing floods her brain, and then the thought of them dancing together takes over, and she has to shake her head a little to clear it out.
She stands. “How about you stay put then, and I’ll buy you another drink.”
He looks up at her and nods.
She bends towards Foreman, who’s still watching Chase and Wilson dance away. “Drink?”
He tears his gaze away from his colleagues, and shakes his head. He stands up from his chair. “None for me thanks. Actually, I think I might get going home.”
Cameron pouts her lips. “Really? Already?”
“Yeah. It’s been a good night, though.”
“Stay for another drink. I’ll buy!”
Foreman laughs, and rubs her forearm warmly. “Cam, I need to go home. I’m tired. You stay and party though. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He waves goodbye to Wilson and Chase, and nods to House. “See you bright and early tomorrow morning, House?”
“If you’re lucky.”
Foreman smiles easily and nods once again at Cameron. “Bye.”
She waves at his retreating form, and when she looks back, House is staring at her again. She quirks an eyebrow at him. “What?”
He pushes his empty glass across the table towards her. “Weren’t you buying me another drink?”
***
They sit on stools at the bar; shoulders slumped forward just a little, arms resting on the counter top, lazy smiles pasted onto their faces. Chase picks at the bowl of peanuts that is sitting in front of him, popping one in his mouth every now and then. Wilson is finishing telling a joke about an oncologist and his nurse, and House makes a remark about speaking from experience, and Wilson just laughs at him. Cameron giggles and her ears feel warm. House smiles, and she notices that it makes her feel even warmer.
They’re having a good night. She recognises this fact with a little awe, and she can’t help the smile that graces her lips.
Wilson stands from the bar stool, and stretches his arms over his head. “I don’t know about you all, but I think I’m done for the night.”
Chase stands too, blinking heavily and gathering his coat from the counter top. “Me too. I feel as though I’m about to pass out.”
“Soft cocks.”
Wilson just glares at House. He shrugs in return. “Maybe we just know when it’s time to go home.”
House smirks and turns to Cameron. “Is it home time yet, Dr Cameron?”
“I think there’s time for a few more drinks, Dr House.” She grins, her eyes slightly narrowed, as she picks up her glass and swallows down the last few drops.
Wilson sighs as he looks down at them, and he looks as though he’s about to say something, but instead he just shakes his head and slips his coat over his shoulders. He turns to Chase. “Need a lift?”
“Nah,” Chase waves his hand as a reply. “I’ll catch a cab. Thanks anyway.”
House watches them as they head towards the door. “Adios, boys.”
He notices that Wilson sends him a frown as he exits the bar. He ignores it.
***
Cameron isn’t sure how long she’s been sitting here with House, drinking and talking and playing silly games and almost laughing. Maybe an hour? Maybe two? She glances up at the clock hanging above the jukebox, and squints to read the numbers. Maybe even more than that.
House is flicking a peanut in front of him back and forth across the counter. It spins through a small puddle of scotch that remains from earlier when he accidentally knocked his glass over. He picks it up in his fingers, and turns it around, studying it.
“That’s disgusting.”
He takes in the look of repulsion on her face; the way her nose wrinkles up and her mouth twitches, and he smirks. There’s a calculating pause before he speaks. “I dare you to eat it.”
She raises an eyebrow. “I’m sorry?”
“I dare you.” He states simply. “Eat it.”
“But it’s soggy.” She lowers her head towards it, still rolling about in between his finger tips, and grimaces. “And it has your germs on it.”
He holds back a chuckle, amused by the utter disgust in her features. “Come on, Cameron. It’s just a peanut.”
“No.”
House clucks his tongue and shakes his head. “Never thought you’d be one to back away from an honest dare.
She pulls her head back, her eyes locked onto his. A smile plays at the corners of her lips, and she crosses her arms over her chest as she looks at him. “An honest dare, I wouldn’t have a problem with. But nothing coming from you is ever honest.”
He fakes a wounded look, his hand flying to his chest. “Ouch. I think you just broke my heart.”
She laughs. He smirks.
“Go on,” he nods at her, offering the peanut towards her once more. “Just eat it. Don’t make me double dare you.”
Cameron squints her eyes as she looks at it, her mouth pressed into a tight line. She looks up at House, then back to the peanut. And without a word, she plucks it out of his hand and pops it into her mouth.
House grins and taps his fingers against the bar top, satisfied that he witnessed it and also a little impressed that she actually went through with it. “There. Was that so hard?”
She’s still chewing and she makes an act of swallowing it, her head thrown back with the gesture. She sticks her tongue out and her eyes narrow. “Blech. That was... I can’t believe I just ate that.”
He stifles a laugh at the look on her face and raises his glass to his lips, swallowing the contents. He’s about to order another drink, when she interrupts him.
“It’s your turn.”
“Excuse me?”
She nods. “It’s your turn to be dared. Now I get to dare you.”
He rolls his eyes. He thinks that maybe this is becoming something; that maybe they’re venturing into territory that they normally steer clear from. He thinks that maybe he should shake his head at her, tell her to grow up and then just walk out of the bar.
Instead, he tells her, “Go on. I dare you to dare me.”
She tilts her head slowly, and he can tell by the look on her face that she’s giving it some serious thought. She drums her fingernails against the side of her glass, her eyes searching the bar. Slowly, a grin spreads across her face and she turns to look at him.
“I’ve got it.”
House nods. “Dare away.”
Cameron’s eyebrows rise in amusement and she jerks her head towards the bartender. “I dare you to tell him that he’s pretty.”
There’s a pause. She’s smiling greatly, her shoulders shaking slightly with suppressed giggles. But House simply sighs and shakes his head.
“Oh, Cameron. I’m disappointed in you.”
“What?”
“That’s not a dare.”
She frowns. “It is too.”
House’s lips twitch at the corners. He’s trying not to smile. “Fine. It’s a dare. But it’s stupid and silly and not nearly crazy enough for me.” He takes a gulp of his drink, emptying the glass. “Think of something crazy.”
Cameron is silent. Her brows furrow heavily, and her gaze is concentrated on the glass in front of her. He watches her, waiting for her to speak. Minutes pass, and she doesn’t even lift her head.
He sighs inwardly, not letting the breath escape past his lips. House realises that maybe it’s just too late in the night for this now. Maybe they’re returning to who they are and what they do and where their boundaries are. But then it’s always like this for them; lost moments that tease and taunt but in the end, they’re right back where they started.
He begins to move off his stool when he hears her breathe. He turns to her, and she’s staring at him as though she’s never seen him before. There’s something glistening in her eyes as she watches him, something burning and terrified and new.
When she speaks, her voice is no more than a whisper.
“I dare you to take me back to your place.”
He waits for a smirk, or a laugh, but there’s nothing. Just her eyes burning into him. She’s biting down on her bottom lip; hard enough that it makes the colour flush a dark red. And he knows that she’s serious.
So is he.
***
He opens the door with a turn of the key, and almost too quickly they’re standing inside his apartment. And this is becoming too real.
Cameron rubs at the back of her neck as he hangs his coat up and moves into the room. She’s starting to sober up now, she knows, and suddenly her nerves have left her. Her stomach is flipping around inside of her and her breaths are starting to grow quicker and her knees feel as though they are made of jelly.
She doesn’t think she can do this.
She looks around for House, but he’s gone. Moved into the kitchen, maybe. He’s left her standing there like a fool.
“House,” she calls out into the empty room. “You win. You completed the dare. I’m here, so you won, and now I can go.”
She starts to move backwards towards the door when she feels a hand wrap around her wrist and pull her back. She whips around, spun face to face with him and her heart constricts in her chest.
“You can’t leave yet, Cameron.”
Her mouth is too dry. She has to lick at her lips to speak. “The dare is finished, House. You brought me back here. You win. And now I can go home.”
He wags his finger at her, as though she’s a disobedient school child. “No, you can’t. The game isn’t finished yet. It’s my turn to dare you again.”
Her eyes fill with confusion and anxiety and disbelief. This is more than what she’s used to, more than what she can handle. This night has turned into something completely unexpected and she can’t keep a grip on the reality of it all.
His fingers are still wrapped around her wrist, more gentle and relaxed now, and she swears she can feel his thumb tracing a pattern up and down her skin.
She tries not to think about it.
“I dare you to take off your shirt.”
Suddenly, she’s too aware of the darkness and shadows that fall around his apartment. There is a single lamp turned on in the corner of the living room and the light from it is dim and not enough. She can’t see his eyes clearly, only a dark glimpse of their blue. She’s shaking, she can feel herself shaking, and she knows that she should just slap him.
She lifts her hand, open and ready and she can almost feel the sting of his skin against her palm. But her fingers move to the neck of her shirt, to the first button. She swallows hard because she can feel his gaze on her as her fingers move deftly and undo the first, then second, then third buttons on her shirt.
She wonders what she’ll say to him next, when she’s standing there half naked in front of him. She wonders if her voice will even function. But then his hand is at her chest, his fingertips tracing the length of her exposed collarbone. His calloused tips scrape along her skin, gentle and rough at the same time and her skin starts to burn where he touches her.
“House,” she breathes, in a single puff of air that breezes over her lips.
He looks up at her and she can feel his breath, hot and heavy, against her neck.
His voice is gruff and harsh and quiet, and it makes her head spin. “How drunk are you, Cameron?”
She reaches out to him and places her palms flat against his chest. She can feel him breathing underneath her; every rise and fall. She wants to feel more.
“I’m sober enough to know that this is a really, really bad idea.”
***
It happens very quickly -- Cameron throws her arms around his neck and clutches and claws at the fabric of his shirt until it pulls over his head. He kisses her, hard and bruising and unrelenting. She feels as though her lungs will surely burst from the pressure that builds up inside of her. His fingers circle her breasts as her hands work to unbuckle and unzip.
She can taste scotch and smoke on his tongue, and when he bites down on her lip she tastes blood. But they don’t stop. They can’t
.
His hand smooths over her back as she licks the line of his neck, her teeth scraping the skin every now and then and nipping along the way. He holds her as she arches against him, and he groans into her mouth when her fingers brush against his erection.
They move quickly, still pressed together, and House falls back onto the sofa. She straddles him without thought, and her small hands spread across his chest, mapping every inch of skin. Her fingernails rake across his nipples and he hisses and reaches for the back of her head, pulling her to him and kissing her fiercely.
She feels him, hot and hard against the inside of her thigh. And the ache between her legs is overpowering and makes her shake with need. His hands are on her hips and his grip is so insistent that she knows there will be marks in the morning.
She hopes they’re dark and purple and sore.
Cameron sighs and whispers a curse low in her throat when he trails his mouth from her neck to her belly. He laps at her nipples and she tangles her fingers in his hair, greedy and wanting.
She reaches down and finds his cock, grasping it in her hand. She runs her thumb over the tip and he jerks his hips, eyes closing briefly. “Jesus,” he hisses, and then she’s guiding him into her.
His cock slides into her cunt easily and once she has him fully enveloped inside of her, she breathes a soft “fuck”. They press against each other tightly, so close that they are hardly moving at all, just rocking back and forth. Every point where their skin meets feels as though it’s burning, but they can’t pull away.
He thrusts in and out of her, pushing and pulling and her hips meet his every move.
Their skin is slick with sweat and when House reaches his hand out and presses his thumb against her clit, she lets out a deep moan and rocks against him quicker and harder.
When he comes, he feels the pressure between his legs and his heart in his throat as he spills inside of her. Her fingers curl around his biceps and she closes her eyes and cries out his name when she comes, not long after.
***
She’s heavy on top of him, and his thigh is beginning to ache and throb. But he doesn’t move. Because as she lies there upon him, he feels the moistness of her breath on his chest. And he can feel the thud of her heartbeat over the pounding of his own. And he’s not a romantic -- far from it -- but he doesn’t move.
He’s sure she’s asleep until he feels her hand rubbing at the back of his neck, soothing and calm.
“House?”
He pretends to be half asleep. “Hmmm?” Then more awake. “What?”
She sits up a little and looks at him. Her hair is dishevelled, strands falling all over her face and standing up at the wrong angles. But her lips are curling and she looks amused.
“I have another dare for you.”
He starts to laugh, but then covers it with a cough.
She pouts. “It is my turn, after all.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Fine. Dare me.”
“I dare you to let me stay here tonight.”
He studies her as she speaks. Her chin is tipped up slightly, and her eyes blaze with confidence and defiance and an attitude of ‘just-you-try-and-say-no’. She’s challenging him, he knows. But behind it all (she thinks he can’t tell) there’s a tinge of fear and dread and he knows that she’s worrying about what happens now.
He has no idea what will happen.
But he’s too tired and too spent to think about it. So he places his hand on her shoulder, his fingers curling against her skin like they’d done this a million times before. And for her benefit, he sighs and rolls his eyes dramatically.
“Well, I can’t refuse a dare, can I?”
THE END.
The big deal about this fic? It's like, not heart breaking. Which is a BIG step for me, guys. *laughs* It's not all about the angstpainsuffering that I normally love. So, yeah. I'm a bit nervous. This is my first attempt at something that is sort of a semi-happy ending. I hope you enjoy. ♥
Thanks to the gorgeous gabesaunt for the beta job. Love you, sweetness!
For: vartanluvva
Title: determine a winner
Prompt: alcohol, smut, and a dare [house/cameron]
Fandom: house md
Rating: r for sexage
Word Count: 3, 787
determine a winner
Cameron blames Chase.
It had been a hard few weeks. Their latest case had been especially draining; both physically and mentally. There had been sleepless nights spent working in the lab, with no results. While the team struggled, a little boy was dying. And for a while, there was nothing they could do.
Tension ran high (even higher than usual). Foreman and House clashed over different diagnosis, tempers flaring and voices raised. Chase and Foreman battled over what to tell the parents. And Cameron, Cameron couldn’t help but feel a pain sharp in her chest every time she looked at the little body fighting for life in that hospital bed.
Eventually, House and Foreman decided to work with each other, rather than against, and they managed to discover a growth hiding in the little boy’s -- Simon’s -- brain. He was rushed into surgery, and the tumour was removed.
That was four days ago. Today, Simon had been discharged. Healthy. Smiling. Alive.
For the first time in almost two weeks, Cameron felt like she could breathe again. She knew that the others felt the same way; she could see it in the way Foreman smiled at her, in the way Chase relaxed into his chair when he sat down. The tension in the air was easing, but they were still on alert, their bodies still coiled and tightly wound.
So when Chase suggested that they spend a night drinking and dancing and letting their hair down at the local bar, no one thought it was a bad idea.
***
Cameron steps into the bar, freshly showered and feeling cleaner than she had in a long time. Her hair is pulled back into a loose pony tail against her neck, and she sweeps her fringe away from her eyes and tucks it behind her ears as she walks towards the bar and stools. She notices Chase and Foreman immediately; Chase is wearing a shirt that’s so loud and bright its impossible not to notice him. They’re both laughing together; laughing so hard that Foreman lifts a hand and wipes away a tear from his eye. Cameron smiles and steps towards them, and then hesitates when she realises who is sitting beside them.
House. House and Wilson.
She’s taken aback by their presence, or more specifically, House’s presence, as he normally isn’t one for team outings. But she watches them talking together, watches as Wilson’s face breaks into a wide grin as he speaks, and how House manages to let a smile slip past his lips for just a second, and Cameron notices that there’s something about him that’s different tonight. There’s something in the way his eyes are crinkling in the corners ever-so-slightly; something in the way he taps his foot against the floor in time to the jukebox music playing in the background. Something in his face.
He seems younger tonight, somehow. Younger than he’s looked for the past few weeks, at least. Cameron realises that House needs this night out just as much as they do -- he almost had a patient die too, after all. He was up with them all those sleepless nights as well. He spent hours and hours sitting in the dark in his office, trying to think about what connected all the symptoms, about what was making this boy die. He had been there, right along with them.
She smiles gently to herself, and continues to walk across the room to greet them. Wilson spots her first, and gets up from his stool. “Cameron. Good to see you.”
She nods back and places her hand on Foreman’s shoulder as he smiles up at her. “Hope I didn’t keep you guys waiting too long.”
Chase grins at her, goofy and almost childish. “Couldn’t decide what to wear?”
“I didn’t want to get out of the shower,” she answers, the corners of her lips turning upwards. “It was far too warm and lovely in there. I had to convince myself to get out and leave.”
Foreman laughs a little, and she smiles, but her eyes meet House’s gaze and he’s not smiling. He’s looking at her, his eyes narrowed a little and the intensity in his gaze makes her look away.
Wilson suggests ordering dinner, and the others get up from their stools and follow. She walks alongside Foreman, and House is walking behind them. She thinks she can feel his eyes on her; burning and hot at her back. She ignores it, pushes down the feeling it raises in the pit of her stomach, and turns to talk to Foreman.
She can still feel him watching her.
***
After dinner, Wilson and Chase get up on the dance floor when “Play that funky music” starts to blast through the jukebox speakers. They are twirling around, waving their arms in the air, smiling, laughing and singing along to the words and Cameron, Foreman and House all can’t keep their amusement contained. They watch them dance, they cheer them on, and they can’t help but fall apart with laughter when Chase nearly stumbles over his own foot and missteps, almost knocking Wilson over in the process.
Cameron spares a glance at House, sitting a few chairs away from her, and she watches as he raises his glass of scotch to his lips and swallows. She watches as he tries to stifle back a chuckle as he watches the two men on the dance floor, but it escapes past his lips anyway. Then his eyes meet hers, and she feels herself go red.
“Don’t think you’ll be getting me up there,” he motions to the dance floor. “I don’t do public humiliation.”
She lets out a half hearted giggle, and smiles a little. The thought of House dancing floods her brain, and then the thought of them dancing together takes over, and she has to shake her head a little to clear it out.
She stands. “How about you stay put then, and I’ll buy you another drink.”
He looks up at her and nods.
She bends towards Foreman, who’s still watching Chase and Wilson dance away. “Drink?”
He tears his gaze away from his colleagues, and shakes his head. He stands up from his chair. “None for me thanks. Actually, I think I might get going home.”
Cameron pouts her lips. “Really? Already?”
“Yeah. It’s been a good night, though.”
“Stay for another drink. I’ll buy!”
Foreman laughs, and rubs her forearm warmly. “Cam, I need to go home. I’m tired. You stay and party though. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He waves goodbye to Wilson and Chase, and nods to House. “See you bright and early tomorrow morning, House?”
“If you’re lucky.”
Foreman smiles easily and nods once again at Cameron. “Bye.”
She waves at his retreating form, and when she looks back, House is staring at her again. She quirks an eyebrow at him. “What?”
He pushes his empty glass across the table towards her. “Weren’t you buying me another drink?”
***
They sit on stools at the bar; shoulders slumped forward just a little, arms resting on the counter top, lazy smiles pasted onto their faces. Chase picks at the bowl of peanuts that is sitting in front of him, popping one in his mouth every now and then. Wilson is finishing telling a joke about an oncologist and his nurse, and House makes a remark about speaking from experience, and Wilson just laughs at him. Cameron giggles and her ears feel warm. House smiles, and she notices that it makes her feel even warmer.
They’re having a good night. She recognises this fact with a little awe, and she can’t help the smile that graces her lips.
Wilson stands from the bar stool, and stretches his arms over his head. “I don’t know about you all, but I think I’m done for the night.”
Chase stands too, blinking heavily and gathering his coat from the counter top. “Me too. I feel as though I’m about to pass out.”
“Soft cocks.”
Wilson just glares at House. He shrugs in return. “Maybe we just know when it’s time to go home.”
House smirks and turns to Cameron. “Is it home time yet, Dr Cameron?”
“I think there’s time for a few more drinks, Dr House.” She grins, her eyes slightly narrowed, as she picks up her glass and swallows down the last few drops.
Wilson sighs as he looks down at them, and he looks as though he’s about to say something, but instead he just shakes his head and slips his coat over his shoulders. He turns to Chase. “Need a lift?”
“Nah,” Chase waves his hand as a reply. “I’ll catch a cab. Thanks anyway.”
House watches them as they head towards the door. “Adios, boys.”
He notices that Wilson sends him a frown as he exits the bar. He ignores it.
***
Cameron isn’t sure how long she’s been sitting here with House, drinking and talking and playing silly games and almost laughing. Maybe an hour? Maybe two? She glances up at the clock hanging above the jukebox, and squints to read the numbers. Maybe even more than that.
House is flicking a peanut in front of him back and forth across the counter. It spins through a small puddle of scotch that remains from earlier when he accidentally knocked his glass over. He picks it up in his fingers, and turns it around, studying it.
“That’s disgusting.”
He takes in the look of repulsion on her face; the way her nose wrinkles up and her mouth twitches, and he smirks. There’s a calculating pause before he speaks. “I dare you to eat it.”
She raises an eyebrow. “I’m sorry?”
“I dare you.” He states simply. “Eat it.”
“But it’s soggy.” She lowers her head towards it, still rolling about in between his finger tips, and grimaces. “And it has your germs on it.”
He holds back a chuckle, amused by the utter disgust in her features. “Come on, Cameron. It’s just a peanut.”
“No.”
House clucks his tongue and shakes his head. “Never thought you’d be one to back away from an honest dare.
She pulls her head back, her eyes locked onto his. A smile plays at the corners of her lips, and she crosses her arms over her chest as she looks at him. “An honest dare, I wouldn’t have a problem with. But nothing coming from you is ever honest.”
He fakes a wounded look, his hand flying to his chest. “Ouch. I think you just broke my heart.”
She laughs. He smirks.
“Go on,” he nods at her, offering the peanut towards her once more. “Just eat it. Don’t make me double dare you.”
Cameron squints her eyes as she looks at it, her mouth pressed into a tight line. She looks up at House, then back to the peanut. And without a word, she plucks it out of his hand and pops it into her mouth.
House grins and taps his fingers against the bar top, satisfied that he witnessed it and also a little impressed that she actually went through with it. “There. Was that so hard?”
She’s still chewing and she makes an act of swallowing it, her head thrown back with the gesture. She sticks her tongue out and her eyes narrow. “Blech. That was... I can’t believe I just ate that.”
He stifles a laugh at the look on her face and raises his glass to his lips, swallowing the contents. He’s about to order another drink, when she interrupts him.
“It’s your turn.”
“Excuse me?”
She nods. “It’s your turn to be dared. Now I get to dare you.”
He rolls his eyes. He thinks that maybe this is becoming something; that maybe they’re venturing into territory that they normally steer clear from. He thinks that maybe he should shake his head at her, tell her to grow up and then just walk out of the bar.
Instead, he tells her, “Go on. I dare you to dare me.”
She tilts her head slowly, and he can tell by the look on her face that she’s giving it some serious thought. She drums her fingernails against the side of her glass, her eyes searching the bar. Slowly, a grin spreads across her face and she turns to look at him.
“I’ve got it.”
House nods. “Dare away.”
Cameron’s eyebrows rise in amusement and she jerks her head towards the bartender. “I dare you to tell him that he’s pretty.”
There’s a pause. She’s smiling greatly, her shoulders shaking slightly with suppressed giggles. But House simply sighs and shakes his head.
“Oh, Cameron. I’m disappointed in you.”
“What?”
“That’s not a dare.”
She frowns. “It is too.”
House’s lips twitch at the corners. He’s trying not to smile. “Fine. It’s a dare. But it’s stupid and silly and not nearly crazy enough for me.” He takes a gulp of his drink, emptying the glass. “Think of something crazy.”
Cameron is silent. Her brows furrow heavily, and her gaze is concentrated on the glass in front of her. He watches her, waiting for her to speak. Minutes pass, and she doesn’t even lift her head.
He sighs inwardly, not letting the breath escape past his lips. House realises that maybe it’s just too late in the night for this now. Maybe they’re returning to who they are and what they do and where their boundaries are. But then it’s always like this for them; lost moments that tease and taunt but in the end, they’re right back where they started.
He begins to move off his stool when he hears her breathe. He turns to her, and she’s staring at him as though she’s never seen him before. There’s something glistening in her eyes as she watches him, something burning and terrified and new.
When she speaks, her voice is no more than a whisper.
“I dare you to take me back to your place.”
He waits for a smirk, or a laugh, but there’s nothing. Just her eyes burning into him. She’s biting down on her bottom lip; hard enough that it makes the colour flush a dark red. And he knows that she’s serious.
So is he.
***
He opens the door with a turn of the key, and almost too quickly they’re standing inside his apartment. And this is becoming too real.
Cameron rubs at the back of her neck as he hangs his coat up and moves into the room. She’s starting to sober up now, she knows, and suddenly her nerves have left her. Her stomach is flipping around inside of her and her breaths are starting to grow quicker and her knees feel as though they are made of jelly.
She doesn’t think she can do this.
She looks around for House, but he’s gone. Moved into the kitchen, maybe. He’s left her standing there like a fool.
“House,” she calls out into the empty room. “You win. You completed the dare. I’m here, so you won, and now I can go.”
She starts to move backwards towards the door when she feels a hand wrap around her wrist and pull her back. She whips around, spun face to face with him and her heart constricts in her chest.
“You can’t leave yet, Cameron.”
Her mouth is too dry. She has to lick at her lips to speak. “The dare is finished, House. You brought me back here. You win. And now I can go home.”
He wags his finger at her, as though she’s a disobedient school child. “No, you can’t. The game isn’t finished yet. It’s my turn to dare you again.”
Her eyes fill with confusion and anxiety and disbelief. This is more than what she’s used to, more than what she can handle. This night has turned into something completely unexpected and she can’t keep a grip on the reality of it all.
His fingers are still wrapped around her wrist, more gentle and relaxed now, and she swears she can feel his thumb tracing a pattern up and down her skin.
She tries not to think about it.
“I dare you to take off your shirt.”
Suddenly, she’s too aware of the darkness and shadows that fall around his apartment. There is a single lamp turned on in the corner of the living room and the light from it is dim and not enough. She can’t see his eyes clearly, only a dark glimpse of their blue. She’s shaking, she can feel herself shaking, and she knows that she should just slap him.
She lifts her hand, open and ready and she can almost feel the sting of his skin against her palm. But her fingers move to the neck of her shirt, to the first button. She swallows hard because she can feel his gaze on her as her fingers move deftly and undo the first, then second, then third buttons on her shirt.
She wonders what she’ll say to him next, when she’s standing there half naked in front of him. She wonders if her voice will even function. But then his hand is at her chest, his fingertips tracing the length of her exposed collarbone. His calloused tips scrape along her skin, gentle and rough at the same time and her skin starts to burn where he touches her.
“House,” she breathes, in a single puff of air that breezes over her lips.
He looks up at her and she can feel his breath, hot and heavy, against her neck.
His voice is gruff and harsh and quiet, and it makes her head spin. “How drunk are you, Cameron?”
She reaches out to him and places her palms flat against his chest. She can feel him breathing underneath her; every rise and fall. She wants to feel more.
“I’m sober enough to know that this is a really, really bad idea.”
***
It happens very quickly -- Cameron throws her arms around his neck and clutches and claws at the fabric of his shirt until it pulls over his head. He kisses her, hard and bruising and unrelenting. She feels as though her lungs will surely burst from the pressure that builds up inside of her. His fingers circle her breasts as her hands work to unbuckle and unzip.
She can taste scotch and smoke on his tongue, and when he bites down on her lip she tastes blood. But they don’t stop. They can’t
.
His hand smooths over her back as she licks the line of his neck, her teeth scraping the skin every now and then and nipping along the way. He holds her as she arches against him, and he groans into her mouth when her fingers brush against his erection.
They move quickly, still pressed together, and House falls back onto the sofa. She straddles him without thought, and her small hands spread across his chest, mapping every inch of skin. Her fingernails rake across his nipples and he hisses and reaches for the back of her head, pulling her to him and kissing her fiercely.
She feels him, hot and hard against the inside of her thigh. And the ache between her legs is overpowering and makes her shake with need. His hands are on her hips and his grip is so insistent that she knows there will be marks in the morning.
She hopes they’re dark and purple and sore.
Cameron sighs and whispers a curse low in her throat when he trails his mouth from her neck to her belly. He laps at her nipples and she tangles her fingers in his hair, greedy and wanting.
She reaches down and finds his cock, grasping it in her hand. She runs her thumb over the tip and he jerks his hips, eyes closing briefly. “Jesus,” he hisses, and then she’s guiding him into her.
His cock slides into her cunt easily and once she has him fully enveloped inside of her, she breathes a soft “fuck”. They press against each other tightly, so close that they are hardly moving at all, just rocking back and forth. Every point where their skin meets feels as though it’s burning, but they can’t pull away.
He thrusts in and out of her, pushing and pulling and her hips meet his every move.
Their skin is slick with sweat and when House reaches his hand out and presses his thumb against her clit, she lets out a deep moan and rocks against him quicker and harder.
When he comes, he feels the pressure between his legs and his heart in his throat as he spills inside of her. Her fingers curl around his biceps and she closes her eyes and cries out his name when she comes, not long after.
***
She’s heavy on top of him, and his thigh is beginning to ache and throb. But he doesn’t move. Because as she lies there upon him, he feels the moistness of her breath on his chest. And he can feel the thud of her heartbeat over the pounding of his own. And he’s not a romantic -- far from it -- but he doesn’t move.
He’s sure she’s asleep until he feels her hand rubbing at the back of his neck, soothing and calm.
“House?”
He pretends to be half asleep. “Hmmm?” Then more awake. “What?”
She sits up a little and looks at him. Her hair is dishevelled, strands falling all over her face and standing up at the wrong angles. But her lips are curling and she looks amused.
“I have another dare for you.”
He starts to laugh, but then covers it with a cough.
She pouts. “It is my turn, after all.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Fine. Dare me.”
“I dare you to let me stay here tonight.”
He studies her as she speaks. Her chin is tipped up slightly, and her eyes blaze with confidence and defiance and an attitude of ‘just-you-try-and-say-no’. She’s challenging him, he knows. But behind it all (she thinks he can’t tell) there’s a tinge of fear and dread and he knows that she’s worrying about what happens now.
He has no idea what will happen.
But he’s too tired and too spent to think about it. So he places his hand on her shoulder, his fingers curling against her skin like they’d done this a million times before. And for her benefit, he sighs and rolls his eyes dramatically.
“Well, I can’t refuse a dare, can I?”
THE END.