After the Fourth Wedding, 3/4
Posted to housefic
Title: After the Fourth Wedding, part 3 of 4
Author: Dee Laundry
Pairing: House/Cameron
Rating: PG
Summary: Five linked drabbles (500 words exactly)
Part One - Part Two
Wilson finds them the house.
It’s bigger than House’s apartment but not too big, and reasonably near the hospital. Through the kitchen’s large window, Cameron can see the entire backyard with its lush low-maintenance landscaping and sturdy playset. The only room not on the main level is a small finished studio over the garage. “For when you want to escape,” Wilson laughs.
“I thought this,” he says, opening the door to a sweet yellow room filled with indirect sunshine, “could be the nursery.”
Safe sidewalks, friendly-looking neighbors, good school system. Cameron wants to scratch the smile out of Wilson’s eyes.
At every prenatal visit, House is there. (She wonders when the baby comes if he’ll turn into Greg, or skip straight to Dad.) Sometimes this lifts her heart, and she floats for the next day or two, her head filled with the helium of a happy ending.
Sometimes this strains her lungs, the overwhelming weight of his attention cutting off oxygen. His fights with the OB - because of course House knows all, in every area of medicine - amplify the feeling but are not the cause.
He rubs her abdomen and whispers words she can’t hear to the baby every night.
One night they have dinner at Wilson's house. The Mrs.’s name is Allison, too, which Mrs. finds cute and Cameron finds revolting.
House kicks Cameron under the table and makes faces at the food when the others aren’t looking. It’s a moment just for them, and it makes her smile all evening, even through a third cup of decaf in the kitchen with Mrs.
Time to leave, but House and Wilson have fallen asleep, stretched out right next to each other on the pull-out couch. “Our boys,” Mrs. coos, and Cameron is suddenly tucked in alone in a guest room.
Their wedding day is House’s birthday. At least he'll remember it, she thinks. Acknowledgment: maybe, maybe not. Sometimes he still bothers to woo.
He’s surprisingly supportive during the planning - listening, involved, but letting her have the final say. He only asks that they get married in the morning.
It’s a lovely ceremony, a lovely day. Her mother cries, and his mother hugs her sweetly. House looks handsome, and happy.
She never admits that she selected the opening date of the largest oncology conference of the year; he never mentions the time was set so Wilson could make his flight.
To Cameron’s astonishment and delight, during their four-day honeymoon, there are only two people present. (“And a half,” supplies some part of her brain, but really she believes life begins at birth.)
House attempts to teach her about wine without letting her drink any, which is uproariously funny all-around. Cameron attempts to teach him about antiques, annoyed that he only half-listens, until he perfectly identifies her favorite type of cut glass.
They make love at least once a day - he doesn’t call it that, never will, but his fingers, lips, and clean-shaven cheeks whisper it to her over and over.
Part Four
Title: After the Fourth Wedding, part 3 of 4
Author: Dee Laundry
Pairing: House/Cameron
Rating: PG
Summary: Five linked drabbles (500 words exactly)
Part One - Part Two
Wilson finds them the house.
It’s bigger than House’s apartment but not too big, and reasonably near the hospital. Through the kitchen’s large window, Cameron can see the entire backyard with its lush low-maintenance landscaping and sturdy playset. The only room not on the main level is a small finished studio over the garage. “For when you want to escape,” Wilson laughs.
“I thought this,” he says, opening the door to a sweet yellow room filled with indirect sunshine, “could be the nursery.”
Safe sidewalks, friendly-looking neighbors, good school system. Cameron wants to scratch the smile out of Wilson’s eyes.
At every prenatal visit, House is there. (She wonders when the baby comes if he’ll turn into Greg, or skip straight to Dad.) Sometimes this lifts her heart, and she floats for the next day or two, her head filled with the helium of a happy ending.
Sometimes this strains her lungs, the overwhelming weight of his attention cutting off oxygen. His fights with the OB - because of course House knows all, in every area of medicine - amplify the feeling but are not the cause.
He rubs her abdomen and whispers words she can’t hear to the baby every night.
One night they have dinner at Wilson's house. The Mrs.’s name is Allison, too, which Mrs. finds cute and Cameron finds revolting.
House kicks Cameron under the table and makes faces at the food when the others aren’t looking. It’s a moment just for them, and it makes her smile all evening, even through a third cup of decaf in the kitchen with Mrs.
Time to leave, but House and Wilson have fallen asleep, stretched out right next to each other on the pull-out couch. “Our boys,” Mrs. coos, and Cameron is suddenly tucked in alone in a guest room.
Their wedding day is House’s birthday. At least he'll remember it, she thinks. Acknowledgment: maybe, maybe not. Sometimes he still bothers to woo.
He’s surprisingly supportive during the planning - listening, involved, but letting her have the final say. He only asks that they get married in the morning.
It’s a lovely ceremony, a lovely day. Her mother cries, and his mother hugs her sweetly. House looks handsome, and happy.
She never admits that she selected the opening date of the largest oncology conference of the year; he never mentions the time was set so Wilson could make his flight.
To Cameron’s astonishment and delight, during their four-day honeymoon, there are only two people present. (“And a half,” supplies some part of her brain, but really she believes life begins at birth.)
House attempts to teach her about wine without letting her drink any, which is uproariously funny all-around. Cameron attempts to teach him about antiques, annoyed that he only half-listens, until he perfectly identifies her favorite type of cut glass.
They make love at least once a day - he doesn’t call it that, never will, but his fingers, lips, and clean-shaven cheeks whisper it to her over and over.
Part Four