Beneath the Surface - Pt 8
Here we are back to Beneath the Surface! Enjoy this little view into their lives...
Beneath the Surface - Pt 8
Even fully satiated from making love, House couldn’t drift off to sleep in front of the crackling flames. His thigh was throbbing from where it had been knocked, and sitting upright was never the most comfortable position for it. He had watched Cameron’s eyes slide closed, twice jerking open as she struggled to stay awake. Now she was snoring gently, just the slightest rumble of air through her mouth.
House needed his pills, and they were inconveniently located in the pants which were currently strewn on the floor in front of the sofa. He had needed them ten minutes ago and was mildly disturbed at the fact that he had been loathe to wake Cameron in order to get them. Normally, such niceties were not a part of their relationship. They bantered, and he lobbed one-liners at her, and she either returned them or put on her stoic face. She was the thoughtful one, while House maintained his unremittingly selfish and domineering ways, the majority of the time.
Suffering pain so that Cameron could grab a nap was not his usual routine.
He blamed the fire and the sex and the fact that Cameron hadn’t been sleeping and needed her rest if he wanted her to be in a better mood. That made his current kindness ultimately selfish in nature, and he could live with that. He could live with it even though he knew it was only half the truth. Wilson had once said of Cameron, that you couldn’t be around that much nice without getting some of it on you. House now had to admit that it appeared to be true. His only consolation was the fact that being around all his sarcasm seemed to have rubbed off on her as well. He still adamantly refused to admit that he had changed.
He was still refusing to admit it when a sharp twinge stabbed into his decimated thigh muscle.
The grunt of pain and involuntary muscle spasm roused Cameron from her light sleep and she rolled her head back to look up at House’s face. The firelight caught the tight planes of an expression of near-agony and her stomach twisted. Still lying on her side, she reached down over the edge of the sofa and grabbed House’s pants. The tell-tale rattle was muffled but present as she pulled them to her chest and rummaged for the pills. House took them from her as soon as she’d pulled them free, and he quickly swallowed down two.
Ignoring his pain was what Cameron usually did. He didn’t like it when she made any allowances for it or for his leg. It was one thing to use it as a ploy to get out of work or get a reaction from people or to joke about it, but if he didn’t blatantly mention it, then it meant that he wanted to ignore it and he expected everyone else to as well. He was surprised when she rolled onto her back and reached up to touch his jaw.
“You shouldn’t have let me fall asleep,” she said, large eyes quietly admonishing him.
“True, but I figured you’d pay me back later,” he said, waggling his eyebrows and pulling himself into character.
Her mouth pursed into an exasperated pout and she kept her eyes fixed on his until he looked away.
“Fine,” he said with a sigh. “You looked… peaceful. It was nice.” The misanthropic part of his brain was bitch-slapping the rest of it and his expression went through several permutations of annoyance before reaching acceptance. He was forty-five damn years old, and keeping the bastard mask in place all the time was exhausting. That didn’t make him weak.
Despite the fact that she’d been hoping he’d say something more revealing, Cameron’s eyes still widened at House’s frank honesty. “How’s the leg?” she asked, taking another risk.
“I’ll live,” he replied, only slightly grumpy.
Cameron stretched out a hand to snag House’s button-down shirt from the back of the sofa. She sat up, letting the blanket he had covered her with fall around her waist, and slipped the shirt on, her hands nearly hidden by the long sleeves. She was looking at him again, and although House prepared to launch a snide remark if he saw any sympathy in her eyes, there was none to see.
He only saw her normal kindness reaching out to cover him, and he switched his gaze to the fireplace because as good as that look made him feel, it also made him just a little uncomfortable. Unworthy, even after the numerous little arguments where she’d vehemently denied that was the case. He had a feeling, after a moment’s silence, that Cameron was thinking of starting another one, but then she patted his knee and stood up without mentioning it.
“I’ll go fill the tub. A bath’ll relax you before we go to bed,” she said, and House followed her path with his eyes, the curve of her bottom, barely concealed by his shirt.
“It’ll be even more relaxing if it’s a bath for two,” he called after her lecherously, needing to get a little control back.
Her voice floated out to him sweetly. “If you’re a good boy, maybe you’ll get what you wish for.”
He grabbed the discarded blanket, slung it around his hips, and limped down the hall to find her.
An hour an a half later, House was comfortably spread out in bed, blankets covering his half-naked and still damp body. He heard Cameron in the bathroom, brushing her teeth, and kept his eyes open, waiting for her to join him.
The bath had been more comforting than sensual, with Cameron settled at one end of the tub with her hair pinned up, and him at the other, head resting on an inflatable pillow. He’d claimed the terrycloth covered thing was too girly for his bathroom but now he used it more than she did. The warm water had helped his leg, and when Cameron had taken a chance and massaged the tender muscle, he’d actually groaned in relief. Then he had splashed her to cover his slip-up and, not one to back down from a fight, Cameron had responded in kind. Several minutes and a gallon of water later, she’d ended up snuggled against his chest with him claiming that she was a cheat for threatening to dump her flower-scented shampoo on his head.
In bed, House propped himself on his elbow and watched the shadows cast in the doorway as Cameron moved around the bathroom. No doubt she was busy mopping up that gallon of water. When she emerged a few minutes later, her skin was glowing with a warm blush from the bath, and tendrils of hair curled around her neck, spilling free from the light twist on the top of her head.
She barely glanced at him as she moved past the bed and towards the hallway.
“Hey, where d’you think you’re going?” House grumped lightly. “The bed’s getting cold.”
“Dishes. They’re still in the living room,” she answered simply.
“Dishes?” He was incredulous. “I think they’ll still be there in the morning.”
“With food cemented on to them. No thanks. I’ll do them now.”
House rolled his eyes. “Just come to bed and I’ll do them tomorrow.”
Cameron gave a hearty laugh. “Right. Like the time you said you’d pick up my dry-cleaning if I beat you home and got naked?”
“It slipped my mind. You, naked, takes up a lot of brain space.”
She looked at him from under raised brows and didn’t bother dignifying that with a response. House flopped back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling. Some things never changed, and Cameron’s perfectionism was one of them. By the time she returned he was on his back, one arm flung over his head, other curled next to her pillow, eyelids twitching as he dreamed.
Cameron smiled as she walked into the room and smoothed his hair back from his forehead, an action he would have batted away, had he been awake. She climbed into bed and curled on her side facing him.
“Sweet dreams, House,” she whispered, leaning over to kiss his shoulder. “See you in the morning.”
Beneath the Surface - Pt 8
Even fully satiated from making love, House couldn’t drift off to sleep in front of the crackling flames. His thigh was throbbing from where it had been knocked, and sitting upright was never the most comfortable position for it. He had watched Cameron’s eyes slide closed, twice jerking open as she struggled to stay awake. Now she was snoring gently, just the slightest rumble of air through her mouth.
House needed his pills, and they were inconveniently located in the pants which were currently strewn on the floor in front of the sofa. He had needed them ten minutes ago and was mildly disturbed at the fact that he had been loathe to wake Cameron in order to get them. Normally, such niceties were not a part of their relationship. They bantered, and he lobbed one-liners at her, and she either returned them or put on her stoic face. She was the thoughtful one, while House maintained his unremittingly selfish and domineering ways, the majority of the time.
Suffering pain so that Cameron could grab a nap was not his usual routine.
He blamed the fire and the sex and the fact that Cameron hadn’t been sleeping and needed her rest if he wanted her to be in a better mood. That made his current kindness ultimately selfish in nature, and he could live with that. He could live with it even though he knew it was only half the truth. Wilson had once said of Cameron, that you couldn’t be around that much nice without getting some of it on you. House now had to admit that it appeared to be true. His only consolation was the fact that being around all his sarcasm seemed to have rubbed off on her as well. He still adamantly refused to admit that he had changed.
He was still refusing to admit it when a sharp twinge stabbed into his decimated thigh muscle.
The grunt of pain and involuntary muscle spasm roused Cameron from her light sleep and she rolled her head back to look up at House’s face. The firelight caught the tight planes of an expression of near-agony and her stomach twisted. Still lying on her side, she reached down over the edge of the sofa and grabbed House’s pants. The tell-tale rattle was muffled but present as she pulled them to her chest and rummaged for the pills. House took them from her as soon as she’d pulled them free, and he quickly swallowed down two.
Ignoring his pain was what Cameron usually did. He didn’t like it when she made any allowances for it or for his leg. It was one thing to use it as a ploy to get out of work or get a reaction from people or to joke about it, but if he didn’t blatantly mention it, then it meant that he wanted to ignore it and he expected everyone else to as well. He was surprised when she rolled onto her back and reached up to touch his jaw.
“You shouldn’t have let me fall asleep,” she said, large eyes quietly admonishing him.
“True, but I figured you’d pay me back later,” he said, waggling his eyebrows and pulling himself into character.
Her mouth pursed into an exasperated pout and she kept her eyes fixed on his until he looked away.
“Fine,” he said with a sigh. “You looked… peaceful. It was nice.” The misanthropic part of his brain was bitch-slapping the rest of it and his expression went through several permutations of annoyance before reaching acceptance. He was forty-five damn years old, and keeping the bastard mask in place all the time was exhausting. That didn’t make him weak.
Despite the fact that she’d been hoping he’d say something more revealing, Cameron’s eyes still widened at House’s frank honesty. “How’s the leg?” she asked, taking another risk.
“I’ll live,” he replied, only slightly grumpy.
Cameron stretched out a hand to snag House’s button-down shirt from the back of the sofa. She sat up, letting the blanket he had covered her with fall around her waist, and slipped the shirt on, her hands nearly hidden by the long sleeves. She was looking at him again, and although House prepared to launch a snide remark if he saw any sympathy in her eyes, there was none to see.
He only saw her normal kindness reaching out to cover him, and he switched his gaze to the fireplace because as good as that look made him feel, it also made him just a little uncomfortable. Unworthy, even after the numerous little arguments where she’d vehemently denied that was the case. He had a feeling, after a moment’s silence, that Cameron was thinking of starting another one, but then she patted his knee and stood up without mentioning it.
“I’ll go fill the tub. A bath’ll relax you before we go to bed,” she said, and House followed her path with his eyes, the curve of her bottom, barely concealed by his shirt.
“It’ll be even more relaxing if it’s a bath for two,” he called after her lecherously, needing to get a little control back.
Her voice floated out to him sweetly. “If you’re a good boy, maybe you’ll get what you wish for.”
He grabbed the discarded blanket, slung it around his hips, and limped down the hall to find her.
An hour an a half later, House was comfortably spread out in bed, blankets covering his half-naked and still damp body. He heard Cameron in the bathroom, brushing her teeth, and kept his eyes open, waiting for her to join him.
The bath had been more comforting than sensual, with Cameron settled at one end of the tub with her hair pinned up, and him at the other, head resting on an inflatable pillow. He’d claimed the terrycloth covered thing was too girly for his bathroom but now he used it more than she did. The warm water had helped his leg, and when Cameron had taken a chance and massaged the tender muscle, he’d actually groaned in relief. Then he had splashed her to cover his slip-up and, not one to back down from a fight, Cameron had responded in kind. Several minutes and a gallon of water later, she’d ended up snuggled against his chest with him claiming that she was a cheat for threatening to dump her flower-scented shampoo on his head.
In bed, House propped himself on his elbow and watched the shadows cast in the doorway as Cameron moved around the bathroom. No doubt she was busy mopping up that gallon of water. When she emerged a few minutes later, her skin was glowing with a warm blush from the bath, and tendrils of hair curled around her neck, spilling free from the light twist on the top of her head.
She barely glanced at him as she moved past the bed and towards the hallway.
“Hey, where d’you think you’re going?” House grumped lightly. “The bed’s getting cold.”
“Dishes. They’re still in the living room,” she answered simply.
“Dishes?” He was incredulous. “I think they’ll still be there in the morning.”
“With food cemented on to them. No thanks. I’ll do them now.”
House rolled his eyes. “Just come to bed and I’ll do them tomorrow.”
Cameron gave a hearty laugh. “Right. Like the time you said you’d pick up my dry-cleaning if I beat you home and got naked?”
“It slipped my mind. You, naked, takes up a lot of brain space.”
She looked at him from under raised brows and didn’t bother dignifying that with a response. House flopped back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling. Some things never changed, and Cameron’s perfectionism was one of them. By the time she returned he was on his back, one arm flung over his head, other curled next to her pillow, eyelids twitching as he dreamed.
Cameron smiled as she walked into the room and smoothed his hair back from his forehead, an action he would have batted away, had he been awake. She climbed into bed and curled on her side facing him.
“Sweet dreams, House,” she whispered, leaning over to kiss his shoulder. “See you in the morning.”