house: Here again (1/5)
Title: Here again [1/5]
Characters/Pairing: Cameron/House
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Don't own House
Spoilers: Future fic-ish
Summary: He's been dead for years, but she hadn't stepped foot into his study, their study.
A/N: Est. relationship as she explores the one room in the house they'd bought. Expect short flashbacks. And firstnames! Ohnoes.
The doorknob squeaks in her tired hands, screaming after so long a slumber, and she nearly stops in the act. Her eyes close softly as she exhales a breath she’s been holding. Swallowing, she turns the knob all the way, refusing to lose this game of sound and silence.
Her right hand forces the door to swing open on its hinges, allowing her to see what it’s been hiding. Sunlight peeks in through the curtained windows and she can see the dust flurries waltzing in the stale air. In the doorway, she finds herself caught between past and present, then and now, found and lost. She can’t turn back now.
She needs to dust. Even her footprints leave proof of where she’s trekked. The bookshelf on her right, lines the entire wall, and she can’t help but reach out to caress the spines of the books closest. He’d built this mammoth shelf himself.
He couldn’t stop smiling as she walked in through the door. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped as she looked at him covered in sawdust and chalk, at the floor she’d spend an hour cleaning up, and his hand which he’d wrapped with two huge bandages. Stuck, she didn’t move.
“So, I was thinking instead of buying an expensive, wieldy bookshelf, that I’d make one.”
She mouthed his name before her vocal cords finally got the message. “House...”
She called him House. Oh, he was in trouble.
“You know I love you?”
The look of murder on her face made him drop his smile, but as she walked to him and forced him to let her examine his hand, he smiled again as she sneezed.
The medical books haven’t been opened in years, his and hers collections on their respective left and right sides of the shelf. Some of these are probably outdated; they could be thrown out just fine. Reading a few random titles, she smiles as she comes across the Lupus section. One book she’d put in as he’d arched an eyebrow.
“It’s never lupus!”
“If it was never lupus, why would there be thousands of books about it?”
“Because people are idiots.”
“Yeah? Well, you’re an idiot.”
“So are you.”
“You more.”
“You mostest.”
Her new book collection is in the room beside the bedroom. She’d bought the bookshelf. Some of the books she’d had to buy again are the ones she can see now.
Walking to the end of the bookshelf, she meets the large window. The dark blue fabric is a shadow of its former beauty, much like herself. Hesitantly, her fingers grasp the fabric, surprised that it’s still strong after this time of neglect. Straightening her shoulders, she rapidly pulls the curtain to the left, closing her eyes as the sun threatens to blind her. After a few bright moments, she looks out the window which also needs to be cleaned. Their tiny yard is still green, holding a barely mentionable garden. Without realizing it, the right side of her mouth quirks up.
“A garden?”
“Yeah. What? Quit laughing! It’s not funny.” She slapped his shoulder as she stood up to put the dishes into the sink.
“Allison, you’re good at getting flowers, not keeping them alive.”
“I love flowers.”
He sighed as she turned on the sink, her back taut with tension. He stood, his cane left on the table. Walking behind her, he braced his hands on either side of the counter, effectively locking her in.
“Allison.”
“House.”
There was that damned House again.
“Tulips. Grow tulips.”
Turning around, she focuses on the chair directly in front of her. Made of soft, brown leather, the sofa had seen many a greater day. There were a few burn marks here and there from the cigar he’d smoked too distractedly. Her fingers dance upon the leather, the scent bringing back fond memories of reading half-way in his lap, waking up to find him looking out the window in front of her, and even making love very awkwardly that one night after he’d solved another case. If it weren’t so dusty, she’d sit in it. She settles for touching the faded bite marks.
“Cameron!”
She held the phone further from her ear, grimacing at his bellowing.
“She’s just a puppy.”
“Oh, no, no, no. This is not a puppy! It’s not even a dog! It’s...it’s...Cuddy in fur!”
“Greg, I couldn’t just let her stay in the pouring rain.”
“What? Afraid its perm would come out? Git!”
She heard the playful barking and as much as she tried, couldn’t help but grin.
“You come home tonight and get rid of this mongrel...”
“Greg? Greg?!”
On the other end, “No! No! That’s my chair! My $800 leather chair!”
Thinking of which, Eebies had better fallen asleep because if she knew her owner had finally gone into the study without her, the blind old mutt would have a severe tantrum.
Her head turns to the right, pulled by long ignored instinct, taking in the other half of the study. She’s not ready to touch the other things, so she starts with the globe.
Characters/Pairing: Cameron/House
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Don't own House
Spoilers: Future fic-ish
Summary: He's been dead for years, but she hadn't stepped foot into his study, their study.
A/N: Est. relationship as she explores the one room in the house they'd bought. Expect short flashbacks. And firstnames! Ohnoes.
The doorknob squeaks in her tired hands, screaming after so long a slumber, and she nearly stops in the act. Her eyes close softly as she exhales a breath she’s been holding. Swallowing, she turns the knob all the way, refusing to lose this game of sound and silence.
Her right hand forces the door to swing open on its hinges, allowing her to see what it’s been hiding. Sunlight peeks in through the curtained windows and she can see the dust flurries waltzing in the stale air. In the doorway, she finds herself caught between past and present, then and now, found and lost. She can’t turn back now.
She needs to dust. Even her footprints leave proof of where she’s trekked. The bookshelf on her right, lines the entire wall, and she can’t help but reach out to caress the spines of the books closest. He’d built this mammoth shelf himself.
He couldn’t stop smiling as she walked in through the door. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped as she looked at him covered in sawdust and chalk, at the floor she’d spend an hour cleaning up, and his hand which he’d wrapped with two huge bandages. Stuck, she didn’t move.
“So, I was thinking instead of buying an expensive, wieldy bookshelf, that I’d make one.”
She mouthed his name before her vocal cords finally got the message. “House...”
She called him House. Oh, he was in trouble.
“You know I love you?”
The look of murder on her face made him drop his smile, but as she walked to him and forced him to let her examine his hand, he smiled again as she sneezed.
The medical books haven’t been opened in years, his and hers collections on their respective left and right sides of the shelf. Some of these are probably outdated; they could be thrown out just fine. Reading a few random titles, she smiles as she comes across the Lupus section. One book she’d put in as he’d arched an eyebrow.
“It’s never lupus!”
“If it was never lupus, why would there be thousands of books about it?”
“Because people are idiots.”
“Yeah? Well, you’re an idiot.”
“So are you.”
“You more.”
“You mostest.”
Her new book collection is in the room beside the bedroom. She’d bought the bookshelf. Some of the books she’d had to buy again are the ones she can see now.
Walking to the end of the bookshelf, she meets the large window. The dark blue fabric is a shadow of its former beauty, much like herself. Hesitantly, her fingers grasp the fabric, surprised that it’s still strong after this time of neglect. Straightening her shoulders, she rapidly pulls the curtain to the left, closing her eyes as the sun threatens to blind her. After a few bright moments, she looks out the window which also needs to be cleaned. Their tiny yard is still green, holding a barely mentionable garden. Without realizing it, the right side of her mouth quirks up.
“A garden?”
“Yeah. What? Quit laughing! It’s not funny.” She slapped his shoulder as she stood up to put the dishes into the sink.
“Allison, you’re good at getting flowers, not keeping them alive.”
“I love flowers.”
He sighed as she turned on the sink, her back taut with tension. He stood, his cane left on the table. Walking behind her, he braced his hands on either side of the counter, effectively locking her in.
“Allison.”
“House.”
There was that damned House again.
“Tulips. Grow tulips.”
Turning around, she focuses on the chair directly in front of her. Made of soft, brown leather, the sofa had seen many a greater day. There were a few burn marks here and there from the cigar he’d smoked too distractedly. Her fingers dance upon the leather, the scent bringing back fond memories of reading half-way in his lap, waking up to find him looking out the window in front of her, and even making love very awkwardly that one night after he’d solved another case. If it weren’t so dusty, she’d sit in it. She settles for touching the faded bite marks.
“Cameron!”
She held the phone further from her ear, grimacing at his bellowing.
“She’s just a puppy.”
“Oh, no, no, no. This is not a puppy! It’s not even a dog! It’s...it’s...Cuddy in fur!”
“Greg, I couldn’t just let her stay in the pouring rain.”
“What? Afraid its perm would come out? Git!”
She heard the playful barking and as much as she tried, couldn’t help but grin.
“You come home tonight and get rid of this mongrel...”
“Greg? Greg?!”
On the other end, “No! No! That’s my chair! My $800 leather chair!”
Thinking of which, Eebies had better fallen asleep because if she knew her owner had finally gone into the study without her, the blind old mutt would have a severe tantrum.
Her head turns to the right, pulled by long ignored instinct, taking in the other half of the study. She’s not ready to touch the other things, so she starts with the globe.