House fic: a euphony is a pleasant sound 1/1
Title: a euphony is a pleasant sound
Fandom: House, M.D
Characters/Pairings: Cuddy, Cameron, Wilson, and a ghosting of House/Cameron, Wilson/Cuddy
Word Count: 1111
Rating: PG
Spoilers: No Reason. ♥
Summary: Lisa Cuddy doesn’t know how to like Allison Cameron.
Author's Notes: For croc_rocketfan. ♥
A woman's whole life is a history of the affections.
WASHINGTON IRVING, The Sketch Book
Lisa Cuddy doesn’t know how to like Allison Cameron.
Ultimately, the younger woman cannot be defined in any set of circumstances. She can figure Chase out. She can certainly figure Foreman out. And even Wilson and House have those edges of predictability that can place them.
But Dr. Cameron has none of these. And placing her in a category is an infinite problem, she thinks as she leans against the counter to watch House’s room.
They’ve taken to shifts. As House’s doctor she get to do the frequent and the random check ups. Wilson drops by here and there. But it’s the three subordinates (she’s surprised at the type of dedication they have to him) that keep clockwise and counterclockwise vigils at their boss’ bedside.
It’s Cameron that makes her curious.
A soft brush against her wrist makes her smile a little. And she looks up, joined by Wilson. He casts a careful gaze into the room, protected by glass, and watches as Cameron settles into her chair by House’s bed.
“Still on for lunch?”
She nods, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “Still on for lunch,” she confirms quietly. As if it were some great secret.
She licks her lips, her eyes caressing the glass. It’s as if House’s room is some strange sanctuary and, for a moment, the rest of them are figuring out their places in the world outside of his. They are the shades of gray.
“Are they?” She blurts. Because she’s curious.
Wilson’s lips curl slightly. And then he shrugs. “I don’t know. She’s more private than he is. And much more careful.”
There’s a shift behind them. A conversation. And then another. She’s not paying attention because what’s- or rather who- going on in that room is much more fascinating to watch.
“But that’s not the question.”
Wilson shrugs again. And she shivers because his fingers start to brush against her palm. Slowly. And then in quiet circles. There’s been a lot of this lately, she thinks. Coffee. A late lunch. Two. From time to time, they progress to dinner. (But that has to be on her terms because he still makes her nervous.)
It’s an odd rotation of things.
“Like I said,” he murmurs. “She’s much more private than he is.”
Lisa nods. And then sighs. Because she doesn’t deal well with enigmas and secrets. She thinks that’s maybe why she can’t like Cameron and throws her too easily to terms like idealism and sweet.
But Wilson’s always been oddly protective of Cameron. And such is, strange as it is, her reasoning when that feeling wells up in her. She doesn’t have to like Cameron to be protective of her. (So she rationalizes.)
“I’m going to-”
“Don’t, Lisa,” he says quietly. His fingers curl around her wrist and stills her. And he’s close (she’s never known what do with his closeness, particularly when it could mean several things- it always means several things when it comes to James).
She breathes. “I should.”
For awhile, he looks as if he’s going to protest again. This is House and this is Cameron and it’s territory for no one. But he nods. Because he trusts her. (So he says.)
“Okay.”
+
She makes a round and does several hours of clinic duty before she makes her way back upstairs, the black and blue pattern of her skirt kissing her knees as she walks.
She sighs.
She thinks shifts and time. Her thoughts are always in sequence. There is the business end of the hospital, sponsors and board meetings. This keeps her busy and then worried and then busy some more.
(She’ll never admit that practicing medicine makes her nervous nowadays. Because she hasn’t done it as much as she’d like to. It’s still very much her passion. Or it’s easier to fake it this way.)
The coffee cup is still warm in her hand as she enters House’s room, moving over to Cameron’s side and placing the coffee cup on the bedside table.
There is no how are you doing because it’s an intimate question. And her curiosity has to be controlled.
“Thank you,” the younger woman says quietly. Her voice is exhausted laced with a singular surprise that Lisa knows she shares.
They are not friends.
She nods and goes through motions as Cameron, Allison goes back to reading her book. Her heels click as she moves to the window, leaning against the ledge and making marks in the chart. They haven’t found the guy that shot him. And she wonders if they ever will. (She wonders if House will care. Probably not.)
“It looks good.”
Cameron looks up. “Good,” is all she says. Probably because she’s looked at it already.
She can’t decide if Cameron looks older or younger or somewhere in between. But she knows, despite the shifts between the five of them, that she’s starting to notice that it’s her that belongs the most in this room.
“You look like you’ve done this before.”
The words are cruel in their superficiality. And the way Cameron looks at her, eyes dark and gaze instantly blank, makes her think that she’s stepped over some line and now would be the time to apologize and leave the room.
But Cameron’s voice is soft and steely, a tangle of contradictions, but still present. And overwhelming. “I’m not sleeping with him.”
Lisa moves from the window to the foot of the bed, dropping House’s chart in the slot for the next time. Her gaze falls to the book in Cameron’s hand. Joyce she sees, but she can’t see which novel.
“I didn’t mean to imply that you were.”
Cameron’s lips curl slightly. “Yes, you did,” she responds with a glimmer of amusement. “I was waiting for either you or Wilson to ask me.”
She finds herself grinning sheepishly.
“I’m not,” the younger woman repeats quietly. “I’m here because I want to be. And it’s just easier to keep it as one of those odd mysteries of the universe.”
There’s an admission in there and an intimacy. For a moment, Cameron looks like she’s glad to have someone to tell this to and Lisa almost moves to the chair next to her. Company, even for a moment.
But she understands.
Does he know? She wants to ask, but instead, she stays with the awkward and the uneasy. “I’m going to get lunch later.”
Her lips curl slightly. “With Wilson.”
Lisa’s eyes widen slightly. And Cameron shakes her head in amusement, curling deeper into the corner of her chair. Something passes between them. It’ll eventually be okay.
“But thank you.”
She nods. “You’re welcome.”
And she means it.
end.
Fandom: House, M.D
Characters/Pairings: Cuddy, Cameron, Wilson, and a ghosting of House/Cameron, Wilson/Cuddy
Word Count: 1111
Rating: PG
Spoilers: No Reason. ♥
Summary: Lisa Cuddy doesn’t know how to like Allison Cameron.
Author's Notes: For croc_rocketfan. ♥
A woman's whole life is a history of the affections.
WASHINGTON IRVING, The Sketch Book
Lisa Cuddy doesn’t know how to like Allison Cameron.
Ultimately, the younger woman cannot be defined in any set of circumstances. She can figure Chase out. She can certainly figure Foreman out. And even Wilson and House have those edges of predictability that can place them.
But Dr. Cameron has none of these. And placing her in a category is an infinite problem, she thinks as she leans against the counter to watch House’s room.
They’ve taken to shifts. As House’s doctor she get to do the frequent and the random check ups. Wilson drops by here and there. But it’s the three subordinates (she’s surprised at the type of dedication they have to him) that keep clockwise and counterclockwise vigils at their boss’ bedside.
It’s Cameron that makes her curious.
A soft brush against her wrist makes her smile a little. And she looks up, joined by Wilson. He casts a careful gaze into the room, protected by glass, and watches as Cameron settles into her chair by House’s bed.
“Still on for lunch?”
She nods, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “Still on for lunch,” she confirms quietly. As if it were some great secret.
She licks her lips, her eyes caressing the glass. It’s as if House’s room is some strange sanctuary and, for a moment, the rest of them are figuring out their places in the world outside of his. They are the shades of gray.
“Are they?” She blurts. Because she’s curious.
Wilson’s lips curl slightly. And then he shrugs. “I don’t know. She’s more private than he is. And much more careful.”
There’s a shift behind them. A conversation. And then another. She’s not paying attention because what’s- or rather who- going on in that room is much more fascinating to watch.
“But that’s not the question.”
Wilson shrugs again. And she shivers because his fingers start to brush against her palm. Slowly. And then in quiet circles. There’s been a lot of this lately, she thinks. Coffee. A late lunch. Two. From time to time, they progress to dinner. (But that has to be on her terms because he still makes her nervous.)
It’s an odd rotation of things.
“Like I said,” he murmurs. “She’s much more private than he is.”
Lisa nods. And then sighs. Because she doesn’t deal well with enigmas and secrets. She thinks that’s maybe why she can’t like Cameron and throws her too easily to terms like idealism and sweet.
But Wilson’s always been oddly protective of Cameron. And such is, strange as it is, her reasoning when that feeling wells up in her. She doesn’t have to like Cameron to be protective of her. (So she rationalizes.)
“I’m going to-”
“Don’t, Lisa,” he says quietly. His fingers curl around her wrist and stills her. And he’s close (she’s never known what do with his closeness, particularly when it could mean several things- it always means several things when it comes to James).
She breathes. “I should.”
For awhile, he looks as if he’s going to protest again. This is House and this is Cameron and it’s territory for no one. But he nods. Because he trusts her. (So he says.)
“Okay.”
+
She makes a round and does several hours of clinic duty before she makes her way back upstairs, the black and blue pattern of her skirt kissing her knees as she walks.
She sighs.
She thinks shifts and time. Her thoughts are always in sequence. There is the business end of the hospital, sponsors and board meetings. This keeps her busy and then worried and then busy some more.
(She’ll never admit that practicing medicine makes her nervous nowadays. Because she hasn’t done it as much as she’d like to. It’s still very much her passion. Or it’s easier to fake it this way.)
The coffee cup is still warm in her hand as she enters House’s room, moving over to Cameron’s side and placing the coffee cup on the bedside table.
There is no how are you doing because it’s an intimate question. And her curiosity has to be controlled.
“Thank you,” the younger woman says quietly. Her voice is exhausted laced with a singular surprise that Lisa knows she shares.
They are not friends.
She nods and goes through motions as Cameron, Allison goes back to reading her book. Her heels click as she moves to the window, leaning against the ledge and making marks in the chart. They haven’t found the guy that shot him. And she wonders if they ever will. (She wonders if House will care. Probably not.)
“It looks good.”
Cameron looks up. “Good,” is all she says. Probably because she’s looked at it already.
She can’t decide if Cameron looks older or younger or somewhere in between. But she knows, despite the shifts between the five of them, that she’s starting to notice that it’s her that belongs the most in this room.
“You look like you’ve done this before.”
The words are cruel in their superficiality. And the way Cameron looks at her, eyes dark and gaze instantly blank, makes her think that she’s stepped over some line and now would be the time to apologize and leave the room.
But Cameron’s voice is soft and steely, a tangle of contradictions, but still present. And overwhelming. “I’m not sleeping with him.”
Lisa moves from the window to the foot of the bed, dropping House’s chart in the slot for the next time. Her gaze falls to the book in Cameron’s hand. Joyce she sees, but she can’t see which novel.
“I didn’t mean to imply that you were.”
Cameron’s lips curl slightly. “Yes, you did,” she responds with a glimmer of amusement. “I was waiting for either you or Wilson to ask me.”
She finds herself grinning sheepishly.
“I’m not,” the younger woman repeats quietly. “I’m here because I want to be. And it’s just easier to keep it as one of those odd mysteries of the universe.”
There’s an admission in there and an intimacy. For a moment, Cameron looks like she’s glad to have someone to tell this to and Lisa almost moves to the chair next to her. Company, even for a moment.
But she understands.
Does he know? She wants to ask, but instead, she stays with the awkward and the uneasy. “I’m going to get lunch later.”
Her lips curl slightly. “With Wilson.”
Lisa’s eyes widen slightly. And Cameron shakes her head in amusement, curling deeper into the corner of her chair. Something passes between them. It’ll eventually be okay.
“But thank you.”
She nods. “You’re welcome.”
And she means it.
end.