House fic: the piano, in the background (3/5)
the piano, in the background
cameron; eventual house/cameron- pg
1470 words
tb or not tb; general s3
dedicated to shikinluv
part one| part two|
It’s a particular intimacy that he shouldn’t have.
I've got the smell of a local man
Who's got the loneliest feeling.
Radiohead| Climbing Up the Walls
-
“I think you should take an earlier leave.”
Allison barely looks up from the papers in front of her, spreading more books out on the coffee table in her office. Her fingers drift across the scans, her teeth skimming her bottom lip. She listens quietly to Sebastian pacing, avoiding the argument for as long as she can.
He sighs. “Allison,” his hand brushes over hers. “Seriously. I know you. I know you have the tendency to lose yourself in the amount of work you have. Take an early leave.”
She looks up here, uncomfortable with the sudden dropping of i know you. It’s a particular intimacy that he shouldn’t have, shouldn’t think that he still has, but here they are. Again. She takes a deep breath and softens, for the moment.
“I think you need to stop being obnoxious.”
Sebastian is clearly not going to give up. “I think you-”
She sighs, brushing her hair out of her eyes. She shifts in her seat, breathes, and reaches for a bottle of water. “Sebastian.”
He stops.
It’s almost funny. The expression on his face is wide-eyed and worried, it’s endearing, sure, but it’s clearly another reason why they didn’t stay together. There was an opportunity to know her, to establish something, but he stuck with the assumptions that he wanted to keep and there’s only so long where the moment, that kind of pretense can keep up.
Her lips purse. “While it was sweet before-”
“- It’s obnoxious now, I’m sorry. I know.” He moves to the front of the room again, his fingers skimming the glass of her door. He shakes his head.
She snorts, leaning back in her seat. Her fingers brush against the ends of her skirt, straightening it over her knees. But her answer falls slowly, almost too calmly, as if she were still stuck between reassuring herself and him. “I’m okay.”
He blinks. “Are you?”
Allison shrugs lazily. Within perspective, the baby is healthy and her break from work has been planned carefully and well-enough. There’s nothing to worry about, even though here and there, she falls to it in spurts. But they’ll move on. She’s embraced that it’s natural and nothing more.
After awhile, she breathes and nods slowly. It might be a little lie, a small one that stretches along the roof of her mouth as she breathes. Grasping it now is unnecessary, so she moves on like always. Besides, they don’t talk beyond the surface of things. They’ve never been able to and Sebastian, for the romance of his self-indulgent ideology, seems to be unable.
“I’m okay,” she repeats. “And you can go away now.”
He nods, complacent as he turns, and it’s another thing that drives her insane. He tends to agree to things outside of his mission too quickly and thoughtlessly, alarming in the broadest of sense- but she stops herself here. She’s going to worry about these things in pieces, as they come, because overwhelming herself isn’t going to do anything. This is what she needs to remember.
“Sebastian.” She calls his name out, watching him still halfway between the office and the hall. He turns.
She wonders if she asked, if he would stay. It’s a simple thought, strange how she comes to it now when she’s had eight months to think about it, to worry about how they’d be as parents. She’s going to be a mother; it’s still kind of frightening to grasp but the reality is going to hit whether she likes it or not.
“Have a safe flight,” she says softly.
Sebastian flashes a boyish grin and a chuckle, shaking his head as he steps backwards with his hands in his pockets. Not a glance, she thinks, not one hesitation- but she needs to stop getting ahead of herself.
He’ll be here. He’s going to be here when it’s time.
She returns to the things in front of her, her motivation starting to drop. CT scans are all the same, the slick film slipping from her fingers. She sighs, rubbing her eyes and leaning back as she settles.
The phone rings and she ignores it, wondering if she should cut out early today. Her hand brushes over her stomach, her lips curling slightly when there’s slight movement. She shakes her head in amazement.
“Mama’s a bit- okay,” she laughs breathlessly when there’s a hard kick to her side, shaking her head. “I’m nuts for coming in today.”
There’s a knock on the frame of her door, her assistant smiling almost shyly. There’s a murmur of phone and she sighs, promising herself a quick leave after this. And maybe, maybe she’ll accidentally leave her phone and pager as well.
Standing, she moves to her desk and kicks her shoes off. She curls into her chair, reaching for the phone.
A curious hello barely slips before she’s interrupted by a snort and a shift, the familiar dryness of House’s voice scrapping against the line. “Did you get Wilson’s gift?”
She blinks. “Wilson’s gift?”
“Yeah,” House murmurs. “I signed my name on the card.”
She almost laughs, snorts instead as her head drops back against the chair and her eyes close for the moment. “Well, in that case, no. Why would Wilson send me a gift?”
“You’re pregnant.”
It’s like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And there it is again, that nostalgic sensibility. Of course, Wilson knows. Of course. It doesn’t bother her, but there’s a turn in feelings again, a reestablishment of the sorts. She hates that she can’t grasp it as well as she used to- or maybe that it’s, it’s the advantage, on his part, of her being out of practice that starts this kindling of the feelings again. If they can be called feelings.
“I’m…” Her voice trails off. She chooses her words carefully, a dismayed plan and a terrible lie- she isn’t stupid- sounding awkward: “Oh. Wilson knows I’m pregnant?”
He snorts. “I put twenty bucks in.”
“A whole one third?” Her amusement is clear, brief, and oddly, it lingers for a little bit longer as she listens to him, to the simple strains of activity.
“You’re not funny.”
She smirks, shaking her head. Her response is almost lazy. “Tell Wilson it was unnecessary.”
There’s a snort again and it’s followed by a brief murmuring. He grunts and she hears the rattle of his pills. “Clearly,” he drawls, “I’ve taught you nothing.”
“I’m sorry, did you say something?” She rolls her eyes.
He chuckles and she freezes, a slow flush brushing against her cheeks as she settles back into her chair. She takes a deep breath, her hand wavering against the curve of her stomach. It drops and her eyes close. Boy or girl, the nostalgia of surprise pooling in her stomach skims her thoughts again.
But there’s something else, something more that she feels within her. Again? It’s strange, the sensation, and it makes her a bit wary. Her expectations for the moment, for what’s leading up to culminating sense of achievement- god, she’s got to stop listening to her mother.
“I’ll look out for it then,” she clears her throat, shaking her head, “if Wilson’s that worried and all.”
She can almost see him shrug, but there’s nothing else to say. Communication was always that uneasy plane between him and everyone else. She’s no different, remember, she was there and their ups and downs were both compulsively violent towards the end and draining at each chance. This is about trust, at its basic, and that’s something that she doesn’t have for him. She wonders if she should push forward, a little, but then stops herself.
Again, a next time, seems impossibly out of place and she does everything to stray from any idea of it. New factors. A baby.
She’s not the same person anymore. This is her life.
“Have a name for the kid yet?” He breaks through her thoughts, his voice farther and she listens to him move around.
“Nope.”
He snorts, sighs, and is clearly disappointed with her answer. “Liar.”
She laughs, amused, but again, the question of their reconnection lies in his motivations. Why is he keeping this? Why does he continue to pursue? The first two times lie in coincidence and she’s more than happy to toss them to it. “Maybe.”
There’s a pause and again, she’s subjected to murmuring and a curse. She wonders what he’s doing now- she’s never asked, but she supposes it’s the same thing, another group, another fragment of years that he can categorize.
But why is she here again?
“Later.”- She blinks. It’s abrupt, sudden, and leaves her swept in confusion. She tries to move, gather herself, but she’s blank. She takes a breath, the dial tone turning in her ears.
Rubbing her eyes, she frowns.
+
cameron; eventual house/cameron- pg
1470 words
tb or not tb; general s3
dedicated to shikinluv
part one| part two|
It’s a particular intimacy that he shouldn’t have.
I've got the smell of a local man
Who's got the loneliest feeling.
Radiohead| Climbing Up the Walls
-
“I think you should take an earlier leave.”
Allison barely looks up from the papers in front of her, spreading more books out on the coffee table in her office. Her fingers drift across the scans, her teeth skimming her bottom lip. She listens quietly to Sebastian pacing, avoiding the argument for as long as she can.
He sighs. “Allison,” his hand brushes over hers. “Seriously. I know you. I know you have the tendency to lose yourself in the amount of work you have. Take an early leave.”
She looks up here, uncomfortable with the sudden dropping of i know you. It’s a particular intimacy that he shouldn’t have, shouldn’t think that he still has, but here they are. Again. She takes a deep breath and softens, for the moment.
“I think you need to stop being obnoxious.”
Sebastian is clearly not going to give up. “I think you-”
She sighs, brushing her hair out of her eyes. She shifts in her seat, breathes, and reaches for a bottle of water. “Sebastian.”
He stops.
It’s almost funny. The expression on his face is wide-eyed and worried, it’s endearing, sure, but it’s clearly another reason why they didn’t stay together. There was an opportunity to know her, to establish something, but he stuck with the assumptions that he wanted to keep and there’s only so long where the moment, that kind of pretense can keep up.
Her lips purse. “While it was sweet before-”
“- It’s obnoxious now, I’m sorry. I know.” He moves to the front of the room again, his fingers skimming the glass of her door. He shakes his head.
She snorts, leaning back in her seat. Her fingers brush against the ends of her skirt, straightening it over her knees. But her answer falls slowly, almost too calmly, as if she were still stuck between reassuring herself and him. “I’m okay.”
He blinks. “Are you?”
Allison shrugs lazily. Within perspective, the baby is healthy and her break from work has been planned carefully and well-enough. There’s nothing to worry about, even though here and there, she falls to it in spurts. But they’ll move on. She’s embraced that it’s natural and nothing more.
After awhile, she breathes and nods slowly. It might be a little lie, a small one that stretches along the roof of her mouth as she breathes. Grasping it now is unnecessary, so she moves on like always. Besides, they don’t talk beyond the surface of things. They’ve never been able to and Sebastian, for the romance of his self-indulgent ideology, seems to be unable.
“I’m okay,” she repeats. “And you can go away now.”
He nods, complacent as he turns, and it’s another thing that drives her insane. He tends to agree to things outside of his mission too quickly and thoughtlessly, alarming in the broadest of sense- but she stops herself here. She’s going to worry about these things in pieces, as they come, because overwhelming herself isn’t going to do anything. This is what she needs to remember.
“Sebastian.” She calls his name out, watching him still halfway between the office and the hall. He turns.
She wonders if she asked, if he would stay. It’s a simple thought, strange how she comes to it now when she’s had eight months to think about it, to worry about how they’d be as parents. She’s going to be a mother; it’s still kind of frightening to grasp but the reality is going to hit whether she likes it or not.
“Have a safe flight,” she says softly.
Sebastian flashes a boyish grin and a chuckle, shaking his head as he steps backwards with his hands in his pockets. Not a glance, she thinks, not one hesitation- but she needs to stop getting ahead of herself.
He’ll be here. He’s going to be here when it’s time.
She returns to the things in front of her, her motivation starting to drop. CT scans are all the same, the slick film slipping from her fingers. She sighs, rubbing her eyes and leaning back as she settles.
The phone rings and she ignores it, wondering if she should cut out early today. Her hand brushes over her stomach, her lips curling slightly when there’s slight movement. She shakes her head in amazement.
“Mama’s a bit- okay,” she laughs breathlessly when there’s a hard kick to her side, shaking her head. “I’m nuts for coming in today.”
There’s a knock on the frame of her door, her assistant smiling almost shyly. There’s a murmur of phone and she sighs, promising herself a quick leave after this. And maybe, maybe she’ll accidentally leave her phone and pager as well.
Standing, she moves to her desk and kicks her shoes off. She curls into her chair, reaching for the phone.
A curious hello barely slips before she’s interrupted by a snort and a shift, the familiar dryness of House’s voice scrapping against the line. “Did you get Wilson’s gift?”
She blinks. “Wilson’s gift?”
“Yeah,” House murmurs. “I signed my name on the card.”
She almost laughs, snorts instead as her head drops back against the chair and her eyes close for the moment. “Well, in that case, no. Why would Wilson send me a gift?”
“You’re pregnant.”
It’s like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And there it is again, that nostalgic sensibility. Of course, Wilson knows. Of course. It doesn’t bother her, but there’s a turn in feelings again, a reestablishment of the sorts. She hates that she can’t grasp it as well as she used to- or maybe that it’s, it’s the advantage, on his part, of her being out of practice that starts this kindling of the feelings again. If they can be called feelings.
“I’m…” Her voice trails off. She chooses her words carefully, a dismayed plan and a terrible lie- she isn’t stupid- sounding awkward: “Oh. Wilson knows I’m pregnant?”
He snorts. “I put twenty bucks in.”
“A whole one third?” Her amusement is clear, brief, and oddly, it lingers for a little bit longer as she listens to him, to the simple strains of activity.
“You’re not funny.”
She smirks, shaking her head. Her response is almost lazy. “Tell Wilson it was unnecessary.”
There’s a snort again and it’s followed by a brief murmuring. He grunts and she hears the rattle of his pills. “Clearly,” he drawls, “I’ve taught you nothing.”
“I’m sorry, did you say something?” She rolls her eyes.
He chuckles and she freezes, a slow flush brushing against her cheeks as she settles back into her chair. She takes a deep breath, her hand wavering against the curve of her stomach. It drops and her eyes close. Boy or girl, the nostalgia of surprise pooling in her stomach skims her thoughts again.
But there’s something else, something more that she feels within her. Again? It’s strange, the sensation, and it makes her a bit wary. Her expectations for the moment, for what’s leading up to culminating sense of achievement- god, she’s got to stop listening to her mother.
“I’ll look out for it then,” she clears her throat, shaking her head, “if Wilson’s that worried and all.”
She can almost see him shrug, but there’s nothing else to say. Communication was always that uneasy plane between him and everyone else. She’s no different, remember, she was there and their ups and downs were both compulsively violent towards the end and draining at each chance. This is about trust, at its basic, and that’s something that she doesn’t have for him. She wonders if she should push forward, a little, but then stops herself.
Again, a next time, seems impossibly out of place and she does everything to stray from any idea of it. New factors. A baby.
She’s not the same person anymore. This is her life.
“Have a name for the kid yet?” He breaks through her thoughts, his voice farther and she listens to him move around.
“Nope.”
He snorts, sighs, and is clearly disappointed with her answer. “Liar.”
She laughs, amused, but again, the question of their reconnection lies in his motivations. Why is he keeping this? Why does he continue to pursue? The first two times lie in coincidence and she’s more than happy to toss them to it. “Maybe.”
There’s a pause and again, she’s subjected to murmuring and a curse. She wonders what he’s doing now- she’s never asked, but she supposes it’s the same thing, another group, another fragment of years that he can categorize.
But why is she here again?
“Later.”- She blinks. It’s abrupt, sudden, and leaves her swept in confusion. She tries to move, gather herself, but she’s blank. She takes a breath, the dial tone turning in her ears.
Rubbing her eyes, she frowns.
+