house fic: The Darker Days of Me and Him 6/10
Title: The Darker Days of Me and Him
Pairing/Characters: cameron, house/cameron
Words: 1055
Spoilers: Minor for 'Love Hurts' and small mention of 'Honeymoon'.
Rating: Harmless PG for now. It's going to rise. Promise
Summary: She can’t remember the last time she was this afraid.
A/N: Part One is here. Part Two is here. Part Three is here. Part Four is here.Part Five is here.
No memory of having starred
Atones for later disregard
Or keeps the end from being hard
Robert Frost
v.
In what will seem like endless years instead of a week, Allison Cameron will watch her mother crumble into unrecognizable pieces.
“It’s been untreated for so long,” Wilson tells her gently. “I can only make this as comfortable as I can now.”
He’ll tell her more and she’ll pretend to listen, but her eyes will be on her parents- her father at his permanent place at her mother’s beside and her mother, pale and doll-like. She will spend hours trying to remember her mother before the news of cancer and the aggressive radiation therapy. She will spend hours trying to remember the woman who laughed too loud and used to dance around the kitchen with her father in spurts of romantic sporadic tendencies.
But will fail and somewhere along the lines, she’ll have to leave because everything seems to be coming at her at once and waiting until she falls to bouts of suffocation.
And this is how she’ll find her way to the roof.
It’s far too cold outside for spring. It’s far too dark and quiet and the empty streets barely moan with the occasional passing car. She walks slowly to the far end, the part that oversees the park, and leans against the edge.
She can’t remember the last time she was this afraid.
[i’m sorry i didn’t tell you danny whispers she fights to swallow didn’t think it was important enough she’ll snap]
[your kindness will be your undoing and your cruelty at the end ally]
“You stole my spot.”
She laughs and it hurts, god does it hurt. She won’t turn around. He’s got to come to her this time. “Is your new hangout dark and shady corners?”
She hears him begin to move towards her and closes her eyes. If it were one thing she could do without this moment, it would be another confrontation. She needs to have things- feeling of absolutely certainty. She needs things of substance, something she could understand. Not that this. Not now.
“So,” he says and pauses as if he didn’t know how to continue.
She almost smiles at his awkwardness. “She’s dying.”
“That’s the rumor.”
She inhales sharply, propping her chin on top of her hands. She thinks of how lost her father looks. She remembers that she had once looked like that as well.
“Don’t ask it,” she says suddenly. She can predict the next question, a question that he’ll himself to ask for reasons unknown. I don’t want to do this, she’ll almost say.
He sighs. “Wasn’t going to. I’m more interested in the tattoo I think I saw.”
She rolls her eyes at his easy attempt at misdirection. He’s testing her, still testing her, seeing if she takes the bait and wander straight into his trap. He wanted to go backwards, back into the uncomfortable abyss of what they were. Going forward was, is, too dangerous for them.
But she had long come to terms that she couldn’t stop it.
[or move on]
“It’s there,” she replies vaguely, latching onto the momentary distraction. She rubs her eyes tiredly.
He chuckles. “Can I see it?”
“And let you revert back to your perverted twelve year old boy fantasies? No.”
She jumps when his hand presses against her hip. His hand is cold and his fingers are gently. They brush against her skin as he’s playing the piano. In this moment, she’ll forget how to breathe.
“Could’ve sworn it was right there,” he says and he seems closer than she remembers. “Am I right?”
Her eyes are wide and her lips part as his fingers continue to stroke her skin. The rational side of herself will scream that this is a violation of the line she had forced herself to draw. But the rest- the darker, more turbulent sensibilities will win and her hand will reach behind herself and cover his. She slowly moves his hand over her tattoo.
“Seventeen,” she tells him before he asks. “It was a dare.”
He laughs and she shivers at the low, husky sound that escapes his mouth by her ear. “Naughty, naughty girl.”
[i’m damaged]
[you need me]
[you can’t love me]
Were they destined for this cycle? Always pushing, pushing each other over lines and into walls. Always pressing boundaries that were always half-assed. Always wanting to test each other to who would go the farthest.
She grabs his wrist and his breath is warm against her neck.
“I have to go,” she murmurs, willing herself to be the one to step back and away from this deadly dance of self-destruction. “I have to go back inside.”
She tries to think of her mother. Dying. Alone. Pieces she could never put back together. She remembers Danny instead and has to close her eyes because faces and things and memories are becoming too connected.
He sighs against her neck and she slowly realizes that he’s been leaning against her all this time. “You should,” he agrees quietly. “I might-”
This is the part where she should’ve backed away.
Instead, she asks, “Might what?” She winces at how much of a curious child she manages to sound like.
“You don’t want me to answer that.” It’s a statement, not a question. And she can’t help but be surprised that he’s letting her have an opportunity to walk away. She doesn’t miss the exhaustion either.
“No,” she answers.
His lips brush against her neck. “Liar.”
And she doesn’t believe herself either.
“Why are we doing this?” She blurts out finally. Why were they? She’s too tired to make any sense of what was happening. She was unraveling, that much she knew, and he- he seems to be following.
His honesty will scare her. “I don’t know. I never know with you.”
There is so much hiding behind his words- things that neither of them are ready [want] to address with the certainty that it requires. And suddenly, she terrified. Terrified of the intensity. Of them. Of him. Of the instability that might claim her and drag her back to the dark.
“I should go.” I don’t want to do this anymore. I need an answer.
He pulls back. Her hand still covers his. “Go.” We’re far past the stopping point.
She nods and swallows back her tears.
It’s too late for them to walk away.
Why did you ask me? Don’t you forget.
Pairing/Characters: cameron, house/cameron
Words: 1055
Spoilers: Minor for 'Love Hurts' and small mention of 'Honeymoon'.
Rating: Harmless PG for now. It's going to rise. Promise
Summary: She can’t remember the last time she was this afraid.
A/N: Part One is here. Part Two is here. Part Three is here. Part Four is here.Part Five is here.
No memory of having starred
Atones for later disregard
Or keeps the end from being hard
Robert Frost
v.
In what will seem like endless years instead of a week, Allison Cameron will watch her mother crumble into unrecognizable pieces.
“It’s been untreated for so long,” Wilson tells her gently. “I can only make this as comfortable as I can now.”
He’ll tell her more and she’ll pretend to listen, but her eyes will be on her parents- her father at his permanent place at her mother’s beside and her mother, pale and doll-like. She will spend hours trying to remember her mother before the news of cancer and the aggressive radiation therapy. She will spend hours trying to remember the woman who laughed too loud and used to dance around the kitchen with her father in spurts of romantic sporadic tendencies.
But will fail and somewhere along the lines, she’ll have to leave because everything seems to be coming at her at once and waiting until she falls to bouts of suffocation.
And this is how she’ll find her way to the roof.
It’s far too cold outside for spring. It’s far too dark and quiet and the empty streets barely moan with the occasional passing car. She walks slowly to the far end, the part that oversees the park, and leans against the edge.
She can’t remember the last time she was this afraid.
[i’m sorry i didn’t tell you danny whispers she fights to swallow didn’t think it was important enough she’ll snap]
[your kindness will be your undoing and your cruelty at the end ally]
“You stole my spot.”
She laughs and it hurts, god does it hurt. She won’t turn around. He’s got to come to her this time. “Is your new hangout dark and shady corners?”
She hears him begin to move towards her and closes her eyes. If it were one thing she could do without this moment, it would be another confrontation. She needs to have things- feeling of absolutely certainty. She needs things of substance, something she could understand. Not that this. Not now.
“So,” he says and pauses as if he didn’t know how to continue.
She almost smiles at his awkwardness. “She’s dying.”
“That’s the rumor.”
She inhales sharply, propping her chin on top of her hands. She thinks of how lost her father looks. She remembers that she had once looked like that as well.
“Don’t ask it,” she says suddenly. She can predict the next question, a question that he’ll himself to ask for reasons unknown. I don’t want to do this, she’ll almost say.
He sighs. “Wasn’t going to. I’m more interested in the tattoo I think I saw.”
She rolls her eyes at his easy attempt at misdirection. He’s testing her, still testing her, seeing if she takes the bait and wander straight into his trap. He wanted to go backwards, back into the uncomfortable abyss of what they were. Going forward was, is, too dangerous for them.
But she had long come to terms that she couldn’t stop it.
[or move on]
“It’s there,” she replies vaguely, latching onto the momentary distraction. She rubs her eyes tiredly.
He chuckles. “Can I see it?”
“And let you revert back to your perverted twelve year old boy fantasies? No.”
She jumps when his hand presses against her hip. His hand is cold and his fingers are gently. They brush against her skin as he’s playing the piano. In this moment, she’ll forget how to breathe.
“Could’ve sworn it was right there,” he says and he seems closer than she remembers. “Am I right?”
Her eyes are wide and her lips part as his fingers continue to stroke her skin. The rational side of herself will scream that this is a violation of the line she had forced herself to draw. But the rest- the darker, more turbulent sensibilities will win and her hand will reach behind herself and cover his. She slowly moves his hand over her tattoo.
“Seventeen,” she tells him before he asks. “It was a dare.”
He laughs and she shivers at the low, husky sound that escapes his mouth by her ear. “Naughty, naughty girl.”
[i’m damaged]
[you need me]
[you can’t love me]
Were they destined for this cycle? Always pushing, pushing each other over lines and into walls. Always pressing boundaries that were always half-assed. Always wanting to test each other to who would go the farthest.
She grabs his wrist and his breath is warm against her neck.
“I have to go,” she murmurs, willing herself to be the one to step back and away from this deadly dance of self-destruction. “I have to go back inside.”
She tries to think of her mother. Dying. Alone. Pieces she could never put back together. She remembers Danny instead and has to close her eyes because faces and things and memories are becoming too connected.
He sighs against her neck and she slowly realizes that he’s been leaning against her all this time. “You should,” he agrees quietly. “I might-”
This is the part where she should’ve backed away.
Instead, she asks, “Might what?” She winces at how much of a curious child she manages to sound like.
“You don’t want me to answer that.” It’s a statement, not a question. And she can’t help but be surprised that he’s letting her have an opportunity to walk away. She doesn’t miss the exhaustion either.
“No,” she answers.
His lips brush against her neck. “Liar.”
And she doesn’t believe herself either.
“Why are we doing this?” She blurts out finally. Why were they? She’s too tired to make any sense of what was happening. She was unraveling, that much she knew, and he- he seems to be following.
His honesty will scare her. “I don’t know. I never know with you.”
There is so much hiding behind his words- things that neither of them are ready [want] to address with the certainty that it requires. And suddenly, she terrified. Terrified of the intensity. Of them. Of him. Of the instability that might claim her and drag her back to the dark.
“I should go.” I don’t want to do this anymore. I need an answer.
He pulls back. Her hand still covers his. “Go.” We’re far past the stopping point.
She nods and swallows back her tears.
It’s too late for them to walk away.
Why did you ask me? Don’t you forget.