house fic: In Passing 9a/26
Title: In Passing
Pairing/Characters: cameron, cameron/other, house/stacy, house/cameron
Words: 1024
Spoilers: Erm, maybe later. I haven't decided what I'm going to take from.
Rating: Working up to NC-17
Summary: “He’s going to die,” he tells her. It’s his way of saying don’t go. Alison Cameron is unraveling. Greg House is waiting for his fall from grace.
Dedication: For _vicodin. *loves her*
A/N: Prologue is here. Chapter One is here. Chapter Two is here. Chapter Three is here. Chapter Four is here. Chapter Five A is here. Chapter Five B is here. Chapter Six is here. Chapter Seven is here. Chapter Eight is here.
A/N 2: *grins*
Is simplicity best
Or simply the easiest
The narrowest path
Is always the holiest
So walk on barefoot for me
Suffer some misery
If you want my love
Depeche Mode, Judas
eighteen.
His mouth on hers is cruel and viciously possessive.
There is a level of expectation that frightens her. She’s leaning too far into his embrace. His hands rest too well on her hips. And she cares too little for the awkward positioning that they’ve managed to remain in.
His tongue sweeps against her bottom lip. Her hands cradle his cheeks because he’s standing at too odd of an angle for her arms to wrap around his neck.
But they’re kissing. They’re kissing and they’re still strangers. They’re strangers that have somehow formed a startling connection with each other. There are so many emotional knots between the two of them and it scares her. She’s never been this close to somebody and not know them. It scares her that she knows nothing about him. And wants to know more.
The chair creaks when he finally pulls away, sitting on the footrest with his knees brushing against hers. He’s watching her too intensely.
“We can’t do this.” Her words stumble out of her mouth in a nervous fit of incoherency. She swallows and tries to steady herself, but is failing miserably. He can’t keep looking at her like that. “We can’t do this.”
He makes it sound too simple. Honest. “But we did it.”
Her lips are trembling. She can still feel the pressure from the kiss. She covers her mouth to muffle a sob. “I can’t believe we did this.”
“It’s not like I fucked you or anything.” His words slice through her unwelcome and cold.
She forces herself to stand. Her legs quiver and her mind is still reeling at what’s occurred. Irresponsible. Cruel. Selfish. She tries to think about Danny. Danny, who looks more alone that she’d like to remember. She closes her eyes. “How can you say something like that?”
“I forgot how young you are.”
His response is almost trance-like, as if he’s stepped out of the situation and is admiring it from outside. She does know that he finds a certain pleasure out of chaos. She should think it’s perverse and awful, but there’s something alarmingly gorgeous about the way he sees it.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Her response is borderline childish. She’s been backed into a corner. This is how she is expected to react to him.
“You know exactly what it does.”
She recovers nicely. Her voice is cold. Still. Her hands are still trembling, but holding them together manages to emphasize her ability to take charge. [hide] She needs to get out of his office. She needs to go back to where she should be. “I’m not the one acting like a child.”
“Hmm.”
“I have to go,” she murmurs, ignoring his tone. She fidgets with her sweater and brushes her hands over her jeans several times. Her palms are sweaty. She should go and get some coffee, she thinks. Steady her nerves. Regain control.
She doesn’t expect what comes next.
“He’s going to die,” he tells her. It’s his way of saying don’t go. She knows instantly and tries to ignore it. She fails. She trembles when he reaches her. “You might as well separate yourself from him now.”
Why me?
The old and familiar excuse spills out from her mouth. Her parents know it well. Her friends know it even better. “I love him.”
“That sounded like it hurt.” His unintentional kindness cuts deeper.
Why is this happening now? She steps back from where he sits, her hands shaking and her heart pounding in her chest. Why is this happening now? Everything, good and bad, seemed to feel the need to spill out of her when he is around. She can’t keep anything in. Truth. Lies. Secrets. She can protect everybody else but herself.
Why is she unwinding around him?
Her hand flies to her mouth to cover the makings of a sob. She can’t look at him. She can’t bear to see what he’s seeing in her now. Lie. “I. Love. Him.”
She hears him stand and approach her. Carefully placed- never too far, but close enough to make her uneasy.
“One more time.” His disdain is chilling. He seems to know exactly what she’s trying to do. Hide. Run. Walk away. She’s never faced anyone like this. [she doesn’t want to walk away]
Desperation. “She loves you.”
His laughs. It’s hard. Cutting. And she can feel his breath caressing her neck. He’s too close. “Is that what she told you?”
“Yes.” She can’t lie. She needs to resign to the fact. Not to him. There are no walls around him.
His hand is on her arm, barely touching it. He has hold on her. And he knows it. She should’ve listened to the warnings, to her instinct when she had the chance. She should’ve never looked back. “She’s in love with the sex.”
“Bastard,” she breathes.
“Yeah. I know. I’ve come to terms with that.”
She moves away from the glass window, away from the view of the outside. He lets her go, but his gaze is still on her. Still holding her. His next words, full of cruel curiosity, force her to turn and face him.
“I don’t understand what it is about you,” he murmurs. “I could crush you.”
The words stumble out of her lips. “You are.”
His gaze is amused. “No. I’m not.”
“We-”
He pulls her towards him. One of his hands rests on her waist and the other is inches away from her lips. “Does it matter?”
Her lips tremble. Her throat is too dry. Her answer is quiet. “No.”
“Good.”
“Good?” Her eyes are wide.
He nods, stepping away. She watches as he moves towards his desk, pulling off several files and throwing them into his briefcase. “Go grab your coat. We’re going somewhere.”
“No.” It’s a hollow answer. She doesn’t move.
He walks and stops in front of her. He brushes his lips against her forehead. She shivers as his fingers caress her side. “You’ve already been lying to each other for so long. What’s one more day?”
He disappears into the other room before she answers.
What’s one more day?
webs
Pairing/Characters: cameron, cameron/other, house/stacy, house/cameron
Words: 1024
Spoilers: Erm, maybe later. I haven't decided what I'm going to take from.
Rating: Working up to NC-17
Summary: “He’s going to die,” he tells her. It’s his way of saying don’t go. Alison Cameron is unraveling. Greg House is waiting for his fall from grace.
Dedication: For _vicodin. *loves her*
A/N: Prologue is here. Chapter One is here. Chapter Two is here. Chapter Three is here. Chapter Four is here. Chapter Five A is here. Chapter Five B is here. Chapter Six is here. Chapter Seven is here. Chapter Eight is here.
A/N 2: *grins*
Is simplicity best
Or simply the easiest
The narrowest path
Is always the holiest
So walk on barefoot for me
Suffer some misery
If you want my love
Depeche Mode, Judas
eighteen.
His mouth on hers is cruel and viciously possessive.
There is a level of expectation that frightens her. She’s leaning too far into his embrace. His hands rest too well on her hips. And she cares too little for the awkward positioning that they’ve managed to remain in.
His tongue sweeps against her bottom lip. Her hands cradle his cheeks because he’s standing at too odd of an angle for her arms to wrap around his neck.
But they’re kissing. They’re kissing and they’re still strangers. They’re strangers that have somehow formed a startling connection with each other. There are so many emotional knots between the two of them and it scares her. She’s never been this close to somebody and not know them. It scares her that she knows nothing about him. And wants to know more.
The chair creaks when he finally pulls away, sitting on the footrest with his knees brushing against hers. He’s watching her too intensely.
“We can’t do this.” Her words stumble out of her mouth in a nervous fit of incoherency. She swallows and tries to steady herself, but is failing miserably. He can’t keep looking at her like that. “We can’t do this.”
He makes it sound too simple. Honest. “But we did it.”
Her lips are trembling. She can still feel the pressure from the kiss. She covers her mouth to muffle a sob. “I can’t believe we did this.”
“It’s not like I fucked you or anything.” His words slice through her unwelcome and cold.
She forces herself to stand. Her legs quiver and her mind is still reeling at what’s occurred. Irresponsible. Cruel. Selfish. She tries to think about Danny. Danny, who looks more alone that she’d like to remember. She closes her eyes. “How can you say something like that?”
“I forgot how young you are.”
His response is almost trance-like, as if he’s stepped out of the situation and is admiring it from outside. She does know that he finds a certain pleasure out of chaos. She should think it’s perverse and awful, but there’s something alarmingly gorgeous about the way he sees it.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Her response is borderline childish. She’s been backed into a corner. This is how she is expected to react to him.
“You know exactly what it does.”
She recovers nicely. Her voice is cold. Still. Her hands are still trembling, but holding them together manages to emphasize her ability to take charge. [hide] She needs to get out of his office. She needs to go back to where she should be. “I’m not the one acting like a child.”
“Hmm.”
“I have to go,” she murmurs, ignoring his tone. She fidgets with her sweater and brushes her hands over her jeans several times. Her palms are sweaty. She should go and get some coffee, she thinks. Steady her nerves. Regain control.
She doesn’t expect what comes next.
“He’s going to die,” he tells her. It’s his way of saying don’t go. She knows instantly and tries to ignore it. She fails. She trembles when he reaches her. “You might as well separate yourself from him now.”
Why me?
The old and familiar excuse spills out from her mouth. Her parents know it well. Her friends know it even better. “I love him.”
“That sounded like it hurt.” His unintentional kindness cuts deeper.
Why is this happening now? She steps back from where he sits, her hands shaking and her heart pounding in her chest. Why is this happening now? Everything, good and bad, seemed to feel the need to spill out of her when he is around. She can’t keep anything in. Truth. Lies. Secrets. She can protect everybody else but herself.
Why is she unwinding around him?
Her hand flies to her mouth to cover the makings of a sob. She can’t look at him. She can’t bear to see what he’s seeing in her now. Lie. “I. Love. Him.”
She hears him stand and approach her. Carefully placed- never too far, but close enough to make her uneasy.
“One more time.” His disdain is chilling. He seems to know exactly what she’s trying to do. Hide. Run. Walk away. She’s never faced anyone like this. [she doesn’t want to walk away]
Desperation. “She loves you.”
His laughs. It’s hard. Cutting. And she can feel his breath caressing her neck. He’s too close. “Is that what she told you?”
“Yes.” She can’t lie. She needs to resign to the fact. Not to him. There are no walls around him.
His hand is on her arm, barely touching it. He has hold on her. And he knows it. She should’ve listened to the warnings, to her instinct when she had the chance. She should’ve never looked back. “She’s in love with the sex.”
“Bastard,” she breathes.
“Yeah. I know. I’ve come to terms with that.”
She moves away from the glass window, away from the view of the outside. He lets her go, but his gaze is still on her. Still holding her. His next words, full of cruel curiosity, force her to turn and face him.
“I don’t understand what it is about you,” he murmurs. “I could crush you.”
The words stumble out of her lips. “You are.”
His gaze is amused. “No. I’m not.”
“We-”
He pulls her towards him. One of his hands rests on her waist and the other is inches away from her lips. “Does it matter?”
Her lips tremble. Her throat is too dry. Her answer is quiet. “No.”
“Good.”
“Good?” Her eyes are wide.
He nods, stepping away. She watches as he moves towards his desk, pulling off several files and throwing them into his briefcase. “Go grab your coat. We’re going somewhere.”
“No.” It’s a hollow answer. She doesn’t move.
He walks and stops in front of her. He brushes his lips against her forehead. She shivers as his fingers caress her side. “You’ve already been lying to each other for so long. What’s one more day?”
He disappears into the other room before she answers.
What’s one more day?
webs