"Wait, Wonder, Run", Fic: House M.D.
Title: Wait, Wonder, Run
Rating: PG
Prompts/Pairings: "What are you hiding?" provided by _usakeh_, Allison Cameron/Remy Hadley [Thirteen]
Spoilers/Warnings: Slight canon time line editing
Summary: Cameron absolutely, irrevocably hates Thirteen… sort of.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not real, no profit made.
Author's Note: Written for a summer ficathon over at housefemslash. Written for the lovely mod and my dear friend _usakeh_.
Cameron absolutely, irrevocably hates Thirteen.
She decides this on the first day she sees the other woman standing silently in the middle of the conference room as she waits for the arrival of her new boss. Cameron feels something inside of her burn as she runs her eyes down the other woman’s slim build. Her legs are more shapely, her cheekbones more sculpted, her eyes are a more intriguing colour of muddy green. The final thing that sets Cameron off, however, is Thirteen’s hair. It’s chocolaty brown and falls in perfectly effortless waves over her shoulders.
Cameron goes home that night and schedules an appointment to have her hair bleached.
…
Cameron maybe only dislikes Thirteen.
As much as she tries to deny it, the other woman is smart. It brings back painful memories of when Cameron realized she was only hired as lobby art: Foreman had the grades and Chase had the home support. It made them seem like real doctors when compared pretty Cameron, who was only a hot body wandering the halls of the hospital. Now Cameron knows better and can see the results in her success and the other two duckling’s relative failure. Still, watching Thirteen sweep case after case into her own corner makes Cameron feel a little insecure. On the other hand, it shows her that Thirteen isn’t as complete a carbon copy as House had hoped for: Cameron envies Thirteen’s cool, calm demeanor and the lack of emotion that separates her from everyone else.
She starts helping House out more and more to watch for both Thirteen’s brilliant successes and her satisfying failures.
…
Cameron no longer acknowledges Thirteen.
It’s the easiest way to get by on a day-to-day basis without wanting to scream in Thirteen’s face. Cameron never could do her job without letting at least a little compassion seep into her work, whereas Thirteen seems to flourish on playing everything on a level field. Telling patients about their terminal illnesses takes no more a toll on her than correctly diagnosing a patient. Cameron can’t figure out how Thirteen can survive like this, on grim smiles and cold exteriors: even House has fun from time to time. If she digs deep enough, it frightens her. She wants to walk up to Thirteen and shake her hard, ask her what the hell she is hiding and watch Thirteen burst into tears. Cameron’s daydreams turn from finding happiness to learning what makes Thirteen tick, listening to her problems and diagnosing her.
That’s when Cameron realizes she’s turning into House and she refuses to think about Thirteen anymore.
…
Cameron is neutral on all subjects pertaining to Thirteen.
Eventually Cameron figures out that it’s just as ridiculous to ban herself from thinking of Thirteen as it is to wonder about her. So she settles into a more pleasant routine of letting Thirteen cross her mind when the woman is either addressing her or speaking about something Cameron is currently concentrating on. No more daydreaming, no more pondering about the how’s and why’s and if’s of the deliciously mysterious new fellow. Once or twice she actually speaks to Thirteen, complimenting her dress at party, asking her for a slide in the lab. The back of her mind secretly knows what’s happening, but for all intents and purposes Cameron is clueless.
She’s convinced she’s over Thirteen, but she can’t bear to admit to herself that Thirteen needed getting over.
…
Cameron may or may not admit to sort of liking Thirteen.
It’s unavoidable so Cameron gives in and chats with Thirteen one day in the locker room. Thirteen is just leaving when Cameron calls out, friendly smile well-planned. She draws her into a conversation about the day, then books, then wine choices: Cameron is bitterly disappointed when Thirteen makes no move to suggest an evening together involving their common Pinot Noir passion and perhaps a movie. She watches the younger woman walk out, the combination of her hips swaying and a single tiny curl on the back of her neck underneath her pinned up hair making Cameron’s mouth water. She sits on a bench and doesn’t move for almost twenty minutes, suddenly depressed for absolutely no reason.
Later that night, she smiles at no one in her dining room as she pours a glass of wine: the smile disappears once she becomes conscious of the fact that she was imaging what Thirteen would look like across from her.
…
Cameron might actually like like Thirteen.
The idea is terrifying beyond words and Cameron has never been so frightened of herself in her life. She attempts to dissuade herself until she runs out of reasons. I don’t like girls. That was always true and always will be: she just likes Thirteen. Crushes on girl friends are common. That is partially true. If she and Thirteen were actually friends, it would make sense. I just haven’t gotten laid in a long time. She held onto that one for almost a week before she gave it up, admitting that wanting to hold hands was much different than wanting to fuck someone’s brains out. I just need a friend. A friend with benefits such as kissing, dating, being naked.
Cameron mutters oh, fuck to herself and glances over at Thirteen, smiling at the way her brow was furrowing as she concentrated.
…
Cameron refuses to admit she loves Thirteen.
She knows it’s true and still she denies it, even as the leaves change and her heart’s persistence doesn’t. She wouldn’t know what to do even if she told Thirteen: kiss her? Run away? Say she was just kidding? While Cameron isn’t truly scared of her own reaction, she is scared of Thirteen’s. She could tell someone. She could push Cameron away. She could laugh in her face and tell her she’s mistaken, even though Cameron knows she’s not. Yes, she’s straight, yes, this is insane, yes, she still loves Thirteen. Four months and a thousand longing glances are proof enough to her.
So one night when Thirteen leans over and brushes a tentative kiss against Cameron’s cheek, she merely smiles in a way that’s not inviting and nothing more than friendly and accepting. Her heart is heavy as she heads to her own car, convinced that Thirteen still doesn’t know.
Rating: PG
Prompts/Pairings: "What are you hiding?" provided by _usakeh_, Allison Cameron/Remy Hadley [Thirteen]
Spoilers/Warnings: Slight canon time line editing
Summary: Cameron absolutely, irrevocably hates Thirteen… sort of.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not real, no profit made.
Author's Note: Written for a summer ficathon over at housefemslash. Written for the lovely mod and my dear friend _usakeh_.
Cameron absolutely, irrevocably hates Thirteen.
She decides this on the first day she sees the other woman standing silently in the middle of the conference room as she waits for the arrival of her new boss. Cameron feels something inside of her burn as she runs her eyes down the other woman’s slim build. Her legs are more shapely, her cheekbones more sculpted, her eyes are a more intriguing colour of muddy green. The final thing that sets Cameron off, however, is Thirteen’s hair. It’s chocolaty brown and falls in perfectly effortless waves over her shoulders.
Cameron goes home that night and schedules an appointment to have her hair bleached.
…
Cameron maybe only dislikes Thirteen.
As much as she tries to deny it, the other woman is smart. It brings back painful memories of when Cameron realized she was only hired as lobby art: Foreman had the grades and Chase had the home support. It made them seem like real doctors when compared pretty Cameron, who was only a hot body wandering the halls of the hospital. Now Cameron knows better and can see the results in her success and the other two duckling’s relative failure. Still, watching Thirteen sweep case after case into her own corner makes Cameron feel a little insecure. On the other hand, it shows her that Thirteen isn’t as complete a carbon copy as House had hoped for: Cameron envies Thirteen’s cool, calm demeanor and the lack of emotion that separates her from everyone else.
She starts helping House out more and more to watch for both Thirteen’s brilliant successes and her satisfying failures.
…
Cameron no longer acknowledges Thirteen.
It’s the easiest way to get by on a day-to-day basis without wanting to scream in Thirteen’s face. Cameron never could do her job without letting at least a little compassion seep into her work, whereas Thirteen seems to flourish on playing everything on a level field. Telling patients about their terminal illnesses takes no more a toll on her than correctly diagnosing a patient. Cameron can’t figure out how Thirteen can survive like this, on grim smiles and cold exteriors: even House has fun from time to time. If she digs deep enough, it frightens her. She wants to walk up to Thirteen and shake her hard, ask her what the hell she is hiding and watch Thirteen burst into tears. Cameron’s daydreams turn from finding happiness to learning what makes Thirteen tick, listening to her problems and diagnosing her.
That’s when Cameron realizes she’s turning into House and she refuses to think about Thirteen anymore.
…
Cameron is neutral on all subjects pertaining to Thirteen.
Eventually Cameron figures out that it’s just as ridiculous to ban herself from thinking of Thirteen as it is to wonder about her. So she settles into a more pleasant routine of letting Thirteen cross her mind when the woman is either addressing her or speaking about something Cameron is currently concentrating on. No more daydreaming, no more pondering about the how’s and why’s and if’s of the deliciously mysterious new fellow. Once or twice she actually speaks to Thirteen, complimenting her dress at party, asking her for a slide in the lab. The back of her mind secretly knows what’s happening, but for all intents and purposes Cameron is clueless.
She’s convinced she’s over Thirteen, but she can’t bear to admit to herself that Thirteen needed getting over.
…
Cameron may or may not admit to sort of liking Thirteen.
It’s unavoidable so Cameron gives in and chats with Thirteen one day in the locker room. Thirteen is just leaving when Cameron calls out, friendly smile well-planned. She draws her into a conversation about the day, then books, then wine choices: Cameron is bitterly disappointed when Thirteen makes no move to suggest an evening together involving their common Pinot Noir passion and perhaps a movie. She watches the younger woman walk out, the combination of her hips swaying and a single tiny curl on the back of her neck underneath her pinned up hair making Cameron’s mouth water. She sits on a bench and doesn’t move for almost twenty minutes, suddenly depressed for absolutely no reason.
Later that night, she smiles at no one in her dining room as she pours a glass of wine: the smile disappears once she becomes conscious of the fact that she was imaging what Thirteen would look like across from her.
…
Cameron might actually like like Thirteen.
The idea is terrifying beyond words and Cameron has never been so frightened of herself in her life. She attempts to dissuade herself until she runs out of reasons. I don’t like girls. That was always true and always will be: she just likes Thirteen. Crushes on girl friends are common. That is partially true. If she and Thirteen were actually friends, it would make sense. I just haven’t gotten laid in a long time. She held onto that one for almost a week before she gave it up, admitting that wanting to hold hands was much different than wanting to fuck someone’s brains out. I just need a friend. A friend with benefits such as kissing, dating, being naked.
Cameron mutters oh, fuck to herself and glances over at Thirteen, smiling at the way her brow was furrowing as she concentrated.
…
Cameron refuses to admit she loves Thirteen.
She knows it’s true and still she denies it, even as the leaves change and her heart’s persistence doesn’t. She wouldn’t know what to do even if she told Thirteen: kiss her? Run away? Say she was just kidding? While Cameron isn’t truly scared of her own reaction, she is scared of Thirteen’s. She could tell someone. She could push Cameron away. She could laugh in her face and tell her she’s mistaken, even though Cameron knows she’s not. Yes, she’s straight, yes, this is insane, yes, she still loves Thirteen. Four months and a thousand longing glances are proof enough to her.
So one night when Thirteen leans over and brushes a tentative kiss against Cameron’s cheek, she merely smiles in a way that’s not inviting and nothing more than friendly and accepting. Her heart is heavy as she heads to her own car, convinced that Thirteen still doesn’t know.