"Craving", sequel to "Mourning"
All info on "Mourning" can be found here.
Title: "Craving" (sequel to "Goodbye" "Mourning")
Author:
Voxified
Pairing: House/Stacy
Rating: Teen
Warnings: If you utterly despise songfic, this isn't for you. Each chapter has a song as an epilogue, but I don't base the fic on the songs.
Summary: Sequel to "Goodbye" "Mourning" (That is the official and final title. Sorry I kept changing it. I have more of an idea where I'm going with it now, and that title fits much better.) Omniscient third-person narraration from House's POV. The plot explores House/Stacy post "No Reason".
Disclaimer: If I owned them, Stacy would still be on the show snogging House's face off. They belong to David Shore and his minions, the cruel geniuses. "Don't Come Knocking" lyrics belong to Bono and Andrea Corr.
Notes: I'm a young writer with a fragile ego, but I like feedback good or bad. It's like crack Vicodin to me. It's not finished, and if it is finished, it will be slowly since school (and now summer work) interferes with my life. It's not BETA'd but I do my best and have decent grammar.
Chapter 1 here.
House watches her features carefully as they register shock, briefly something that might be happiness, sadness, anger and back to shock as she looks down and notices the absence of his cane. She draws in a quick breath as she prepares to say something, then falls silent for a moment before she says “Where’s your cane?” with a hint of concern.
House smiles a little as he says, “Long story.” When she doesn’t say anything after a moment and still has that look of concerned confusion that makes it look like she thinks he’s been mugged and the assailant was short on firewood, he adds, “Don’t worry,” as he gives a little hop to demonstrate.
She still looks confused as she sighs and says, “What do you want, Greg?”
“Getting past the cold doorway is pretty close to the top of the list right now,” he says, raising his eyebrows while looking as humble as an egomaniac can.
Stacy seems to consider it a moment before she opens her door and moves out of the way, allowing him entrance.
“Thanks,” he mumbles a little awkwardly as he follows her inside.
“You want some coffee? You smell like you need it,” she says as she walks toward the kitchen.
“Black with two sugars,” House says as he enters the room behind her.
“That’s what I figured. Your taste hasn’t changed like mine.”
House can’t determine if that’s subtext or not in his current state, so he decides to say nothing in response. While Stacy fixes the coffee, House takes the opportunity to study her and her home. A little weight lost from her already slender figure … stress? A blanked tossed on the couch next to the latest John Grisham novel… reading near 1 AM on a Friday night? Not that unusual, but a little strange for Stacy, who likes to go to bed early (unless there’s something worth staying up for) and take advantage of the whole tomorrow. Blank spots where it looks like photos and paintings used to hang - Mark’s? Dar Williams CD case on top of the stereo … not exactly cheerful music. Back to Stacy as he hears a spoon stirring in a cup… how did he fail to notice how short that bathrobe was before? Her tall, smooth legs are his to drink in before she turns around and he jerks his eyes upwards before she can notice him staring where he has no right. At least not anymore.
She sets his coffee down on the counter where he is seated on a red stool. She takes the seat one over from him. Maybe it’s just so she can have better eye contact, but he senses avoidance and stares from the empty seat next to him to her and back again, asking a silent question. She just stares back at him with a passive expression and lets the silence continue.
“So, where’s Mark?” he asks, trying to sound innocent.
“Would you have come here tonight if you didn’t already know?”
He’s forgotten how quick she is. He pauses before telling her, “Wilson’s dating a nurse who has a friend who works as a home-nurse who mentioned that she’s dating a recently divorced patient of hers. Did he cheat on you?”
“No, but I wouldn’t have blamed him if he had.”
“Are you seeing someone?”
“Would it matter if I were seeing someone? Marriage didn’t seem to bother your conscience. Why Greg? So you can take me to the drive-in and make out in your dad’s car? ”
This elicits a small laugh from House and a fleeting smile. He’s missed that wit. “No, but I was thinking you might have breakfast with me… And no, I don’t think it would matter if you were seeing someone, which you obviously aren’t… because I think you still love me more.”
His last comment immediately darkens the awkward mood that was just lifting. Stacy stares into her coffee and House can see a terrible sadness in her eyes when she looks up. “Why are you doing this, Greg?”
“Because I’m tired of worrying about how you are and not being able to know. I’m tired of regretting all the things I’ll never get to do with you because I’m too afraid of what might happen if we’re together, I’m tired of being a coward. I’m tired of dreaming about my life with you and then waking up and realizing I don’t have that anymore. I’m tired of call girls, peanut butter sandwiches, videogames and soap operas … I’m tired of my life without you in it, okay?” House didn’t mean to say all of that, but as soon as he started he couldn’t stop it from pouring out of him. Each word seemed faster and louder and more desperate. So much for keeping his dignity.
It’s painfully ironic. Now that Greg is willing to risk it all she’s not sure if she’s ready to. Rejection from the man she’s always loved not once but twice and divorce papers from a good man she’d convinced herself she loved not a month earlier have made her wary of delving back into the dangerous waters of her relationship with Greg. She can’t even look at him when she says, “I don’t know, Greg … I think it’s best if you go now.”
“Can’t.”
“What?”
“My bike’s at Charlie’s Tavern and I’m too drunk to drive.”
“Fine, then stay at a hotel.”
“Gonna drive me? You think Triangle Taxi is running at 2 AM in Short Hills? Or if any of your sleepy hotels are open for business right now?” He’s almost gleeful as he recites these points.
Stacy rolls her eyes then walks over to a closet in the hallway and pulls out some linen. She hands them to him and says, “Looks like you’ll have no trouble making the couch. You going to tell me what happened to your cane?”
“Yeah, over breakfast.”
“Goodnight Greg,” she says as she begins to walk towards the stairs, leaving him by the couch. She doesn’t return the light kiss he places on her cheek after he grabs her arm but House can’t help noticing the way she walks a little more confidently as she makes her way up the stairs. “Goodnight Stacy.”
You’re everything I could want
There’s no house you couldn’t haunt
You’re the key that could keep me in
You’re the sense, under the skin
I won’t bring you roses
I’ll bring myself instead
Time only is time
For what is meant
Not what was said
Don’t come knocking, don’t come knocking
Don’t come knocking at my door
Don’t come knocking, knock, knock, knocking
Don’t come knocking no more
You’re a dream I could wake up in
You’re a fight I shouldn’t try to win
You’re the door, I’ll always leave open
You’re the heart that’s always hopin’
Off a tree-lined avenue, in a college made of stone
I’ll sit there not dreaming, I would rather live alone
Don’t come knocking, don’t come knocking
Don’t come knocking at my door
Don’t come knocking, knock, knock, knocking
Don’t come knocking no more
All the stars in the sky
They can’t light our way, oh no
All the maps, and all the charts
All the dreams…
Dreams …won’t… leave… you…
Home…
Home…
Don’t come knocking, don’t come knocking
Don’t come knocking at my door
Don’t come knocking, don’t come knocking
Don’t come knocking at my door
Don’t come knocking, knock, knock, knocking
Don’t come knocking no more
Title: "Craving" (sequel to "Goodbye" "Mourning")
Author:
Voxified
Pairing: House/Stacy
Rating: Teen
Warnings: If you utterly despise songfic, this isn't for you. Each chapter has a song as an epilogue, but I don't base the fic on the songs.
Summary: Sequel to "Goodbye" "Mourning" (That is the official and final title. Sorry I kept changing it. I have more of an idea where I'm going with it now, and that title fits much better.) Omniscient third-person narraration from House's POV. The plot explores House/Stacy post "No Reason".
Disclaimer: If I owned them, Stacy would still be on the show snogging House's face off. They belong to David Shore and his minions, the cruel geniuses. "Don't Come Knocking" lyrics belong to Bono and Andrea Corr.
Notes: I'm a young writer with a fragile ego, but I like feedback good or bad. It's like crack Vicodin to me. It's not finished, and if it is finished, it will be slowly since school (and now summer work) interferes with my life. It's not BETA'd but I do my best and have decent grammar.
Chapter 1 here.
House watches her features carefully as they register shock, briefly something that might be happiness, sadness, anger and back to shock as she looks down and notices the absence of his cane. She draws in a quick breath as she prepares to say something, then falls silent for a moment before she says “Where’s your cane?” with a hint of concern.
House smiles a little as he says, “Long story.” When she doesn’t say anything after a moment and still has that look of concerned confusion that makes it look like she thinks he’s been mugged and the assailant was short on firewood, he adds, “Don’t worry,” as he gives a little hop to demonstrate.
She still looks confused as she sighs and says, “What do you want, Greg?”
“Getting past the cold doorway is pretty close to the top of the list right now,” he says, raising his eyebrows while looking as humble as an egomaniac can.
Stacy seems to consider it a moment before she opens her door and moves out of the way, allowing him entrance.
“Thanks,” he mumbles a little awkwardly as he follows her inside.
“You want some coffee? You smell like you need it,” she says as she walks toward the kitchen.
“Black with two sugars,” House says as he enters the room behind her.
“That’s what I figured. Your taste hasn’t changed like mine.”
House can’t determine if that’s subtext or not in his current state, so he decides to say nothing in response. While Stacy fixes the coffee, House takes the opportunity to study her and her home. A little weight lost from her already slender figure … stress? A blanked tossed on the couch next to the latest John Grisham novel… reading near 1 AM on a Friday night? Not that unusual, but a little strange for Stacy, who likes to go to bed early (unless there’s something worth staying up for) and take advantage of the whole tomorrow. Blank spots where it looks like photos and paintings used to hang - Mark’s? Dar Williams CD case on top of the stereo … not exactly cheerful music. Back to Stacy as he hears a spoon stirring in a cup… how did he fail to notice how short that bathrobe was before? Her tall, smooth legs are his to drink in before she turns around and he jerks his eyes upwards before she can notice him staring where he has no right. At least not anymore.
She sets his coffee down on the counter where he is seated on a red stool. She takes the seat one over from him. Maybe it’s just so she can have better eye contact, but he senses avoidance and stares from the empty seat next to him to her and back again, asking a silent question. She just stares back at him with a passive expression and lets the silence continue.
“So, where’s Mark?” he asks, trying to sound innocent.
“Would you have come here tonight if you didn’t already know?”
He’s forgotten how quick she is. He pauses before telling her, “Wilson’s dating a nurse who has a friend who works as a home-nurse who mentioned that she’s dating a recently divorced patient of hers. Did he cheat on you?”
“No, but I wouldn’t have blamed him if he had.”
“Are you seeing someone?”
“Would it matter if I were seeing someone? Marriage didn’t seem to bother your conscience. Why Greg? So you can take me to the drive-in and make out in your dad’s car? ”
This elicits a small laugh from House and a fleeting smile. He’s missed that wit. “No, but I was thinking you might have breakfast with me… And no, I don’t think it would matter if you were seeing someone, which you obviously aren’t… because I think you still love me more.”
His last comment immediately darkens the awkward mood that was just lifting. Stacy stares into her coffee and House can see a terrible sadness in her eyes when she looks up. “Why are you doing this, Greg?”
“Because I’m tired of worrying about how you are and not being able to know. I’m tired of regretting all the things I’ll never get to do with you because I’m too afraid of what might happen if we’re together, I’m tired of being a coward. I’m tired of dreaming about my life with you and then waking up and realizing I don’t have that anymore. I’m tired of call girls, peanut butter sandwiches, videogames and soap operas … I’m tired of my life without you in it, okay?” House didn’t mean to say all of that, but as soon as he started he couldn’t stop it from pouring out of him. Each word seemed faster and louder and more desperate. So much for keeping his dignity.
It’s painfully ironic. Now that Greg is willing to risk it all she’s not sure if she’s ready to. Rejection from the man she’s always loved not once but twice and divorce papers from a good man she’d convinced herself she loved not a month earlier have made her wary of delving back into the dangerous waters of her relationship with Greg. She can’t even look at him when she says, “I don’t know, Greg … I think it’s best if you go now.”
“Can’t.”
“What?”
“My bike’s at Charlie’s Tavern and I’m too drunk to drive.”
“Fine, then stay at a hotel.”
“Gonna drive me? You think Triangle Taxi is running at 2 AM in Short Hills? Or if any of your sleepy hotels are open for business right now?” He’s almost gleeful as he recites these points.
Stacy rolls her eyes then walks over to a closet in the hallway and pulls out some linen. She hands them to him and says, “Looks like you’ll have no trouble making the couch. You going to tell me what happened to your cane?”
“Yeah, over breakfast.”
“Goodnight Greg,” she says as she begins to walk towards the stairs, leaving him by the couch. She doesn’t return the light kiss he places on her cheek after he grabs her arm but House can’t help noticing the way she walks a little more confidently as she makes her way up the stairs. “Goodnight Stacy.”
You’re everything I could want
There’s no house you couldn’t haunt
You’re the key that could keep me in
You’re the sense, under the skin
I won’t bring you roses
I’ll bring myself instead
Time only is time
For what is meant
Not what was said
Don’t come knocking, don’t come knocking
Don’t come knocking at my door
Don’t come knocking, knock, knock, knocking
Don’t come knocking no more
You’re a dream I could wake up in
You’re a fight I shouldn’t try to win
You’re the door, I’ll always leave open
You’re the heart that’s always hopin’
Off a tree-lined avenue, in a college made of stone
I’ll sit there not dreaming, I would rather live alone
Don’t come knocking, don’t come knocking
Don’t come knocking at my door
Don’t come knocking, knock, knock, knocking
Don’t come knocking no more
All the stars in the sky
They can’t light our way, oh no
All the maps, and all the charts
All the dreams…
Dreams …won’t… leave… you…
Home…
Home…
Don’t come knocking, don’t come knocking
Don’t come knocking at my door
Don’t come knocking, don’t come knocking
Don’t come knocking at my door
Don’t come knocking, knock, knock, knocking
Don’t come knocking no more