(no subject)
Love Song (in pianissimo)
Fandom: House (Chase/Cameron)
Prompt: 31 - Sunrise
Rating: PG
Words: 416
* * *
The transition from having one person in the apartment to two was surprisingly easy; they kept the same hours, for one thing. They were both still up before sunrise.
“Don’t know why we get up this early,” Chase commented when Cameron joined him, carrying two mugs of coffee that furled steam into the dawn air. “It’s not as if… thank you… not as if we’ve got anywhere to be.”
“There’s something to be said for consistency,” she decided, and sat down next to him.
When Chase was little, they’d had a balcony on the second story of the house. A gorgeous wrought-iron thing looking out over the property, complete with a wicker loveseat and a long box of withering herbs hooked over the rail. Mum’s domain, unquestionably. A grown-up place where she went to… to spit out all the butt-ends of her days and ways, if you wanted to get poetic about it. A hundred cigarette butts flicked down into the garden below; an empty bottle standing guard in the shadowed corner, at once a witness and a testament to the slowest form of suicide.
Cameron’s apartment didn’t have a balcony, but the roof was communal property. They always had it to themselves at this time of day. The sun made its sleepy ascent over the cityscape like a private showing just for them, drawing indigos and purples out of the ink sky.
A light breeze blew Cameron’s hair across her cheek and she raked it back, tucking in against his side for warmth. The Cameron version of a cuddle, intimacy in the form of utility. Chase sipped his coffee, hiding a smile. Considered putting his arm around her. Wondered if it was strange that he was still weighing the risk in moves like that, even after all this time.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
“Me? Nothing.”
“Yes, you are. You’ve got that look.”
(I’m in love with you, Allison Cameron. Marry me?)
“I was thinking I should get a new job soon,” Chase said.
She ‘hmm’ed and rested her head against his shoulder like it didn’t mean a thing. “It’s only been a couple weeks. Tired of getting to see the sunrise already?”
A loaded question from a hundred feet back. Chase was becoming particularly adept at recognizing them. The sky had gone that only-for-a-minute pink, shot through with golden clouds; a garish Valentine made by someone equal parts incompetent and passionate.
“Nah,” he said, and put his arm around her. “Not yet.”
* * *
To be safe, the "spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways" line is from Eliot's 'Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock'. Which also explains the title, eh?
Fandom: House (Chase/Cameron)
Prompt: 31 - Sunrise
Rating: PG
Words: 416
* * *
The transition from having one person in the apartment to two was surprisingly easy; they kept the same hours, for one thing. They were both still up before sunrise.
“Don’t know why we get up this early,” Chase commented when Cameron joined him, carrying two mugs of coffee that furled steam into the dawn air. “It’s not as if… thank you… not as if we’ve got anywhere to be.”
“There’s something to be said for consistency,” she decided, and sat down next to him.
When Chase was little, they’d had a balcony on the second story of the house. A gorgeous wrought-iron thing looking out over the property, complete with a wicker loveseat and a long box of withering herbs hooked over the rail. Mum’s domain, unquestionably. A grown-up place where she went to… to spit out all the butt-ends of her days and ways, if you wanted to get poetic about it. A hundred cigarette butts flicked down into the garden below; an empty bottle standing guard in the shadowed corner, at once a witness and a testament to the slowest form of suicide.
Cameron’s apartment didn’t have a balcony, but the roof was communal property. They always had it to themselves at this time of day. The sun made its sleepy ascent over the cityscape like a private showing just for them, drawing indigos and purples out of the ink sky.
A light breeze blew Cameron’s hair across her cheek and she raked it back, tucking in against his side for warmth. The Cameron version of a cuddle, intimacy in the form of utility. Chase sipped his coffee, hiding a smile. Considered putting his arm around her. Wondered if it was strange that he was still weighing the risk in moves like that, even after all this time.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
“Me? Nothing.”
“Yes, you are. You’ve got that look.”
(I’m in love with you, Allison Cameron. Marry me?)
“I was thinking I should get a new job soon,” Chase said.
She ‘hmm’ed and rested her head against his shoulder like it didn’t mean a thing. “It’s only been a couple weeks. Tired of getting to see the sunrise already?”
A loaded question from a hundred feet back. Chase was becoming particularly adept at recognizing them. The sky had gone that only-for-a-minute pink, shot through with golden clouds; a garish Valentine made by someone equal parts incompetent and passionate.
“Nah,” he said, and put his arm around her. “Not yet.”
* * *
To be safe, the "spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways" line is from Eliot's 'Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock'. Which also explains the title, eh?