Apparently, elva_barr hates me...
because she requested House/Cameron. The kicker of it is that her tiny behiney doesn't even like
House/Cam, she's just FUCKING with me.
And she pretty much dared me. You know, without actually saying that.
So, anyway, I wrote it, but it's NOT exactly fluff. Dark humor, much?
Title: Enough
Fandom: House
Pairing: House/Cameron; House/gin
Rating: PG
Words: hairclip, strawberry, nails, sharp, gin
She's clipping her nails in bed again.
It's like a knife through his skull, and she knows it.
He takes another swig of gin, swishing it around his teeth and gums, seriously debating
his options. Again.
He could actually talk to her...but that seems like taking it to far. It's not like
anything will penetrate her vacuous skull, short of a bullet.
Which is a thought.
He'll be the prime suspect, though, and that's never good. Besides, his only character
witness is Wilson, whose credibility is less than shot due to some bad decisions in
script-writing (most notably, trusting House).
Making it look like a suicide is thoroughly out of the question, as everyone knows she'd never be so kind as to put him out of his misery.
Now she's filing her nails. Presumably into sharp points.
He hates her so very much in this moment. Divorce is too good for her. He hates her
from the tip of her strawberry-scented head, to the bottom of her french-pedicured feet.
He's formulating the statistical possibilities of hairclip-related fatalities when she
finally rolls over and switches off the light.
And leaves him in the dark.
"Inconsiderate whore," he mutters.
"Did you say something, dear?" she asks sweetly.
Too sweetly.
House reaches silently for his pillow...
House/Cam, she's just FUCKING with me.
And she pretty much dared me. You know, without actually saying that.
So, anyway, I wrote it, but it's NOT exactly fluff. Dark humor, much?
Title: Enough
Fandom: House
Pairing: House/Cameron; House/gin
Rating: PG
Words: hairclip, strawberry, nails, sharp, gin
She's clipping her nails in bed again.
It's like a knife through his skull, and she knows it.
He takes another swig of gin, swishing it around his teeth and gums, seriously debating
his options. Again.
He could actually talk to her...but that seems like taking it to far. It's not like
anything will penetrate her vacuous skull, short of a bullet.
Which is a thought.
He'll be the prime suspect, though, and that's never good. Besides, his only character
witness is Wilson, whose credibility is less than shot due to some bad decisions in
script-writing (most notably, trusting House).
Making it look like a suicide is thoroughly out of the question, as everyone knows she'd never be so kind as to put him out of his misery.
Now she's filing her nails. Presumably into sharp points.
He hates her so very much in this moment. Divorce is too good for her. He hates her
from the tip of her strawberry-scented head, to the bottom of her french-pedicured feet.
He's formulating the statistical possibilities of hairclip-related fatalities when she
finally rolls over and switches off the light.
And leaves him in the dark.
"Inconsiderate whore," he mutters.
"Did you say something, dear?" she asks sweetly.
Too sweetly.
House reaches silently for his pillow...