Chaos Theory [10/?]
Title: Chaos Theory [10/?]
Pairing: House/Cameron
Rating: R
Summary: They would never dream of breaking this fixation. Proximity can be a dangerous thing.
Author’s Note: I’m thinking three, maybe four chapters to go after this one. Roughly.
Previous parts can be found here.
+
every second dripping off my fingertips
i could do most anything to you
wage your war
wage your war
i could do most anything to you
-snow patrol
+
House was silently picking at his food, and she watched his movements under hooded lashes, breaking up a roll of bread. They had taken a corner table, away from most of the other doctors. She knew he preferred to observe and analyse them from afar. Make his own assumptions without their lies to contradict him.
His brief, guarded description of his lonely childhood certainly went a long way in explaining why he liked to remain on the outside instead of involving himself directly in anything resembling social activity. She got the feeling he had been isolating himself from others long before the infarction.
She knew he hated giving her these insights, saw it as a lapse of power, an involuntary gap in his outer defences. Secretly she enjoyed being able to put an explanation behind the many unanswered questions she had catalogued in her brain. Gleaning answers others would never hope to have. Even Wilson. She knew, in the last few days, even before she started asking her questions, that she had started to understand him far more closely than anyone had in a long time.
What that meant for them when they returned… well, she preferred not to think about that.
She nudged her empty plate forward, clasping her hands idly on the edge of the table. House glanced up, slanting an eyebrow.
“Subtle.”
She rolled her eyes, but her lips quirked faintly.
He continued to eat, and she knew he was going slowly on purpose. By the time he finished, half of the dinner crowd had filtered from the hall.
The night was slightly cooler, bringing with it a faint, ocean breeze somehow so inherently Californian she was instantly reminded of childhood vacations to beach houses and pretty seaside towns. House’s cane thumping rhythmically against the ground was the only sound interrupting the rare, untarnished silence between them.
She was content to allow it to settle between them a while before reluctantly breaking it.
“I have another question for you,” she started carefully.
He gave her a sidelong glance, eyebrows drawing together mordantly. “Oh, goody.”
She paused, finding her voice. Her hesitation was obvious. “This one’s… different. You’re probably not going to like it.”
He gave her a look. “Whereas the others have been so much fun.”
She pursed her lips, conceding his point. She could see the soft, steady light of the pool up ahead, glowing like something foreign and alien. It was somewhat reassuring, and she reminded herself that there was psychology in colours. Muted, bluish tones meant calm.
He had been oddly yielding so far, so she straightened her shoulders, and decided it was safe to plunge ahead. She cleared her throat, examining the ground in front of her. “You and Cuddy… Have you ever…?”
His mouth twisted in a slow, sardonic smile, and he looked ahead at the light.
“Oh, how did I not know that one was coming?”
Cameron glanced at him, silently refusing to relent. The question had been burning in her mind since Cuddy’s call, and in all honesty, a lot longer than that. It was no secret the hospital staff had running bets on their history together. It was one of their best kept secrets. It hadn’t occurred to her until now that she was in a position to actually discover the truth.
It was the one time she would let herself indulge her idle curiosity.
“You said I could ask anything,” she said softly.
“Yeah, but I had no idea you would be so personal,” he said sarcastically. They reached the edge of the pool, and he stopped walking, tapping his cane faintly against the concrete beneath their feet. He looked like he was going to dismiss the question, but he surprised her, lingering unnecessarily over his answer.
“Once,” he admitted, quietly, at last. “It was a long time ago.”
She blinked, tilting her chin slightly, slowly absorbing this revelation.
“How… long?”
He sighed heavily. “Years ago. Just after she first hired me.”
She lifted her eyebrows, tapping her thumb absently against the side of her hip. “Oh.”
House rolled his eyes, obviously reading into her reaction. “What, you think sleeping with your boss is unethical?” he asked tartly. He paused emphatically. “Oh, wait.”
She pursed her lips. She would not be cowed by his cruelty. She knew he was just being defensive. “No,” she responded calmly. “I just always thought it happened when you were in college.”
This time, House stared at her, features carefully slack. “You’ve given this a lot of thought?”
She ran a hand dismissively through her hair. “I was curious. Everyone is curious.” She paused, eyeing him warily as another long-running doubt tugged at her. “So… nothing is going on now?”
House frowned blankly. “What would make you think that?”
“You’re being secretive. You’re… hiding something.”
He scoffed. “And you immediately leap to sex. Hmm, well, it is a plausible option. I am incredibly handsome.”
She ignored his sarcasm, folding her arms over her chest, warding off the incoming chill. “What is it then?”
His brow lowered, and the shutters came down immediately over his eyes. “I can’t tell you that,” he said lowly. “It’s Cuddy’s business, not mine.”
She lifted an eyebrow in surprise. Not so much at his staunchness, but at his uncharacteristic display of loyalty. She licked her lips, unable to help but wonder if he would ever be that loyal for her. “Okay.”
He nodded, abruptly, obviously prepared to leave the conversation at that. He started to walk again before she could say anything further. She sighed, letting her hands fall limply at her sides, turning on her heel and striding slowly after him.
Sometime during the day she had given him her key for safekeeping, and he silently opened the door to her room, holding it for her to step inside. Once, she might had read into his display of chivalry. Considered it some proof of his hidden complexities. Now she just accepted the gesture for what it was.
She kicked off her shoes, flopping on the edge of the bed and leaning back on her palms. House switched on the TV, opening the adjoining door and disappearing into his room for a moment.
It was all so unconsciously choreographed it made her pause. She frowned, shuffling back so her head was supported by the pillows, gazing ahead at the snowy TV, which kept flickering between colour and black and white. She retrieved the remote from the side of the bed, fixing it indolently at her side and linking her hands over her midsection. She didn’t recognise the movie that was playing, but the reception fixed itself as House stepped through the door again.
Her waggled his fingers, striding over to the other side of the bed. “Hand it over.”
She gave him a look, clasping the flimsy plastic and holding it mutely in the air. He took it, propping himself against the pillows beside her, changing the channel until he settled on ESPN.
She watched for a while, letting her eyes dance languidly over the flurry of uniforms flitting across the field, before she felt her eyes falling closed.
Tomorrow was their last real day at the conference. They were flying back to New Jersey on Saturday morning, and after that… everything would go back to normal. Their fleeting interlude here would be a source of general discomfort for a few weeks, maybe months, and then it would slip into a distant memory.
She forced herself not to think about it.
House nudged her, and she flopped her head to the side, reluctantly opening her eyes to look at him.
He had shuffled down on his back, and his blue eyes were level with hers, fixing on her intently. “So… Any way we can get out of this mixer tomorrow night?”
A wry smile tugged at her mouth, and she closed her eyes again. “A few hours of conversation won’t kill you.”
“They might. You don’t know that. One of those old cronies might decide to slip their heart medication into my drink.”
“On purpose or accidentally?” she murmured.
He snorted. “Who are we talking about here? On purpose, of course.”
“Of course.”
She felt the gentle pull of sleep on the fringes of her consciousness, but she was also aware of House breathing in front of her, his warmth at her side. She was lingering in that languid place between sleep and wakefulness, and she didn’t really mind. It was a relaxing sensation.
“Big day tomorrow,” House grunted after a moment, as if reading her thoughts.
“Mmm,” she murmured, keeping her response as impassive as possible.
He seemed to sense her reluctance to talk about it, because his hand reached across and brushed her cheek, curving against the delicate arch of her cheekbone. Gentle moments were a rarity between them. The last few days had broken an endless amount of rules and barriers, but fundamentally he was still House and she was still Cameron, and he wasn’t one for signs of affection. He didn't care. She couldn't let herself believe that he did... because it just made everything that much harder.
He bent forward, rustling against the pillows, pressing his mouth softly against hers. She responded, keeping her eyes closed, slowly sliding her palm over the broad line of his shoulder and up to the base of his neck.
She inhaled sharply, curving into him, enjoying the warm, firm, safe feel of his body pressed against hers.
There was some added deliberation behind his movements when he slowly reached between them, hitching up her shirt and spreading his warm fingers over the skin underneath. He kissed the side of her mouth, lifting it up and over her head. His fingers skimmed over the lacy material of her bra, skimming her ribcage, before he let his hands descend to her skirt.
She worked off his shirt, still feeling sleepy and languid and enjoying the slowness of the motions. His stubble rasped against her shoulder as he pressed wet, open mouthed kisses against her neck, and she sighed pleasantly, unbuckling the belt of his jeans.
He rolled her on her back, weight hovering over her, and she enjoyed the warm sensation of skin against skin a moment before he slid gently inside her. He kissed her again, and this time it was slightly harsher, unyielding. She almost couldn’t breath, and she liked the feeling. The heady rush in her head made it easy to forget things. Things she wanted to put on hold for at least another thirty six hours.
It was what they did best, after all.
+