After the Fourth Wedding, 2/4
Posted to housefic
Title: After the Fourth Wedding, part 2 of 4
Author: Dee Laundry
Pairing: House/Cameron
Rating: PG
Summary: Five linked drabbles (500 words exactly)
Part One
Six months in, they get careless with the condoms.
When the pregnancy test flashes positive, her first thought is he won’t want it. It’s him, what he thinks, what he wants, that always seems to be her first thought lately. Which is, of course, exactly the wrong way to be. He likes her better, treats her better, when she’s strong. When she’s almost - she can’t bear to think of herself this way - selfish.
Her second thought is what a convenient excuse to get out of the relationship.
Her third thought is wonder which one of us will grab that convenience.
Contrary to every expectation she has, he’s happy when she tells him she’s pregnant. He kisses her and smoothes her hair and rubs her belly gently, and when he doesn’t say, “I love you,” it’s all right because he never does.
“How far along?”
“Five weeks.” It’s a guess; she’s never tracked her periods. They’ll find out for sure soon enough.
“Let’s keep it our secret,” he whispers. “Until the fetus is further along. After we hear the heartbeat; that’s when the risk of miscarriage drops.”
“Our secret,” she whispers back, and forgets to ask why it matters to him.
She carries the secret quietly, reverently. It makes her smile at random times, but her colleagues are used to her smiling, anyway. (When they confer in whispers about how anyone dating House could possibly smile, she ignores them.)
It’s another smile that lets her know the game is up. Wilson, in the cafeteria, with a fondness for her he’s never before displayed - and she is furious that it’s that man who’s the first to know.
“Hormones,” House smirks, when she stands before his desk, hands on hips. The hot tears spill down her cheeks; he hands her a tissue, unconcerned.
It’s nine weeks. Her first official prenatal visit is in five days, although House has already been monitoring her in the eyes-in-the-back-of-his-head way he always does.
She wants to break the silence, now that he has, but she’s been waiting for the official visit. A superstition, maybe, or the fear of having to dash someone’s hopes later.
She sneaks a handheld Doppler into an exam room. She’s depriving House by not letting him hear with her, but she thinks, in some corner of his brain, he might approve. The heartbeat is steady and a perfect speed. Someone’s living in there.
“I’m telling my mother,” she informs him the next moment they’re alone together.
She’s curled up on his couch - it’s not “their couch,” not even now - and he is pacing. He’s just come in, and he’s looking for something. In his movements, she can tell that once he finds that thing, whatever it is, he’ll leave again.
She repeats, “I’m -” just as he throws aside some papers and grabs something off the desk. Tickets, it looks like.
“Tell her I’m marrying you,” he says as he walks out the door, and that’s all the proposal he ever gives her.
Part Three
Title: After the Fourth Wedding, part 2 of 4
Author: Dee Laundry
Pairing: House/Cameron
Rating: PG
Summary: Five linked drabbles (500 words exactly)
Part One
Six months in, they get careless with the condoms.
When the pregnancy test flashes positive, her first thought is he won’t want it. It’s him, what he thinks, what he wants, that always seems to be her first thought lately. Which is, of course, exactly the wrong way to be. He likes her better, treats her better, when she’s strong. When she’s almost - she can’t bear to think of herself this way - selfish.
Her second thought is what a convenient excuse to get out of the relationship.
Her third thought is wonder which one of us will grab that convenience.
Contrary to every expectation she has, he’s happy when she tells him she’s pregnant. He kisses her and smoothes her hair and rubs her belly gently, and when he doesn’t say, “I love you,” it’s all right because he never does.
“How far along?”
“Five weeks.” It’s a guess; she’s never tracked her periods. They’ll find out for sure soon enough.
“Let’s keep it our secret,” he whispers. “Until the fetus is further along. After we hear the heartbeat; that’s when the risk of miscarriage drops.”
“Our secret,” she whispers back, and forgets to ask why it matters to him.
She carries the secret quietly, reverently. It makes her smile at random times, but her colleagues are used to her smiling, anyway. (When they confer in whispers about how anyone dating House could possibly smile, she ignores them.)
It’s another smile that lets her know the game is up. Wilson, in the cafeteria, with a fondness for her he’s never before displayed - and she is furious that it’s that man who’s the first to know.
“Hormones,” House smirks, when she stands before his desk, hands on hips. The hot tears spill down her cheeks; he hands her a tissue, unconcerned.
It’s nine weeks. Her first official prenatal visit is in five days, although House has already been monitoring her in the eyes-in-the-back-of-his-head way he always does.
She wants to break the silence, now that he has, but she’s been waiting for the official visit. A superstition, maybe, or the fear of having to dash someone’s hopes later.
She sneaks a handheld Doppler into an exam room. She’s depriving House by not letting him hear with her, but she thinks, in some corner of his brain, he might approve. The heartbeat is steady and a perfect speed. Someone’s living in there.
“I’m telling my mother,” she informs him the next moment they’re alone together.
She’s curled up on his couch - it’s not “their couch,” not even now - and he is pacing. He’s just come in, and he’s looking for something. In his movements, she can tell that once he finds that thing, whatever it is, he’ll leave again.
She repeats, “I’m -” just as he throws aside some papers and grabs something off the desk. Tickets, it looks like.
“Tell her I’m marrying you,” he says as he walks out the door, and that’s all the proposal he ever gives her.
Part Three