house fic: Five White Lies 1/15
Title: Five White Lies
Pairing/Characters: cameron, house/cameron
Words: 1014
Spoilers: Strangely, this sort of implies a second conversation after the one in the lab in 'Heavy'. There will be shades of 'Detox' and 'Fidelity' scattered about too.
Rating: Eventually NC-17
Summary: There are five white lies and seven deadly sins, her grandmother used to tell her when she was little. And we will all commit them once. House. Cameron. And the dangers of the unsaid.
A/N: I really wanted to write a one-shot post-episode for 'Detox', but because my muse never listens... I didn't. And yes, the seven deadly sins will come into play. Somehow.
and is it right, butterfly, they like you better framed and dried
tori amos, butterfly
in the end.
There are five white lies and seven deadly sins, her grandmother used to tell her when she was little. And we will all commit them once.
She’s confined herself to the lab, searching for an answer that she knows is absolutely useless. She’s done her job. She’s always done her job, well and always stretching above reason. Her ability to be obsessively meticulous has never failed her, unless she lets it.
[you mean i’m wrong]
Allison Cameron knows that she’s his favorite target.
So she’s hiding like a little girl, wounded by her fury and tired of being stepped on. Foreman, ever the big brother is always telling her that she should just hit him. She can get away with it because she seems to be the only one who can handle his charming disposition. She doesn’t talk to Chase much anymore- not that she cares, but she imagines his advice would be more along the lines of keep doing what you’re doing or some terrible cliché.
“Still hiding?”
“Still a jackass,” she snaps back, cursing his ability to always enter rooms unannounced.
“And still a cold bitch.”
Her hands clench into fists. She doesn’t have to look up from the microscope to know that the look on his face- His lips are curled. His gaze will never waver from hers. If it could, his arrogance would drown her endlessly. She hates that about him. His strength can take her weakness, her empathy, and throw it her face.
It’s his favorite game now.
She’s surprised at her ability to maintain calm. She turns the lens of the microscope to its maximum magnification, losing herself temporarily in the blurry image. The things she couldn’t see. “Do you need something?”
“Gee, Dr. Cameron.” The soft click of his cane signals the slow invasion of her space. “And all I wanted to do was spend some quality time with you.”
Swallowing back a furious reply, she decides to settle for neutral. Cold. Detached. Uninterested. Prepared. Like a good doctor.
“Behind you,” she answers, feigning disinterest. “Right under the case for my glasses.”
The silence in the lab indicates his lack of response to her clear indication of wanting him to leave. She isn’t surprised. She’s known him long enough to know that a moment like this was too good to pass up. He always fought to get the damn last word.
“You’re angry,” he breaks the silence finally. Always in control. These situations between the two of them never seem to slip away from him. He’s too good at manipulation, his own brand burns during the aftermath.
She scoffs, shaking her head. Her words are bitter. “And here I thought you didn’t like talking about feelings.”
It takes her a moment to realize that she’s gripping the sides of the counter too hard. Her knuckles are practically white. The muscles in her neck and back are too tense. It’s going to hurt later. She knows she’s too emotional. Her empathy with people- patients and in general- has always been a major problem for her. [it’ll kill you one day, ally] She can feel his eyes burning holes into her back and has to stop herself from asking him to leave. Or leave herself.
He can’t always win.
But he does.
He’s too good.
“I blame curiosity.”
She almost snaps at his response. He’s mocking her struggle to be rational and prepared, readying to ignore this and that and the unspoken silence of tragedy waiting between them.
“I’m not going to play this game,” she tells him quietly.
He snorts. “Is that why you can’t even look me in the eye?”
She tries not to dwell on the implied. The situation had slipped away from her. Trying to control herself around him had always been futile. Aside from the empathy issue to blame, Cameron hates the way she becomes around him. Alone. In the presence of others. She doesn’t strive to impress him, that’s what Chase and Foreman set out to do daily. Her purpose, one she had yet to grasp a full understanding of- by then most of these conversations would be able to be avoided- Her purpose was, is to fill a void for his fascination.
She hates it. [wants it] She hates it because she’s constantly stumbling, over and over, and he’s done nothing but watch. Observe. Wait. He’s waiting for her to have some realization, the kind where he’s been right all along and she’s been a stupid, silly little girl.
[pretty things never last and break in half like glass]
Sighing, she spins around in her stool. Practicality. Rationality. She could only go so far now. She swallows. She takes off her glasses and rubs her eyes, searching her mind for a response that would end this. Him. Her. And the reminder of things that they could not be.
[because he she them he wouldn’t let them]
She looks up at him. “I’ve got work to do,” she tells him. Her voice is firm. She is forced to let her exhaustion seep through.
“I’m curious.” Repetition. He isn’t finished. He isn’t ready to let this little game go quite yet. It has to end on his terms. Like always. She shouldn’t be surprised.
She wants to scream. Or hit something. It’s going to be a long night on the treadmill when she gets home. “Clearly, you have a listening problem.”
He smirks. “And clearly, you feel the need to prove me wrong. Or rather, you can’t admit that you’re wrong.”
She begins to realize exactly what he’s trying to do. Incite the reaction he expects. Return them to bizarre level of a working relationship that they once had. Protect her. Humiliate her. Piss her off so that she’d-
[break break break in half and fall into tiny tiny tiny pieces]
“Grow up,” she murmurs. She puts her glasses back on, whirling around to return to her work. “And I have work to do.”
She hates the fact that he turns around and leaves, leaving her with the mocking whispers of his laughter.
and alice, little alice falls down the rabbit hole.
Pairing/Characters: cameron, house/cameron
Words: 1014
Spoilers: Strangely, this sort of implies a second conversation after the one in the lab in 'Heavy'. There will be shades of 'Detox' and 'Fidelity' scattered about too.
Rating: Eventually NC-17
Summary: There are five white lies and seven deadly sins, her grandmother used to tell her when she was little. And we will all commit them once. House. Cameron. And the dangers of the unsaid.
A/N: I really wanted to write a one-shot post-episode for 'Detox', but because my muse never listens... I didn't. And yes, the seven deadly sins will come into play. Somehow.
and is it right, butterfly, they like you better framed and dried
tori amos, butterfly
in the end.
There are five white lies and seven deadly sins, her grandmother used to tell her when she was little. And we will all commit them once.
She’s confined herself to the lab, searching for an answer that she knows is absolutely useless. She’s done her job. She’s always done her job, well and always stretching above reason. Her ability to be obsessively meticulous has never failed her, unless she lets it.
[you mean i’m wrong]
Allison Cameron knows that she’s his favorite target.
So she’s hiding like a little girl, wounded by her fury and tired of being stepped on. Foreman, ever the big brother is always telling her that she should just hit him. She can get away with it because she seems to be the only one who can handle his charming disposition. She doesn’t talk to Chase much anymore- not that she cares, but she imagines his advice would be more along the lines of keep doing what you’re doing or some terrible cliché.
“Still hiding?”
“Still a jackass,” she snaps back, cursing his ability to always enter rooms unannounced.
“And still a cold bitch.”
Her hands clench into fists. She doesn’t have to look up from the microscope to know that the look on his face- His lips are curled. His gaze will never waver from hers. If it could, his arrogance would drown her endlessly. She hates that about him. His strength can take her weakness, her empathy, and throw it her face.
It’s his favorite game now.
She’s surprised at her ability to maintain calm. She turns the lens of the microscope to its maximum magnification, losing herself temporarily in the blurry image. The things she couldn’t see. “Do you need something?”
“Gee, Dr. Cameron.” The soft click of his cane signals the slow invasion of her space. “And all I wanted to do was spend some quality time with you.”
Swallowing back a furious reply, she decides to settle for neutral. Cold. Detached. Uninterested. Prepared. Like a good doctor.
“Behind you,” she answers, feigning disinterest. “Right under the case for my glasses.”
The silence in the lab indicates his lack of response to her clear indication of wanting him to leave. She isn’t surprised. She’s known him long enough to know that a moment like this was too good to pass up. He always fought to get the damn last word.
“You’re angry,” he breaks the silence finally. Always in control. These situations between the two of them never seem to slip away from him. He’s too good at manipulation, his own brand burns during the aftermath.
She scoffs, shaking her head. Her words are bitter. “And here I thought you didn’t like talking about feelings.”
It takes her a moment to realize that she’s gripping the sides of the counter too hard. Her knuckles are practically white. The muscles in her neck and back are too tense. It’s going to hurt later. She knows she’s too emotional. Her empathy with people- patients and in general- has always been a major problem for her. [it’ll kill you one day, ally] She can feel his eyes burning holes into her back and has to stop herself from asking him to leave. Or leave herself.
He can’t always win.
But he does.
He’s too good.
“I blame curiosity.”
She almost snaps at his response. He’s mocking her struggle to be rational and prepared, readying to ignore this and that and the unspoken silence of tragedy waiting between them.
“I’m not going to play this game,” she tells him quietly.
He snorts. “Is that why you can’t even look me in the eye?”
She tries not to dwell on the implied. The situation had slipped away from her. Trying to control herself around him had always been futile. Aside from the empathy issue to blame, Cameron hates the way she becomes around him. Alone. In the presence of others. She doesn’t strive to impress him, that’s what Chase and Foreman set out to do daily. Her purpose, one she had yet to grasp a full understanding of- by then most of these conversations would be able to be avoided- Her purpose was, is to fill a void for his fascination.
She hates it. [wants it] She hates it because she’s constantly stumbling, over and over, and he’s done nothing but watch. Observe. Wait. He’s waiting for her to have some realization, the kind where he’s been right all along and she’s been a stupid, silly little girl.
[pretty things never last and break in half like glass]
Sighing, she spins around in her stool. Practicality. Rationality. She could only go so far now. She swallows. She takes off her glasses and rubs her eyes, searching her mind for a response that would end this. Him. Her. And the reminder of things that they could not be.
[because he she them he wouldn’t let them]
She looks up at him. “I’ve got work to do,” she tells him. Her voice is firm. She is forced to let her exhaustion seep through.
“I’m curious.” Repetition. He isn’t finished. He isn’t ready to let this little game go quite yet. It has to end on his terms. Like always. She shouldn’t be surprised.
She wants to scream. Or hit something. It’s going to be a long night on the treadmill when she gets home. “Clearly, you have a listening problem.”
He smirks. “And clearly, you feel the need to prove me wrong. Or rather, you can’t admit that you’re wrong.”
She begins to realize exactly what he’s trying to do. Incite the reaction he expects. Return them to bizarre level of a working relationship that they once had. Protect her. Humiliate her. Piss her off so that she’d-
[break break break in half and fall into tiny tiny tiny pieces]
“Grow up,” she murmurs. She puts her glasses back on, whirling around to return to her work. “And I have work to do.”
She hates the fact that he turns around and leaves, leaving her with the mocking whispers of his laughter.
and alice, little alice falls down the rabbit hole.