House fic: When Everything Will Be Just Fine
Woo! Done! *cough*
Title: When Everything Will Be Just Fine
Pairing: Cameron/Thirteen
Rating: R
Words: 6001
Notes: My quite late housefemslash fic, written for fourteencats. Set following the season four finale.
Summary: Cameron cares. Thirteen tries not to. Hijinks ensue.
They settled in the shade, propping themselves against a low wall and not talking much as they arranged their lunch items around them. Cameron set her coffee on the wall beside her and popped open the plastic on her Greek salad. It was a warm day, summer here in earnest, and a lot of people were out enjoying the weather. Cameron wished she had her sunglasses.
She forked up some Romaine and half a cherry tomato, and saw Thirteen heading towards the coffee cart parked near the outdoor entrance to the cafeteria. She watched her for a moment, as she joined the queue and searched her pocket for change.
It wasn't long since Amber died, less time than that since it had come out about Thirteen. Sometimes Cameron wondered how much tragedy one small group of people could take, and sometimes she wondered why she still felt so involved with the internal drama of House and his team, when she wasn't part of it any more.
Usually when her thoughts went in this direction, she just wound up remembering why she left.
"How is she?" she said.
Foreman followed her gaze over to Thirteen, then glanced back at her. "You know?" She simply returned his look. "Okay, everybody knows," he agreed. "And I don't know how she's doing."
"You haven't talked to her?"
"She hasn't talked to me," Foreman corrected. "If she does, I'll be sure to come up with some meaningless platitudes that will make it all better." He rolled his eyes. "What could anyone say that would help?"
Cameron shook her head, unsurprised at this response. "Sometimes just having someone to talk to helps."
Over at the cart, Thirteen stirred her coffee and took a cautious sip before fitting a plastic lid on the cup.
"And you think that someone should be me."
"Sorry, forgot who I was talking to." She sighed. It wasn't as if she didn't know what it was like in House's department, that little isolated island of insanity. And Foreman was the one who went back there after getting out. All the way back, anyway. "She hasn't made many friends here, has she?"
They watched Thirteen head back inside, coffee in hand. Cameron felt Foreman steal a sideways look at her. He shook his head. "Don't do it," he said, taking a bite of his sandwich.
"What?" There was another head-shake. He was still chewing. She sighed again and sipped her coffee. Irritation won out. "Because that emotional wasteland you call a team is such a supportive environment?"
"You don't know her."
"How do you know her, when you apparently don't talk to her?"
"Oh, this is going to go well."
"You don't know what I'm going to do."
"Because I've never seen that look before? You're going to get involved."
She frowned up at the sky, squinting. "Why do I eat lunch with you?" It was a rhetorical question, but Foreman was happy to reply anyway.
"Because you broke up with your boyfriend and the people in emergency are all too afraid House is catching to hang out with you."
It wasn't exactly true. But it was close enough. She sighed once more and asked him, "So why do you eat lunch with me?"
And was only slightly satisfied when he couldn't come up with an answer this time.
*
It was true that Thirteen was not the easiest person to approach, but it wasn't as if Cameron didn't have experience with that sort of thing, or had ever let it stop her before.
All she could do was explain that she'd heard what Thirteen was going through, and ask if there was anything she needed, if she wanted to talk...
And all Thirteen could do was look at her like she was an idiot.
"Really," she said. "I heard you and Doctor Chase have had sex on every remotely horizontal surface in the hospital. Maybe you shouldn't believe everything you hear."
"Wait," she frowned. "So you're not sick?" It occurred to her that if no one had actually spoken to Thirteen about it, and everyone had just assumed - oh, she was going to kill House. "A lot of people are really worried about you!"
"I think they're worried they'll have to deal with one of their own dying slowly of a debilitating disease. Not that I blame them, it'll probably be really depressing."
So it was true.
She never thought she'd want House to be responsible for a horrific social experiment masquerading as a practical joke. Well, not another one, anyway.
"I'm so sorry."
"Did you need something?" Thirteen said, face a blank, polite mask.
Cameron remembered that. Her husband was dead and she just wanted everyone to leave her alone, because she was fine. Except she hadn't been, of course. And she knew that Thirteen wasn't fine, either. Nobody could be.
"No," was all she said, sadly, letting Thirteen get on with the business of pretending things were okay. It was the least she could do, for now anyway.
That, and go see House.
*
She was worried about Thirteen. Considering the woman's situation, it was hardly a stretch. Everyone, she knew, must be worried about Thirteen. She was just the one who was willing to say it.
"I said, I'm worried about Thirteen."
House barely twitched an eyebrow from behind his copy of Maxim. "Why? Is there some kind of delinquent behaviour going on I don't know about? Does it involve Catholic school uniforms, by any chance?"
The key to conversations with House, of course, was ignoring him. "I think you should talk to her."
The magazine lowered a few inches. "Sure, I definitely want to keep on top of the plaid skirt situation."
"She's acting like nothing's wrong."
"Could it be because nothing is wrong? Hmm." House made a thoughtful face. "Of course, something's going to be wrong, and she doesn't know when, just how completely screwed she's going to be when it does. That must suck for her."
"I know you're the king of not dealing with things -"
"I prefer 'Lord Almighty' if we're going to settle on a title."
"- But maybe not everyone has the same standard of emotional health that you do. Paragon of functionality that you are."
"She shot you down, didn't she." He was smirking now.
"So don't you want to succeed where I failed?"
"She's fine," he said, shortly, dismissively, and raised the magazine again. She didn't respond, letting the silence do its work. There was a twitch from behind the glossy pages and then, finally, "She's fine! Enjoys being left alone. A trait that is, like, really unappreciated." He stared. She didn't budge. The result was a hefty eye-roll. "If you don't believe me, ask Wilson! He's all about the terminally ill and he agrees with me." Her eyes widened at the mention of Wilson. "Or he would, if he were speaking to me," House finished.
She opened her mouth. She knew it would be a bad idea, but she couldn't help it. It was pathological. She knew that, and yet, "Do you want to talk about it?" she said, words brimming with compassion.
House stared at her.
She shrugged. "Like you weren't expecting that."
"Seriously, leave Thirteen alone," he said, speaking very slowly and firmly. "She's perfect the way she is. And by that I mean she never, ever tries to get me to talk about my feelings."
"You know you need to talk to her. And if you don't, I will. Again."
"You keep bugging her, you might start to rub off on her. And not in the fun way. Although I hear she's into that, if you ever feel like -"
"Then you'd better get off your ass and do something, hadn't you?" she interrupted his segue into lesbian porn fantasy. And then, having made her point, left him looking as disgruntled as might be expected from someone who'd had his lesbian porn fantasy dispersed with logic.
*
The success of her encounter with House - success being measured on a pass or fail system depending on who got the last word - was short lived.
"Did you tell House to talk to me?"
Cameron looked from the man with the badly mangled foot lying on the exam bed, to the chart in her hand, to Thirteen, and considered pointing out that she was with a patient.
Instead, she said, rather incredulously, "He talked to you?"
"Yeah, he talked to me." The way she said it, it could as easily have been 'yes, he attacked me'. "Why would you do that? Is it any of your business?"
"Oh god, what did he say to you?" All the awful possibilities started flooding her mind.
She'd never honestly thought he would actually talk to her.
"What he said isn't the point," Thirteen began.
"Because sometimes when House is feeling vulnerable he lashes out," Cameron was quick to say. "It doesn't mean -"
"He didn't say anything, he was nice about it. Seriously, did I miss something or do we barely know each other? Why are you -"
Cameron stared at her. "House was nice to you?" she blurted out.
"What kind of stupid name is 'House'?" said the guy with the foot.
Thirteen rolled her eyes and then turned and left without another word.
"I'll be right back," Cameron said without looking at him, and followed her.
"Why do you care?" Thirteen said as they made their way through the emergency department.
'Because you're a human being in pain' sounded ridiculous even to her ears.
'I know what it's like, working for House, trying to find your feet and not lose yourself along the way' was not much of an improvement. Nor was, 'I can't imagine what it's like doing that and living with your situation at the same time'.
"Everybody cares," she said finally, as they stopped in a relatively calm hallway. "Maybe I'm just better at showing it. But everyone cares, even House."
"House," she let out a laugh. "He's mean to little kids! And patients when they're dying in pain - but me he's nice to? How pathetic do you have to be if House is being nice to you? It's like he... feels sorry for me."
"Because a little sympathy would kill you?"
"No, the Huntington's is going to take care of that. Sympathy just makes me feel like I'm someone who needs sympathy."
There wasn't a lot she could say to that. Another valuable lesson Cameron had learned working with House - she'd learned when to quit.
"Okay," she said. "If that's really how you feel, I can understand that."
Thirteen rolled her eyes. "I know you're just trying to be nice. But I don't need it," she finished flatly, and then she was gone.
Cameron watched her round the corner, disappointed in, well, everything. It wasn't fair, a young woman living a life condemned by this terrible disease, trying to live with it as best she could.
And maybe she could have handled things better, herself.
Then of course there was House, making everything worse. She sighed, hands on hips, and turned back to return to work - and jumped. House was standing right behind her.
"I told you." He loomed over her, in that way he had. She took a step back. "She's perfect," he sing-songed.
That was when she realised House must have followed Thirteen down here, in order to witness their exchange. Which meant... "You set me up."
"No, I had a special moment with Thirteen because it made me feel good inside."
"And now she hates me. Thanks."
"Not too late to try a different approach. I hear sexual healing is very effective."
Her eyes widened, not because of House's extremely subtle innuendo, but because Thirteen had appeared back around the corner.
House took a large, surreptitious step away from her, behind a large wall rack stacked with supplies.
Thirteen watched him, a complete lack of surprise on her face, before turning her attention to Cameron. "Listen, if you really want to help," she began.
"Anything," she replied gladly.
"Great, so you could help me with the pile of House's billing records Cuddy wants done by tomorrow."
"Why would I -"
"You said anything. And I just don't think I can handle the extra stress right now," she deadpanned. "House said I had to do it because he didn't want me to feel like I was getting special treatment. That was yesterday, before he started being nice to me. But since he isn't here," she added, speaking loudly and pointedly, "I guess what he won't know won't hurt him."
Cameron looked over at the rack behind which House was unsuccessfully concealed.
"Don't look at me, I don't care," came his partially disembodied voice. "I can't tell you two apart, anyway."
Cameron sighed. "Sure," she told Thirteen with the grace of someone who knew they'd walked right into it. "I'd be happy to."
"Great. It was going to take all night. Instead I think I'll go hit a couple of bars and get really drunk." She gave Cameron a bland smile and set off again.
"Great," House said. "All is right with the world once more." And then he left, too.
"Great," Cameron said, and wondered whether Foreman was free for lunch.
Because everyone needed someone to listen to them, no matter what anyone might say, or how hard they were going to laugh.
*
"Why did I agree to do this, again?"
"Because -" Foreman began helpfully.
"It was a rhetorical question!"
She bent back over the table as he smirked at her.
He was getting ready to leave for the night, and she was coming off a full day of stitching people up and dodging vomit, only to now be settling in with a mound of paperwork. House was already gone, but she knew Taub, Kutner and Thirteen were around, in the lab or with the patient House had conveniently dug up from somewhere.
"Because you can't help yourself," Foreman said over his shoulder as he pulled the door open and made his escape.
She watched him go - the privilege of seniority. She remembered him on his first day. Back when she'd still been happy to do House's paperwork. There was something wrong with this picture, she thought.
About an hour later, Kutner wandered through, going over to stare forlornly at the empty coffee machine for a moment before realising she was even there.
"Oh, hey. I heard you got stuck with," he gestured, clearing his throat. "Uh, so how's it going?"
"The nurse's lounge on two always has a fresh pot," she said.
"Oh," he said. There was a pause. "What?"
"Coffee? That way you don't have to use the vending machine."
"Hey, thanks," he grinned briefly. "Huh. Foreman never told us that." She looked at him. "Right," he said, and wandered out again.
Twenty minutes after that, it was Cuddy, who poked her head in the door and looked at her for a moment as if she'd been expecting someone else.
"Do I want to know?" she said, taking in the tableau of Cameron, head propped in one hand, half a massacred rainforest spread out in front of her across the table.
Cameron, not raising her head from her hand, said, "No."
Cuddy nodded once. "Where's House? Tell me he hasn't gone home."
"He left hours ago." Cuddy rolled her eyes, making a frustrated noise. Cameron found she had to ask. "Do I want to know?"
"No," Cuddy said emphatically. She paused, distracted as she hovered in the doorway. "You'd just think he'd have learned his lesson with the police, wouldn't you?"
Cameron's eyes widened, then narrowed. "You're right, I don't want to know," she said flatly.
Cuddy gave her a look clearly conveying how much she wished she didn't have to, either, and left, the sound of her footsteps clicking quickly away down the quiet corridor.
It wasn't until she was on her way back up from the second floor with a cup of coffee, that she saw Thirteen.
"I'd feel bad that you're still here," she said, falling into step with Cameron, "if House hadn't ruined my night, too."
"How's your patient?"
"She has no memory, no sign of head trauma, and no ID. And we have no idea who she is or what's wrong with her."
"I'm surprised House left," she said, pushing her way back through the door into the diagnostic lounge.
"I think he went down to the police station to bug them about our Jane Doe," Thirteen said, standing over the table as Cameron returned to her seat.
"Of course he did."
She looked up a few seconds later, realising Thirteen was still there, and was now pulling out the chair across from her. Sitting down, she took a quick survey of the accumulated stacks in front of Cameron, and then grabbed half of her to-do pile.
"I have nothing else to do," she said without prompting, "except check on our patient every twenty minutes to see if she's developed any 'cool new symptoms'."
They worked in silence for a while, Cameron thinking this was a strange change of pace from earlier in the day when Thirteen had tracked her down to yell at her. God only knew what Thirteen was thinking.
"I don't know why House wanted me to do this," Thirteen spoke a moment later. "Isn't this why Foreman's here?"
"If it helps, you could think of it as House's way of showing he cares."
"That doesn't help."
There was some more silence. Broken eventually by Thirteen. "Torture as a sign of affection isn't cute or charming," she said flatly.
Cameron was the last person in the world who should comment on which of House's attributes were cute or charming, and she was all too well aware of it. What was interesting, she noted, as she studiously did not say anything, was that Thirteen... did.
"The truth is, no one else has really bothered," she said.
The words were casual, but Cameron could see the tension across her shoulders. Since not talking was working for her, she kept it up until Thirteen spoke again.
"I mean, Kutner and Taub both gave me variations on the 'if you need someone to talk to' speech. But they actually listened when I told them to back off. Cuddy referred me to counselling services. When she started talking about support groups I made up an excuse and got out of there."
Cameron took all this in, spoken in a flat, matter-of-fact tone as Thirteen finished a page and turned over to the next. After a moment she said, "What about your family? Are you close?"
Thirteen made a gesture that was almost a shrug. "Once they know, they know. I think I'm going to put that off for as long as I can."
"That's brave of you." Brave, and a little bit selfish, she thought.
Almost as if she'd heard it, Thirteen's next words held an edge. "Is this where you tell me I'm not alone?"
"Actually I was going to ask if you wanted a hug."
They shared a measured look across the table and then, by silent mutual agreement, subsided.
"You know they're saying you're the new me," Cameron went on in a lighter tone. "It's not even close to the truth, is it?"
"Who's saying that?"
"All right, maybe it's just my boyfriend saying that. Maybe after talking to House."
"I heard you and Doctor Chase broke up."
"Yes, well no. We're sort of on a break. He has trust issues he needs to work out, and I've always felt a little conflicted about..." she trailed off. Why was she explaining this? "Well, I'm sure the rumour mill covers it."
"You mean about how you were interested in House first, but after a few years of him turning you down, you gave up and went after Chase instead?"
"You're forgetting the part where, actually, I've still been secretly pining for House all this time."
Thirteen looked down, then up again with a hint of amusement as she said, "Secretly?"
Cameron soured. "Sometimes I hate this place."
"Didn't you quit and then come back?"
"Aren't you supposed to be above gossiping?"
"When ninety percent of it is about you, it quickly becomes a beat them or join them situation."
Her eyes widened at that. "You went with 'join them'. You won't even let people use your own name."
"Fine, that was a lie." For the first time, not just since this conversation began, but since Cameron had met her, Thirteen looked a tiny bit uncomfortable. "I asked Kutner about you, specifically."
"Why?"
Thirteen shrugged. "He's cute in a non-threatening way. People tell him things."
"I mean, why were you asking about me?"
"I wanted to know why you would care about what's happening to me."
"Apparently, I'm my own worst enemy."
"I don't think that's it," Thirteen said, looking thoughtful.
Cameron waited for her to elaborate, but her head was bent again, making a note on a post-it as if she'd never spoken at all. No wonder House liked Thirteen, she thought, this enigmatic thing must drive him up the wall.
Of course, it wasn't working on her. She wasn't even going to ask. "So," she began.
"I think this will keep accounting happy for a while," Thirteen was saying suddenly, stacking the piles of forms on top of each other as she got to her feet. "I'll unload it on Foreman in the morning, he can take it from here. You're free," she told Cameron.
"Oh. Well thanks for the help."
"Actually, I think you'll find that goes the other way around." Smiling, Thirteen checked her watch. "Got to go check on Jane."
In her wake, Cameron was left with the distinct impression that something had just happened. She simply had no clue what it was.
*
The next morning, in the locker room, Thirteen emerged from the direction of the showers with that look about her that said, yes, she'd been there all night, and if anyone commented on it she just might kill them.
Cameron knew that look. And she commented anyway, for lack of anything else to say. "Didn't get much sleep?"
"Not after the Great Bleeding Incident of two AM." Thirteen passed her by and opened her locker.
Bleeding plus memory loss, Cameron thought. Nothing came immediately to mind - nothing they wouldn't have considered immediately, anyway - which, if she was less secure about her new career path and abilities, might have left her worried about losing her touch.
"I hope House didn't get arrested," she said, closing her locker and moving over to where Thirteen stood pulling her hair into a ponytail. "Not again, I mean."
"Last I saw him, he was a free man." Thirteen rounded on her suddenly, arms crossing over her chest. "Look, I'm tired so this might not come out as politely as I'd like. The thing is, I don't think I can get involved with anyone right now."
"Excuse me?" was all Cameron could manage.
"Thanks for the interest, though, it's flattering."
"Wait, you think -" she paused, gathering her thoughts. "You can't think of any other reason why someone might care about what you're going through? Other than wanting to get in your pants?"
"I'm sure you're very sincere. I just know the signs. You're not the first straight girl to get curious. It happens."
Cameron frowned. "I've never -"
"Yeah, no kidding." Thirteen turned back to her locker and began pulling on her lab coat.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Mostly it's that look, like you're kind of hoping I'll make a move and at the same time terrified that I will because you're pretty sure you'll chicken out."
"I don't look like that! And if I was interested in you I'd just tell you." Thirteen looked doubtful. "I would. I'm very open about that kind of thing. In fact," she declared emphatically, "I'm known for it."
*
It was driving her insane. Thirteen had very dubiously said 'okay', and left it at that. But she still thought - Thirteen thought that she - when all she'd been trying to do was help. Her motives were pure, damn it.
It bothered her.
It bothered her while she dealt with the usual round of recovering drunks and ODs left over from the night before. While she worked through the aftermath of a head-on collision. While she reassured a frazzled and panicky father that his kids didn't have smallpox.
It was still bothering her that night as she did some grocery shopping, and then when she made herself some dinner and sat down in front of the television to eat.
She should really let it go, she thought as she got ready for bed.
Of course, she wasn't going to.
*
"I have to talk to you."
Thirteen looked longingly down the hallway towards diagnostics. "All right," she said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. "I guess House will be down in Cuddy's office not getting yelled at a while longer."
Cameron glanced around quickly, and then grabbed Thirteen's wrist and pulled her through the nearest doorway.
She switched on the light. The door closed.
"I think you're in denial," she said.
"Okay," Thirteen replied. She gave the door a thoughtful look.
"You don't want to deal with it - I don't blame you, I can't imagine how difficult this must be."
"Wait, what are we talking about?"
"But trivialising my motivations isn't going to help. Have you given any more thought to counselling?"
"You think I'm in denial. About the Huntington's."
"I think coping with something like this would be difficult for anyone -"
"And you dragged me into a broom closet to tell me?"
"It's a supply room."
Thirteen looked around the, admittedly, cramped quarters they were currently sharing before returning her incredulous gaze to Cameron's. "Seriously?"
"What?" So maybe the last time she'd been in here, Chase had been with her and neither of them had been wearing pants. She rolled her eyes. "Look, if I wanted to have sex with you I really would tell you, honestly."
"What if you were in denial?" Thirteen responded dryly.
"I'm not the one acting like a robot after getting the worst news anyone can get."
Thirteen folded her arms over her chest. She was starting to smile. "I'm really getting to you, aren't I?"
"Sorry. I shouldn't have called you a robot. It's just that -"
"You care about me," Thirteen finished for her.
"Yes."
"As a friend."
"Yes."
"Even though, technically, we aren't friends."
"We could be," Cameron offered hopefully.
"I think you're insane."
She breathed out and sagged against a shelf. "Probably."
"But you're not the only one. Hold still."
She watched Thirteen take a single step closer, her hand raising and then there were fingers sliding into her hair behind her ear. The pad of a thumb brushed along her jaw.
"I don't think this is healthy," she breathed, her whole body tensing as the other woman drew even closer, and then Thirteen's mouth pressed against hers.
Lips moved over Cameron's, softly confident, drawing out a response. Cameron, who breathed out and shifted forward, closer into the kiss. Hands were stealing, then, under the hem of her top, fingers skimming lightly across her stomach. She wasn't thinking much about what was happening, just reacting, tilting her head this way for a better angle on Thirteen's mouth, arching a little into the touch of Thirteen's hands on her breasts.
Thirteen touched her breasts carefully, knowingly, like she did herself some days after too many hours in an underwire, like she knew exactly how that felt. Which she would, of course. Gentle, sparing only the lightest touches for her nipples until they were aching peaks and she covered the hands with her own, pressing firmly, done with these patient, soothing caresses, ready for more.
Thirteen's teeth closed on her lower lip and fingers tugged at her nipples.
She pulled back, breathing hard. She opened her mouth. "I want to have sex with you."
"And I'm acting like a robot because if I start thinking about going through what my mother did, I'll never think about anything else ever again," Thirteen said. Her thumb brushed over Cameron's lip. "I think this will help."
It so wasn't healthy, but it was a good compromise. After all, all she'd ever wanted to do was help.
"You know I've never done this."
"We already covered that," Thirteen replied. "And yeah, it's still pretty obvious. Don't worry, I've got you."
Her hands moved around to unclasp Cameron's bra and were back in an instant, grasping her bare breasts, thumbs rubbing over nipples. She took Thirteen's face in her hands and drew her back into a kiss, urgent and demanding. Her hands slid down Thirteen's back, over her ass and pulled her closer. Thirteen wrapped arms around her back and they stood there, close, close as they could be with their clothes still on, the sound of their kissing, their breathing, hot and heavy and loud in the small room.
Then Thirteen's hands shifted again, to the front of her pants and Cameron broke the kiss, tense and gasping in anticipation. Her pants and underwear were eased down her hips, then Thirteen's hand was there, two fingers unerringly finding her clit, sliding lightly on either side. She bit her lip. Thirteen had barely touched her and she was trying not to moan.
"God," she said, "that's really -" and choked off, because a hand grabbed her ass cheek and then Thirteen's fingers pushed inside her. Her knees were weak and she braced her arms, hands gripping the edge of a shelf behind her.
"Good," she managed. "That's really... good."
"Good?"
"Really." She laughed, and gasped again, closed her eyes and let her head fall back. Thirteen and was kissing her throat and her fingers were doing things that were really good. And a few minutes later with her lips pressed tight she was coming, quietly, shuddering as Thirteen worked her through it.
When Thirteen's hand lay still, and a little damp, on Cameron's hip, her other brushing the hair back from Cameron's face, Cameron leaned forward, seeking and finding Thirteen's mouth. Then she slowed, sighed.
"So," she murmured, arms slung loosely over Thirteen's shoulder, "now what?"
*
"Well I'm not going to say 'you don't have to'. If you want to do this with me, or any woman, then yeah, you have to."
On her knees, hands resting on Thirteen's thighs, which were slightly parted, and right in front of her, she told herself this wasn't intimidating.
"First time jitters?"
"Shut up."
How hard could it be? If Chase could figure out how to do this, she reasoned - well then it definitely couldn't be that hard.
She leaned in.
*
It was just the way things worked. That, and because emerging from a supply room adjusting clothes and smoothing hair and speaking in low, private tones, was not the best way to be inconspicuous. But by the time a few days had passed, everyone knew.
"You're in a good mood," she accused Thirteen.
They were in the locker room, and Cameron needed to change into scrubs, but Thirteen, who looked like she might burst out humming at any moment, was demanding her attention.
"What can I say?" She shrugged. "They're not talking about me anymore."
"They're talking about us."
"Exactly." Smiling, Thirteen closed her locker and glanced down at her watch. "Aren't you late?"
*
Chase was there with Foreman at lunch that day. They had been trying to keep things civil since 'on a break' had transitioned into a twelve-month lease on her new apartment. So she didn't comment, just sat down with her tray and peeled the lid off her juice.
"So," Foreman said, looking cheerful, "anything you'd like to share with the group?"
"Not really," she replied.
"Come on, Foreman, you know sharing isn't Cameron's thing."
So much for civil.
"He's just sulking because now he'll always be the guy who turned Allison Cameron gay," Foreman said.
"I'm not sulking," Chase said sharply.
"And I'm not a lesbian, I'm not even dating a lesbian. I believe the term is 'bisexual'."
"I know that," Foreman held up his hands. "The rest of the world sees two women together - they don't think much further than 'lesbian'."
Chase, getting more into the spirit of things, added, "Yeah, they're too busy wondering if you'll let them watch."
"I figured you'd be happy about it," she told him. "I mean if I broke up with you because I'm gay, then I can't have broken up with you because you're an idiot."
Foreman smiled. "I missed you guys."
*
House was, predictably, worse.
"Congratulations, you've got yourself a brand new terminal case of your very own. Not that I blame you, she's way hotter than me. Plus I'm not dying. Well, not lately, anyway."
She'd been expecting exactly this. It was easy, just imagine the most hurtful thing anyone could say to you, and House would throw it into casual conversation. "Sure you're not just jealous?"
"I'll admit I am interested to see how long you're going to keep sleeping with people who work for me. What's the word I'm looking for here - sounds like 'foxy', starts with a 'puh' sound -"
"Which is it, am I using her in a desperate attempt to stay connected to you, or am I feeding off her illness emotional-vampire style?"
He screwed up his face and complained, "I have to choose just one?"
"If you figure out which it is, maybe I'll even pretend that your vastly oversimplified theories concerning my love life hold any weight whatsoever, just so you can feel slightly more superior to everyone around you and for a few minutes forget the fact that your own love life sucks so hard."
House blinked. "Why did I fire you again?"
"I quit," she said.
*
And then, at the end of the day, there was just the two of them.
Which was a good thing, considering Thirteen had her bent over the back of an armchair with her shirt bunched up under her arms and her pants around her ankles. She wasn't quite sure - apart from a general idea - where Thirteen was going with this. When it came to 'the general idea', however, Cameron had found that Thirteen certainly knew how to keep her options open.
She stretched, shifted, got a few buttons undone, and pulled her top off over her head.
Thirteen's lips landed between her shoulder blades, her hands were skimming the sides of her thighs. "You have such a gorgeous back." Her hands slid up over Cameron's hips, she undid her bra, and lips planted a trail down her spine. "Remind me to buy you a big piece of cake tomorrow, though."
Cameron shot a look over her shoulder. "How about I buy you two?"
Thirteen caught her jaw and held her there, straining around, while she kissed her. "It's a date," she said, with more kisses pressing hotly against the side of her face, her shoulders.
Cameron sighed, letting her head fall forwards as Thirteen's mouth and hands moved over her skin.
"House thinks I'm involved with you because I have a habit of loving wounded people," she said.
"And here we are just having a lot of meaningless sex. He'd be so disappointed."
Cameron pushed off the cushioned chair-back, straightening to reach back and hold Thirteen closer. "Meaningless?"
Plastered against her back, Thirteen hugged her waist and rested her chin on her shoulder. She said, "It's possible that I'm in denial."
Her fingers slid down inside Cameron's underwear. Cameron sighed and said, "We should definitely talk about that."
"Oh. Great."
"We're talking about it," she said firmly. "Just not," she added, "right now."
the end.
Title: When Everything Will Be Just Fine
Pairing: Cameron/Thirteen
Rating: R
Words: 6001
Notes: My quite late housefemslash fic, written for fourteencats. Set following the season four finale.
Summary: Cameron cares. Thirteen tries not to. Hijinks ensue.
They settled in the shade, propping themselves against a low wall and not talking much as they arranged their lunch items around them. Cameron set her coffee on the wall beside her and popped open the plastic on her Greek salad. It was a warm day, summer here in earnest, and a lot of people were out enjoying the weather. Cameron wished she had her sunglasses.
She forked up some Romaine and half a cherry tomato, and saw Thirteen heading towards the coffee cart parked near the outdoor entrance to the cafeteria. She watched her for a moment, as she joined the queue and searched her pocket for change.
It wasn't long since Amber died, less time than that since it had come out about Thirteen. Sometimes Cameron wondered how much tragedy one small group of people could take, and sometimes she wondered why she still felt so involved with the internal drama of House and his team, when she wasn't part of it any more.
Usually when her thoughts went in this direction, she just wound up remembering why she left.
"How is she?" she said.
Foreman followed her gaze over to Thirteen, then glanced back at her. "You know?" She simply returned his look. "Okay, everybody knows," he agreed. "And I don't know how she's doing."
"You haven't talked to her?"
"She hasn't talked to me," Foreman corrected. "If she does, I'll be sure to come up with some meaningless platitudes that will make it all better." He rolled his eyes. "What could anyone say that would help?"
Cameron shook her head, unsurprised at this response. "Sometimes just having someone to talk to helps."
Over at the cart, Thirteen stirred her coffee and took a cautious sip before fitting a plastic lid on the cup.
"And you think that someone should be me."
"Sorry, forgot who I was talking to." She sighed. It wasn't as if she didn't know what it was like in House's department, that little isolated island of insanity. And Foreman was the one who went back there after getting out. All the way back, anyway. "She hasn't made many friends here, has she?"
They watched Thirteen head back inside, coffee in hand. Cameron felt Foreman steal a sideways look at her. He shook his head. "Don't do it," he said, taking a bite of his sandwich.
"What?" There was another head-shake. He was still chewing. She sighed again and sipped her coffee. Irritation won out. "Because that emotional wasteland you call a team is such a supportive environment?"
"You don't know her."
"How do you know her, when you apparently don't talk to her?"
"Oh, this is going to go well."
"You don't know what I'm going to do."
"Because I've never seen that look before? You're going to get involved."
She frowned up at the sky, squinting. "Why do I eat lunch with you?" It was a rhetorical question, but Foreman was happy to reply anyway.
"Because you broke up with your boyfriend and the people in emergency are all too afraid House is catching to hang out with you."
It wasn't exactly true. But it was close enough. She sighed once more and asked him, "So why do you eat lunch with me?"
And was only slightly satisfied when he couldn't come up with an answer this time.
*
It was true that Thirteen was not the easiest person to approach, but it wasn't as if Cameron didn't have experience with that sort of thing, or had ever let it stop her before.
All she could do was explain that she'd heard what Thirteen was going through, and ask if there was anything she needed, if she wanted to talk...
And all Thirteen could do was look at her like she was an idiot.
"Really," she said. "I heard you and Doctor Chase have had sex on every remotely horizontal surface in the hospital. Maybe you shouldn't believe everything you hear."
"Wait," she frowned. "So you're not sick?" It occurred to her that if no one had actually spoken to Thirteen about it, and everyone had just assumed - oh, she was going to kill House. "A lot of people are really worried about you!"
"I think they're worried they'll have to deal with one of their own dying slowly of a debilitating disease. Not that I blame them, it'll probably be really depressing."
So it was true.
She never thought she'd want House to be responsible for a horrific social experiment masquerading as a practical joke. Well, not another one, anyway.
"I'm so sorry."
"Did you need something?" Thirteen said, face a blank, polite mask.
Cameron remembered that. Her husband was dead and she just wanted everyone to leave her alone, because she was fine. Except she hadn't been, of course. And she knew that Thirteen wasn't fine, either. Nobody could be.
"No," was all she said, sadly, letting Thirteen get on with the business of pretending things were okay. It was the least she could do, for now anyway.
That, and go see House.
*
She was worried about Thirteen. Considering the woman's situation, it was hardly a stretch. Everyone, she knew, must be worried about Thirteen. She was just the one who was willing to say it.
"I said, I'm worried about Thirteen."
House barely twitched an eyebrow from behind his copy of Maxim. "Why? Is there some kind of delinquent behaviour going on I don't know about? Does it involve Catholic school uniforms, by any chance?"
The key to conversations with House, of course, was ignoring him. "I think you should talk to her."
The magazine lowered a few inches. "Sure, I definitely want to keep on top of the plaid skirt situation."
"She's acting like nothing's wrong."
"Could it be because nothing is wrong? Hmm." House made a thoughtful face. "Of course, something's going to be wrong, and she doesn't know when, just how completely screwed she's going to be when it does. That must suck for her."
"I know you're the king of not dealing with things -"
"I prefer 'Lord Almighty' if we're going to settle on a title."
"- But maybe not everyone has the same standard of emotional health that you do. Paragon of functionality that you are."
"She shot you down, didn't she." He was smirking now.
"So don't you want to succeed where I failed?"
"She's fine," he said, shortly, dismissively, and raised the magazine again. She didn't respond, letting the silence do its work. There was a twitch from behind the glossy pages and then, finally, "She's fine! Enjoys being left alone. A trait that is, like, really unappreciated." He stared. She didn't budge. The result was a hefty eye-roll. "If you don't believe me, ask Wilson! He's all about the terminally ill and he agrees with me." Her eyes widened at the mention of Wilson. "Or he would, if he were speaking to me," House finished.
She opened her mouth. She knew it would be a bad idea, but she couldn't help it. It was pathological. She knew that, and yet, "Do you want to talk about it?" she said, words brimming with compassion.
House stared at her.
She shrugged. "Like you weren't expecting that."
"Seriously, leave Thirteen alone," he said, speaking very slowly and firmly. "She's perfect the way she is. And by that I mean she never, ever tries to get me to talk about my feelings."
"You know you need to talk to her. And if you don't, I will. Again."
"You keep bugging her, you might start to rub off on her. And not in the fun way. Although I hear she's into that, if you ever feel like -"
"Then you'd better get off your ass and do something, hadn't you?" she interrupted his segue into lesbian porn fantasy. And then, having made her point, left him looking as disgruntled as might be expected from someone who'd had his lesbian porn fantasy dispersed with logic.
*
The success of her encounter with House - success being measured on a pass or fail system depending on who got the last word - was short lived.
"Did you tell House to talk to me?"
Cameron looked from the man with the badly mangled foot lying on the exam bed, to the chart in her hand, to Thirteen, and considered pointing out that she was with a patient.
Instead, she said, rather incredulously, "He talked to you?"
"Yeah, he talked to me." The way she said it, it could as easily have been 'yes, he attacked me'. "Why would you do that? Is it any of your business?"
"Oh god, what did he say to you?" All the awful possibilities started flooding her mind.
She'd never honestly thought he would actually talk to her.
"What he said isn't the point," Thirteen began.
"Because sometimes when House is feeling vulnerable he lashes out," Cameron was quick to say. "It doesn't mean -"
"He didn't say anything, he was nice about it. Seriously, did I miss something or do we barely know each other? Why are you -"
Cameron stared at her. "House was nice to you?" she blurted out.
"What kind of stupid name is 'House'?" said the guy with the foot.
Thirteen rolled her eyes and then turned and left without another word.
"I'll be right back," Cameron said without looking at him, and followed her.
"Why do you care?" Thirteen said as they made their way through the emergency department.
'Because you're a human being in pain' sounded ridiculous even to her ears.
'I know what it's like, working for House, trying to find your feet and not lose yourself along the way' was not much of an improvement. Nor was, 'I can't imagine what it's like doing that and living with your situation at the same time'.
"Everybody cares," she said finally, as they stopped in a relatively calm hallway. "Maybe I'm just better at showing it. But everyone cares, even House."
"House," she let out a laugh. "He's mean to little kids! And patients when they're dying in pain - but me he's nice to? How pathetic do you have to be if House is being nice to you? It's like he... feels sorry for me."
"Because a little sympathy would kill you?"
"No, the Huntington's is going to take care of that. Sympathy just makes me feel like I'm someone who needs sympathy."
There wasn't a lot she could say to that. Another valuable lesson Cameron had learned working with House - she'd learned when to quit.
"Okay," she said. "If that's really how you feel, I can understand that."
Thirteen rolled her eyes. "I know you're just trying to be nice. But I don't need it," she finished flatly, and then she was gone.
Cameron watched her round the corner, disappointed in, well, everything. It wasn't fair, a young woman living a life condemned by this terrible disease, trying to live with it as best she could.
And maybe she could have handled things better, herself.
Then of course there was House, making everything worse. She sighed, hands on hips, and turned back to return to work - and jumped. House was standing right behind her.
"I told you." He loomed over her, in that way he had. She took a step back. "She's perfect," he sing-songed.
That was when she realised House must have followed Thirteen down here, in order to witness their exchange. Which meant... "You set me up."
"No, I had a special moment with Thirteen because it made me feel good inside."
"And now she hates me. Thanks."
"Not too late to try a different approach. I hear sexual healing is very effective."
Her eyes widened, not because of House's extremely subtle innuendo, but because Thirteen had appeared back around the corner.
House took a large, surreptitious step away from her, behind a large wall rack stacked with supplies.
Thirteen watched him, a complete lack of surprise on her face, before turning her attention to Cameron. "Listen, if you really want to help," she began.
"Anything," she replied gladly.
"Great, so you could help me with the pile of House's billing records Cuddy wants done by tomorrow."
"Why would I -"
"You said anything. And I just don't think I can handle the extra stress right now," she deadpanned. "House said I had to do it because he didn't want me to feel like I was getting special treatment. That was yesterday, before he started being nice to me. But since he isn't here," she added, speaking loudly and pointedly, "I guess what he won't know won't hurt him."
Cameron looked over at the rack behind which House was unsuccessfully concealed.
"Don't look at me, I don't care," came his partially disembodied voice. "I can't tell you two apart, anyway."
Cameron sighed. "Sure," she told Thirteen with the grace of someone who knew they'd walked right into it. "I'd be happy to."
"Great. It was going to take all night. Instead I think I'll go hit a couple of bars and get really drunk." She gave Cameron a bland smile and set off again.
"Great," House said. "All is right with the world once more." And then he left, too.
"Great," Cameron said, and wondered whether Foreman was free for lunch.
Because everyone needed someone to listen to them, no matter what anyone might say, or how hard they were going to laugh.
*
"Why did I agree to do this, again?"
"Because -" Foreman began helpfully.
"It was a rhetorical question!"
She bent back over the table as he smirked at her.
He was getting ready to leave for the night, and she was coming off a full day of stitching people up and dodging vomit, only to now be settling in with a mound of paperwork. House was already gone, but she knew Taub, Kutner and Thirteen were around, in the lab or with the patient House had conveniently dug up from somewhere.
"Because you can't help yourself," Foreman said over his shoulder as he pulled the door open and made his escape.
She watched him go - the privilege of seniority. She remembered him on his first day. Back when she'd still been happy to do House's paperwork. There was something wrong with this picture, she thought.
About an hour later, Kutner wandered through, going over to stare forlornly at the empty coffee machine for a moment before realising she was even there.
"Oh, hey. I heard you got stuck with," he gestured, clearing his throat. "Uh, so how's it going?"
"The nurse's lounge on two always has a fresh pot," she said.
"Oh," he said. There was a pause. "What?"
"Coffee? That way you don't have to use the vending machine."
"Hey, thanks," he grinned briefly. "Huh. Foreman never told us that." She looked at him. "Right," he said, and wandered out again.
Twenty minutes after that, it was Cuddy, who poked her head in the door and looked at her for a moment as if she'd been expecting someone else.
"Do I want to know?" she said, taking in the tableau of Cameron, head propped in one hand, half a massacred rainforest spread out in front of her across the table.
Cameron, not raising her head from her hand, said, "No."
Cuddy nodded once. "Where's House? Tell me he hasn't gone home."
"He left hours ago." Cuddy rolled her eyes, making a frustrated noise. Cameron found she had to ask. "Do I want to know?"
"No," Cuddy said emphatically. She paused, distracted as she hovered in the doorway. "You'd just think he'd have learned his lesson with the police, wouldn't you?"
Cameron's eyes widened, then narrowed. "You're right, I don't want to know," she said flatly.
Cuddy gave her a look clearly conveying how much she wished she didn't have to, either, and left, the sound of her footsteps clicking quickly away down the quiet corridor.
It wasn't until she was on her way back up from the second floor with a cup of coffee, that she saw Thirteen.
"I'd feel bad that you're still here," she said, falling into step with Cameron, "if House hadn't ruined my night, too."
"How's your patient?"
"She has no memory, no sign of head trauma, and no ID. And we have no idea who she is or what's wrong with her."
"I'm surprised House left," she said, pushing her way back through the door into the diagnostic lounge.
"I think he went down to the police station to bug them about our Jane Doe," Thirteen said, standing over the table as Cameron returned to her seat.
"Of course he did."
She looked up a few seconds later, realising Thirteen was still there, and was now pulling out the chair across from her. Sitting down, she took a quick survey of the accumulated stacks in front of Cameron, and then grabbed half of her to-do pile.
"I have nothing else to do," she said without prompting, "except check on our patient every twenty minutes to see if she's developed any 'cool new symptoms'."
They worked in silence for a while, Cameron thinking this was a strange change of pace from earlier in the day when Thirteen had tracked her down to yell at her. God only knew what Thirteen was thinking.
"I don't know why House wanted me to do this," Thirteen spoke a moment later. "Isn't this why Foreman's here?"
"If it helps, you could think of it as House's way of showing he cares."
"That doesn't help."
There was some more silence. Broken eventually by Thirteen. "Torture as a sign of affection isn't cute or charming," she said flatly.
Cameron was the last person in the world who should comment on which of House's attributes were cute or charming, and she was all too well aware of it. What was interesting, she noted, as she studiously did not say anything, was that Thirteen... did.
"The truth is, no one else has really bothered," she said.
The words were casual, but Cameron could see the tension across her shoulders. Since not talking was working for her, she kept it up until Thirteen spoke again.
"I mean, Kutner and Taub both gave me variations on the 'if you need someone to talk to' speech. But they actually listened when I told them to back off. Cuddy referred me to counselling services. When she started talking about support groups I made up an excuse and got out of there."
Cameron took all this in, spoken in a flat, matter-of-fact tone as Thirteen finished a page and turned over to the next. After a moment she said, "What about your family? Are you close?"
Thirteen made a gesture that was almost a shrug. "Once they know, they know. I think I'm going to put that off for as long as I can."
"That's brave of you." Brave, and a little bit selfish, she thought.
Almost as if she'd heard it, Thirteen's next words held an edge. "Is this where you tell me I'm not alone?"
"Actually I was going to ask if you wanted a hug."
They shared a measured look across the table and then, by silent mutual agreement, subsided.
"You know they're saying you're the new me," Cameron went on in a lighter tone. "It's not even close to the truth, is it?"
"Who's saying that?"
"All right, maybe it's just my boyfriend saying that. Maybe after talking to House."
"I heard you and Doctor Chase broke up."
"Yes, well no. We're sort of on a break. He has trust issues he needs to work out, and I've always felt a little conflicted about..." she trailed off. Why was she explaining this? "Well, I'm sure the rumour mill covers it."
"You mean about how you were interested in House first, but after a few years of him turning you down, you gave up and went after Chase instead?"
"You're forgetting the part where, actually, I've still been secretly pining for House all this time."
Thirteen looked down, then up again with a hint of amusement as she said, "Secretly?"
Cameron soured. "Sometimes I hate this place."
"Didn't you quit and then come back?"
"Aren't you supposed to be above gossiping?"
"When ninety percent of it is about you, it quickly becomes a beat them or join them situation."
Her eyes widened at that. "You went with 'join them'. You won't even let people use your own name."
"Fine, that was a lie." For the first time, not just since this conversation began, but since Cameron had met her, Thirteen looked a tiny bit uncomfortable. "I asked Kutner about you, specifically."
"Why?"
Thirteen shrugged. "He's cute in a non-threatening way. People tell him things."
"I mean, why were you asking about me?"
"I wanted to know why you would care about what's happening to me."
"Apparently, I'm my own worst enemy."
"I don't think that's it," Thirteen said, looking thoughtful.
Cameron waited for her to elaborate, but her head was bent again, making a note on a post-it as if she'd never spoken at all. No wonder House liked Thirteen, she thought, this enigmatic thing must drive him up the wall.
Of course, it wasn't working on her. She wasn't even going to ask. "So," she began.
"I think this will keep accounting happy for a while," Thirteen was saying suddenly, stacking the piles of forms on top of each other as she got to her feet. "I'll unload it on Foreman in the morning, he can take it from here. You're free," she told Cameron.
"Oh. Well thanks for the help."
"Actually, I think you'll find that goes the other way around." Smiling, Thirteen checked her watch. "Got to go check on Jane."
In her wake, Cameron was left with the distinct impression that something had just happened. She simply had no clue what it was.
*
The next morning, in the locker room, Thirteen emerged from the direction of the showers with that look about her that said, yes, she'd been there all night, and if anyone commented on it she just might kill them.
Cameron knew that look. And she commented anyway, for lack of anything else to say. "Didn't get much sleep?"
"Not after the Great Bleeding Incident of two AM." Thirteen passed her by and opened her locker.
Bleeding plus memory loss, Cameron thought. Nothing came immediately to mind - nothing they wouldn't have considered immediately, anyway - which, if she was less secure about her new career path and abilities, might have left her worried about losing her touch.
"I hope House didn't get arrested," she said, closing her locker and moving over to where Thirteen stood pulling her hair into a ponytail. "Not again, I mean."
"Last I saw him, he was a free man." Thirteen rounded on her suddenly, arms crossing over her chest. "Look, I'm tired so this might not come out as politely as I'd like. The thing is, I don't think I can get involved with anyone right now."
"Excuse me?" was all Cameron could manage.
"Thanks for the interest, though, it's flattering."
"Wait, you think -" she paused, gathering her thoughts. "You can't think of any other reason why someone might care about what you're going through? Other than wanting to get in your pants?"
"I'm sure you're very sincere. I just know the signs. You're not the first straight girl to get curious. It happens."
Cameron frowned. "I've never -"
"Yeah, no kidding." Thirteen turned back to her locker and began pulling on her lab coat.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Mostly it's that look, like you're kind of hoping I'll make a move and at the same time terrified that I will because you're pretty sure you'll chicken out."
"I don't look like that! And if I was interested in you I'd just tell you." Thirteen looked doubtful. "I would. I'm very open about that kind of thing. In fact," she declared emphatically, "I'm known for it."
*
It was driving her insane. Thirteen had very dubiously said 'okay', and left it at that. But she still thought - Thirteen thought that she - when all she'd been trying to do was help. Her motives were pure, damn it.
It bothered her.
It bothered her while she dealt with the usual round of recovering drunks and ODs left over from the night before. While she worked through the aftermath of a head-on collision. While she reassured a frazzled and panicky father that his kids didn't have smallpox.
It was still bothering her that night as she did some grocery shopping, and then when she made herself some dinner and sat down in front of the television to eat.
She should really let it go, she thought as she got ready for bed.
Of course, she wasn't going to.
*
"I have to talk to you."
Thirteen looked longingly down the hallway towards diagnostics. "All right," she said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. "I guess House will be down in Cuddy's office not getting yelled at a while longer."
Cameron glanced around quickly, and then grabbed Thirteen's wrist and pulled her through the nearest doorway.
She switched on the light. The door closed.
"I think you're in denial," she said.
"Okay," Thirteen replied. She gave the door a thoughtful look.
"You don't want to deal with it - I don't blame you, I can't imagine how difficult this must be."
"Wait, what are we talking about?"
"But trivialising my motivations isn't going to help. Have you given any more thought to counselling?"
"You think I'm in denial. About the Huntington's."
"I think coping with something like this would be difficult for anyone -"
"And you dragged me into a broom closet to tell me?"
"It's a supply room."
Thirteen looked around the, admittedly, cramped quarters they were currently sharing before returning her incredulous gaze to Cameron's. "Seriously?"
"What?" So maybe the last time she'd been in here, Chase had been with her and neither of them had been wearing pants. She rolled her eyes. "Look, if I wanted to have sex with you I really would tell you, honestly."
"What if you were in denial?" Thirteen responded dryly.
"I'm not the one acting like a robot after getting the worst news anyone can get."
Thirteen folded her arms over her chest. She was starting to smile. "I'm really getting to you, aren't I?"
"Sorry. I shouldn't have called you a robot. It's just that -"
"You care about me," Thirteen finished for her.
"Yes."
"As a friend."
"Yes."
"Even though, technically, we aren't friends."
"We could be," Cameron offered hopefully.
"I think you're insane."
She breathed out and sagged against a shelf. "Probably."
"But you're not the only one. Hold still."
She watched Thirteen take a single step closer, her hand raising and then there were fingers sliding into her hair behind her ear. The pad of a thumb brushed along her jaw.
"I don't think this is healthy," she breathed, her whole body tensing as the other woman drew even closer, and then Thirteen's mouth pressed against hers.
Lips moved over Cameron's, softly confident, drawing out a response. Cameron, who breathed out and shifted forward, closer into the kiss. Hands were stealing, then, under the hem of her top, fingers skimming lightly across her stomach. She wasn't thinking much about what was happening, just reacting, tilting her head this way for a better angle on Thirteen's mouth, arching a little into the touch of Thirteen's hands on her breasts.
Thirteen touched her breasts carefully, knowingly, like she did herself some days after too many hours in an underwire, like she knew exactly how that felt. Which she would, of course. Gentle, sparing only the lightest touches for her nipples until they were aching peaks and she covered the hands with her own, pressing firmly, done with these patient, soothing caresses, ready for more.
Thirteen's teeth closed on her lower lip and fingers tugged at her nipples.
She pulled back, breathing hard. She opened her mouth. "I want to have sex with you."
"And I'm acting like a robot because if I start thinking about going through what my mother did, I'll never think about anything else ever again," Thirteen said. Her thumb brushed over Cameron's lip. "I think this will help."
It so wasn't healthy, but it was a good compromise. After all, all she'd ever wanted to do was help.
"You know I've never done this."
"We already covered that," Thirteen replied. "And yeah, it's still pretty obvious. Don't worry, I've got you."
Her hands moved around to unclasp Cameron's bra and were back in an instant, grasping her bare breasts, thumbs rubbing over nipples. She took Thirteen's face in her hands and drew her back into a kiss, urgent and demanding. Her hands slid down Thirteen's back, over her ass and pulled her closer. Thirteen wrapped arms around her back and they stood there, close, close as they could be with their clothes still on, the sound of their kissing, their breathing, hot and heavy and loud in the small room.
Then Thirteen's hands shifted again, to the front of her pants and Cameron broke the kiss, tense and gasping in anticipation. Her pants and underwear were eased down her hips, then Thirteen's hand was there, two fingers unerringly finding her clit, sliding lightly on either side. She bit her lip. Thirteen had barely touched her and she was trying not to moan.
"God," she said, "that's really -" and choked off, because a hand grabbed her ass cheek and then Thirteen's fingers pushed inside her. Her knees were weak and she braced her arms, hands gripping the edge of a shelf behind her.
"Good," she managed. "That's really... good."
"Good?"
"Really." She laughed, and gasped again, closed her eyes and let her head fall back. Thirteen and was kissing her throat and her fingers were doing things that were really good. And a few minutes later with her lips pressed tight she was coming, quietly, shuddering as Thirteen worked her through it.
When Thirteen's hand lay still, and a little damp, on Cameron's hip, her other brushing the hair back from Cameron's face, Cameron leaned forward, seeking and finding Thirteen's mouth. Then she slowed, sighed.
"So," she murmured, arms slung loosely over Thirteen's shoulder, "now what?"
*
"Well I'm not going to say 'you don't have to'. If you want to do this with me, or any woman, then yeah, you have to."
On her knees, hands resting on Thirteen's thighs, which were slightly parted, and right in front of her, she told herself this wasn't intimidating.
"First time jitters?"
"Shut up."
How hard could it be? If Chase could figure out how to do this, she reasoned - well then it definitely couldn't be that hard.
She leaned in.
*
It was just the way things worked. That, and because emerging from a supply room adjusting clothes and smoothing hair and speaking in low, private tones, was not the best way to be inconspicuous. But by the time a few days had passed, everyone knew.
"You're in a good mood," she accused Thirteen.
They were in the locker room, and Cameron needed to change into scrubs, but Thirteen, who looked like she might burst out humming at any moment, was demanding her attention.
"What can I say?" She shrugged. "They're not talking about me anymore."
"They're talking about us."
"Exactly." Smiling, Thirteen closed her locker and glanced down at her watch. "Aren't you late?"
*
Chase was there with Foreman at lunch that day. They had been trying to keep things civil since 'on a break' had transitioned into a twelve-month lease on her new apartment. So she didn't comment, just sat down with her tray and peeled the lid off her juice.
"So," Foreman said, looking cheerful, "anything you'd like to share with the group?"
"Not really," she replied.
"Come on, Foreman, you know sharing isn't Cameron's thing."
So much for civil.
"He's just sulking because now he'll always be the guy who turned Allison Cameron gay," Foreman said.
"I'm not sulking," Chase said sharply.
"And I'm not a lesbian, I'm not even dating a lesbian. I believe the term is 'bisexual'."
"I know that," Foreman held up his hands. "The rest of the world sees two women together - they don't think much further than 'lesbian'."
Chase, getting more into the spirit of things, added, "Yeah, they're too busy wondering if you'll let them watch."
"I figured you'd be happy about it," she told him. "I mean if I broke up with you because I'm gay, then I can't have broken up with you because you're an idiot."
Foreman smiled. "I missed you guys."
*
House was, predictably, worse.
"Congratulations, you've got yourself a brand new terminal case of your very own. Not that I blame you, she's way hotter than me. Plus I'm not dying. Well, not lately, anyway."
She'd been expecting exactly this. It was easy, just imagine the most hurtful thing anyone could say to you, and House would throw it into casual conversation. "Sure you're not just jealous?"
"I'll admit I am interested to see how long you're going to keep sleeping with people who work for me. What's the word I'm looking for here - sounds like 'foxy', starts with a 'puh' sound -"
"Which is it, am I using her in a desperate attempt to stay connected to you, or am I feeding off her illness emotional-vampire style?"
He screwed up his face and complained, "I have to choose just one?"
"If you figure out which it is, maybe I'll even pretend that your vastly oversimplified theories concerning my love life hold any weight whatsoever, just so you can feel slightly more superior to everyone around you and for a few minutes forget the fact that your own love life sucks so hard."
House blinked. "Why did I fire you again?"
"I quit," she said.
*
And then, at the end of the day, there was just the two of them.
Which was a good thing, considering Thirteen had her bent over the back of an armchair with her shirt bunched up under her arms and her pants around her ankles. She wasn't quite sure - apart from a general idea - where Thirteen was going with this. When it came to 'the general idea', however, Cameron had found that Thirteen certainly knew how to keep her options open.
She stretched, shifted, got a few buttons undone, and pulled her top off over her head.
Thirteen's lips landed between her shoulder blades, her hands were skimming the sides of her thighs. "You have such a gorgeous back." Her hands slid up over Cameron's hips, she undid her bra, and lips planted a trail down her spine. "Remind me to buy you a big piece of cake tomorrow, though."
Cameron shot a look over her shoulder. "How about I buy you two?"
Thirteen caught her jaw and held her there, straining around, while she kissed her. "It's a date," she said, with more kisses pressing hotly against the side of her face, her shoulders.
Cameron sighed, letting her head fall forwards as Thirteen's mouth and hands moved over her skin.
"House thinks I'm involved with you because I have a habit of loving wounded people," she said.
"And here we are just having a lot of meaningless sex. He'd be so disappointed."
Cameron pushed off the cushioned chair-back, straightening to reach back and hold Thirteen closer. "Meaningless?"
Plastered against her back, Thirteen hugged her waist and rested her chin on her shoulder. She said, "It's possible that I'm in denial."
Her fingers slid down inside Cameron's underwear. Cameron sighed and said, "We should definitely talk about that."
"Oh. Great."
"We're talking about it," she said firmly. "Just not," she added, "right now."
the end.