(no subject)
Title: Maybe Baby (Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps)
Author: rolleson
Fandom: House
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing: House/Cameron
Spoilers: Set after Living The Dream before House's Head
Warnings: First base.
Summery: Maybe it is a date.
Notes: Part 11. This is the longest one yet at 2093 words. I'm not sure what to do now. Stop here, or write the smut and stop then. Or keep writing until I get bored or die. Anyway.
i. You Can Never Be Too Careful
ii. Treading Water
iii. Illogical Maybes
iv. Irrelevant Changes
v. The Symptomatology Of Things
vi. The Eye Of The Beholder
vii. The Inhibition Of Enzymes (and other things)
viii. Not Entirely Anything
ix. Due Care And Attention
x. No I In Denial (Or In Breasts)
There was a television in her office.
Nothing special about it, fifteen inch portable, plugged in, remote control sitting neatly on the top. He grabbed it and pulled the back off finding batteries already inside. He started at it for a long moment, thinking back, she'd been adamant that she wasn't getting a television. She didn't watch a whole lot of it, he knew that more than anybody.
So this was for him.
He didn't know what that meant but he was sure it was pretty significant.
"It's a TV House," Cameron said as she walked into her office and around him to her desk, "I know you're more than familiar with the technology."
"I think so," he smirked and took a seat on her sofa, lifting his leg up onto the coffee table, only to have her tap his shin.
"Off."
"Cripple," he protested.
"Off," she repeated. He grumbled, and ignored her. She sighed, and grabbed a magazine, shoving it under his foot. He put the television on, and started to flick through the channels.
"I thought you weren't going to get a television," he said.
"I was getting complaints from the nurses," Cameron said, going over to her coffee pot in the corner and pouring out a mug, "thought if you were in here watching tv, you wouldn't be out there annoying them."
"Good idea in theory."
"Theory?"
"I like annoying your nurses." She smiled and handed him the coffee.
"I know." He took the coffee and watching her leave the office with the smile still on her face.
Very significant.
*****
It wasn't a date, but she had put the effort into looking good, but casual. Tight jeans again, and a t-shirt, a small amount of make-up and her hair in a clip. He'd seen enough of her breasts on last nights chaperoned non-date, and she knew she liked her hair this colour, just not if he liked it up or down. And it wasn't a date, and he was House, so there was no guarantee he'd tell her anything. She just had to watch him carefully, judge his reactions.
His eyes usually gave him away.
It wasn't a date but last night his eyes had screamed otherwise. His eyes had been on her ass, her breasts, no different from any other time, but they lingered on her lips, her hands too. He liked her hands apparently. She wanted it to be a date, and so did House, she understood his reservations, about her, about Chase. Burning her bed was a little extreme, but she had bought new bedding.
Not that it was a date.
She had pizza and waited patiently for him to answer the door, trying to ignore the butterflies. When he opened the door, looking no different to any other day, having made absolutely no extra effort she wanted to kiss him, went to kiss him on the cheek at least but the pizza blocked her way.
"I got a dvd," he said, dipping his head and she blushed, embarrassed.
"If it's porn I'm not interested."
"It's not porn," he said, letting her inside and limping after her. "I have some porn for when you are interested though."
"Another time maybe," she said blushing over her grin. He sat down on his sofa, and she dropped the pizza down onto the coffee table, next to his propped up leg.
"Not going to tell me off?" he asked.
"Your coffee table," she said shrugging. She disappeared into his kitchen and came back with a beer for them both, sitting down in the sofa next to him.
"You can relax, it's not a date."
"I am relaxed, what dvd did you get?"
"Casino Royle."
"Good choice."
"Hot women in slutty dresses for me, Daniel Craig in a tux for you," he said, handing her the dvd.
"That almost sounds like a compromise," she said.
"No, just keeping you happy," he said, "Don't tell Cuddy though," he added.
"You're secret is safe with me."
*****
"It's not a date, you don't have to sit so close," House groused. Cameron was sat on his left side, pressed up against him from shoulder to ankle, leaning her head towards him. The film was almost over, and she had buried her head in his chest, grabbing hold of his shirt when Bond had been tortured. Which he liked, unfortunately, it was exactly something Cameron would do.
"Why? Do I smell?"
"Yes, of Chase, now move," he said, nudging her.
"House," Cameron warned, glaring at him. He smiled at her, then shifted closer to her, as if the increased physical connection was all the apology he needed to make. She sighed, and settled further into the sofa and they were quiet through the rest of the film.
He was worried she was pissed with him. Not that it mattered, because he was always going to insult her and it wasn't like it was a date and he was trying to get her into bed (though, again, that didn't matter much either) but he was worried anyway.
He didn't like it much.
When the film finished they sat together through the credits, before Cameron moved away him with a sigh and stood. She stretched out in front of him, arching her back with a groan, and House groaned quietly as well. She smiled at him.
"I should go," she said.
"Okay." He got to his feet with more difficulty than he would've liked her to see, and walked her to the door. Even though it wasn't a date, it was certainly something. "You should stay for another drink," he said at the door, "finish off the six pack."
"I think you'll manage that on your own House."
"I'm really more of a passing out on scotch kinda guy, you should know that by now. Beer is for afternoons," he said, looking at the bottle on the coffee table, "should be one left," he added.
"Trying to get me drunk?" she said with a grin.
"It's not a date," he reminded her.
"I should go," she said again, in a quiet voice that made her sound sad. Because she didn't want to go, they both knew that, and it wasn't just about the sex, she just wanted to be there. Be with him, which she was sure he'd regard as pathetic, but she couldn't help that. And didn't care either.
With her jacket on her arm she reached up to kiss him, her intention to kiss him on the cheek, her body pushing her a little to the side to kiss him on the lips instead. It was a light brush that was enough to make him wrap an arm around her waist, pull her close and kiss her a little harder. She smiled against his lips for a second, holding onto his forearms as they kissed, his sutures rubbing over her lower lip, his tongue quickly flicking at her top lip to deepen the kiss. She dropped her coat when he backed her up against the door, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, the kiss moving faster into...something. Her heart was beating faster than she could remember it doing for a long time.
"This still isn't a date," he breathed against her lips, before tasting her again. She pulled away and looked at him, an eyebrow raised.
"Really?" she asked, her fingers in his hair, moving her hips a small circle against him, making him sigh.
"Maybe it is a date."
"Maybe we've been dating all along."
"If that's the case then we should've gotten past first base by now," he grumbled, dropping his cane. He rested a little more of his weight on her and she took it without a word, sighing and smiling when she felt him unclip her hair.
"Maybe it is a date," she said, "but our first date."
"What? You don't sleep with guys on the first date?" he said, "unless you're high?"
"Exactly."
"Well, I've plenty of Vicodin to go around, some morphine..."
"You have morphine?" she cut in, outraged.
"I'm in pain!" She frowned at him. "What?" She didn't know what to say, and his fingers were distracting her, fiddling with the hair he'd loosened, his other hand tapping a rhythm out on the small of her back. "We can't have been dating all this time," he said, taking a step back from her, letting her hair fall free, "not with you fucking Chase all this time, so if, if you want to go," he paused and she was always amazed at how quickly House could change the tension in a room with so few words, "maybe you should," he finished. He bent awkwardly to pick up his cane and she beat him to it, helping him to straighten up and she could see the frustration on his face, but ignored it.
"Maybe I've been too busy in the ER to sleep with Chase over the past couple of weeks," she said, stepping back into his personal space.
"Maybe."
"You don't believe me?"
"I don't believe Chase can go without sex for that long."
"So either I'm lying or he cheated on me?"
"He cheated on you."
"No, not Chase."
"You just dumped him for me."
"Yes, I broke up before we did anything."
"You would've slept with me the other night."
"And then I broke up with him!" she cried, "argh! Why are you arguing with me about this?"
"Because," he paused, then kissed her again, harder this time, pushing her back against his door, hands weaving up into her hair. She arched into him, moaning, angry still because he couldn't just accept anything at face value, he had to dig deeper, couldn't just kiss her and take her to bed.
Maybe that was it.
"Don't you want to sleep with me House?" she asked, pulling away but keeping her body pressed into his.
"I really fucking do."
"But it would make this real, the dating, the feelings, the fact that we can spend time together outside of work and get on."
"Maybe," he mumbled.
When had she gotten to know him so well.
"I really, really want to sleep with you."
"What about Chase?" she asked.
"I don't want to sleep with him." She smirked.
"Can you get over him?"
"Can you? If he cheated on you?"
"I can and he hasn't cheated on me."
"Maybe," he said and she hit him on the chest, then kissed him.
"Can you get past Chase, and every other boyfriend I've had. My husband?"
"No, but wouldn't I be that different person that you insist you don't want me to be if I could get past Chase?" he asked, the whole situation becoming a riddle. She smiled, and pulled him close to her, hugging him as he stood, tense in her arms. They kissed again, and it was getting sweeter each time he realised, the feel of her lips, her warmth against him, against his leg.
He hadn't forgotten but Allison Cameron was a wonderful distraction.
"You got a tv," he whispered, hand flicking her hair aside, lips trailing down her jaw to her neck, "that's what scares me the most."
"The tv?" she moaned softly as he nipped at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, teeth pulling at the material of her t-shirt too.
"You didn't want a tv in your office, but now you have cable..."
"For you," she sighed, and the hand on her back moved and slipped beneath her t-shirt, slid over the smooth skin to hold her side.
"Exactly," he said and she smiled. He probably didn't want to hear that she would do anything for him but she felt it, had for a long time. Actions spoke louder than words and now he could hide in her office, watch General Hospital and drink her coffee.
Maybe that's all he really wanted in life.
And sex.
And drugs.
When she thought about it, the list was longer than she thought, and much more complicated. But so was House, once you got past everything he was so much more complicated.
"Are you staying for another drink?" he whispered in her ear, before tugging on the lobe with his teeth. He loved to use his teeth she realised and she grinned. She knew how he felt, because as complicated as he was, she knew him. The tv had told him how she felt, the fact that he had admitted being scared told her how he felt. Very complicated, maybe. To anyone else.
"Coffee."
Author: rolleson
Fandom: House
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing: House/Cameron
Spoilers: Set after Living The Dream before House's Head
Warnings: First base.
Summery: Maybe it is a date.
Notes: Part 11. This is the longest one yet at 2093 words. I'm not sure what to do now. Stop here, or write the smut and stop then. Or keep writing until I get bored or die. Anyway.
i. You Can Never Be Too Careful
ii. Treading Water
iii. Illogical Maybes
iv. Irrelevant Changes
v. The Symptomatology Of Things
vi. The Eye Of The Beholder
vii. The Inhibition Of Enzymes (and other things)
viii. Not Entirely Anything
ix. Due Care And Attention
x. No I In Denial (Or In Breasts)
There was a television in her office.
Nothing special about it, fifteen inch portable, plugged in, remote control sitting neatly on the top. He grabbed it and pulled the back off finding batteries already inside. He started at it for a long moment, thinking back, she'd been adamant that she wasn't getting a television. She didn't watch a whole lot of it, he knew that more than anybody.
So this was for him.
He didn't know what that meant but he was sure it was pretty significant.
"It's a TV House," Cameron said as she walked into her office and around him to her desk, "I know you're more than familiar with the technology."
"I think so," he smirked and took a seat on her sofa, lifting his leg up onto the coffee table, only to have her tap his shin.
"Off."
"Cripple," he protested.
"Off," she repeated. He grumbled, and ignored her. She sighed, and grabbed a magazine, shoving it under his foot. He put the television on, and started to flick through the channels.
"I thought you weren't going to get a television," he said.
"I was getting complaints from the nurses," Cameron said, going over to her coffee pot in the corner and pouring out a mug, "thought if you were in here watching tv, you wouldn't be out there annoying them."
"Good idea in theory."
"Theory?"
"I like annoying your nurses." She smiled and handed him the coffee.
"I know." He took the coffee and watching her leave the office with the smile still on her face.
Very significant.
*****
It wasn't a date, but she had put the effort into looking good, but casual. Tight jeans again, and a t-shirt, a small amount of make-up and her hair in a clip. He'd seen enough of her breasts on last nights chaperoned non-date, and she knew she liked her hair this colour, just not if he liked it up or down. And it wasn't a date, and he was House, so there was no guarantee he'd tell her anything. She just had to watch him carefully, judge his reactions.
His eyes usually gave him away.
It wasn't a date but last night his eyes had screamed otherwise. His eyes had been on her ass, her breasts, no different from any other time, but they lingered on her lips, her hands too. He liked her hands apparently. She wanted it to be a date, and so did House, she understood his reservations, about her, about Chase. Burning her bed was a little extreme, but she had bought new bedding.
Not that it was a date.
She had pizza and waited patiently for him to answer the door, trying to ignore the butterflies. When he opened the door, looking no different to any other day, having made absolutely no extra effort she wanted to kiss him, went to kiss him on the cheek at least but the pizza blocked her way.
"I got a dvd," he said, dipping his head and she blushed, embarrassed.
"If it's porn I'm not interested."
"It's not porn," he said, letting her inside and limping after her. "I have some porn for when you are interested though."
"Another time maybe," she said blushing over her grin. He sat down on his sofa, and she dropped the pizza down onto the coffee table, next to his propped up leg.
"Not going to tell me off?" he asked.
"Your coffee table," she said shrugging. She disappeared into his kitchen and came back with a beer for them both, sitting down in the sofa next to him.
"You can relax, it's not a date."
"I am relaxed, what dvd did you get?"
"Casino Royle."
"Good choice."
"Hot women in slutty dresses for me, Daniel Craig in a tux for you," he said, handing her the dvd.
"That almost sounds like a compromise," she said.
"No, just keeping you happy," he said, "Don't tell Cuddy though," he added.
"You're secret is safe with me."
*****
"It's not a date, you don't have to sit so close," House groused. Cameron was sat on his left side, pressed up against him from shoulder to ankle, leaning her head towards him. The film was almost over, and she had buried her head in his chest, grabbing hold of his shirt when Bond had been tortured. Which he liked, unfortunately, it was exactly something Cameron would do.
"Why? Do I smell?"
"Yes, of Chase, now move," he said, nudging her.
"House," Cameron warned, glaring at him. He smiled at her, then shifted closer to her, as if the increased physical connection was all the apology he needed to make. She sighed, and settled further into the sofa and they were quiet through the rest of the film.
He was worried she was pissed with him. Not that it mattered, because he was always going to insult her and it wasn't like it was a date and he was trying to get her into bed (though, again, that didn't matter much either) but he was worried anyway.
He didn't like it much.
When the film finished they sat together through the credits, before Cameron moved away him with a sigh and stood. She stretched out in front of him, arching her back with a groan, and House groaned quietly as well. She smiled at him.
"I should go," she said.
"Okay." He got to his feet with more difficulty than he would've liked her to see, and walked her to the door. Even though it wasn't a date, it was certainly something. "You should stay for another drink," he said at the door, "finish off the six pack."
"I think you'll manage that on your own House."
"I'm really more of a passing out on scotch kinda guy, you should know that by now. Beer is for afternoons," he said, looking at the bottle on the coffee table, "should be one left," he added.
"Trying to get me drunk?" she said with a grin.
"It's not a date," he reminded her.
"I should go," she said again, in a quiet voice that made her sound sad. Because she didn't want to go, they both knew that, and it wasn't just about the sex, she just wanted to be there. Be with him, which she was sure he'd regard as pathetic, but she couldn't help that. And didn't care either.
With her jacket on her arm she reached up to kiss him, her intention to kiss him on the cheek, her body pushing her a little to the side to kiss him on the lips instead. It was a light brush that was enough to make him wrap an arm around her waist, pull her close and kiss her a little harder. She smiled against his lips for a second, holding onto his forearms as they kissed, his sutures rubbing over her lower lip, his tongue quickly flicking at her top lip to deepen the kiss. She dropped her coat when he backed her up against the door, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, the kiss moving faster into...something. Her heart was beating faster than she could remember it doing for a long time.
"This still isn't a date," he breathed against her lips, before tasting her again. She pulled away and looked at him, an eyebrow raised.
"Really?" she asked, her fingers in his hair, moving her hips a small circle against him, making him sigh.
"Maybe it is a date."
"Maybe we've been dating all along."
"If that's the case then we should've gotten past first base by now," he grumbled, dropping his cane. He rested a little more of his weight on her and she took it without a word, sighing and smiling when she felt him unclip her hair.
"Maybe it is a date," she said, "but our first date."
"What? You don't sleep with guys on the first date?" he said, "unless you're high?"
"Exactly."
"Well, I've plenty of Vicodin to go around, some morphine..."
"You have morphine?" she cut in, outraged.
"I'm in pain!" She frowned at him. "What?" She didn't know what to say, and his fingers were distracting her, fiddling with the hair he'd loosened, his other hand tapping a rhythm out on the small of her back. "We can't have been dating all this time," he said, taking a step back from her, letting her hair fall free, "not with you fucking Chase all this time, so if, if you want to go," he paused and she was always amazed at how quickly House could change the tension in a room with so few words, "maybe you should," he finished. He bent awkwardly to pick up his cane and she beat him to it, helping him to straighten up and she could see the frustration on his face, but ignored it.
"Maybe I've been too busy in the ER to sleep with Chase over the past couple of weeks," she said, stepping back into his personal space.
"Maybe."
"You don't believe me?"
"I don't believe Chase can go without sex for that long."
"So either I'm lying or he cheated on me?"
"He cheated on you."
"No, not Chase."
"You just dumped him for me."
"Yes, I broke up before we did anything."
"You would've slept with me the other night."
"And then I broke up with him!" she cried, "argh! Why are you arguing with me about this?"
"Because," he paused, then kissed her again, harder this time, pushing her back against his door, hands weaving up into her hair. She arched into him, moaning, angry still because he couldn't just accept anything at face value, he had to dig deeper, couldn't just kiss her and take her to bed.
Maybe that was it.
"Don't you want to sleep with me House?" she asked, pulling away but keeping her body pressed into his.
"I really fucking do."
"But it would make this real, the dating, the feelings, the fact that we can spend time together outside of work and get on."
"Maybe," he mumbled.
When had she gotten to know him so well.
"I really, really want to sleep with you."
"What about Chase?" she asked.
"I don't want to sleep with him." She smirked.
"Can you get over him?"
"Can you? If he cheated on you?"
"I can and he hasn't cheated on me."
"Maybe," he said and she hit him on the chest, then kissed him.
"Can you get past Chase, and every other boyfriend I've had. My husband?"
"No, but wouldn't I be that different person that you insist you don't want me to be if I could get past Chase?" he asked, the whole situation becoming a riddle. She smiled, and pulled him close to her, hugging him as he stood, tense in her arms. They kissed again, and it was getting sweeter each time he realised, the feel of her lips, her warmth against him, against his leg.
He hadn't forgotten but Allison Cameron was a wonderful distraction.
"You got a tv," he whispered, hand flicking her hair aside, lips trailing down her jaw to her neck, "that's what scares me the most."
"The tv?" she moaned softly as he nipped at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, teeth pulling at the material of her t-shirt too.
"You didn't want a tv in your office, but now you have cable..."
"For you," she sighed, and the hand on her back moved and slipped beneath her t-shirt, slid over the smooth skin to hold her side.
"Exactly," he said and she smiled. He probably didn't want to hear that she would do anything for him but she felt it, had for a long time. Actions spoke louder than words and now he could hide in her office, watch General Hospital and drink her coffee.
Maybe that's all he really wanted in life.
And sex.
And drugs.
When she thought about it, the list was longer than she thought, and much more complicated. But so was House, once you got past everything he was so much more complicated.
"Are you staying for another drink?" he whispered in her ear, before tugging on the lobe with his teeth. He loved to use his teeth she realised and she grinned. She knew how he felt, because as complicated as he was, she knew him. The tv had told him how she felt, the fact that he had admitted being scared told her how he felt. Very complicated, maybe. To anyone else.
"Coffee."