One more!
Title: Perfect
Summary: It's the thought that counts?
Fandom: House
Word Count: 717
Rating/Warnings: PG
Pairing: Chase/Cameron, Cameron/husband
A/N: Gift for dhfreak at house_santa.
It was big.
It was green.
It was blocking the liquor cabinet.
Allison Cameron stepped gingerly into the living room of the apartment she shared with her fiancé. Shopping bags littered the floor, along with several rolls of wrapping paper and what looked to be a fifty foot length of garland. It looked as if a gang of rogue decorators had attacked her home. Narrowly avoiding a perilously pointy star, she made her way into the kitchen. There was a giant bowl of popcorn, about half of which had been strung onto a long wire which circled the counter.
"Chase?" she called, and her fiancé appeared from behind the cabinet.
"I know what you're going to say," he started, holding up his hands in a placating gesture.
"Chase," she sighed, rolling her eyes.
"I know you don't want a big to do," he told her, "but I just wanted our first Christmas to be special-"
"Chase."
"We never got to have big Christmases when I was little, and, anyway, it's nothing like it is at home here-"
"Chase."
"I mean, I was going to make a pudding, and the lady at the store tried to sell me chocolate powder-"
"Chase!" She caught his hands, clasping them between hers. "Chase, it's very sweet," she reassured him, "but it's a twelve foot tree, and we have ten foot ceilings."
"I'll get the ax," he said, sounding more than a little crestfallen.
He was out the door before she realized how insane that sentence sounded.
--
Brian's mother hired a decorator every year for the holidays. His designs were tasteful, elegant, and never, ever clashed the wallpaper. At her famous holiday parties, she even dressed to match them.
--
"You make our house into a winter wonderland, then expect me to go out in the snow?"
"Don't you want to see the lights?"
"You're not allowed to use the puppy dog face."
"Please?"
She sighed, picking up her jacket from the back of the chair. "Fine."
Allison let him lead her out into the night. It was colder than it had been, but the snow had stopped falling. They sauntered down the quiet street, pausing to study quiet scenes of lit trees, tasteful reindeer, and blinking Santas.
It was then that they saw it.
"Oh my god."
Robert's mouth gaped open. "It's- it's-"
There were no suitable words to describe the scene. 506 Westinghouse had installed a sixteen foot, fully illuminated reproduction of the Last Supper, complete with rotating spotlights.
He laced his gloved fingers into hers, pulling their hands into his pocket. "I'm gonna get you a big neon Jesus for your very own, baby," he told her in his very best American accent.
"Amen," was all she could manage before they both started giggling.
--
Brian's family all went out together every Christmas Eve for a sleigh ride, come rain or come shine. On their last Christmas, Allison bundled Brian up in six blankets, bracing his body with her own, watching him watch the trees go slowly by.
He never noticed that she was holding Joe's hand.
--
"You first," she said, handing him an expertly wrapped package.
He tore it open greedily. "It's perfect!" he exclaimed, slipping the watch onto his wrist and kissing her on the cheek. After oohing and aahing after his present, Robert passed her a gift bag.
When Allison looked inside, she felt oddly dismayed. "A stethoscope?"
He looked away, scratching his ear. "I may have put your one through the washing machine."
"Oh," she said. "It's… lovely."
He grinned, pulling a big box from under the chair. "I can't believe you think I'm that thick."
She laughed at herself, pulling the ribbon from the box. Inside was a thick wool coat and a pair of gloves.
"I wasn't kidding about the washing machine, though," he admitted.
--
On their first Christmas, Brian gave her diamond earrings. Then, later, he asked her to be his wife.
--
Allison awoke to the feeling of soft lips against her collarbone.
"Merry Christmas," he told her.
She smiled. "Happy Tuesday," she replied, kissing him.
--
Each Christmas with Brian was perfect, marred only by the fact that she couldn't be sure when the last one would come.
--
Robert burned the pancakes.
Some things didn't change.
Summary: It's the thought that counts?
Fandom: House
Word Count: 717
Rating/Warnings: PG
Pairing: Chase/Cameron, Cameron/husband
A/N: Gift for dhfreak at house_santa.
It was big.
It was green.
It was blocking the liquor cabinet.
Allison Cameron stepped gingerly into the living room of the apartment she shared with her fiancé. Shopping bags littered the floor, along with several rolls of wrapping paper and what looked to be a fifty foot length of garland. It looked as if a gang of rogue decorators had attacked her home. Narrowly avoiding a perilously pointy star, she made her way into the kitchen. There was a giant bowl of popcorn, about half of which had been strung onto a long wire which circled the counter.
"Chase?" she called, and her fiancé appeared from behind the cabinet.
"I know what you're going to say," he started, holding up his hands in a placating gesture.
"Chase," she sighed, rolling her eyes.
"I know you don't want a big to do," he told her, "but I just wanted our first Christmas to be special-"
"Chase."
"We never got to have big Christmases when I was little, and, anyway, it's nothing like it is at home here-"
"Chase."
"I mean, I was going to make a pudding, and the lady at the store tried to sell me chocolate powder-"
"Chase!" She caught his hands, clasping them between hers. "Chase, it's very sweet," she reassured him, "but it's a twelve foot tree, and we have ten foot ceilings."
"I'll get the ax," he said, sounding more than a little crestfallen.
He was out the door before she realized how insane that sentence sounded.
--
Brian's mother hired a decorator every year for the holidays. His designs were tasteful, elegant, and never, ever clashed the wallpaper. At her famous holiday parties, she even dressed to match them.
--
"You make our house into a winter wonderland, then expect me to go out in the snow?"
"Don't you want to see the lights?"
"You're not allowed to use the puppy dog face."
"Please?"
She sighed, picking up her jacket from the back of the chair. "Fine."
Allison let him lead her out into the night. It was colder than it had been, but the snow had stopped falling. They sauntered down the quiet street, pausing to study quiet scenes of lit trees, tasteful reindeer, and blinking Santas.
It was then that they saw it.
"Oh my god."
Robert's mouth gaped open. "It's- it's-"
There were no suitable words to describe the scene. 506 Westinghouse had installed a sixteen foot, fully illuminated reproduction of the Last Supper, complete with rotating spotlights.
He laced his gloved fingers into hers, pulling their hands into his pocket. "I'm gonna get you a big neon Jesus for your very own, baby," he told her in his very best American accent.
"Amen," was all she could manage before they both started giggling.
--
Brian's family all went out together every Christmas Eve for a sleigh ride, come rain or come shine. On their last Christmas, Allison bundled Brian up in six blankets, bracing his body with her own, watching him watch the trees go slowly by.
He never noticed that she was holding Joe's hand.
--
"You first," she said, handing him an expertly wrapped package.
He tore it open greedily. "It's perfect!" he exclaimed, slipping the watch onto his wrist and kissing her on the cheek. After oohing and aahing after his present, Robert passed her a gift bag.
When Allison looked inside, she felt oddly dismayed. "A stethoscope?"
He looked away, scratching his ear. "I may have put your one through the washing machine."
"Oh," she said. "It's… lovely."
He grinned, pulling a big box from under the chair. "I can't believe you think I'm that thick."
She laughed at herself, pulling the ribbon from the box. Inside was a thick wool coat and a pair of gloves.
"I wasn't kidding about the washing machine, though," he admitted.
--
On their first Christmas, Brian gave her diamond earrings. Then, later, he asked her to be his wife.
--
Allison awoke to the feeling of soft lips against her collarbone.
"Merry Christmas," he told her.
She smiled. "Happy Tuesday," she replied, kissing him.
--
Each Christmas with Brian was perfect, marred only by the fact that she couldn't be sure when the last one would come.
--
Robert burned the pancakes.
Some things didn't change.