Disclaimer: I do not own House, my dreams do not count so please don't sue, I'll put them all back.
A/N: This is from Wilson's POV. She Cameron. He Wilson. If anything doesn't make sense just review it to me and I'll see what went wrong. Just a reminder this is just drabble…long drabble but still drabble…enjoy it for what it is. Thanks S.
Until He Met Her She had changed, he noticed just after House got shot, but it had taken him this long to figure out the extent of her changes. She no longer followed her old strict moral road, she stopped caring as much, and she had gone cold. He'd heard through House that she had broken up with Chase because he broke the 'rules', supposedly he'd fallen in-love with her and she had just ended it, like that without thinking twice.
She had become like him in many ways, using people for that moment of completion. At least she wasn't married when she did it though, she'd admitted once that she had been tempted while her husband was dieing but she hadn't. That's where they would have differed; he would've taken those few moments with the other person and escaped reality briefly, especially the reality she was facing. But she hadn't, she had stayed true to her dieing husband. He admired and cursed her for that; she had become an emotional battlefield because she stayed true. He honestly believed she would have been a different woman had she just given in.
But not only had she taken on this persona of a woman in need taking what she needed, she'd grown balls, balls of steel. She stood up to House and sometimes just watching her do that was more arousing than the cheap porn DVD he watched. What he would give to see those angry eyes facing him in the bedroom, glaring him down, maybe he'd submit, maybe he'd push her until she broke, withering beneath him.
Cursing his train of thought he faced his client, explaining the procedure he would be performing on them tomorrow. He blinked a few times to destroy the image of her moaning face, only for it to be replaced by more images. Coughing slightly he continued with his meeting, becoming increasingly aware that he was becoming more and more aroused by the second. The appointment came to an end just in time, any longer and he wouldn't have been able to walk his patient to the door. Closing the door firmly he returned to his seat, resting his head in his arms.
A soft knock had him inviting his thoughts into his reality. She was there for a consult, a patient she had just had in the clinic was presenting with textbook symptoms. She was upset and angry, god those eyes, boring into him, expecting him to fix everything, tell her she was wrong and her patient was fine. Glancing at the file it was clear they weren't fine. She got angrier, pacing in front of his desk, gesturing wilding about how they can't just assume. He suggested tests and she sighed dejectedly into his couch. She had the lab running the tests as they spoke, well argued. He could feel her pain sneaking across the floor, wrap itself around his leg and force him to move to her, sit next to her, and try to comfort.
Sitting next to her was almost as bad as his thoughts, but at least in reality she was dressed, fully clothed with her white coat. A very nice fitting coat. He told her to wait for the results, she could be right. She sniffled slightly, the only time in the past few months that he'd seen the old her, she mumbled something about the patient only being a child, no more than six. It's always harder the younger they are. He gave her a few minutes to compose herself before telling her to come back at the end of the day and he'd have the results for her. She gave him one of her heart-melting smiles and slipped past him and out his door. The slight contact sending his body into overdrive, he had to overcome the desire to pull her back into the room and lock them in together.
The news wasn't good; he'd waited till well after their shifts had ended, not his fault, she took her time coming to him. He told her, and she cried softly, choking on her words before steeling herself against the torrent of emotions he could see behind the scenes. She thanked him quickly before exiting his office; grabbing his jacket and case he followed her out. Getting into the elevator with her he said he had hoped the news was better, she laughed bitterly claiming it never was. A jolt sent them to the floor; the elevator had stopped, not well. The lights flickers quickly before snuffing out completely, leaving them in complete darkness save for the emergency light. Which was pointless, they were the only staff on the floor, at least this end of the floor, until tomorrow.
Groping around for the wall his hand ran directly into something warm and soft. Retreating quickly, he heard her intake of breath. Muttering an apology he searched in an opposite direction. Stupid emergency light, it only illuminated the upper sections of the carriage, the floor was in complete darkness. Which made things hard, calling out to her had him placing her directly in front of him. He could hear her breathing, the sound ripping through his body, actually thank god for the limited lighting. Relaxing against the wall behind him he sighed, it had been a long and tiring day, being stuck in an elevator with her was no problem. Or it wouldn't have been if a hand hadn't started making its way up his leg, she muttered something about being cold and came to sit next to him.
Resting his arm around her shoulders they sat in silence, the tension in the carriage began to build as the minutes ticked away. Hoping she would fall asleep soon, he felt the bulge in his pants thicken and strain against the fabric. He groaned softly as her hand whispered across his stomach and her head rested on his shoulder. This was too much; God was punishing him for something. He could hear her soft, deep breathing and it was driving him nuts. Her hand slipped in her sleep, now covering at least half of his crotch, damn, damn and double damn, he cursed under his breath, trying to slowly retract her hand. She moaned and pushed herself into his body tighter, sighing he gave in, closing his eyes and hoping for a miracle he drifted to sleep.
The night was long, he woke feeling stiff and sore, but warm. They had slid to the floor it seemed and she was covering half his body, pushing some hair away from her eyes his heart tightened. He'd spent the entire night enclosed with the woman of his dreams, literally, and he hadn't even copped a feel, well she had. Thinking about it some more as he watched her sleep, it wasn't so bad, falling asleep and waking up next to her, sex or not. She stirred, bringing him out of his thoughts, she mumbled good morning. They were still stuck, but someone should be up there now, pressing the emergency button they still had to wait. Half an hour later Cuddy's voice streamed into the space, telling them someone was working on the problem. Great he'd mocked, it's not like we haven't been in here all night. The tension had begun to build again, it was still dark but she was visible now, her hair and clothes were rumpled, sleep was still evident on her face and she looked so pure and innocent, he just wanted to stain her, change her forever. Mould her into a twisted image of him; be unable to stay faithful and unable to help herself. He wanted her to want him, every day, every night; he wanted to drive her crazy.
She was looking at him like he was a predator, and in all the right senses he was, he was after her and the faster she caught on the faster he could damage her, taint her. But there was that tightening of his heart he couldn't explain away, heartburn? Maybe, he did have the mystery meat as House called it. Looking at her again in the dim light it happened again, maybe he was going soft but it felt good, nice...right. Shaking the thoughts he continued to gaze at her, taking in everything, right down to the small scar on her right calf that is usually hidden by her pants and skirts. She looked at him, he watched as she slid the hem of her skirt down again hiding the scar. Smirking she asked if he liked what he saw, he stared at her and then told her to stop. She looked at him curiously before she crossed to him, she asked him what the problem was; staring her down he reached up and brushed her cheek. You don't want to know he whispered before dropping his hand. Try me she pushed, still leaning over him.
His hands moved faster than expected, reaching up and pulling her down to him, flattening her body against his, his lips crashed against hers. His tongue pushing past her lips as his hands slid down to her waist pulling her close enough to feel the effects she had on him. She pulled away from him, eyes bulging; he waited for the slap that didn't come. Instead he felt her lips on his again, mumbling something abut dangerous territory and shouldn't do this. He ignored her, tugging her shirt from her skirt, before he ran his fingers gently across her back. They had begun to loose themselves in the moment before the carriage jolted again and continued its descent. They jumped apart, straightening their clothes and rubbing lipstick back its rightful place. The doors opened to an apologetic Cuddy, offering them the day off, glancing at each other the accepted and headed for the car park.
He sat in his car and waited for her to come up behind him, they were going to his place. He thought about the elevator, her whispered words, and his tightening chest. It couldn't be? No way, it was just sex. It was always just sex, now more than ever, especially if he was at danger of loosing something he guarded closer than his loins. Maybe that was what she was talking about, the dreaded and destructive emotion that makes people do crazy things, like make out in elevators and hightail it to ones apartment, oh God, they were…no they couldn't be…shit he was. He was falling in-love with her, and no amount of destructive thought could dim the light that blinked in his head. Looking behind him he saw her flicker her headlights and drove ahead, making sure she was behind him they reached his apartment in relatively good time.
She parked just down the street from his new apartment, he watched as she walked towards him, her hair loose and blowing in the breeze, adding to the internal guilt. Why was he guilty? He wasn't attached. Neither was she. Realisation dawned on him, she's the first woman he's going to be with that had hit a nerve with him. He felt lust for his other wives, the latter two he just wanted to destroy. Mutilate them like his first wife had done to him, she had changed him the most, from the naïve, faithful man to the one he was today. Shuddering he remembered his first wife in vivid clarity; she was a manipulative bitch who just wanted to get ahead with his name and good reputation. And she had, she had raced through the social circles, blessed with good looks and a charming outer layer, they never saw who she really was, the woman who drove him to the beds of other women licking his wounds. She touched his shoulder, bringing him out of his memory trip. He smiled softly at her before letting her in.
He stood at the locked door for a few minutes and just took her in; she was still rumpled and adorable with her morning hair. She was carefully making her way around his new lounge, a lounge he had rarely seen, hardly used. She looked across at him, drawing him to her. He sent up a silent prayer, hoping to God whatever happened next would not condemn him to hell. Since when had he cared about hell, he was already going there judging from his track record. He stopped in front of her, they were locked in a bond that was hard to resist. She lent towards him, keeping eye contact she brushed her lips against his, still muttering about dangerous areas.
Screw dangerous areas, flashed in neon lights through his head before his hand naked into her hair and kept her lips firmly attached to his. His tongue once again pushing past her own lips taking all of her mouth in sweet exploration; mingling with her tastes; and duelling with her now active tongue. She wants him; he can feel it coursing through her, jumping like electricity to him. His free hand came up and wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him. He groaned into her mouth as her hands began unbuttoning his shirt. Her cool fingers brushing across his bare skin sent his body into waves of desire. He ripped her shirt from her skirt fort he second time that day, his hands slipped beneath the fabric, following the curve of her body upwards, stopping briefly to unlatch her bra before it continued up; her arms left his body as they went up to, taking her shirt and bra with them. She stood before him half naked, and he couldn't walk away, if she asked he thought he might be able to, but no way was he willingly walking out of this situation. She giggled softly before flicking his shirt off his shoulders and walking away from him, he followed.
She took him down the corridor; pausing at the first door he shook his head, so she went to the next. Before she could open the door he had pinned her against it, his mouth claiming hers against, his hands unzipping her skirt and letting it drop, expecting to meet more material he was pleasantly surprised to find nothing but silken skin. She grinned devilishly at him before mentioning her car and bothersome. He didn't care, she was naked and in heels in front of his bedroom. Something must have gone wrong in the world for it to tilt like this. For him to be falling and her to be catching him...or was she? Was this just sex again? Her hands sliding down his suddenly bare waist halted all thoughts beyond fucking her. Beyond tainting the porcelain skin before him, he had no reason to care, but he did. He paused staring at her, he could see her cheeks redden at his scrutiny, her eyes dart nervously. That was not the actions of a woman out for sex, she wanted him to accept her, want her beyond the physical. Gripping the door handle behind her he pushed her through the door, leaving it open he continued to back her up against the bed.
He was the predator now, she had shown her weakness: him. He knew what she wanted and suspected that his reasoning was correct, brushing some hair off her face he breathed how beautiful she was, how he could see what Chase had wanted her. She stood defiantly before him, that steel glint he'd been seeing all these months return. Give it a break, he muttered, your games up. He laid her out on the bed, she protested on being called on her own bluff. He grinned at her and shook his head, you're not the only one in here he'd chuckled. You're not the only one feeling things they shouldn't. Falling for the damage and broken. She looked up at him with wide eyes, a smile caressing her face; much like his lips would soon. Understanding grew between them as he thrust into her slowly, taking his time, taking their time. He'd never felt this type of completeness in his life, nothing had come as close to this moment. Drowning each other in the swamp of desire and love they'd created together, surfacing at the same moment only to sink deeper and deeper. Putting it bluntly, they were screwed. Or he was screwed.
He had wanted her for ages, wanted to taint what he couldn't have, take what House wanted. He had her, taken everything and still came up short. He hadn't tainted her; she'd tainted him, drenching him in her goodness and beliefs. Bringing out the old her for a few moments to give his wondering soul some peace, and in the months to come he'd continue to find that peace. He found it curling up on a couch with her, taking her to see his favourite animal at the local zoo, sliding a ring onto her finger, crying in pain as she squeezed his hand through all three births. What he had wanted all those years ago paled in the light of what he had now, tainted in a life that you couldn't just wash off, couldn't just escape from. House had still propositioned her, until she had changed names. House had told him he'd screw up, until she gave birth. House had been angry at their relationship, until he became an uncle. He had believed House until he met her.