Lips of an Angel
Summary: I'm not actually a House/Stacy fan, but I couldn't get this song out of my head, and it seemed to fit. I wrote this in 20 minutes, so please excuse the lack of quality.
Disclaimer: I don't own House MD, nor the amazing song 'Lips of an Angel.'
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Cameron sighed in her sleep, snuggling up against House's warm body as he lay staring at the ceiling, hands clasped behind his head. The vibration of his cell phone on the bedside table caught his attention; glancing at the Caller ID, he hesitated, then slowly maneuvered out of the bed, grimacing as his stiff leg protested the movements. The woman he'd spent the night with stirred but didn't wake, mumbling something incoherent in her sleep. Grabbing his pill bottle, he tilted it enough to dislodge two white pills, habitually dry-swallowing them.
Honey, why you calling me so late?
It's kinda hard to talk right now.
Honey, why you crying, is everything okay?
I gotta whisper, 'cause I can't be too loud.
With a glance back at the immunologist, House limped his way into the living room, pausing a long moment before answering the phone. He shouldn't be doing this, he knew. He should just let it go to voicemail.
Well, my girl's in the next room.
Sometimes I wish she was you.
I guess we never really moved on.
"What do you want now, Stacy?"
He sounded tired, and not only because it was two in the morning. No, he was weary of another request from her; weary of her asking him to give more than he already had. He was surprised to notice that her voice was trembling, as though she'd been crying.
"Greg. . .Mark and I had another fight."
It's really good hear your voice,
Saying my name it sounds so sweet.
Coming from the lips of an angel,
Hearing those words, it makes me weak.
House closed his eyes for a moment, irritated at the way his name on her lips provoked feelings he'd worked so hard to forget. He responded instinctively with his patent sarcasm, hoping to keep her at an arm's length.
And I never want to say good-bye.
But girl, you make it hard to be faithful
With the lips of an angel.
"And you woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me this. . .why? I'm a diagnostician, not Dr. Phil. Go cry one someone else's shoulder."
Unfortunately, she was well-versed in ignoring his sarcastic insults. Five years living with Gregory House could do that for a person. She refused to rise to the bait, choosing instead to strike back in her own way.
"Are you with her now?"
He'd forgotten how easily she could read him. He sighed, rubbing a hand through his scruffy beard, remembering earlier that night. The immunologist had murmured "I love you" repeatedly as he rolled off of her, and he'd pretended to fall asleep so he wouldn't have to see her hurt gaze when he didn't respond.
House did not toss that particular phrase around lightly; not even after a night of lovemaking, or several nights, for that matter. It was supposed to mean something each time you said it, and the meaning was lost when the utterance became a common occurrence. Stacy understood that. Cameron did not.
It's funny that you're calling me tonight.
And yes, I dreamt of you too.
Does he know you're talking to me?
Will it start a fight?
No, I don't think she has a clue.
"What do you want?"
He repeated the question, knowing that in refusing to respond to hers, he had already answered it. Yes, Cameron was here. Yes, they'd had sex. And yes, he still had that empty feeling, that aching pain that lingered no matter how much Vicodin he took.
Well, my girl's in the next room.
Sometimes I wish she was you.
I guess we never really moved on.
He could hear Stacy take a deep breath on the other end, as though considering something. In a flash, he knew why she'd called.
"Mark's spending the night at a hotel. Greg, I. . .maybe you could. ."
She trailed off, the invitation echoing in the ensuing silence.
It's really good to hear your voice,
Saying my name, it sounds so sweet.
Coming from the lips of an angel,
Hearing those words it makes me weak.
He was silent for so long that she wondered if he'd hung on her. House opened the door to the bedroom, bracing himself against the doorframe with one hand, the other holding the phone to his ear. He watched Cameron sleep, breathing deep as she cuddled her pillow. She looked so young- too young. Too naïve to back off when he'd warned her, when he tried to tell her she would only end up getting hurt. She wanted to fix him, to be his redemption; she didn't realize that he already had an angel, one who didn't mind visiting Hell with him on occasion.
She would assume he'd gone back to his own apartment; he usually didn't stay the entire night, anyways. And for now, it was easier not to have to deal with her tears on top of everything else.
He gathered his clothes and cane, then quietly closed the bedroom door and left without looking back.
"I'll be over in ten minutes."
And I, never want to say good-bye.
But girl, you make it hard to be faithful.
With the lips of an angel.