TITLE:
The House That Love Built
AUTHOR:
RaeAnne
RATING:
PG-13—R
SPOILERS:
Everything through the beginning of season 3
DISCLAIMER: Same as always, characters not mine, they belong to FOX, please don't sue…all that you would get of value would be some Hugh Laurie memorabilia and why would you want that when you have the man yourself anyway….
AUTHOR'S
NOTE: Here we go I'm back! Here is story three in the
Costello/Jones Collection. This time I have for you an even
more OC story then my previous Turn Me On but I hope
you enjoy!
This
story's format might be a little hard to follow at first, though I
have endeavored to make it as easy as possible. The premise of this
story revolves around the House/Cameron relationship as it is told
through memories awoken while going through their house. The memories are
denoted in the beginning and ending by a few words of bold and
italic text that being said the only other thing to consider
is the time line. It is kind of jumpy and the memories are not told
all in chronological order nor does the relationship follow much of
any of the show's frame but I think it should be easy to follow
after getting used to it. I hope you enjoy and leave lots of
feedback! Lots of Love—RaeAnne
Music
Inspiration: (Two this time)
First
to Leave by Elvis Costello
Not
Too Late by Norah Jones
The House That Love Built
"Well that's it, the Parkers will be moving in on the 30th."
"Thank you Janey—I'm glad to have this done with…"
"I'm sorry Mrs House; it's a beautiful home it must be sad to see it go."
"Actually—no it's losing the life we had here that is the worst. The house…it lost its beauty a while ago." Allison put on her sunglasses as she left the door of 1342 Rose Cottage Lane.
The sun was high but the temperature low. Crisp and frigid, it was Jersey in the fall. The house was beautiful, a two story updated Victorian with a large front and back yard, tall oaks that were showing their beautiful red and gold foliage and beautiful shrubs carefully trimmed. It was the perfect home in the middle of perfect suburbia, Allison thought as she stepped off the porch following the walk to the driveway. They had bought the house five years before…when it had needed TLC and they had had love to spare…they had been married four months.
"Okay, well I'll just need your keys," Janey bustled going to her car with the ostentatious Remax magnetic sign on the door putting the stacks of already signed papers on the backseat.
Allison hesitated as she pulled the keys out of her wool jacket. It was just a second, barely noticeably and easily shrugged off—she dropped the keys into the agents' hand withdrawing it immediately stuffing both into her pockets.
"Do you by chance know how I can get a hold of Dr. House? He still needs to sign off and I of course still need his keys…"
"He was supposed to be here today…" Allison was drowned out by the rumbling of a motorcycle. She watched him park and climb gracefully off. "Nice of you to show up," she called sourly.
"Nice to see you too darlin'," Greg pinned his wife with a stern look and tart retort.
Janey Smith had been a realtor for two years and was blinded by the commission she was making off this house to get the slightest hint that there was possible trouble brewing between the sellers. It she had been slightly more seasoned she would have tried to defuse the situation—at least till the closing had had been finalized.
"I was told there were papers I needed to sign?" Greg turned to Janey dismissing Allison.
"Yes, Dr. House…right here…" Janey fumbled—again if she had been slightly more mature she would have been able to hide the blush and the obvious crush on the doctor—especially while his wife was there.
Greg waited hands folded in front of him a phony smile of politeness on his face as he rocked back on his heels.
"I see you're riding again," Allison remarked with distaste she didn't bother to hide.
"Very astute, what tipped you off? I have no one to nag at me and tell me it's dangerous," he made a whiny face.
"And I thought men had only one mid-life crisis…" Allison rolled her eyes. "What is taking so long?" she exclaimed a few minutes later when Janey's rear-end was still wiggling in the open door of the backseat.
"Sorry 'bout that Dr., Mrs House, another client…are you ready to sign?" Janey held the papers out with a pen that had a micro size picture of her and phone number to Greg.
Greg took the papers and pen but didn't use them. He looked at Allison who looked anxious and agitated clearly ready to be gone. He followed the blue flags noting where he was to scrawl his name above the red flags and loopy pretty signature of 'Allison House' on all but the last page.
"I want to look through the house one last time—say good bye," he flipped closed the papers suddenly, handing them to Janey but his attention was directly on Allison. Her dark glasses hid her eyes—her eyes told it all, she knew that as well as he did but her body language was speaking as it was rigid and closed.
Janey's mouth opened but before she could protest Greg turned on the seldom used charm "Come on, for old time's sake?" He looked over to Allison who wiped her face—he saw a couple tears fall from under the rim of her glasses.
"Sure…I guess that would be…" Janey began.
"Great!" Greg interrupted turning fully to Allison "Want to go come with me?" he asked her.
"No—I've got to get going—its late and I've got errands," Allison rushed trying to sound calm, collected but her shaking gave her away—but only to her husband.
"Ten minutes, twenty tops," Greg wheedled with a crooked boyish grin that he knew would get him almost anything…or at least it had before.
"Fine, twenty minutes."
"I'll wait here, I have a few phone calls to make," Janey broke into the emotional exchange oblivious to it.
"Good. Because you weren't invited," Greg grinned vindictively as he guided Allison with a hand that was almost touching the small of her back.
Allison was hit with a wave of nostalgia—she was thrown back to the first time she and Greg had walked the driveway together…
"This
is it! Oh Greg…this is the house!" Allison cried throwing
open the passenger door of the Ford 500.
Greg wasn't as smitten. The lawn was brown and bare, the shrubs were but sticks and the driveway had weeds pushing their way up through the cement. He hadn't the stomach to look at the house.
Greg got out the car and got to hear Allison gushing to the realtor who was a middle aged woman, about curtains, paint schemes and landscaping plans—he could and did groan. It seemed his eager wife had already moved them in and was playing Martha Stewart at the same time. He decided it might be a good time to see how bad of a death trap the house was.
He was appalled. The house…well the paint was peeling and probably contained lead and where the paint was still clinging, it was a faded, an awful shade of puce. The porch looked to be caving, the roof looked iffy beneath the carpet of moss and the small trees growing in the gutter (they actually looked better then the trees in the yard).
"Has this place been inspected? It looks like it should have been condemned a few code violations ago…" he approached Thelma Morris the Century 21 agent, and Allison who were waiting for him by the porch. Allison gave him a testy 'make another remark like that and you'll be cut off for a month…I want this house' look. He gave an exaggerate frown then stuck his tongue out at her when Thelma turned to look at the house. Allison tried not to laugh.
"No, but the sellers are the original owners…and" Thelma tried but Greg was quick to interject.
"Okay, original owners would really make a difference to me if I was buying a car—but not really so much when it comes to a house. I don't care if twenty people have owned it, I just want to know how many have died from infectious mold," he tried to go on but Allison stomped on his toes. "What? Hello, infectious dieses specialist here, I am going to ask about these things, I don't care if this is your dream house!" Allison gave him the turned head look that told him he was very much walking a thin line. Like he cared.
"Well I understand your concerns Dr. House but you have to take into account the age of the house and the normal wear and tear incurred but I am sure your agent will advise you to have an inspection before you make an offer." Thelma looked down her nose.
Greg laughed raucously--mockingly, Allison glared.
"Let me show you the inside, I think you'll just love the living room it is just…" Thelma diverted back to her sunshine and roses pitch as if nothing had happened.
"I want this house Greg…" Allison linked her arm into the crook of his.
Greg drew in a deep breath guiding them over the broken steps and into the sagging doorway. What men would do, and buy, for love…
Greg opened the dark stained door with big brass handle and matching knocker waiting for Allison to follow him in. She looked at him as she did but as her eyes were still covered with large glasses he had no idea what exactly her thoughts were. Was she remembering the day they moved in, as he was…?
"Greg
put me down!" Allison giggled as Greg scooped her up
preparing to carry her across the porch of their new home. "Your
leg…you could…" she started breathlessly.
"It's been five weeks, the ketamine isn't wearing off. Just let me carry you over the threshold before I break my back," he laughed putting her down on what they had been assured where pine floors under the thick film of mire and neglect, in their very own foyer.
"I am so happy Greg! I can just picture us growing old here…I love you," she circled his neck with her arms kissing him playfully.
"I buy you a shack with a roof that is all but falling on your head and a floor that is probably being ravaged by termites as we speak and you are happy…you will never cease to amaze me…" he framed her face with his hands and he peered into her eyes mystified that she loved him, that she was happy with him.
"It's astounding what love will do to you…makes those so called flaws all rose colored and good," she smiled leaning up to kiss him.
"Still naïve…don't change though, I love you for it," he kissed her nose. "What would I do without your eternal and I might add sickening optimism?"
"You're never going to find out…let the world go away and let the house fall down, I'm here."…
"I made sure to tell Janey to tell the Parkers about oiling the floors…and the tendency of the living room sliders to stick," Allison said absently going to the sliding double wood doors that led to the living room to the right of the foyer.
"They are getting a way better deal than we did…" Greg leaned against a wall watching her move about restlessly.
He hadn't seen her in almost four months. He figured selling the house was the final move before she filed for divorce.
"Yes but they are paying for it. We are getting our money back and then some," Allison shrugged finally taking off her sunglasses.
"I suppose you're right," he started.
"Well are you going to just hold up that wall or are you going to look around?" Allison stood at the base of the stairs a hand on the painstakingly restored banister.
Greg breathed in as he pushed away, "Let's get this chapter closed."
Allison couldn't have agreed more. She wanted to be done with the house with him. It killed her. They had been so happy here not so very long ago…they had had a wonderful life and everything had been so good…not so long ago…
TBC...
