1It's been three months since I've seen you...three months since I've updated this fanfic. Okay, four months.
Drowning in Blue - Chapter Ten
The silence between them is thick, heavy with expectation. Finally, Cameron speaks.
"Why do you think Wilson was so angry?" She phrases the question carefully, as if the answer doesn't really concern her.
"You are the two most self-destructive people I know."
The words seem to swirl lazily in the air.
"I don't know," House growls.
Cameron is concerned. Perhaps Wilson is more perceptive than she gives him credit for.
She doesn't think she has changed. Sure, she has grown more assertive, but that comes with age and experience.
Unless...
Could Wilson have sensed her plans to break House's heart? He had been through it enough - maybe he could smell betrayal like a dog smells fear.
The corner of her mouth takes an ironic turn upward. She glances at House. His brow is furrowed, but his face is clear of the suspicion that had clouded Wilson's.
Ten minutes later, they have said their goodbyes and she is in her car, driving home.
At work the next day, she pretends she doesn't see Wilson out of the corner of her eye as she picks glass from a child's knee. She soothes the little girl - yes, the antiseptic burns. Her whispers and smile are cool balm and soon the child is smiling and sucking on a yellow lollipop.
"Cameron, do you have a minute?"
She sighs silently as she cleans her station. "Sure. What can I do for you, James."
His thick eyebrows draw together as he studies her open face. "I have to ask. Do you still love him?"
Cameron raises her own eyebrows in an expression reminiscent of House.
"That's kind of a personal question."
"And all you have to do is answer yes or no," he replies smartly.
She busies herself with some paperwork. "James, what goes on between House and myself is of no concern to you." She smiles, trying to lighten the mood. "Afraid I'm going to steal away your best friend?"
His frown deepens. "Allison, I think you're setting yourself up for disaster. You did a good thing by leaving his team. He has to learn how to grow up. He can't do that with you around."
She thinks of the feel of House's scruff against her neck, the whisper of his fingers against her face. He seems entirely grown up to her.
"Besides, I thought you were seeing Chase."
"Chase?" she replies, her tone dismissive. "Chase was...fun. I'm looking for something more than that now."
Wilson's eyebrows shoot to his hairline. "And of all people, you think House is the person to settle down with? Are you going to take the kids to the park before or after he has his Vicodin?"
Frustrated, Allison stands. "I don't recall mentioning kids, James. In fact, I don't recall asking for your approval at all. Leave the relationship advice to someone who actually had a successful marriage." She turns to walk away.
"Oh, for all of six months!"
She freezes. It takes her a moment to regain her footing.
"And how long did it take for yours to fall apart?" she replies, her tone icy. The sharp click click click of her heels echoes down the hall.
She will need to work on this. If she ever hopes to master House, she'll have to learn how to become his new best friend.
She is both thrilled and ashamed that she is pulling an old trick of House's: hiding in the clinic. All that is missing is a red lollipop.
The door opens and she jumps.
"Shh," House says, pressing himself against the door in mock terror.
She simply raises a bemused eyebrow at him as she hears a thump and a muffled curse. "Damn it, House!"
Reluctantly, House steps forward and allows the door to open. One of his ever-present interns walks in, holding her nose.
"You're so lucky that it isn't broken," she says, her 's' and 't' muted with pain.
"Oh come on. You're in a hospital," House grumbles, swinging himself onto the exam table. His arm is warm against Cameron's.
The other woman seems to register her presence for the first time. "I wasn't aware you had a patient, Dr. House."
Cameron opens her mouth to reply, but House cuts her off.
"Yes," he says. "Ms. Cameron and I were just discussing the finer points of the implantation of cells into animals for testing. I, of course, am all for it, but Ms. Cameron remains unconvinced."
"Fur is murder," Allison says helpfully. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees House smile.
"Right..." the intern says. "House, I need your approval for-"
"Done," House says, waving his hand.
"But you didn't-"
"Approved. Now go and slice and dice or whatever it is you're going to do."
Slowly, the woman backs out of the room.
"And watch out for doors!" House calls after her.
One look at each other and both dissolve into laughter.
"Gotta love interns," House says, squeezing Cameron's shoulder.
"I can't believe I was ever that naive," she says ruefully.
"You were very bright-eyed," House agrees. "Though I don't recall a bushy tail."
"You were looking?" she asks, amused.
"But," he continues, "you've toughened up. Want to grab a drink later?"
His words warm her more than any drink ever could, but she agrees.
Six hours later, the alcohol in her blood makes his words all the more amusing. He has her pinned against the doorframe and when his hips press against hers, the laughter dies on her lips.
"You owe me another secret," he whispers, his eyes dark.
"You'll have to get me a lot drunker than that if you expect me to talk," she giggles.
His uncharacteristic abstinence from his alcohol tonight did not go unnoticed by her.
"I was hoping you would tell me out of the goodness of your heart."
She smiles. "House, I worked for you for three years. I don't have a heart anymore."
"Really?" He lowers his lips to her neck. "Then what's this pulse doing here?"
She laughs again and squirms away, fishing for her keys.
As she turns her back on him, he closes the distance between them and slips his hands over her hips.
"House." The very whisper of the word brings warmth to the chilly air.
"Invite me in." It is a request, not an order.
Her door opens and she steps inside, away from the warmth of his hands, away from the heat of his gaze. Expectantly, he toes the line of her doorstep. An idle memory flickers to the surface of Allison's mind - vampires cannot be let in without invitation. She smiles involuntarily. While he has certainly discovered a newfound fascination with her neck, Greg House is no vampire.
"Good night, House," she says softly, closing the door.
She pauses. After her display of self-control, she is unsure of where to go next.
A minute later, the angry sounds of her doorbell echoes through her living room. It is all the louder because she has not yet moved from the doorframe.
She opens the door and he is kissing her, his fingers digging insistently into each side of her face. It is the kiss of desperation, of longing. It is the kiss soaked with fevered glances, little touches and the unmistakable tang of lust mingled with Vicodin. It is the kiss that is unrefined in delivery, a simple clash of teeth and tongue. It is enough to send a hot tightening to her core.
And it is better this way. For once, Allison does not let herself feel the shame that follows when she acknowledges that she wants him.
Because he wants her too.