Here's a little snippet until later…I felt it was a good breaking point.
Thanks for the reviews, and I'm glad y'all are still with me. Steph
CHAPTER NINE
The past few hours Dr. James Wilson had spent with Debra had been overwhelmingly incredible, passionate, and tender; a never-ending, gut wrenching need to feel the other's body; an urgent want of hunger for the other that kept their bodies locked together as one. The year they'd been together, he never felt as if he and Debra were one entity, one heart, one soul. That didn't mean he didn't lover her, but to lose himself and melt into her essence when they made love just hadn't happened before. But that particular night it did.
As he drove the streets of Princeton to Cameron's now fire-damaged apartment building, he had a huge smile on his face. He put his hand up to his nose to wipe it and smelled her perfume on his fingers, and he closed his eyes briefly to revel in the scent; not of the perfume, but of her.
Sure, he had been married three times before. And there are those that believe 'third time's the charm,' but not Wilson. That simply wasn't the case for him now; it was the fourth time that was the charm. And her name was Debra Lynn House-Wilson.
At the thought of House's name his mind went back to the real reason why he was out at 3:30 am on a cold, windy, damp autumn morning. His attention turned back to his true goal: to get to Cameron's apartment, get Debra and House and take them home. A few blocks later, he turned onto her street and saw a parking spot at the far end of the lot and got out of the car, standing in the opened door and couldn't help but marvel at the site before him.
There were still fire trucks at the scene as well as several police cars and a few curious night owls that watched the smoldering fire. Semi-heavy smoke still desperately tried to escape its captor of the top floor apartment through the window; the front of the building was drenched with water from the fire hoses that had been attacking it the past hour; mattresses and miscellaneous debris littering the front lawn.
He closed the door and walked toward the building but a policeman stopped him from getting any closer. He explained he was looking for friends that had called him, and when asked their names, the man pointed to a cruiser on the other side of a nearby fire truck.
Wilson walked past the fire truck and looked at the gadgets and metal nobs that had intrigued him so much when he was a boy; he made a mental note to be sure to take Gregory for his first birthday. (I know! One-year old, you say? Like the boy would know what he was looking at? It would be Wilson's first attempt at using his son to digress into being a little boy himself, and happily relive his own childhood.)
He reached the front of the truck and as he looked to his right saw a cruiser with a familiar-colored head of hair pressed against the back window, which was slightly steamed up. Raunchy thoughts ran through his head but as he got closer he noticed the cruiser's engine was on, no doubt providing heat to the flimsily clad pair.
He tapped on the window lightly so as not to scare them but Cameron jumped and flung her head around so fast her head kicked back and it smacked the window pretty hard.
"I'm so…sorry!" Wilson said through the glass, his fingers pressed against it as if that would ease her pain.
The car shook a bit then Wilson heard, "Smooth move, ex-lax." It was House that had appeared at the other side of the car's roof and his arms flew on top, making reverberating, deep thumps as he pretended it was a bongo drum.
Wilson heard a tap at the window in front of him and opened the door for Cameron to get out. Wilson was taken aback by her appearance, but was not surprised, considering what she'd just gone though. She looked as if she'd smacked into the fire truck itself and lost. House slammed his door shut and walked around behind the cruiser, good 'ole flaming cane in one hand and a photo album in the other.
"Sorry, daddy! We meant to call after the prom but we drank too much and the cops found us and…"
"House, not funny," Cameron griped as she gave him a dirty, angry look. "Wilson, take me home, please," she begged as she absent-mindedly started to walk off.
It was so early in the morning, and Wilson was on the verge of exhaustion from his amorous adventure with Debra, that he almost didn't realize she meant House's apartment. Wilson had to quicken his pace to catch up with her to stop her because she was going in the wrong direction.
"No, Allison, this way."
He slightly redirected her body to the right way with his hands on her shoulders and kept them there, which were still clad with the blanket they'd received earlier. As they took a few steps he put his arm around her waist for support, comfort; whatever he could give her to reassure her.
He talked with her softly to her while he would check behind them every few steps to make sure House was following closely, but he never said anything to House. He was pissed, and rightly so.
At one point, House was so close to Wilson he whispered, "She's not going to need your stupid-assed remarks tonight, House. Think you can be supportive of her and help her deal with what's happened?"
House stopped immediately in mid step and looked at Wilson as if he were shooting flames of fire directly at his head then continued to walk.
"Oh, grumpy Jimmy pooh. Did we get you out of a warm, comfy bed with Debra to come and…"
And then it hit House and he felt like shit. "Wilson, sorry, man." He knew they were going through a distant rough patch, and he truly did feel bad. The only reason they called Wilson was because Cameron's brother, Jack, was out of town on a business trip.
Wilson continued to hold Cameron as they got nearer to his car, and he unlocked the back seat, helped her get in, and buttoned the seat belt across her shoulder and waist, which barely made it across her full stomach. He stood up, grabbed the blanket from House's shoulders, amongst whiny protests, and placed that over her as well for added warmth.
"Cam…we'll be in in two seconds, ok?" Wilson said reassuringly, but the vacant stare she had truly worried him.
Wilson closed the door and turned to House. "Look, I'm serious. She's really gone, House. Do you want her to come to our…"
"Hell, no!" he shouted. "I can take care of her. I did before," House said proudly, as if he were a 13-year old boy being left home alone for a few hours for the first time.
House suddenly shivered and Wilson knew they had to get inside the car before House caught his death of cold, due to the light clothing House was wearing. As they pulled out of the complex, Wilson looked in the rear view mirror at House to see how he was doing. Wilson could see his arm up and over something, knowing his arm was around Cameron but he couldn't see her head.
When Wilson looked in House's face, he was glaring right back at him. Then, magically, House's face softened and his eye lost their narrow slits.
"Wilson, I'm sorry we called you away from Debra. I know…for you two…it's…been…tough…"
"Yeah, ya did kinda…"
"Hey, it's just a defensive mechanism; when I'm stressed I joke, and seemingly poorly. You should know that," House said in defense of himself.
"Well, I hadn't really noticed, no," Wilson said, playfully sarcastic.
"Loser," House whispered.
"I heard that! Dog breath!"
"Weiner schnitzel!" House shouted.
