Marge's Cookie Jar

Wednesday morning Margaret was up in the wee hours. By 9:00 when Cameron woke, Margaret had the tractor out, the plow hitched and the long driveway out to the state highway cleared. The livestock had been fed and she was finishing House and Cameron's breakfast.

"Mornin' hon." Margaret called back to Cameron as she walked up to the coffee pot and helped herself. The snow storm made them more familiar and less like guests. "Donny boy still gettin' in his beauty sleep?"

"Yeah. Unless sex is involved, he's not a fan of mornings."

"He'd be shit on a farm. I imagine that's no surprise. What is it ya'll do for a livin'"

"We're both medical doctors. Don works in a lab studying infectious diseases, I lead a diagnostics department."

"Well, I'm not shocked you're a smart a successful career gal, but I was guessing Don, hell I dunno, wounded vet? Living on a government pension with his hot younger sugar mamma, paying her in sex—"

"Marge," House cut in as he walked into the room. "I'm shocked. But, honestly, if Allison was willing, I'm a modern-minded man with a willing and able cock."

Cameron rolls her eyes, "Honestly, you two… Why buy the bull when I can milk him for free?" She winks at him, then pinches his ass as he steps up to the counter to pour his own mug of coffee. He smacks her hand away playfully, telling her "I'm not an object!" in a girly voice. "Besides," she continues while helping set the table "Don, despite his willingness to be used, would bore of life as a toy-boy. He needs complex puzzles to solve or he becomes impossible to live with. He's actually the most brilliant person I know." She ends sincerely and is shocked when it earned her a peck on the cheek.

The deep snow still stretched as far as Cameron could see from the picture window in Margaret's living room. The only disturbance in the vast surface being the plowed drive and the path to the barn. The colored lights from the Christmas tree blinked in her periphery as she sipped another cup of coffee and wondered just how long it would take the state to clear the main road this far out in the middle of nowhere.

She heard someone enter the room and glanced over. "Oh, god. What did you do?" She asked suspiciously as House hop walked, sans cane, into the living room of the farmhouse, a shit eating grin on his face and both hands behind his back.

"Marge has been holding out on us." He pulled his hand from behind him to reveal two rather large chocolate chip cookies, one in each hand.

"Jesus, Don." She groaned. "Don't steal the woman's cookies."

"But Moooom…" he limped forward and put a cookie right under her nose "they smell sooooo good."

Her brows furrowed as she sniffed and asked vaguely "Is that...?" Sure what she just smelled was marijuana.

"Yep. Seems illegal hooch is not all she's making on this farm." House was still giddy. "After I found these, I did some snooping around and the basement door was locked. I put my ear to it and I'm sure I heard the hum of a bay of lights. I think she has a grow-room down there."

"Wow."

"Yeah," he beamed, barely able to contain his excitement. "Fucking cool. Got your lock picking set on you? Keeping your chops up or has being boss made you lose your touch?"

One hand found her hip, her coffee mug still held in front of her chest by the other. Defiantly she declared, "I'm not performing a B and E on our host, House."

"Dead. You've gotta stop doing that. Seriously, what if the fuzz busts this place and you're all House this and House that." He jokes, but she can see past it and knows he doesn't want her to use his name from his former life. It's hard for her when Don so obviously becomes House again.

"Sorry, Don. Not gonna do it. And put her cookies back before she figures out you've snooped."

"No way." He shakes his head. "We're eating these puppies. Don't worry. I tossed forty bucks in Marge's cookie jar. And when she comes home to find us high, she'll know we're not likely to rat her out, because it'll prove we're evil drug users just like her." He lets out a maniacal laugh before bitting a huge chunk out of one cookie.

Cameron's eyes widen and she yell whispers looking over House's shoulder. "Or she gets out a shotgun to kick us the fuck out of her house."

"Na. Marge loves me." He says confidently as he takes another, less aggressive bite.

"Yeah. We'll see after she finds you high on her cash crop."

"Us high." He invades her space and she is forced to put her coffee mug to her side. "You're getting high with me and having high sex with me." Leaning his head so his lips nearly touch hers, he continues softly, teasing her. "Slow. Wet. High. Sex. A body buzz is the best."

She stared up at him, like she used to, as if he'd somehow shocked her, even though she wasn't surprised at all. He pushed out his lower lip. "Come on, don't give me Dr. Cameron face. You know you want it as much as I do. I thought you'd lost your moral compass. That you wanted a week of hedonism. You know you wanna get high with me. Know what it's like to fuck me high."

She never could say no to him. He knew the millisecond her resolve caved. He leaned in to kiss her and as soon as her lips parted he pulled back and shoved the second cookie in her mouth.

It was slow, and wet, and dirty, and overwhelming. It was mind-blowing. His tongue was taking what seemed like hours tasting every inch of her. He'd found some old neckties and belts in the closet which he used to tie her to the bed, blindfold and gag her. The resulting torture was delicious. The moment he found her clit she nearly came off the bed.

Good thing she was tied to it.

"Fuck yeah baby. Come again like that for me. See, I told you. Told you how good it feels this way." He resumed his feast all the while she writhed at the mercy of his mouth. He flattened his tongue and rubbed it slowly up and down her clit over and over with the occasional flick with the tip or kiss with his soft lips. His beard grazed against her folds sinfully. The dip of his fingers inside her was as magnificent as it was torturous, especially when his tongue was added back in, slowly stroking her pleasure center.

He stopped for a moment. She whimpered at the loss but soon felt his legs move around her head. His balls grazed her forehead. "I'm going to ungag you now. Don't scream." She nodded yes, desperately. He took off the gag and a second after gagged her again with his dick.

He leaned over her body on all fours and fucked her mouth while his tongue resumed its clitoral onslaught. She fought against the restraints and pressed her clit against his tongue. He raised his head and denied her. "I love how much you love the way I fuck you. God, Allison! You are so wet and you taste" he sucks her clit slowly and licks her again "so fucking good, baby. I love it."

She loved him. She'd tell him so, but his luscious cock was in her mouth. It felt amazing to suck on him. There was a need for oral fixation with this particular buzz. She can't remember ever being so into a 69 where she was on the bottom. And she was extremely into it — into him being inside her mouth. The acts of sucking and licking were incredibly satisfying in that moment.

He made her come again, but her moans were stifled by his thrusting into her mouth and a moment later by him shooting his load down her throat. He used her and she loved it — wanted to be used more by him.

His cock slipped from between her lips and his body left hers for a moment. She sighed. His weight repositioned to one side of her as he removed the blindfold and started working on the ligatures around her wrist. He looked down at her with a wide smile. His eyes sparkled and she was pleased that the side effect of dry-eyes from the pot had caused him to take his contacts out for their session. She had only gotten a glimpse of the blue pools before he'd covered her eyes. The way they looked at her in that moment made her feel complete.

"What are you smiling at?" she asked — her smile matching his. He finished untieing her arms and laid on his side looking at her.

His answer was "You."

His smile turned to a snicker. Confused by his sudden laughter, she asked "What?"

"I'm just thinking of the faces you make when I make you come." The comment was free of his normal sarcasm. He was a normal guy in that moment, enjoying her enjoying him.

She laughed, thinking about the way his own face contorted into pained expressions before relaxing in release. They'd shared this most intimate moment with one another — become completely undone by the other. They could make the other free, if for just a moment, from all the ways life had kicked the shit out of both of them.

As he laughed with her, and pulled her into an embrace, a sharp knock came through the bedroom door. "Glad you kids are having a good time with Auntie Margaret's cookies. You know, you probably spoiled your dinner."

"Sorry Marge!" House called out, snickering the whole time.

"Yeah, sure" she answered back like a mother might an unruly teenager, even though he was more of an age to be her brother. 'He really does have her under his spell,' Cameron thought as she tried to contain her giggles at their banter. "They've finally cleared the main road. Ya should be able t' get into town tonight. But I don't s'pect much will be open in the way of restaurants 'side from fast food."

"Is that your way of inviting us for dinner again?" Cameron inquired.

"Only if you promise to not eat me out of house and home."

"But I have the munchies!" House whined back.

Cameron snickered and said a little louder than she meant to "I imagine you'll find something else to munch on in the meantime."

Margaret snorted and shouted through the door. "Allison Cameron! I do believe Donny's fully corrupted you."

"Sorry, Margie!" Cameron replies in a sing-song cadence, joining in on their fun.

"Just keep 'im away from the sheep!"

With that she left them howling in laughter which resulted in a tickle fight. They were acting like teenagers in love. They were Romeo and Juliet just before their world caved in around them.

When the laughter subsided and they rested once more on their sides smiling eye to eye, she found the courage to ask "What are we doing?"

He evaded. "Lying in bed, high as kites, enjoying the afterglow." He wanted to live in the bubble a little while longer. She couldn't say she blamed him. She never wanted to leave, but it was time they addressed the elephant in the room.

"You know what I mean. What is this?"

He rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling, juggling air cheek to cheek. With a sharp gust he exhaled and said "You saved me; in that burning building. Ever since I've wondered if I could have avoided so much of the bullshit over the last ten years if I would have just kept my mouth shut on our date and instead taken you home and given in to you. This is me figuring out that letting you try to fix me might not have been such a bad thing. This is me thinking if nothing else comes of this week, we can at least not die without knowing what it felt like."

Maybe it was because she was high, but his words didn't make her cry. She was instead curious what he meant when he said she saved him. "How did I save you? I hadn't even seen you for over two years before you died."

"You're going to love this. I assume you heard I'd gone there to get high on heroin. I figured 'Fuck it,' Wilson had refused to help me out. God, the whole situation was ridiculous anyway. Un-fucking-believable that flushing a packet of fucking tickets would fuck my parole all to hell. My last patient was a heroin addict. I thought I couldn't cure him and, for whatever crazy reason when we thought he would die, he offered to take the fall for me. I guess he figured in some small way taking the fall for me would give the last bit of his life some type of meaning. But just as I was ready to walk out of the room I had to notice that his neck wasn't symmetrical."

"He gave me this way out. He didn't care if he lived or died. He just wanted to go out high and maybe do a good deed on the way. But then I knew what was wrong with him. The neck was the final piece of the puzzle. I cured him just to prove I knew. Because I couldn't not place the final piece and hold up the answer for all to see."

"You couldn't let him die when you knew could save him."

"Yeah," he said softly. Then resumed his normal demeanor. "So anyway, that's not the funny bit. So he's cured. I'm fucked. He's like, 'you should just come with me and get high. Forget about it all.'"

"So I did. We got blitz. The place catches fire. I start coming down, but I'm still mostly high. He's dead. The place is in flames and Amber's there."

"Oh, nice. She's always a sign you're in for an adventure."

"Yeah, so basically I have this whole A-Christmas-Carol-ghosts style hallucination. The various parts of my personality taking on people from my past and trying to work out if I should just give up and die or find a way out and face the colossal fuck up that was my life. So it was Amber, Kutner made a short appearance, then there was Stacy..."

"And I take it I was there."

"Yeah." He swallowed, still staring at the ceiling. He added softly. "You were the one that told me I should just give up and die."

She couldn't believe what he was saying. Reaching out she stroked his forearm. "Your brain chose me to tell you to give up and die? But I'd want you to live. Fight. I…"

"Yeah. I said 'I thought you'd be the last one to hate me,' then you said 'I don't hate you. I love you.'"

He turned his head and looked at her. Still on her side she met his look and told him "You are always right about me. It pisses me off eighty-percent of the time, but…" He rolled onto his side and gave her a gentle kiss.

His hand cupped her face. His thumb traced over her lips. "You were the ghost that made me realize that I wasn't completely lost. That I did have something good in me worth saving. You took me back to when I saved my last patient. You made me face why I really saved him, rather than myself. Even though I knew he was just going to walk out the door and do the job himself. Turns out it was much sooner than I imagined and it almost killed me too. Then again, part of me did want to O.D. and die while high as a kite, because the only way I thought I could be happy was when it was artificially induced. Wilson was the last thing I was living for. If he didn't want me, then I didn't want to live."

A tear leaked from her eye and he wiped it away with his thumb. She kissed his palm and told him "I'm glad you decided you were being an idiot."

"Yeah. That was all you. Or the part of my brain that you infected with your faith in me. That convinced me I could change."

"I'm glad that it wasn't just you that infected my brain. This is probably the weed talking, but I've starting thinking we're like yin and yang. Too much light or too much dark is a bad thing. There needs to be a balance and I think I got that from you and without you I let myself be consumed by the vacuum. I think you got just enough balance from Wilson, so you didn't need me before as much as I needed you. Now, maybe, you need me because you've lost balance too."

He rolled his eyes at her waxing philosophic, but she could see behind them that he found some truth to it. "I lied when I said Wilson wanted to come see you. Not that he wouldn't have enjoyed it. And not that he probably didn't want to have sex with you. I told him what I saw in the building. He told me I'd already ruined Cuddy's life and my life by letting a hallucination of a woman saving me from myself convince me I was in love with her. I had my chance with you. I let it pass. You were married. Had a kid... And yes, I got a perverse pleasure from you being forced to name him Greg. I heard from Chase before everything that happened."

"You would."

"I did. But you seemed happy from all accounts and so I thought I should listen to Wilson for once in my life and just let you be happy. The Cameron that saved me was made up by my brain, after all. You weren't really there. So, I went on with my life, alone. Away from people I cared about enough to not want to hurt. Seems like I hurt everyone I care about. But then I read your messages. You weren't happy. I thought maybe I could help for once. I don't know why, but I need you to be happy."

"You know why. I know why. We just don't want to say it because we know that this whole thing is too complicated to ever work. Being with you, like this, I want it so badly, but you can't show up to my next family dinner. I can't run off with you and leave Greg. It's hard enough only having him one day a week. I can't abandon him."

She was on the verge of crying again. So he smiled and joked with a shrug of the shoulders. "So bring him. He seems like a cool enough kid. I can break him of that nasty Jesus habit for you too."

It had the desired effect and she returned his smile. "Don Johnson, are you inviting me to run away with you?"

He looked down in mock contemplation. "I guess I kinda am." And then he was off on one of his excited little boy tangents. "We'd be like Bonnie and Clyde. Or rather Bonnie, Clyde and Clyde Junior. How's Little Greg with a tommy gun?"

This earns him a laugh and Cameron leans in and kisses him. "You're still nuts, you know that?"

"Yeah. But you like my nuts." He quips.

Eyebrows raised she admits, "Well, as nuts go they are rather nice. I mean, they're nuts, so kind of odd looking by nature, but I do like the way they smack against my ass when you fuck me hard."

Grabbing her ass he pulls her into him with a thrust of his hips, despite his penis not being fully recovered. "If I were your age, I'd fuck you hard again right now. But, unless you have some Viagra stowed away in that big ass bag of yours, I think Little Don is officially on break for at least an hour."

"No worries." She took his hand, put a finger in her mouth and sucked it. "You still have a mouth. Lesbians get by without hard-ons all the time."

"Damn. Well, when you put it that way. Did you remember to pack Little Don's clone?"