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escapingreality2008-07-31 04:07 pm
scruffyduck.livejournal.com) wrote in escapingreality2008-07-31 04:07 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Title: Irrelevant Changes
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rolleson
Fandom: House
Rating: G
Character/Pairing: House/Cameron
Spoilers: Season Four up to House's Head
Warnings: None
Summery: It wasn't a date but Cameron had reapplied her make up anyway
Notes: Part four of the fic that has grown into something I cannot contain. 1057 words.
i.You Can Never Be Too Careful
ii.Treading Water
iii.Illogical Maybes
She put her hands on her hips, took an angry stance, but grinned at House from her office doorway. He didn't move from her sofa, legs sprawled across the length of it, his portable television on his lap.
"My patients are on their separate ways home, taking their simpering morons with them," he said, not looking at her, "and you need a tv."
"I'm not getting a tv just so you've got somewhere else to hide from Cuddy," she said, the smile sticking.
"I'm not hiding," he said, flicking the television off, "at least, not right now." He swung his legs over the side and she always seemed to forget how impossibly long they were. And how much she loved them. "So, wanna go for a drink?"
"Sure," she said, forgetting about the ER for a moment.
"And food, you've got to eat right?"
"Dinner!" she squeaked, cursing herself.
"If you want to give the meal a name, sure, dinner works."
"I, um," she stuttered, not sure why she was hesitating so much over a simple meal. It was simple, right?
"Come on, I have Wilson's credit card."
"Um, I, I still have another half an hour."
"You're the boss, you can leave early once in a while."
"I can't," she said, glancing behind her.
"I know," he said smiling, flicking the television back on.
*****
It wasn't a date but Cameron had reapplied her make up anyway, because she didn't want to look tired after her shift on the always, always busy ER. At least that's what she told herself, she was almost as good with rationale and denial as House, she mused, following him into the little cafe/restaurant that screamed date. Second date, her heart told her, and she internally growled at herself.
They were friends, because House had changed (maybe) and the dynamic between them had changed and a hundred other things had changed too. The weather, what she had for lunch most days, his cane. It was all irrelevant really though, because her feelings hadn't changed much at all. She still loved him.
Damn.
He held out her chair and she sat, and tried not to think about the last time they had done this. Which turned out to be easier than she expected because he ignored her shoes completely and she wasn't even wearing earrings.
"This place is my favourite," he said, "really hot waitresses." She smiled.
"I'm sure there's a Hooters somewhere in Jersey," she shot back.
"Okay, hot waitresses and really good steak."
He was being himself, which was exactly what she wanted from him and always had, so maybe she could live with being his friend if she got that.
*****
It turned into a date over dessert, when he stretched his (impossibly) long legs out, his face twisted slightly with pain, and tangled them with hers. He didn't say anything, and she decided not to acknowledge it either, just enjoying the rough feel of denim against her legs, his warmth radiating through the heavy material. She resisted the urge to toe off her shoes and run her foot up his leg, and took a spoonful of their chocolate dessert he had insisted on her getting because he knew her PMS must have kicked in by now. A comment she was sure she was still blushing from.
He picked up his dessert spoon, his ice cream long gone, and helped himself to her chocolate concoction.
"Good?" she asked smiling.
"Yeah," he mumbled, swallowing, "you smile a lot."
"Excuse me?"
"It's not an insult."
"Oh, I," she could feel herself blushing again, and shifted her legs against his.
"Since you stopped working for me, you smile more, well you smile around me a lot more," he said, looking at her mouth and making her want to smile for no good reason. "I'm pretty sure more people die in the ER than in diagnostics."
"Maybe, but car crashes aren't my fault," she said, leaning forward to wipe a spot of chocolate from his mouth. He barely reacted to the gesture, his eyes flickering to her fingers then back to her face. "Bad diagnoses are though."
"Bet you still feel guilty over car crash victims you can't save, the people who are pronounced DOA."
"Maybe," she said. She dropped her spoon in the bowl and pushed the rest of the dessert towards him. He took it without a word, eating the remainders quickly and wiped his mouth clean with a small smile.
They skipped coffee and asked for the bill, House pulling his legs free from hers under the table without a glance, popping a Vicodin into his mouth. He dropped a credit card onto the dish with the receipt and Cameron picked it up and handing it back to him.
"I'll pay," she told him, fishing around in her purse.
"No," he said simply. She sighed.
"Split it?"
"No cash," he said, tapping his jacket pockets and only making his bottle of pills rattle.
"Then dinner's on me," she said. House smiled at her.
"You're not going to let a guy pay for his d-" he stopped and they both frowned for a moment, Cameron looked away first, the blush had become permanent, "for his former employee?"
"Nice save," she muttered, then in a louder voice, "fine, you can pay."
"Good." He smiled at her and she looked away again, his smile was starting to do funny things to her mind. He reached out then, and went to brush a strand of hair away from her face when he stopped himself, his hand hovering in the air for a moment. He put them on the table again, playing with his napkin, until he took the bottle of pills from his jacket pocket and took another Vicodin. Cameron raised her eyebrows at him and House shrugged.
"Particularly hard session with Mistress Cuddy," he said and she frowned, fighting against the smile of amusement with her worry. He signed the credit card receipt while she watched, and took a mint from the dish when he was done
"This is Wilson's credit card!" she hissed.
"I did say." She bit her lip to stop from laughing. "Come on, let's go before they realise I'm a suave diagnostician and not a pathetic oncologist."
"Suave, you are not," she said, following him out of the restaurant. He laughed and moved to walk closer to her.
Author:
rollesonFandom: House
Rating: G
Character/Pairing: House/Cameron
Spoilers: Season Four up to House's Head
Warnings: None
Summery: It wasn't a date but Cameron had reapplied her make up anyway
Notes: Part four of the fic that has grown into something I cannot contain. 1057 words.
i.You Can Never Be Too Careful
ii.Treading Water
iii.Illogical Maybes
She put her hands on her hips, took an angry stance, but grinned at House from her office doorway. He didn't move from her sofa, legs sprawled across the length of it, his portable television on his lap.
"My patients are on their separate ways home, taking their simpering morons with them," he said, not looking at her, "and you need a tv."
"I'm not getting a tv just so you've got somewhere else to hide from Cuddy," she said, the smile sticking.
"I'm not hiding," he said, flicking the television off, "at least, not right now." He swung his legs over the side and she always seemed to forget how impossibly long they were. And how much she loved them. "So, wanna go for a drink?"
"Sure," she said, forgetting about the ER for a moment.
"And food, you've got to eat right?"
"Dinner!" she squeaked, cursing herself.
"If you want to give the meal a name, sure, dinner works."
"I, um," she stuttered, not sure why she was hesitating so much over a simple meal. It was simple, right?
"Come on, I have Wilson's credit card."
"Um, I, I still have another half an hour."
"You're the boss, you can leave early once in a while."
"I can't," she said, glancing behind her.
"I know," he said smiling, flicking the television back on.
It wasn't a date but Cameron had reapplied her make up anyway, because she didn't want to look tired after her shift on the always, always busy ER. At least that's what she told herself, she was almost as good with rationale and denial as House, she mused, following him into the little cafe/restaurant that screamed date. Second date, her heart told her, and she internally growled at herself.
They were friends, because House had changed (maybe) and the dynamic between them had changed and a hundred other things had changed too. The weather, what she had for lunch most days, his cane. It was all irrelevant really though, because her feelings hadn't changed much at all. She still loved him.
Damn.
He held out her chair and she sat, and tried not to think about the last time they had done this. Which turned out to be easier than she expected because he ignored her shoes completely and she wasn't even wearing earrings.
"This place is my favourite," he said, "really hot waitresses." She smiled.
"I'm sure there's a Hooters somewhere in Jersey," she shot back.
"Okay, hot waitresses and really good steak."
He was being himself, which was exactly what she wanted from him and always had, so maybe she could live with being his friend if she got that.
It turned into a date over dessert, when he stretched his (impossibly) long legs out, his face twisted slightly with pain, and tangled them with hers. He didn't say anything, and she decided not to acknowledge it either, just enjoying the rough feel of denim against her legs, his warmth radiating through the heavy material. She resisted the urge to toe off her shoes and run her foot up his leg, and took a spoonful of their chocolate dessert he had insisted on her getting because he knew her PMS must have kicked in by now. A comment she was sure she was still blushing from.
He picked up his dessert spoon, his ice cream long gone, and helped himself to her chocolate concoction.
"Good?" she asked smiling.
"Yeah," he mumbled, swallowing, "you smile a lot."
"Excuse me?"
"It's not an insult."
"Oh, I," she could feel herself blushing again, and shifted her legs against his.
"Since you stopped working for me, you smile more, well you smile around me a lot more," he said, looking at her mouth and making her want to smile for no good reason. "I'm pretty sure more people die in the ER than in diagnostics."
"Maybe, but car crashes aren't my fault," she said, leaning forward to wipe a spot of chocolate from his mouth. He barely reacted to the gesture, his eyes flickering to her fingers then back to her face. "Bad diagnoses are though."
"Bet you still feel guilty over car crash victims you can't save, the people who are pronounced DOA."
"Maybe," she said. She dropped her spoon in the bowl and pushed the rest of the dessert towards him. He took it without a word, eating the remainders quickly and wiped his mouth clean with a small smile.
They skipped coffee and asked for the bill, House pulling his legs free from hers under the table without a glance, popping a Vicodin into his mouth. He dropped a credit card onto the dish with the receipt and Cameron picked it up and handing it back to him.
"I'll pay," she told him, fishing around in her purse.
"No," he said simply. She sighed.
"Split it?"
"No cash," he said, tapping his jacket pockets and only making his bottle of pills rattle.
"Then dinner's on me," she said. House smiled at her.
"You're not going to let a guy pay for his d-" he stopped and they both frowned for a moment, Cameron looked away first, the blush had become permanent, "for his former employee?"
"Nice save," she muttered, then in a louder voice, "fine, you can pay."
"Good." He smiled at her and she looked away again, his smile was starting to do funny things to her mind. He reached out then, and went to brush a strand of hair away from her face when he stopped himself, his hand hovering in the air for a moment. He put them on the table again, playing with his napkin, until he took the bottle of pills from his jacket pocket and took another Vicodin. Cameron raised her eyebrows at him and House shrugged.
"Particularly hard session with Mistress Cuddy," he said and she frowned, fighting against the smile of amusement with her worry. He signed the credit card receipt while she watched, and took a mint from the dish when he was done
"This is Wilson's credit card!" she hissed.
"I did say." She bit her lip to stop from laughing. "Come on, let's go before they realise I'm a suave diagnostician and not a pathetic oncologist."
"Suave, you are not," she said, following him out of the restaurant. He laughed and moved to walk closer to her.