Fandom: House MD
Pairing: Cameron/Cuddy [House/Cameron]
Challenge/Prompt: 100moods, 076. Predatory
Genre: Femslash [het]
Summary: House and Cameron are breaking up a scream at a time.
Author’s Notes: This isn’t nice. This is exceptionally cruel to Cameron, shows a side to Cuddy I’m not sure I even want to think exists, and is probably quite dark. If you ship these two, or love Cuddy, read at your peril.
She's not nearly as delightful as she thinks she is.
- Cuddy, 3x02 “Cane And Able”
House and Cameron are breaking up a scream at a time. At least, they’re not actually breaking up because they’re not in a relationship but whatever it is that they’ve been doing it’s coming to an ugly end. And this is why sleeping with your co workers is an unbelievably bad idea. There is shouting- lots of shouting, too much shouting- and House comes up daily to ask Cuddy if he can fire his only female fellow. Cuddy won’t let him because a little emotional torture is good for everyone’s soul. Or something. Or nothing.
Foreman comes into the office eventually to beg her to let House fire Cameron; he can’t cope with the tears and the shouting and the sarcasm and the bitter, sharp atmosphere in diagnostics. Cuddy tells him no with a little too much relish; but then she has earned the right to make House suffer. Some of the things he’s done to her over the years have been impossibly cruel and so she deserves this. And she tells herself that she shouldn’t enjoy watching the hurt and anger mingle on his face because he’s an employee and almost a friend. That’s the thing though; he’s almost a friend. Almost, but not quite.
Cameron has got under her skin since she arrived, that too-good-to-be-true, but-we’re-all-people-really attitude driving her insane, but Cuddy can’t fire her for being a perfectly competent bleeding heart and it would be cruel to fire her for simply falling in love with House.
They’ve all done it at one time or another.
Diagnostics is fast-becoming a war zone. A undertone of a war zone anyway, the surface brittle and too-bright, but beneath Cameron’s pained eyes and sensible blouses there’s a woman on the brink of exploding and killing someone. Cuddy hopes it’s House, because he brought this on himself. You don’t fuck around with the woman that genuinely loves you. It’s too much of a risk and it doesn’t ever end well. Chase and Foreman are trying to keep themselves out of it, coffee cups and crossword puzzles and the refusal to take anyone’s side, and Wilson sides with House and tries to give Cameron advice because he’s still under the impression that he’s a nice guy. Cuddy has been talking to Julie so she knows that he’s not, but she’s got too much to do at the moment to disabuse him of this ridiculous notion.
Sex makes everything complicated and anyone who thinks that it doesn’t should report to the third floor. Cuddy saw how this would end the day that House announced his intention to go on a date with his fellow, and just hoped he’d be sensible enough to tear the girl to shreds and leave it at that. But House, once he’s broken something, just can’t leave it alone and the moment Cameron’s feelings were hurt and she told him that this time, oh, this time, she really genuinely hated him for real, he just couldn’t resist.
House promises that he’ll give Cameron a really fucking shiny reference as long as she goes somewhere not anywhere near Princeton. Cuddy reminds him that Cameron is still under contract for another six months and then reminds him that she’s his boss and whatever she says, goes. House stumps out, dangerously close to pouting.
She keeps the lights down low, signing off on hundreds of forms, sipping a mug of green tea and telling herself that she can go home soon – Deans of Medicine keep pretty crappy hours, all things considered. There’s a knock at the door and Cameron walks in, hair waving around her shoulders, eyes looking especially childishly wide. Cuddy wants to say something like if you’re planning on begging me to fire you, the answer’s still no, but that’s potentially unethical so instead she leans back in her chair and watches Cameron lock the door and twist the blinds shut. She thinks she knows where this is going, and she’d stop Cameron right now except that this is becoming increasingly fascinating.
Cameron must be desperate or on the point of a nervous breakdown to even be considering this and Cuddy privately puts her money on Cameron not going through with this. A moment later and all bets are off as Cameron leans down, bracing her hands on the arms of Cuddy’s chair and kisses her.
The emotion that runs through Cuddy isn’t love, or lust, or even pity; it’s anger. Cameron has absolutely no right to do this, to think that just because House fucked her over she can turn it all around on Cuddy. And if she does want this for any other reason than to keep her job, then the poor little bitch is more crazy than any of them. That option’s disturbingly plausible so Cuddy rises to her feet, forcing Cameron to stumble backwards, slamming her against the filing cabinets, taking control of everything. Cameron gasps and Cuddy feels it, and she thinks she hisses you wanted this but doesn’t say it, just grasps Cameron’s wrists too tight and bites at her lower lip.
Cameron’s a little girl sometimes but Cuddy doesn’t care because she moans desperately when Cuddy shifts her weight to pin her harder against the cold metal cabinets. She’s the shorter one, but she’s stronger, and she’s more determined, and Cameron goes limp. Cuddy pulls back, lipstick irreversibly smeared, and doesn’t like the taste of the smile curving her lips, but the way Cameron’s eyes widen tells Cuddy that at least one of them does.
It’s possible that the button on Cameron’s slacks comes off, but maybe it doesn’t; either way the fly is open and Cuddy slides her hand inside, under the warm silk of Cameron’s panties, manicured fingers sliding their way into Cameron’s body. Cameron’s eyes flutter closed, as Cuddy pushes one, two fingers into Cameron’s cunt, and she’s so desperately wet and gasping that Cuddy is more vicious than she means to be. Three fingers, thumb pressing too hard on the other woman’s clit, teeth finding a spot on Cameron’s neck; did House fuck you like this, touch you like this?
It isn’t jealousy but it’s dangerous and Cameron’s going to come and then she’s going to get carpet burn on her knees and then this will be over, one way or another. Because Cuddy can’t tell if the immunologist is trying to save her job or act out a screwed-up little teenage girl crush thing, and that annoys her. Cameron is predictable, readable, easy to unfold. She isn’t allowed to get complicated.
Cameron makes a helpless little sound, a sort of mew, eyelids fluttering and one tear spilling down her cheek. Cuddy doesn’t give her time to ride the afterglow, pulls her fingers out abruptly, and drags Cameron with her as she sits back down and spreads her legs.
To her credit, Cameron doesn’t hesitate, dropping to her knees, trembling hands sliding up Cuddy’s thighs and pushing her skirt as they go. Cuddy shifts her hips restlessly as Cameron presses light kisses to her skin, and tangles one hand in the back of Cameron’s hair, giving it a little tug to remind her that neither of them are here to tease. Cameron obediently sweeps her tongue over Cuddy’s clit, then down, pushing inside. Cuddy keeps one hand fisted in Cameron’s thick, soft hair, but picks up her mug of tea with the other hand because there’s no sense in letting the drink go cold. Maybe she really does have a mercenary attitude to sex now, but, all things considered, this is still Cameron. Still self-righteous, still frustratingly naïve, still obsessing over House even when going down on her female boss.
She doesn’t look back when she walks out, trembling slightly.
Cuddy finishes her tea, tidies her hair, reapplies her lipstick, pushes her folders into neater piles, and takes the elevator up to the diagnostics department. House is still there, sipping scotch and reading through a file of a potentially interesting patient.
“You can fire Cameron if you still want to,” Cuddy tells him.