Pairings: Cameron/Cuddy Chase/Wilson Cameron/House
Rating: PG-15 (as close to smut as I’ll get)
Genre: Femmeslash/slash and bits of het.
Challenge/Prompt: This challenge// I always play women I would date. ~ Angelina Jolie AND fanfic100 // 040. Sight
Summary: Jesus, how do I summarise this? Cameron lusts after House, Cuddy lusts after Cameron, Chase and Wilson go all mushy together but only kind of.
Copyright: Songfic to Tori Amos’ “Bells For Her” with the lyrics cut down a little.
Author’s Notes: Completely OOC, completely crack, a little bit sick. I’m going to blame this on an overabundance of opera, not enough sleep, and the presence of Kate and Leopold on TV (you try writing something properly when Hugh Jackman is on screen in all his gorgeousness pretending to be English). The whole OOC voyeuristic!Cameron bit was *not* supposed to happen (and I can’t see her doing it) but it did. And this is my almost first stab at femmeslash so don’t kill me, and… this is actually so weird that I feel a little embarrassed about it. And a whole House fic where I don’t mention his name. Gotta get snaps for that.
Oh, and rivers_bend, I tried to get in some perceptive!Chase.
“I’ve got your mind,” I said
Thursday afternoon and Allison is alone in the office, wiping off the no longer needed diagnoses from the board, erasing the letters one at a time using her finger, removing his words with a slow lingering affection that would be painful for anyone to watch- if anyone were watching. But she is alone and she gently removes the diseases like she could make the words mean something, like she wants him to pen the words onto her skin directly, the marker smudged by his trembling hands. Like she wants him to whisper cruel nothings into her ears and then leave her shivering and alone in bed, the uncapped marker staining black blots onto the sheets.
To be honest, Allison isn’t sure what she wants.
She said “I’ve your voice”
Thursday evening, and Lisa sits in her office with the blinds drawn and the lights dimmed and reads his files and sighs because the omissions could write their own book. There are so many they could start their own colony, move away somewhere nice with more sun and less cripples than this hospital. She smirks slightly and patiently stacks his files up with the knowledge she’s going to have to go and ask Cameron to re-write them all and that Cameron will do it without hesitation, a smile quirking her lips and not saying anything, like she’s afraid that to complain once about him is to lose him forever.
Lisa doesn’t have the heart to tell her that she has anyway.
I said “You don’t need my voice girl you have your own”
Thursday night and Allison sits very, very still at the glass table and she could go home but there’s nothing to do. Instead, she looks at the files and sighs because imitating his handwriting is exhausting but she does it anyway, biro slipping between shaking fingers, her hair in her eyes. She could learn to say no but the desperation in Cuddy’s eyes mirrors her own and denying people was never a forte of hers. Instead, she obediently copies down stats and medical terms and doesn’t listen to the quiet laughter from next door. When she looks up, she can see things through the gaps in the blinds- a lot of skin and one blonde head and one dark one, and wonders what he will say when he gets in tomorrow and finds that his desk has been trashed by his best friend and his employee and their endless boredom. She almost opens her mouth to go and tell them this, but no sound comes out and instead she concentrates hard on Vasculitus and not on Chase’s breathless whispers of James.
But you never thought it was enough
The resounding emptiness of exam room one makes Lisa grimace momentarily, before she sighs and flexes her fingers and makes her way up to diagnostics with her heels clacking resoundingly and her lips set in a firm line. When she gets there Chase is blushing and Cameron is being mildly insistent about the clinic and he is sitting there simultaneously fending her off and teasing Chase mercilessly. He smiles when he sees her, a smile with more than a tiny challenge in it, and Lisa almost blushes but refuses to crack.
“I need someone in the clinic,” she says. He pushes Cameron towards her, eyes saying take it or leave it, and Lisa sighs and obediently indicates that Cameron follow her.
“You don’t have to do everything he tells you to,” she whispers when they’re in the elevator together, and Cameron looks at her and doesn’t even bother to smile.
So they went years and years like sisters
When she goes home in the evening, Allison goes through her wardrobe and finds the black shoebox tucked into the back. Underneath the tissue paper inside is a pair of beautiful, beautiful shoes. They’ve been worn once. On a date with him, and he even remembered to compliment them. But they’re not her shoes. Cuddy handed them to her just before she went home to get dressed, told her that they’d be perfect. Allison wore them and they did the arches of her feet in but they were beautiful. The next day she tried to give them back, but Cuddy shook her head and smiled and said that she could keep them. Allison doesn’t know why but she still has them safe, although she doesn’t think she’s going to wear them again.
Blanket girls always there through that and this
Lisa wraps a curl around her finger and tries not to look up at him, because whatever he’s shouting about today she’s just not interested. Instead, she concentrates on the memos all over her desk, the biro-written notes from all over the hospital. He tells her that she’s not listening to him, she tells him that she knows, he sighs and walks out, tossing over his shoulder that he isn’t going to be in the clinic this afternoon. She already knows that and so doesn’t bother replying. Instead, she doodles with her biro on a clean post-it, starts with Cameron, tries to find the right words, and then screws it up and throws it towards her waste bin.
“There’s nothing we cannot ever fix” I said
Allison sits at the top of the deserted flight of back stairs and says nothing, doesn’t even breathe. She has a pile of medical files clutched to her chest and she bites her lips together, hard. At the bottom of the stairs and slightly to the left Wilson has Chase pinned to the wall, arms above his head, his lips sucking Chase’s earlobe, whispering things so quietly that Allison can’t hear. He’s teasing Chase, leaning in so that Chase opens his mouth ready to be kissed, before moving back to bite as his neck just underneath the open collar of his shirt. She feels profoundly lonely, watching them, watching the solace they have together from him, as Chase tries once again to get Wilson to kiss him and Wilson simply laughs and then lowers himself to his knees, and Allison watches Chase’s eyes close and his lips form words that she knows he’ll never be able to say to Wilson. She doesn’t even look at Wilson and what he’s doing, his hands gripping Chase’s hips while Chase’s fingers tangle in his hair, because it’s more about the look on Chase’s face, and she doesn’t even realise that she’s in tears until the first drops fall onto the folders in her lap.
Can’t stop what’s coming, can’t stop what is on its way
Lisa dreams of Cameron, of kissing her and claiming her as her own, of making her forget all about him. She doesn’t know if she’s awake or asleep, maybe somewhere in between the two in the stifling heat of her office, sprawled out in her chair. She dreams of cupping Cameron’s breasts, of biting at them until it’s her name Allison is screaming and not anyone else’s, dreams of pressing her fingers inside her while Allison rocks against her and breathes her name while slickness runs over her hand. Lisa starts when the door to her office opens, and Cameron comes in, looking awkward, file clutched in her hand, tucking her hair behind her ear, and Lisa clenches her thighs against the aching feel of need and can’t even smile when she takes the folder from the other woman.
Bells and footfalls and soldiers and dolls
It’s dark and it’s late and Allison can’t find anywhere to go because the whole hospital seems to be full of Wilson and Chase apparently trying to fuck each other on every surface here, flat or not. They either don’t know that she sees them or they don’t care, don’t think she matters. She hopes it’s the former and miserably suspects it’s the latter. She doesn’t watch them because she thinks it’s sexy- she never gets aroused- but because they obviously care deeply about each other, no matter how hard they try and pretend that it’s all about the sex. And she likes that someone here gets to love without getting hurt, gets to touch without their hands being slapped away, gets to be with someone without their skin being cut to shreds.
When she finally sleeps that night, she dreams of him sewing her mouth shut, and all the words she’s ever wanted to say being swallowed whole.
And lovers she and I were
The elevator takes an eternity to move and Lisa leans against the wall, not looking at Cameron and not thinking that she’s so close she can smell her perfume and her shampoo and that the whole thing makes her feel slightly dizzy. In the end, she can’t resist it any longer and slams her hand into the elevator stop button, freezing the elevator, pushing Cameron against the wall and finally kissing her with a passion that borders on desperation. Cameron’s fingers run into the curls of her hair and their breasts are crushed together and all the air seems to have gone because neither of them can breathe… and then she pushes Lisa away, flushing, looking down at their shoes.
“I can’t do this,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry.”
Now she seems to be sand under his shoes
His smiles are broad and nasty and he tosses cruelties around the office, the glass walls shattering under the onslaught of drug-induced anger, cutting them all. He says things about Wilson that make Chase blush dark red and then get actually, genuinely angry, until even Foreman wants to defend the young blonde, and then his smirks turn onto her and he whispers Cuddy. She feels the blood drain from her face and her hands are trembling. And an even crueller edge arrives on his smirk, as he looks at her through narrowed eyes, and she feels herself crumbling under his gaze, tears filling her eyes, because he doesn’t understand. She doesn’t think she does either.
There’s nothing I can do, can’t stop what’s coming
There’s a chip on one of her manicured nails, Lisa just about notices, and she feels sick. Sighing, she traps herself in her office and clenches her hands into fists and forces herself to breathe before she suffocates from longing and disappointment. She knows why Cameron doesn’t want her. She knows that it’s because of him, with his cane and his injury and his blue, blue eyes that drown people in. And she knows that the whole thing will end messily, that this kind of obsession can’t be concluded gracefully, and in her mind she sees Allison rain-sodden and weeping with her hands held together like she’s praying, screaming his name like it might somehow bring him back to her. Lisa swallows, finally feeling her nails digging into her palms, and she knows that she is powerless to head this off at the pass.
Can’t stop what’s on its way
The patient’s stats aren’t altering in the slightest and Allison resigns herself to the fact that the guy isn’t going to wake up tonight. Foreman went home a couple of hours ago (won the draw- he gets to stay in his apartment all night, and not be on the night shift at all) and Chase will come and relieve her at some point. She knows where he is right now. He’s in Wilson’s office. She sighs and rubs her tired eyes and sits and waits. Eventually, an eternity later, Chase comes to relieve her, five minutes early. He’s flushed and his mouth looks bruised.
“He loves me,” he whispers, sounding completely and utterly surprised. Allison isn’t. She smiles at him and presses a kiss to his cheek as she walks out. She should go home. Instead, Allison walks down to the locker room, opens her locker to find a clean shirt. Inside are a dozen long-stemmed pink roses, with a white card. She opens it with trembling hands. There are four words written on it. He will destroy you.
And now I speak to you
“Why are you playing with her like this?” Chase asks. Lisa looks up at him, because she’s surprised that the question is coming from him. That the question is coming at all. She opens her mouth and finds that there’s nothing she can say.
“Why do you think I’m playing with her?” she asks, although she knows that she should actually enquire who ‘she’ is in the first place.
“People think, because of-of him-” Chase can’t quite say his name either and that makes Lisa feel obscurely better “- That I’m just the air-headed blonde Briti- Australian who doesn’t have any idea what’s going on.” He swallows. “But- I see things. I see what you’re doing to her.”
</i>I’m surprised that you can see anything beyond Wilson and finding deserted spaces where the two of you can fuck on my time,</i> Lisa thinks uncharitably, but she doesn’t say it. Instead, she murmurs:
“He does this to her, not me. Go talk to him.”
Chase narrows those blue eyes at her and sighs as he turns to leave.
Are you in there?
The plastic bag with the remains of the meth is in the back of her dresser. Allison doesn’t ever reach for it, but she likes to have it there, a reminder of what she must never, never do again. Instead, she sits cross-legged on her living room floor and presses the roses between the pages of a medical dictionary, rubbing the soft petals between her fingers, smooth and pink like skin, and Allison blushes even though she’s not thinking what she’s thinking. The flowers are a reminder, a warning, a sign that she will never get what she wants and that she doesn’t mind. She’s tucked the card along with the meth at the back of the drawer, back in the place where she puts things she doesn’t want to deal with or touch ever again.
You have her face and her eyes but you are not her
“Allison,” Lisa says, and it comes out on the exhale and she feels white and tired and drawn out like she’s fading and it’s probably all his fault because it usually is. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” Allison asks and Lisa looks at her, wonders what Cameron looked like before he came alone, whether her eyes had a smile in them and whether she would ever have said yes. This isn’t Dr Cameron any more. This is an empty hollow shell wrapped around the last desolate remains of hope. She’s like a gollum; clay wrapped around a scroll in her head. A scroll with nothing on it but his name.
“Maybe we’ll never know,” she replies, taking Cameron’s wrist and pulling her away from the hospital where their souls become tired become damaged become dust become glass.
And we go at each other like blankets who can’t find their thread
The lights are off and all bets are off and Cuddy’s mouth covers her own while her nails dig into every inch of Allison’s exposed skin and she keeps her eyes shut and her hands roam restlessly over every inch of Lisa’s body and it’s as soft as the rose petals ever were. She wants to tell her that she’ll never be able to give Lisa what she wants, that she wants to but she can’t, that her ability to love anyone was taken away when she fell for that damaged, damaged man, but she doesn’t say it because she needs this. She needs the feeling of Cuddy’s breasts rubbing against her own, needs the feel of her fingers caressing her, sliding inside her, needs the kisses that sting and make her grind herself against Lisa’s hand in agonising desire. She feels so, so lost, and right now she has somewhere and someone and she’ll cling onto that until it’s pried from her fingers by her common sense.
Can’t stop loving
It takes a couple of days when the marks on her hips don’t fade for Lisa to realise that she won’t get over Cameron easily, and that she definitely doesn’t own her. She already knew that and if the way Cameron is avoiding her gaze and not coming near her office means anything, it means that she’s embarrassed and ashamed and Lisa is used to that too so she doesn’t push the matter. All in all, the car crash has probably been speeded up (Lisa never thought for one minute that it would be averted- she cares enough for Cameron to know that Allison won’t give him up, not ever, no matter how tenderly she kisses or how hard she hopes) but if that’s what Allison wants, then that’s what Allison will get. To love and love until it pulls her to pieces and Lisa prays that that won’t happen to her too.
Can’t stop what is on its way
Silhouetted against the sunset, Chase and Wilson kiss and laugh like teenagers, fingers entwining and then not entwining and Allison stands at the top of the stairs to the roof and smiles as she watches them because for a moment to watch their love is almost like being loved herself, and then she turns away to walk back down the cold stairs where no one loves her and even if they do she can’t handle it. Alone and miserable she runs her fingers over her face and sighs, heels clicking on the floor, riding her metaphorical tumbrel to the scaffold, her inevitable fate, and she prays that Chase and Wilson have a long time together before they get bored and split apart.
And I see it coming and it’s on its way
Cameron is wearing the shoes that Lisa gave her and Lisa can’t work out if that’s a good or bad thing. She looks tired but also resigned, and the kiss she presses against Lisa’s mouth has a final sort of feeling to it.
“I’m sorry,” Allison whispers, “But I can’t do this. I wish I could.”
“He’ll destroy you,” Lisa repeats, sighing, “And he’ll never love you, and he’ll never be able to cope with you and he’ll break your heart and you’ll spend your whole life-”
“Shhh,” Allison whispers, index finger lightly touching Lisa’s mouth to get her to be quiet. “I know that.”
It’s such a waste, so Lisa simply shrugs and lets Allison Cameron walk away for the last time because there’s nothing else she can do.