Drabble Meme Drabbles :)
Apr. 29th, 2009 02:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darkdreamerOkay, here's about the first half of my requested drabbles from the people who responded to my drabble meme. Hope you like them, please let me know what you think :)
*hugs*
DoS
Dark!House drabble
He should feel relieved.
After months of loneliness, Wilson has finally returned, surrendering to the inevitable force that continually draws them together, although they both know they’d be better off without each other. Wilson didn’t quite apologize – but he’s here, and that means something, doesn’t it?
All it means is that they’re one day closer to the next time he runs for his life.
And no matter what – House can’t allow that to happen.
He can’t lose him again.
Wilson should have been suspicious when he volunteered to cook – but he wasn’t. House knows the food isn’t good. He’s no cook – and the charred taste should cover up the bitterness of the sedatives.
When this meal is over, House will finally have the peace of knowing that Wilson will never leave him again.
House/Spike Crossover drabble
He's alone in his office, his back to the door, staring out the window into the darkness. When he hears the door open, he turns in mild alarm. He hasn't got a patient, and Wilson went home hours ago. It's far too late for anyone else to be seeking him out.
He frowns suspiciously at the bleached blond in black leather that stands unnervingly close to him -- and how did he get there so fast?
"You're House, yeah? Dr. Gregory House?"
"Why?" House asks slowly, eyes narrowed, head tilted speculatively.
"Got a problem," the blond explains in a low voice with a heavy British accent. "Heard you might be the one what could fix it for me."
House turns away, bored, waving a dismissive hand. "There're other doctors."
"I'm not the sort of bloke that cares for doctors much," the stranger confesses, and House tries not to show his uneasiness, his hand tightening on his cane as the blond advances. "Heard you were the best, though. If anyone can help me... you can."
House turns to face him again, wanting to be at no disadvantage. A wary smirk forms on his lips as he guesses.
"What type of 'bloke' might that be? The type who doesn't want official records to mark his tracks?"
"The kind who doesn't want medical tests that will just stir up trouble," the blond corrects. "Se.. got this chip in my head. Government blokes put it in there..."
"Sure it wasn't the aliens?"
House jumps backward, all traces of mockery vanished into stunned horror as the blond's face suddenly shifts and he lunges toward him with an animalistic snarl. Before House can raise his cane in defense, it's been snatched from him and hurled across the room, and he's in this creature's -- for this is surely not a man -- grasp.
"You'll help me... Doctor..." the blond informs him in a low voice of menace.
"Why?" House demands, unsure where the bravado is coming from, or what its purpose is at this point. He's clearly in over his head. "What's in it for me?"
Fangs glisten in the light from the streetlamp outside his office, and golden eyes leer at him as the blond -- vampire -- answers in a chillingly soft voice.
"Your life." He pauses, some of the menace fading as he smiles and adds, "And... answers. Heard those are important to you. And I bet there's a bloody lot of questions floating around up there right now..."
He taps a finger agaisnt House's temple, then grips his hair and pulls his head back, fangs hovering over his throat. House tenses, preparing for the worst.
"So, Doc... we got a deal?"
House swallows hard and nods in agreement. It's not as if he has a choice.
An hour later, he can't believe it -- but he's found the chip the vampire described, and removed it. He has no idea what it does -- but he intends to find out.
"So?" he prods as he finishes the sutures and the vampire sits up on the table, smiling in satisfaction.
"So what?"
"My turn. Answers."
As the vampire slides off the table and turns to face him fully, House feels his blood run cold at the sly expression on his face. He takes a backward step, awkward without his cane, and swallows hard.
"And... my life. Don't forget that part," he adds cautiously.
The vampire's grin widens as he slowly advances, and House knows he's far too fast for House to outrun.
"Oh, I'll do you one better'n that, Doc," the monster offers in a voice of silken death. "How's eternity sound?
Dark!House -- perspective
Seeing her from this perspective – intimate and familiar, as if he knows her better than he knows himself – he can’t help but finally see what Wilson saw, all those months ago. As time passes without rest, and he gradually becomes more used to her presence – and more distanced from reality – House begins to welcome her voice, her jokes, her existence in and out of his head.
She is amused by the same things as he is, thinks in the same unique way that he does, and accepts him as he is in a way that she never did when she was alive.
He can barely remember that now.
Isn’t that now?
A part of his mind knows he should beware of her.
After all, she tried to make him kill Chase.
Still, he can’t help but be seduced when she whispers sweet promises in his ear in the middle of the night, lying close beside him on his bed.
“All you have to do is this one thing… and we can all be together… the three of us… forever. He won’t miss me… won’t blame you… anymore… and we’ll all three be happy and at peace.”
House awakens in the morning with a fresh sense of purpose as he heads for the hospital, Amber as always at his side.
It’s amazing what a fresh perspective can do to a hopeless situation.
House/Wilson -- stereo system
“Okay. Where is it?”
“Where’s what?”
“Don’t screw around with me, Wilson. You know exactly what.”
“I’m not… House, what are you talking about?”
“Okay, fine. Whatever. I’ll give you back your DVD player. Just tell me where it is.”
“You have my DVD player? I was wondering what happened to it… Wait. Do you have my CDs, too?”
“Actually, yes – not that they do me any good without the stereo. So I give. Give it back.”
“You’re missing your stereo?”
“Duh, Wilson. What did you think I was talking about?”
“I… had no idea. I already told you that.”
“…Then… what the hell happened to my stereo system?”
“House… have you considered the fact that someone might have actually broken into your apartment and stolen it?”
“Well, yeah, but at the time I was assuming said someone was you…”
“Or, I don’t know… maybe someone you owed money to came by and took it, because you don’t pay your debts…”
“I do so pay my debts! The important ones, anyway…”
“Well, House, be careful! Maybe you should get out of there until you’re sure what happened. What if someone broke in and they’re still in the apartment?”
“… Shit.”
“Are you outside yet?”
“Yeah. I’d better hang up and call the cops, hang on…”
“Well, wait a second. Maybe there’s no need. Maybe… someone just decided to take it and hold it for ransom until you gave back all the stuff you’ve ‘borrowed’ over the last few months…”
“…”
“…”
“I hate you.”
House/Chase, recreation
House doesn’t really get a lot of recreation.
That works out well for Chase, who’s trying to balance his job, his relationship with Cameron, and the new demands of his not-boss on his time, now that Wilson’s out of the picture – and who knows how long that will last.
Chase hopes it doesn’t last very much longer.
The occasional bowling match… a night out at a bar once a week or so – it’s not really all that much to ask… for now.
Chase knows it won’t end there.
He and House aren’t really all that close yet.
Chase doesn’t think he wants to know what types of recreation House might expect from him if he ever gets as close to him as Wilson once was.
House/Wilson -- bourbon
It only happened once.
A single, accidental overstep -- completely the fault of the bourbon, and not at all due to any private desires Wilson might have had prior to that fateful night. House had thought about pushing him away – had actually intended to, thought that was what he was doing – until he realized all at once that he was actually returning the kiss. Of course, before it could go any farther, House stopped Wilson and got him settled on the sofa for the night.
He wasn’t even sure if Wilson remembered it the following morning.
At any rate, the next time they hung out at House’s apartment, he made sure that they had plenty of bourbon.
House/Cuddy -- coffee
He calls and tells her he’s coming over. She can barely make out the words in his alcohol-slurred voice. She tries to tell him to wait where he is, that she’ll pick him up rather than have him drive in this condition – but he’s already hung up.
The coffee’s ready by the time he gets there.
She answers the door, relieved that he’s okay, and helps him to the sofa. He makes a crack or two about whether or not she intends to take advantage of him, and she smiles and sits with him and hands him a steaming mug – which he doesn’t pay much attention to.
He falls asleep on her sofa with her fingers running gently through his hair.
House/Cuddy -- pain
She's there when he reaches his lowest point, during those long, lonely months when Wilson won't speak to him, won't even look at him. She knows that he needs someone. He tries to pretend that he doesn't need anyone; and yet left completely to his own devices, she knows he'd fall apart.
At first he won't talk to her, except to tell her to leave.
Then, he becomes comfortable with her presence, allows her to sit and watch TV with him -- but he still doesn't talk about Amber, or Wilson, or how lonely he's been since his entire life fell apart.
Finally one night, he's lonely and sad and drunk enough to talk to her -- and the things he says break her heart.
"He'll never forgive me. He hates me. He wants me to hurt like I... like I hurt her... He wishes... it was me... instead..."
"You didn't hurt her, House. It was an accident..."
"Maybe... maybe I should just give him what he wants... maybe I should just..."
"House... House, no..."
Cuddy is horrified by this train of thought. She instinctively reaches out to embrace him, and is surprised and relieved when he doesn't shove her away, but accepts her comfort.
"No... you didn't do anything wrong..."
She holds him until he falls asleep... and an hour or so later, she falls asleep as well, cradling him in her arms like a child.
Sometime during the middle of the night, she awakens to a feeling of bereft emptiness. She sits up, blinking sleepily in the unfamiliar room, and realizes that she's alone. Alarmed and suddenly wide awake, she makes her way through the apartment.
"House?" she calls out sleepily. "House? Where are you?"
The bathroom light is on, the door ajar.
Dread in her heart, she pushes the door open, biting her lower lip.
"House?" she whispers.
Her heart stops for a moment when she sees him, sitting in the empty bathtub -- surrounded by streams -- rivers -- of his own blood.
She forces herself to react, rushing to his side and grabbing the dull little pocketknife from his trembling hand, throwing it angrily behind her and taking his arm, examining it as she fights off panic.
She's relieved to the point of tears to see that the cuts aren't all that deep. He hasn't severed any major blood vessels. He looks up at her through tear-streaked eyes, his shoulders trembling with sobs.
"It hurts..."
"I know," she whispers as she wraps a clean towel around the wounded arm. "I know, House..."
"It hurts so much... why isn't it enough?"
She's confused, shakes her head slightly with a little frown.
"How much?" he begs, his eyes pleading for her to give him the answer he craves. "How much pain is enough? How much farther do I have to go until he'll forgive me?"
House/Wilson/Lucas -- busted
“What the hell is going on here?”
The two men on the bed scrambled apart, staring up with trapped, guilty expressions at the man standing in the doorway.
“This… isn’t what it…” the PI stammered, swallowing hard as he removed his hand from the other man’s bare chest. He grimaced as he relented and says, “Okay, it’s exactly what it looks like… but…”
“I hired you to watch him and see if he was lonely or not – not keep him from getting lonely!”
“I-I know, and I’m…”
“Wait a second!” Lucas turned anxious, guilty eyes toward the man on the bed beside him, who sat up and gave him an indignant look. “I hired you! What is he talking about?”
“Please, House,” Wilson spoke up from the doorway, freeing Lucas of the burden of explaining. “I made him in about five minutes, and I’ve been screwing with you ever since. Your PI’s a double agent.”
House stared at Wilson in shock for a moment – then grinned, clearly pleased with what Wilson had done. Wilson’s glare slowly, reluctantly faded into a matching smirk, as he took a few slow, measured steps closer to the bed.
“Um… maybe I’d better be going…” Lucas mumbled as he scrambled backward off the other side of the bed.
House never took his eyes from Wilson’s, as his friend approached him, a look in his eyes like a predatory jungle cat. His voice was soft, distracted.
“Yeah. You do that.”
Certain that his services were no longer required, Lucas quietly made his way to the door.
These two were going to be just fine without him.
House/Wilson/Cuddy -- oneupmanship
House is exhausted.
He spent last night with Cuddy. Rachel was with an overnight babysitter, and they had her home to themselves.
In all his fantasies, he’d never expected her to be such a wildcat. They did it on every available surface, and she pulled out a few tricks he’d never heard of – let alone imagined.
The night before that, he found himself seduced by Wilson.
Of course, “seduction” meant turning a movie night into a drunken sex-fest, apparently by accident.
In the sober light of morning, House had his doubts.
Cuddy had been responding to her knowledge of the night he’d spent with Wilson.
Wilson had been reacting to his knowledge of the planned date with Cuddy.
If the two of them didn’t stop competing, House wasn’t sure he’d survive another week.
House/Cameron/Chase, spying
He walked into the observation room in search of them – and he found them.
But not in the way he had expected.
Something – a shirt or something – was probably draped over the camera recording one of the rooms, but it’s slipped down now to only cover half of it.
And half is more than enough.
He watches with wide eyes, taking in the way their bodies move together, listens to the soft moans they make that gradually become deeper, more primal sounds – and all he wants is to be there with them. He leans forward across the desk, and suddenly realizes with alarm that he’s accidentally pressed the intercom button, transmitting his own slightly labored breathing through the speakers in the room.
Cameron and Chase go still for a moment, staring at the camera – and House holds his breath.
Finally, Cameron smiles directly into the camera, smirking as she beckons with a single hand.
“Well don’t just stand there staring, House. Why don’t you come join us?”
House/Cameron, giving in
Even after he’s rejected her advances, her feelings are still always there – maybe hidden in the background for the moment, maybe only revealed in an accidental glance when she thinks no one’s looking.
He’s tempted – but he resists.
He’d only crush her illusions.
Usually, he enjoys shattering illusions; but it’d hurt them both too badly when it all fell apart.
He’d rather leave her with her girlish hopes which will never come to pass.
The day comes when he finds himself utterly alone – but she’s still there. That warmth is still present in her wide, knowing eyes. She places a gentle hand on his shoulder, and before he can stop himself, he’s turned his face toward that hand, eyes closed – silently longing for the comfort she represents.
When she kneels in front of him and cautiously presses her lips to his, finally – House gives in.
House/Cuddy/baby drabble
House had a secret.
Most evenings he spent at Cuddy’s home, Rachel was already asleep; and they were usually uninterrupted. During the days, he had Cuddy to himself – relatively speaking – at work, as Rachel was with a babysitter. In fact, he rarely saw the child at all. As it turned out, she hadn’t really affected his relationship with Cuddy all that much – at least not in any negative sense.
What he didn’t tell Cuddy was that on the rare occasions when the baby would wake up in the middle of the night, while they were sitting on the couch together in the dark – he actually welcomed the sound.
Rachel was a part of Cuddy’s life now – and more and more, he found that he wanted her to be a part of his, as well.
BtVS, Spike/Willow, nails
She seems helpless – small and thin and pixie-ish in his strong hands – and yet, she wields a power over him that few ever have before.
She whimpers as his hands run over her body, then lets out a happy little hum as he draws her close, and her tiny hands run up and down his back. As the intensity of their union increases, however, so does her confidence, and her hands go from tentative and gentle to grasping and possessive.
He’s hers, as she is his – and her nails score his back with the deep red marks that prove it.
BtVS, Spike, new life
He thinks he should call her.
She’d want to know he’s here -- alive.
It’s only fair.
Somehow, he can’t bring himself to do it.
It’s not that he doesn’t still love her. He does.
It’s not that he doesn’t want to see her. Most days, she’s all he thinks about.
He’s just not sure that he can go back there – back to all the pain and confusion and mixed up emotions that come along with loving a Slayer. They were on their way when he died in the Hellmouth, but he’s not sure if they could ever get past all the bad history that lies between them.
He thinks he may be better off just starting over – starting a new life.
Spike/Joyce gen
It’s been a long time since anyone’s taken the time to mother him.
Dru loved him, once, though she’s gone now; but the last time he was nurtured like this, comforted and soothed and offered cocoa and cookies by a woman who sought only to do what she could to make him feel better – well, he can’t even remember it.
Or maybe he just doesn’t want to.
When he finds himself chipped and helpless two years later, terrified and confused and only barely spared death by the Scoobies to whom he’s come for help – he remembers the sweet, blonde woman who gave him cocoa with marshmallows and listened to his broken-hearted story so long ago.
She opens her door to him without hesitation, and before he knows it he’s telling her everything. She puts her arm around him as if to shield him from the dangers and uncertainties he’s facing – and for the first time in longer than he can remember… Spike feels safe again.
Spike/Tara
Nothing’s stable anymore.
He’d just about adjusted to life with the chip when he realized that it no longer works on Buffy. Then, suddenly, they were kissing… and kissing again… and then sleeping together… not that any actual sleeping was involved.
He thought it’d be what he’s longed for – but it isn’t.
It’s painful and violent and confusing, and he feels like he’s sinking, slowly being swallowed up in the wake of her pain and despair.
No one knows it, but he turns to another wounded heart – another broken, hurting person, watching in helpless agony as the one she loves winds slowly down into madness and addiction. One night, he pours it all out to her – and she tells him her own frightening story – and they hold each other on the Slayer’s sofa, while their loves are off sinking deeper into their own destructions.
The tears are cleansing… soothing… and they find a sort of refuge in this unexpected friendship.
Spike/Dawn, whore
He never thought he’d get this desperate.
The problem is – no one’s scared of him anymore.
Word has spread about the blond vampire who’s all bark and no bite, and he’s finding it harder and harder to get money for blood by scaring people out of their wallets and such. He doesn’t want to, but he finds that he has no choice.
Finally, he finds himself on his knees in a vampire brothel, sucking the wrist of some human more pathetic than himself… at least he tells himself that.
He looks up in surprise when he smells a familiar scent. His eyes go wide with shocked dismay, and he scrambles to his feet, shoving the tiny, glaring brunette against the wall. She glares at him in defiance.
“What are you doing here, bit? You’re too good for a place like this…”
“Yeah, well, so are you,” she snaps back, eyes flashing indignant fire. “What are you doing here, Spike? You’re not some kind of… some kind of…”
“Of what?” he cuts her off, his voice trembling with a mixture of defiance and shame. “Some kind of… of whore?”
Her anger fades, and she stares at him with concerned dismay. “Yeah,” she whispers. After a moment she adds, “You’re not.”
He swallows hard, looking away. He can’t face her, not knowing how low he’s sunk.
“Come on,” she murmurs. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll find another way.”
He nods, and follows her meekly out of the brothel, embarrassed that she found him – but secretly grateful.
Spike/Dawn, hunting
She hears the crack of a twig on the ground behind her, and hurries her pace. Her mouth is dry and her hands trembling, and she wonders why she's stayed out so late at all.
*hugs*
DoS
Dark!House drabble
He should feel relieved.
After months of loneliness, Wilson has finally returned, surrendering to the inevitable force that continually draws them together, although they both know they’d be better off without each other. Wilson didn’t quite apologize – but he’s here, and that means something, doesn’t it?
All it means is that they’re one day closer to the next time he runs for his life.
And no matter what – House can’t allow that to happen.
He can’t lose him again.
Wilson should have been suspicious when he volunteered to cook – but he wasn’t. House knows the food isn’t good. He’s no cook – and the charred taste should cover up the bitterness of the sedatives.
When this meal is over, House will finally have the peace of knowing that Wilson will never leave him again.
House/Spike Crossover drabble
He's alone in his office, his back to the door, staring out the window into the darkness. When he hears the door open, he turns in mild alarm. He hasn't got a patient, and Wilson went home hours ago. It's far too late for anyone else to be seeking him out.
He frowns suspiciously at the bleached blond in black leather that stands unnervingly close to him -- and how did he get there so fast?
"You're House, yeah? Dr. Gregory House?"
"Why?" House asks slowly, eyes narrowed, head tilted speculatively.
"Got a problem," the blond explains in a low voice with a heavy British accent. "Heard you might be the one what could fix it for me."
House turns away, bored, waving a dismissive hand. "There're other doctors."
"I'm not the sort of bloke that cares for doctors much," the stranger confesses, and House tries not to show his uneasiness, his hand tightening on his cane as the blond advances. "Heard you were the best, though. If anyone can help me... you can."
House turns to face him again, wanting to be at no disadvantage. A wary smirk forms on his lips as he guesses.
"What type of 'bloke' might that be? The type who doesn't want official records to mark his tracks?"
"The kind who doesn't want medical tests that will just stir up trouble," the blond corrects. "Se.. got this chip in my head. Government blokes put it in there..."
"Sure it wasn't the aliens?"
House jumps backward, all traces of mockery vanished into stunned horror as the blond's face suddenly shifts and he lunges toward him with an animalistic snarl. Before House can raise his cane in defense, it's been snatched from him and hurled across the room, and he's in this creature's -- for this is surely not a man -- grasp.
"You'll help me... Doctor..." the blond informs him in a low voice of menace.
"Why?" House demands, unsure where the bravado is coming from, or what its purpose is at this point. He's clearly in over his head. "What's in it for me?"
Fangs glisten in the light from the streetlamp outside his office, and golden eyes leer at him as the blond -- vampire -- answers in a chillingly soft voice.
"Your life." He pauses, some of the menace fading as he smiles and adds, "And... answers. Heard those are important to you. And I bet there's a bloody lot of questions floating around up there right now..."
He taps a finger agaisnt House's temple, then grips his hair and pulls his head back, fangs hovering over his throat. House tenses, preparing for the worst.
"So, Doc... we got a deal?"
House swallows hard and nods in agreement. It's not as if he has a choice.
An hour later, he can't believe it -- but he's found the chip the vampire described, and removed it. He has no idea what it does -- but he intends to find out.
"So?" he prods as he finishes the sutures and the vampire sits up on the table, smiling in satisfaction.
"So what?"
"My turn. Answers."
As the vampire slides off the table and turns to face him fully, House feels his blood run cold at the sly expression on his face. He takes a backward step, awkward without his cane, and swallows hard.
"And... my life. Don't forget that part," he adds cautiously.
The vampire's grin widens as he slowly advances, and House knows he's far too fast for House to outrun.
"Oh, I'll do you one better'n that, Doc," the monster offers in a voice of silken death. "How's eternity sound?
Dark!House -- perspective
Seeing her from this perspective – intimate and familiar, as if he knows her better than he knows himself – he can’t help but finally see what Wilson saw, all those months ago. As time passes without rest, and he gradually becomes more used to her presence – and more distanced from reality – House begins to welcome her voice, her jokes, her existence in and out of his head.
She is amused by the same things as he is, thinks in the same unique way that he does, and accepts him as he is in a way that she never did when she was alive.
He can barely remember that now.
Isn’t that now?
A part of his mind knows he should beware of her.
After all, she tried to make him kill Chase.
Still, he can’t help but be seduced when she whispers sweet promises in his ear in the middle of the night, lying close beside him on his bed.
“All you have to do is this one thing… and we can all be together… the three of us… forever. He won’t miss me… won’t blame you… anymore… and we’ll all three be happy and at peace.”
House awakens in the morning with a fresh sense of purpose as he heads for the hospital, Amber as always at his side.
It’s amazing what a fresh perspective can do to a hopeless situation.
House/Wilson -- stereo system
“Okay. Where is it?”
“Where’s what?”
“Don’t screw around with me, Wilson. You know exactly what.”
“I’m not… House, what are you talking about?”
“Okay, fine. Whatever. I’ll give you back your DVD player. Just tell me where it is.”
“You have my DVD player? I was wondering what happened to it… Wait. Do you have my CDs, too?”
“Actually, yes – not that they do me any good without the stereo. So I give. Give it back.”
“You’re missing your stereo?”
“Duh, Wilson. What did you think I was talking about?”
“I… had no idea. I already told you that.”
“…Then… what the hell happened to my stereo system?”
“House… have you considered the fact that someone might have actually broken into your apartment and stolen it?”
“Well, yeah, but at the time I was assuming said someone was you…”
“Or, I don’t know… maybe someone you owed money to came by and took it, because you don’t pay your debts…”
“I do so pay my debts! The important ones, anyway…”
“Well, House, be careful! Maybe you should get out of there until you’re sure what happened. What if someone broke in and they’re still in the apartment?”
“… Shit.”
“Are you outside yet?”
“Yeah. I’d better hang up and call the cops, hang on…”
“Well, wait a second. Maybe there’s no need. Maybe… someone just decided to take it and hold it for ransom until you gave back all the stuff you’ve ‘borrowed’ over the last few months…”
“…”
“…”
“I hate you.”
House/Chase, recreation
House doesn’t really get a lot of recreation.
That works out well for Chase, who’s trying to balance his job, his relationship with Cameron, and the new demands of his not-boss on his time, now that Wilson’s out of the picture – and who knows how long that will last.
Chase hopes it doesn’t last very much longer.
The occasional bowling match… a night out at a bar once a week or so – it’s not really all that much to ask… for now.
Chase knows it won’t end there.
He and House aren’t really all that close yet.
Chase doesn’t think he wants to know what types of recreation House might expect from him if he ever gets as close to him as Wilson once was.
House/Wilson -- bourbon
It only happened once.
A single, accidental overstep -- completely the fault of the bourbon, and not at all due to any private desires Wilson might have had prior to that fateful night. House had thought about pushing him away – had actually intended to, thought that was what he was doing – until he realized all at once that he was actually returning the kiss. Of course, before it could go any farther, House stopped Wilson and got him settled on the sofa for the night.
He wasn’t even sure if Wilson remembered it the following morning.
At any rate, the next time they hung out at House’s apartment, he made sure that they had plenty of bourbon.
House/Cuddy -- coffee
He calls and tells her he’s coming over. She can barely make out the words in his alcohol-slurred voice. She tries to tell him to wait where he is, that she’ll pick him up rather than have him drive in this condition – but he’s already hung up.
The coffee’s ready by the time he gets there.
She answers the door, relieved that he’s okay, and helps him to the sofa. He makes a crack or two about whether or not she intends to take advantage of him, and she smiles and sits with him and hands him a steaming mug – which he doesn’t pay much attention to.
He falls asleep on her sofa with her fingers running gently through his hair.
House/Cuddy -- pain
She's there when he reaches his lowest point, during those long, lonely months when Wilson won't speak to him, won't even look at him. She knows that he needs someone. He tries to pretend that he doesn't need anyone; and yet left completely to his own devices, she knows he'd fall apart.
At first he won't talk to her, except to tell her to leave.
Then, he becomes comfortable with her presence, allows her to sit and watch TV with him -- but he still doesn't talk about Amber, or Wilson, or how lonely he's been since his entire life fell apart.
Finally one night, he's lonely and sad and drunk enough to talk to her -- and the things he says break her heart.
"He'll never forgive me. He hates me. He wants me to hurt like I... like I hurt her... He wishes... it was me... instead..."
"You didn't hurt her, House. It was an accident..."
"Maybe... maybe I should just give him what he wants... maybe I should just..."
"House... House, no..."
Cuddy is horrified by this train of thought. She instinctively reaches out to embrace him, and is surprised and relieved when he doesn't shove her away, but accepts her comfort.
"No... you didn't do anything wrong..."
She holds him until he falls asleep... and an hour or so later, she falls asleep as well, cradling him in her arms like a child.
Sometime during the middle of the night, she awakens to a feeling of bereft emptiness. She sits up, blinking sleepily in the unfamiliar room, and realizes that she's alone. Alarmed and suddenly wide awake, she makes her way through the apartment.
"House?" she calls out sleepily. "House? Where are you?"
The bathroom light is on, the door ajar.
Dread in her heart, she pushes the door open, biting her lower lip.
"House?" she whispers.
Her heart stops for a moment when she sees him, sitting in the empty bathtub -- surrounded by streams -- rivers -- of his own blood.
She forces herself to react, rushing to his side and grabbing the dull little pocketknife from his trembling hand, throwing it angrily behind her and taking his arm, examining it as she fights off panic.
She's relieved to the point of tears to see that the cuts aren't all that deep. He hasn't severed any major blood vessels. He looks up at her through tear-streaked eyes, his shoulders trembling with sobs.
"It hurts..."
"I know," she whispers as she wraps a clean towel around the wounded arm. "I know, House..."
"It hurts so much... why isn't it enough?"
She's confused, shakes her head slightly with a little frown.
"How much?" he begs, his eyes pleading for her to give him the answer he craves. "How much pain is enough? How much farther do I have to go until he'll forgive me?"
House/Wilson/Lucas -- busted
“What the hell is going on here?”
The two men on the bed scrambled apart, staring up with trapped, guilty expressions at the man standing in the doorway.
“This… isn’t what it…” the PI stammered, swallowing hard as he removed his hand from the other man’s bare chest. He grimaced as he relented and says, “Okay, it’s exactly what it looks like… but…”
“I hired you to watch him and see if he was lonely or not – not keep him from getting lonely!”
“I-I know, and I’m…”
“Wait a second!” Lucas turned anxious, guilty eyes toward the man on the bed beside him, who sat up and gave him an indignant look. “I hired you! What is he talking about?”
“Please, House,” Wilson spoke up from the doorway, freeing Lucas of the burden of explaining. “I made him in about five minutes, and I’ve been screwing with you ever since. Your PI’s a double agent.”
House stared at Wilson in shock for a moment – then grinned, clearly pleased with what Wilson had done. Wilson’s glare slowly, reluctantly faded into a matching smirk, as he took a few slow, measured steps closer to the bed.
“Um… maybe I’d better be going…” Lucas mumbled as he scrambled backward off the other side of the bed.
House never took his eyes from Wilson’s, as his friend approached him, a look in his eyes like a predatory jungle cat. His voice was soft, distracted.
“Yeah. You do that.”
Certain that his services were no longer required, Lucas quietly made his way to the door.
These two were going to be just fine without him.
House/Wilson/Cuddy -- oneupmanship
House is exhausted.
He spent last night with Cuddy. Rachel was with an overnight babysitter, and they had her home to themselves.
In all his fantasies, he’d never expected her to be such a wildcat. They did it on every available surface, and she pulled out a few tricks he’d never heard of – let alone imagined.
The night before that, he found himself seduced by Wilson.
Of course, “seduction” meant turning a movie night into a drunken sex-fest, apparently by accident.
In the sober light of morning, House had his doubts.
Cuddy had been responding to her knowledge of the night he’d spent with Wilson.
Wilson had been reacting to his knowledge of the planned date with Cuddy.
If the two of them didn’t stop competing, House wasn’t sure he’d survive another week.
House/Cameron/Chase, spying
He walked into the observation room in search of them – and he found them.
But not in the way he had expected.
Something – a shirt or something – was probably draped over the camera recording one of the rooms, but it’s slipped down now to only cover half of it.
And half is more than enough.
He watches with wide eyes, taking in the way their bodies move together, listens to the soft moans they make that gradually become deeper, more primal sounds – and all he wants is to be there with them. He leans forward across the desk, and suddenly realizes with alarm that he’s accidentally pressed the intercom button, transmitting his own slightly labored breathing through the speakers in the room.
Cameron and Chase go still for a moment, staring at the camera – and House holds his breath.
Finally, Cameron smiles directly into the camera, smirking as she beckons with a single hand.
“Well don’t just stand there staring, House. Why don’t you come join us?”
House/Cameron, giving in
Even after he’s rejected her advances, her feelings are still always there – maybe hidden in the background for the moment, maybe only revealed in an accidental glance when she thinks no one’s looking.
He’s tempted – but he resists.
He’d only crush her illusions.
Usually, he enjoys shattering illusions; but it’d hurt them both too badly when it all fell apart.
He’d rather leave her with her girlish hopes which will never come to pass.
The day comes when he finds himself utterly alone – but she’s still there. That warmth is still present in her wide, knowing eyes. She places a gentle hand on his shoulder, and before he can stop himself, he’s turned his face toward that hand, eyes closed – silently longing for the comfort she represents.
When she kneels in front of him and cautiously presses her lips to his, finally – House gives in.
House/Cuddy/baby drabble
House had a secret.
Most evenings he spent at Cuddy’s home, Rachel was already asleep; and they were usually uninterrupted. During the days, he had Cuddy to himself – relatively speaking – at work, as Rachel was with a babysitter. In fact, he rarely saw the child at all. As it turned out, she hadn’t really affected his relationship with Cuddy all that much – at least not in any negative sense.
What he didn’t tell Cuddy was that on the rare occasions when the baby would wake up in the middle of the night, while they were sitting on the couch together in the dark – he actually welcomed the sound.
Rachel was a part of Cuddy’s life now – and more and more, he found that he wanted her to be a part of his, as well.
BtVS, Spike/Willow, nails
She seems helpless – small and thin and pixie-ish in his strong hands – and yet, she wields a power over him that few ever have before.
She whimpers as his hands run over her body, then lets out a happy little hum as he draws her close, and her tiny hands run up and down his back. As the intensity of their union increases, however, so does her confidence, and her hands go from tentative and gentle to grasping and possessive.
He’s hers, as she is his – and her nails score his back with the deep red marks that prove it.
BtVS, Spike, new life
He thinks he should call her.
She’d want to know he’s here -- alive.
It’s only fair.
Somehow, he can’t bring himself to do it.
It’s not that he doesn’t still love her. He does.
It’s not that he doesn’t want to see her. Most days, she’s all he thinks about.
He’s just not sure that he can go back there – back to all the pain and confusion and mixed up emotions that come along with loving a Slayer. They were on their way when he died in the Hellmouth, but he’s not sure if they could ever get past all the bad history that lies between them.
He thinks he may be better off just starting over – starting a new life.
Spike/Joyce gen
It’s been a long time since anyone’s taken the time to mother him.
Dru loved him, once, though she’s gone now; but the last time he was nurtured like this, comforted and soothed and offered cocoa and cookies by a woman who sought only to do what she could to make him feel better – well, he can’t even remember it.
Or maybe he just doesn’t want to.
When he finds himself chipped and helpless two years later, terrified and confused and only barely spared death by the Scoobies to whom he’s come for help – he remembers the sweet, blonde woman who gave him cocoa with marshmallows and listened to his broken-hearted story so long ago.
She opens her door to him without hesitation, and before he knows it he’s telling her everything. She puts her arm around him as if to shield him from the dangers and uncertainties he’s facing – and for the first time in longer than he can remember… Spike feels safe again.
Spike/Tara
Nothing’s stable anymore.
He’d just about adjusted to life with the chip when he realized that it no longer works on Buffy. Then, suddenly, they were kissing… and kissing again… and then sleeping together… not that any actual sleeping was involved.
He thought it’d be what he’s longed for – but it isn’t.
It’s painful and violent and confusing, and he feels like he’s sinking, slowly being swallowed up in the wake of her pain and despair.
No one knows it, but he turns to another wounded heart – another broken, hurting person, watching in helpless agony as the one she loves winds slowly down into madness and addiction. One night, he pours it all out to her – and she tells him her own frightening story – and they hold each other on the Slayer’s sofa, while their loves are off sinking deeper into their own destructions.
The tears are cleansing… soothing… and they find a sort of refuge in this unexpected friendship.
Spike/Dawn, whore
He never thought he’d get this desperate.
The problem is – no one’s scared of him anymore.
Word has spread about the blond vampire who’s all bark and no bite, and he’s finding it harder and harder to get money for blood by scaring people out of their wallets and such. He doesn’t want to, but he finds that he has no choice.
Finally, he finds himself on his knees in a vampire brothel, sucking the wrist of some human more pathetic than himself… at least he tells himself that.
He looks up in surprise when he smells a familiar scent. His eyes go wide with shocked dismay, and he scrambles to his feet, shoving the tiny, glaring brunette against the wall. She glares at him in defiance.
“What are you doing here, bit? You’re too good for a place like this…”
“Yeah, well, so are you,” she snaps back, eyes flashing indignant fire. “What are you doing here, Spike? You’re not some kind of… some kind of…”
“Of what?” he cuts her off, his voice trembling with a mixture of defiance and shame. “Some kind of… of whore?”
Her anger fades, and she stares at him with concerned dismay. “Yeah,” she whispers. After a moment she adds, “You’re not.”
He swallows hard, looking away. He can’t face her, not knowing how low he’s sunk.
“Come on,” she murmurs. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll find another way.”
He nods, and follows her meekly out of the brothel, embarrassed that she found him – but secretly grateful.
Spike/Dawn, hunting
She hears the crack of a twig on the ground behind her, and hurries her pace. Her mouth is dry and her hands trembling, and she wonders why she's stayed out so late at all.
Of all people, you know better... stupid, stupid...
She screams as she feels a strong hand on her arm, spinning her around and pushing her up against the trunk of a nearby tree. A hand closes over her mouth, holding her still and silent, and she stares up through round blue eyes.
Spike is glaring down at her, fury in his gaze.
"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"
She pulls free of his hand over her mouth in irritation. "What are you doing? You scared me to death!"
"Yeah, well, something else might have... something else'd you to death!" he reminds her. "There's things out here in the dark... hunting... and they're hunting for just a little morsel like you, Bit."
She glares up at him, determined not to show fear -- but she can't suppress the shiver that shakes through her shoulders at his words. His eyes and his voice soften with sympathy at the reaction she can't hide, and he sighs, releasing her and taking a step back.
"Come on, bit," he says gently. "Let's get you home."
HIMYM, Ted + Barney, "never got to tell him"
“There’s been an accident…”
The words of the stranger on the phone faded into meaningless noise, as Ted stared into space, trying to process the words already spoken – the only words that mattered. He instinctively knew, though the woman on the phone couldn’t have known to tell him.
He was trying to get here… trying to get to me…
In that moment, nothing mattered more than their friendship – the friendship he had thrown away over a momentary lapse in judgment. Robin’s question echoed in his mind, and now, he couldn’t think of the answer.
Why had he refused to forgive Barney, when he and Robin were guilty of the same non-existent crime?
All he knew was that it didn’t matter anymore – none of it. Barney could sleep with anyone he wanted, do anything he wanted, if only Ted could have the chance to tell him how wrong he’d been.
But… he might die… and I’ll never get the chance to tell him…
His friends protested with concern as he rose from the bed without explaining what had happened and rushed from the room, knowing only that no matter what the cost, he had to get to his friend and make things right between them.
“There’s been an accident…”
The words of the stranger on the phone faded into meaningless noise, as Ted stared into space, trying to process the words already spoken – the only words that mattered. He instinctively knew, though the woman on the phone couldn’t have known to tell him.
He was trying to get here… trying to get to me…
In that moment, nothing mattered more than their friendship – the friendship he had thrown away over a momentary lapse in judgment. Robin’s question echoed in his mind, and now, he couldn’t think of the answer.
Why had he refused to forgive Barney, when he and Robin were guilty of the same non-existent crime?
All he knew was that it didn’t matter anymore – none of it. Barney could sleep with anyone he wanted, do anything he wanted, if only Ted could have the chance to tell him how wrong he’d been.
But… he might die… and I’ll never get the chance to tell him…
His friends protested with concern as he rose from the bed without explaining what had happened and rushed from the room, knowing only that no matter what the cost, he had to get to his friend and make things right between them.
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Date: 2009-04-29 09:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-29 03:24 pm (UTC)thanx, love, so glad you enjoyed :)
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Date: 2009-04-29 11:54 am (UTC)Stereo system - lol, Wilson totally owns House :)
Recreation, House wants to be your friend? Be afraid, be very afraid...
Coffee - very sweet, its nice to think he would have somewhere to run to when he needed to (though driving drunk - very bad)
Busted - yep that makes sense, Wilson having Lucas as his double agent (what happened to Lucas anyway, totally disappeared without a word)
Oneupmanship - Love it, totally the sort of games these three would indulge in, and poor House - a fate worse than death!
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Date: 2009-04-29 03:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-29 12:29 pm (UTC)Lovely work, sweetie.
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Date: 2009-04-29 03:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-29 01:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-29 03:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-29 01:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-29 03:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-29 03:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-29 03:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-29 04:21 pm (UTC)Layer 1: Sweet, gentle outer me. Most people assume I wouldn't hurt a fly. Awww, she's so sweet, blond, and cute... slender and gentle looking with one of those sweet high light voices. I sound ten years old, my voice never dropped.
Layer 2: My inner evil and rage at the world. I have grudges that I've held onto for over ten years. I am capable of beating up people and not really caring at the deeper levels of evil, but most of it is verbal backlash with extreme profanity. You don't not want to say, "Do you know how much you embarrassed me?" when I'm in this level, because I will snap back "Yes and I'm happy that you are. You utterly humiliated me earlier... you think that your tiny fucking embarrassment somehow trumps mine?"
Layer 3: Damaged Inner Me, same as the top, peppered with bits of the second layer.
It's like pie. But from hell.
no subject
Date: 2009-04-29 04:25 pm (UTC)Gabrielle
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Date: 2009-04-29 09:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-29 04:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-29 09:21 pm (UTC)glad you enjoyed the others though, especially the one with the stereo :)
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Date: 2009-04-29 07:23 pm (UTC)Spike/Tara - Very deep emotion here, you can really feel his pain in this.
Spike/Dawn (Whore) - Nice work here, poor Spike.
Spike/Dawn (Hunting) - I could really see this in my head, you have their relationship really down.
Spike (New Life) - Excellent POV hun!
Awesome work!
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Date: 2009-04-29 09:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-30 12:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-30 02:19 pm (UTC)