Title: not waving, but drowning


Chapter Two


Summary: When House asks Cameron why she likes him, in the S1 episode Role Model, she tells him the truth, and House learns there are worse things than being physically damaged. House/Cameron. Dark. I say again, DARK. Here be monsters.


Rating: this is so very NC-17. Seriously. Once I really get down to business, it's gonna be like NC-35. Read the warnings, try to keep an open mind, and don't flame me cuz I use flames to make s'mores. Just sayin'.


Spoilers: Oh, Christ, this bears no resemblance to canon. If you've seen Season One, and you know that House's dad was an asshole, you're good.


Disclaimer: Copyright infringement causes cancer. Or something else bad. Apocalypse. Aphids on your roses, IDK, because it's wrong and blah blah whatevs, fake like Laurie's American accent, never happened.


Story Warnings: *rubs hands together with malicious glee* Angst. Filthy-hot semi-public sex. Detox. Mentions of child abuse and underage rape. Grief. Revenge. Abuse of prescription meds and use of illegal drugs. Murder (not a canon character death). Emotionally unhealthy coping techniques. BDSM. Mental illness. Stacy (yes, I feel writers should warn for Stacy). Also, for anyone who has read Thistles or Awful Nice, this is not even in the same solar system as those stories. Once again. THIS IS NOT THE SEQUEL TO AWFUL NICE. If you're not comfortable with any of the above, get out! Get out while you still can! Then just be patient and keep an eye out for From Here To Paternity, which I promise will continue to be cotton candy and puppies. And unicorns.


Reviews: Are like yummy candy. But you should be warned that even though I answer ALL reviews eventually, it takes me a while. It is not outside the realm of possibility that you would get a response in your inbox to a comment you left three months ago.


Author's Notes: This is for the Anonymouse who commented on Chapter One today, wanting to know WHERE IS THE MOAR? I, coming out of my BigBang-daze, saw the comment and went O HAI THAR OTP! I completely forgot that I had posted the first chap and left you all hanging. So, here's some more fucked-up angsty fic. Happy day ending in Y, I guess.


P.S. I promise everything will be all right in the end. If it's not all right, it's not the end.


Previous Parts: ::One::




You're the one, you always will be. But I can't be with you.


"Well, we'll see about that," House muttered. He even shaved. He had Cameron, and this undefined sex-fuelled thing between them was still more than he'd expected; he always figured there wouldn't be another woman after Stacy. But that didn't mean he didn't want revenge. The bike was the first step-Stacy always got wet for a bike.


Most women did. When he parked outside her apartment, he hoped Cameron was one of them.


Even though it was midnight, when she answered her cell phone, she sounded wide-awake. "Hello?"


"Come outside."


"House?"


"Get dressed. Wear a leather jacket." He hung up. Good to know now if she'd put up with his demands, otherwise he was wasting his time.


She was downstairs in five minutes, wearing jeans and the same jacket she'd worn for their monster-trucks non-date. "A motorcycle?"


"Well, it's not a breadbox." He tossed her the a helmet. "Let's go."


She earned extra points when she donned the helmet and climbed on the back of his bike without saying anything else. Her hands slid up his thighs before she locked her arms around his waist, her legs snugged against his. He drove faster than usual just to feel her holding onto him. The bar was not the kind of place you took a nice girl, but she'd already proved she wasn't one of those.


"What's your poison?" the bartender wanted to know, after shooting House an admiring smirk for scoring a woman half his age.


"Whiskey sour."


It was a girly drink, but not as bad as wine, or the kind of frothy beverage that came with a parasol. He slid his free hand into the back pocket of her jeans and grinned at the barflies who were looking at her chest. She wants me, assholes.


"The table's free," Cameron observed, eyeing the pool table with interest. "Want to make it interesting?"


"Oh, well, maybe. I've never played before."


"Yeah, right. Shark."


He barked a laugh. "You break?"


"Twenty bucks a ball."


"Sure. I've been thinking about getting a new guitar."


He won by two balls, and used the forty to pay their bar tab. They were both drunk when the bartender called them a cab. "You two sleep it off. I'll park your bike inside when I lock up; you can come get it in the morning."


"Yeah, thanks Rick."


"I'd say have a good night..." He glanced at Cameron, who was nibbling on his ear. "But that looks like a sure thing. Lucky sonofabitch."


"Yeah, you said it." But really, he wasn't sure of that. Some days, he felt like he was in a downward spiral worthy of Britney Spears.





Wilson caught them on the balcony a week later. They still had all their clothes on, but House knew he was in for a lecture anyway.


"What the hell do you think you're doing, House?"


"Hey, you were the one who was all in favor of me getting a life. Would you rather I was moping over Stacy and Roller Boy?"


"Is this why you didn't care that Cuddy hired Stacy?"


"You're slow, but you do get there eventually."


"This isn't a good idea, House."


"That's never stopped me before."


"It should stop you this time. Cameron's in love with you. She's your second chance, Greg. Don't blow it."


"Blow me," House suggested, and stalked off.





"Greg."


"What do you want, Stacy?" House asked wearily, not looking up. He didn't need this, not on top of Wilson's lecture.


"I wanted to apologise."


"You're about five years too late."


"Not that. For coming back. I know this isn't easy for you."


"Do you really think you're that unforgettable?" he snarled. "Jesus. The whole damn hospital seems to have inherited your ego. Not that it's any of your business, but I'm actually seeing someone."


She gaped at him like a landed fish for a couple of seconds before she managed to say, "Oh. That's...good. That's good. Is she...nice?"


House smirked. "Not hardly. A nice person could never put up with me."


"Greg, I-I hope you're happy."


Since when? "Sure. You too." He gave her a moment. "Is that it?"


"Yes. That's it."


"Okay, then."


It made him suspicious. She was being too nice. If she didn't have a husband, he'd think she was trying to get back together with him. Well, what makes me assume she isn't? Marriage never stopped Wilson before. It was something to think about.





Somehow he'd known that Allison Cameron would be a giver. She never said no in the bedroom, and despite her statement that she didn't like having other people in her space, she made him coffee in the mornings when he used the key he'd had copied to spend the night. She never invited him over; he wondered if that was due to her need for privacy, or if she was afraid of scaring him off. Maybe some of both.


But she was a giver. She gave him control when they had sex-most of the time-and when he pinned her wrists to the mattress as he was fucking her, she gave a shuddering gasp and came. He tried to recover vocabulary in the haze of pleasure that was her warm wet pussy strangling his cock, and said, "Come again."


"I can't," she pleaded, her head tossing from side to side.


"But you will anyway because I said so," he declared, both demand and smug satisfaction in the words. He gripped her wrists tighter and thrust hard, ignoring the shriek of protest from his leg. "Come."


"House, I can't, I can't... Oh, God!" She sank her teeth into his shoulder and shuddered under him.


"Good girl," he muttered before climax whited out his vision.





"There's Stacy," Wilson observed when he saw her in line at the cafeteria.


House didn't turn, instead using Wilson's distraction as an opportunity to steal a handful of his fries. "Taking Roller-Boy out for a spin?"


"You really don't care?"


"In the sense that I want to get back together with her? No. In the sense that I want her to suffer horribly? Yeah, a little."


"The two are kind of mutually exclusive," Wilson pointed out.


"Only in your world. I'm into needless revenge."


"Well, it's good that you have a hobby," he drawled, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth.


"You mean other than fucking Cameron's brains out?"



From: [identity profile] sharp2799.livejournal.com


Hot. Very, very hot. And I love the idea of Stacy gaping like a stranded fish!

From: [identity profile] hughville.livejournal.com


I LOVE this! Just what I needed: a heaping helping of angst. Look forward to the next part.

From: [identity profile] xkiisstheraiin.livejournal.com


I've totally been sucked into this. Niceeeeeee.

& I'll second ANON and demand MOAAAAAAR :D

PLUS. Your P.S. is word for word my life motto, so extra win for you!! Yeaaaaah :)

So, um, yeah, WELL DONE.

From: [identity profile] ally-cam.livejournal.com


Hot, hot, hot! Just imagining Stacy's face when he tells her he's seeing someone, hilarious *lol*

From: [identity profile] coffee-mill.livejournal.com


OMFG. It's awesome.
And hot.
And awesomely hot.
And hotly awesome.
And I want moar.

From: [identity profile] onebrightmoment.livejournal.com


Yes! There's more!

Love that last line~ priceless. And I can just picture Wilson's reaction.

From: [identity profile] sans-grace.livejournal.com


This fic is made of win! I really hope you continue with it.

From: [identity profile] girlscout47.livejournal.com


Great story and hottt as hell! Hope you continue it :-D
.

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