Spoilers: Er. Whatever the episode that was on tonight was. April 12, 2005.
teardrops on the fire
by ALC Punk!
I played the fool today -- Greenwheel 'Breathe'
She's standing there, and she's not saying anything. She thinks she should say something, anything. But a spiteful part of her knows this is his turn.
And he's not taking it. He's turned away, almost shying away. (how many ways can he say he doesn't want you, Allison?) And it occurs to her that this is what he fears the most. Someone getting under his skin. Someone close enough to get him. To peel back the layers and notice the cranky man with a drug problem cowering in a corner.
It makes her feel powerful.
She doesn't want this kind of power. Not over him, not over anyone.
He's still standing there, and she's dropped her hand.
Allison Cameron knows that the inevitable is that she will turn and walk out his door. Turn and there will be a new page in her life, one that twists away (mixed metaphors) from this one.
She doesn't care that she's the one that said it. That she's now the one taking the most painful step of all (past admitting, past meeting halfway). Her steps are careful, deliberate. If he wants out he's going to have to run.
And Gregory House is probably too much of a coward to run.
He knows all he has to do is say something. Anything. Just a simple insult, or even, "Please leave."
She's giving him every out he could possibly ever want.
He doesn't even watch her approach, and almost looks surprised as she reaches up and takes his cheeks. Allison considers shaking him, but decides there's something else she'd much rather do.
"Tell me to go," her lips are inches from his.
Neither of them breathes for a moment, and then she's kissing him.
Allison, she thinks to herself, you're not supposed to be kissing your boss. Except he isn't her boss anymore. And she doesn't care, suddenly, about all of the things she's supposed to be doing.
Because his hand came up to catch hers.
"Shut up," she manages, before kissing him again.
Allison pulls back, and looks at him, one hand behind his neck, the other tangled with his. "If you don't want this, you're going to have to tell me."
"But if you do want this--"
It's all she needs, she decides as she kisses him again. She doesn't need sappy sentiments. Love, hate, liking... He doesn't have to like her to give her a piece of his soul.
Maybe later she'll regret it. Right now, though, she's wondering how his stamina holds up.