Title: We Are Not A Love Story
Rating: (mild) R
Word Count: 3000 or so
Summary: Post-"Games". It wasn't a love story until she made it one.
Written for a contest on LJ (any-house-ship)
Not beta'd; all mistakes are mine.
Got stuck for a title so sue me.
I'm actually HAPPY with this story(!!), and if it seems a little over-dramatic then I'm sorry but I was far too emotionally involved writing this (I lost count of the number of times I had to stop writing so I wouldn't cry all over the computer). I really hope you folks enjoy it!
It was late Thursday evening when Amber Volakis showed up at your door.
You barely recognised her with slumped shoulders and a look of defeat, even her bright blonde hair had seemed to have lost its shine.She looked unusually awkward stood on your doorstep in the cold winter breeze. You watched with fascination as her fingers tapped an unknown rhythm on her palm distractedly, most likely trying to find the courage to speak.
She muttered a "hi" and you replied in turn with a rational level of confusion. She asked if she could come in, and you hadn't the heart to turn her down - not when she looked so broken. You fetched her a drink and turned off the television that you were previously watching before politely leading her to your well-worn couch. You suppressed the urge to ask why she was here, knowing it was no use pushing her in her fragile state. Instead, you settled for peeling the label off your beer bottle (a nervous habit of yours) while you waited for her to speak.
You waited a couple of minutes.
"You seem to be handling it well."
It took you a while to comprehend her statement, but when you realised the meaning behind her words you almost wished you had slammed the door in her face and never have had to see her again - she was going to hate you for this.
"Actually, I…" You paused, unsure of what to say. You gathered your courage and decided to bite the bullet, "He re-hired me."
She stared at you blankly for a minute before her eyes flickered down to her hands and fixated on the beer she found there, "Oh."
"Cuddy insisted on having a woman on the team." You explained.
She stayed quiet, her eyes glued to her hands. Her blonde hair cascaded over her face acting as a screen between you and her silent pain and you were selfishly grateful that you couldn't see the anguish you had caused. Her head stayed bowed in defeat as yet more silence passed; she knew she had lost, and you couldn't think of anything you could say that would make it better…could anything make it better?
"So, you're not going to shout, throw things at me or say that House was stupid for hiring me?" You joked daringly, uncertain of how she was taking the news.
"House isn't stupid." She asserted with conviction. For the first time since you let her into your house, her eyes boldly looked up into yours, "You're a good doctor." She admitted with a whisper.
"Was that a compliment?" You smirked with disbelief.
She started to laugh, and buried her head in her hands in a flurry of emotion as tears started to leak through the gaps between her fingers. Her hands swiped away the escaped tears but it was no use as more soon joined the stream that trickled down her once proud face. Cutthroat Bitch was crying. You shook your head in an attempt to clear the shock and slowly moved closer towards her on the couch, carefully removing the beer from her hand and placing it on the table in front of you. Her head fell to your shoulder within seconds and you could feel her tears soaking through your shirt as you awkwardly placed an arm around her.
"Hey, it's okay." You whispered, unsure of what else to say as you comforted her.
"I wanted that job so much." She sighed, "None of you idiots are going to have the guts to go against House; he's going to be wrong one day, and you'll all follow his fucked up judgement without question instead of doing what has to be done."
"…And the bitch is back." You joked, removing your arm from around her and reaching for your beer.
"Shut up." She joked back as she stole the drink from you and took a sip. Her tears had dried but her irritated eyes and defeated appearance lingered as she drank the alcohol. "Seriously, don't you dare take his bullshit. He needs someone to stand up to him."
"I'll try." You said.
And you did. You fell into his traps at first but you soon learnt to question - to stand up to him - and that made you feel strangely proud. A couple of months passed without seeing Amber; you heard through the grapevine she was dating Wilson but you tried not to think about it too much. You found it rather ironic that you only realised you liked Amber when she left your house that evening and you closed the door on the whole thing. You had finished your drinks that night and had talked for a while longer…it was nice. But it was only when you went to bed that evening that the feel of her in your arms came back to you and all the 'what if?'s began; you chased the dreams and the fantasies out of your mind knowing it would never happen. Yet still you thought of her.
Your next meeting mirrored the last; four months had passed but her timing was identical as she knocked on your door once more. You could have sworn you had opened the door to the past when you saw her standing there with exactly the same expression as before.
"What's wrong?" You asked immediately as you let her in and closed the door behind her. You resisted the urge to pull her into your arms as she walked past you and ran her fingers through her hair in frustration.
She paced your main room nervously, almost like she was weighing up a difficult decision in her mind. She stopped suddenly and turned to study you inquisitively, her eyes reflecting a frenzy of thoughts and anxiety.
You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable with her staring. "What happened?" You tried again as you stepped slowly towards her and placed a reassuring hand on her arm. Her breath hitched slightly at the touch but her gaze never left yours.
"James left." She said.
And then she kissed you.
The intensity, passion and confidence that she had the moment her lips touched yours stunned you but you had little time to contemplate that fact before your thoughts disappeared completely. You felt your heart rate quicken as you kissed her back with equal fervour, the gentle flutter of butterflies in your stomach a welcome surprise, as was the delightful feel of her tongue against yours. Your hands blindly found their way to her waist and pulled her closer. Four months spent dreaming of this moment and you were desperate to make the most of it; you knew she was going to pull away any minute now, say it was a mistake, and walk out the door. You pulled her closer and kissed her even deeper, your lips desperately trying to hold on to this beautiful dream.
She broke the kiss.
You couldn't look at her.
You held back a sigh and broke the embrace as she took a step back, staring down at the old wooden floor so you wouldn't have to see her leave.
"Look at me." She said.
You didn't want to. But there was something in her tone that made you find the strength to look into her eyes. A tear fell and you watched as it traced its way down her cheek with an unusual elegance.
"I only cry when I'm with you." She whispered timidly, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.
You were speechless.
"I just…you…you make me feel…" She struggled to find the words and you tried not to smile at how endearing her awkwardness was.
"I know." You smiled then, and kissed her softly, holding back tears of your own.
Amber had just broken up with Wilson (she never did tell you why) and you felt a little guilty for being with her so soon, yet somehow she talked you into letting her stay the night. The logical part of your brain tried to convince you that she was using you again; that perhaps this was some twisted way of getting back at House, but when you remembered the look in her eyes after that first kiss all those thoughts simply vanished. That first night was amazing; she was more experienced than you had given her credit for in your numerous fantasies and you soon realised her competitiveness really wasn't a bad thing in the bedroom. You must have made love for hours but what made your heart flutter was the way she wordlessly held you afterwards. You found a coffee on your bedside table the next morning and somehow knew she would never stop surprising you. You liked that.
You kept your relationship a secret but neither discussed why. You rarely went out and instead rented movies and ate take-out. You never talked that much either and if you did then it was often about work. And Amber…well, she was a cutthroat bitch most of the time. But sometimes you would just lie in bed together on a weekend morning, the occasional kiss or caress between you and it was then when you realised there was so much more to her. She acted like a bitch because she had to; being a female doctor in a male dominated environment was hard, and she knew that acting the way she did meant she was more likely to be noticed. Sometimes you thought you were the only one who could see through the façade that she tried so hard to maintain.
Three weeks after your first kiss, you found yourselves in the middle of a make out session on her couch. You had attempted to watch a movie but only got halfway through before her hands had started to wander and you were hardly going to complain. You hooked your leg around her waist to pull her closer and left a trail of kisses down her neck, delighting in the little sighs that escaped her as you made your assault. Her hands had already found your top and were tugging it with impatience as she changed positions so she was straddling you, her crotch dangerously close to yours. You smiled at her devious expression that returned the moment she regained control and let your hands rest on her hips as she leant down to kiss you with vigour. You moaned when she rubbed against you and somehow you found the strength to pull away, letting your forehead rest against hers as you caught your breath.
"As much as I would love to continue this, I think food would be a good idea before we hit our third round since lunch." You giggled.
She smirked, "Wuss."
You delivered a playful slap to her arm before disentangling yourself and heading towards her kitchen. You were rummaging in the fridge looking for anything marginally edible when you heard her come up behind you. Her fingers casually brushed through your hair as she passed you to sit on one of the kitchen cabinets. You were grateful your head was hidden in the fridge so she couldn't see the goofy smile that threatened to show thanks to the simple but loving gesture.
"I hear House is hiring again." She said casually.
"Yeah, Kutner screwed up pretty bad. House spent weeks trying to fire him but Cuddy intervened…" You paused and took your head out of the fridge long enough to look at her, "How the hell do you know about that anyway?" You asked suspiciously, trying desperately not to let the distrustful thoughts you used to have about her return.
"Oh, you know, just gossip." She smiled in response.
"Huh." You said with scepticism, closing the fridge. "Who from?"
"What?" She asked innocently.
"Who did you hear that from?" You asked, this time a little firmer.
"Does it matter?" She defended, her voice beginning to match your tone as she jumped down from the cabinet to face you.
"Yes, it matters." You answered back, "Who?" You asked for the final time, your voice laced with frustration at her inability to answer your simple question. You stared her down, daring her to answer, and her bright eyes stared right back.
Her silence was all that you needed to hear.
You closed your eyes and swallowed your tears; you knew exactly why she couldn't answer.
"Ok." You whispered dejectedly to yourself, turning away from her and leaving the kitchen.
"Remy…" She persisted, following you as you collected your belongings.
You ignored her, all your energy focused on keeping your tears in and your heartache at bay.
"I'm sorry. Just tell me what's wrong…please?" She begged, grabbing your arm to stop you from leaving.
You sighed and turned to look at dilute eyes, seeing her feigned tears was like a stab to the heart but you owed her an explanation all the same.
"Three weeks." You said with disdain, "Three weeks since you dumped Wilson. Three weeks since you turned up on my doorstep. And three fucking weeks House has been thinking about hiring someone new. I thought you'd changed, I actually thought…" A single tear escaped, "I'm not stupid, Amber. You still want that job and you're willing to screw anyone that might help you get it."
You wrenched yourself from her grip, unable to say any more to her. You shook your head in disbelief and rage as you left her flat, slamming the door behind you.
You ran to your car and turned on the ignition with shaking hands, driving away from her house with a controlled rage that only lasted two minutes before the tears started to fall. Unable to see the road in front of you with blurry eyes, you pulled over, immediately slamming your head against the wheel in frustration. You heard the car horn vibrate through the air as a result of your action but it went unnoticed in the backstreets of New Jersey as you let your façade finally fall.
You had sat there for almost an hour. The hot angry tears fell uncontrolled down onto your steering wheel and through your clothes as the montage of emotions battled your body - rage, betrayal, hurt, heartbreak, confusion, and the one that hurt most of all…love.
You must've got your theory pretty damn accurate because she hadn't even attempted to argue or explain. She just stood there and looked at you.
You can't help but wonder if that was why Wilson had left her. Did she break his heart too? Did she use him to get to House? Hundreds of questions without answers span round your head as you distractedly drove back to your house that Sunday evening. You had fallen for her plan - hook, line and sinker. She was the person who taught you not to fall into traps so easily, to question people, to not take people's bullshit…and then she bullshitted you. Had you been in a better mood, you may have found some irony in that.
Three days of silence went by before she called you. You took this as a bad sign; if you were wrong about her then she would have been at your door within seconds saying how stupid you were, however, if she never called you then you would know that you were right and she had moved on to screw someone else. So what the hell did three days mean? You exercised your right as the ex-girlfriend and ignored her call. And her next one. And the one after that.
Friday evening she turned up at the hospital. That you didn't expect. You were working late, catching up on the paperwork from your latest patient when she strode into the diagnostics department and sat opposite you.
"If you're looking for House, he's gone home. Leave your résumé on the desk and I'll make sure he gets it." You said bitterly, finishing off the chart and pushing it to the side with a sigh.
She cringed, "I'm not here for that."
"No? Here to find someone else in our office that you can screw?" You threw back at her, collecting the files and dumping them on the corner desk. "Or maybe you could just cut out the middleman and sleep with House himself."
You heard her choke back a sob, but you kept your back to her, knowing that looking at her would make hating her so much harder. "Stop. Please just stop." She begged.
You glanced up at her reflection in the window; she was crying again and you were torn between rolling your eyes and running to comfort her.
"I know I screwed up."
"No shit." You interrupted harshly, turning to look at her for the first time since she entered the room.
She glared back with glassy eyes and sighed, "You were right, okay? That was my plan; I was gonna screw you and then use that to bribe you into getting me the job. Yeah, that's bitchy but that's who I am…who I was. House is right, I can't deal with being wrong - with losing - and as soon as I heard Kutner was being fired, it was like I had a second chance." She paused, taking a careful step towards you, "I'm sorry I hurt you, really I am. And I know you think everything was all part of the plan; but it wasn't." She came even closer to you, her honesty having paralysed you to the ground. Cautiously she raised her hand and as lightly as possible traced your cheek with her fingers, your eyes fluttering close as they brushed against your lips. "Remy, I had to see you to tell you that…the plan went wrong, but it was the best kind of wrong I've ever known."
Her smile was bittersweet as she touched her lips to yours, "I'm in love with you." She whispered.
And then she was gone.
That's all for now folks, although there's a possibility of a sequel in the future...maybe.
Comments and concrit are fantastic, thanks for reading!