HOUSE fiction - the germans wore grey, you wore blue
the germans wore grey, you wore blue
pg-13
house/cameron
notes takes place post-cameron exit. house discovers he and allison cameron have one very important (and wonderful) thing in common - Bogie.
thanks to mary (stillxmyxheart) for the guidance, hand-holding, and all around inspiration.
It's been three years since he last saw her. There are phone calls, of course. Some drunken, some not. But he hasn't seen her since she left. She lives in New York now, and for some reason they seem to speak more than they did back when she worked for him. Things have changed. He pretends she's someone else a lot of the time. Like this is all some kind of weird limbo he's lost in before he reaches his final destination, whatever than may be.
It takes three years, but he finally sees her again. He is in New York for no good reason except to see an old movie at a revival theatre. Some days he thinks he's Humphrey Bogart. So he sees Bogie movies that play at the Cinema Classics Theatre in the Village, usually once a month. It's his secret thing, and he likes that it's his secret. No one knows about it, not even Wilson. Some nights he's tempted to arrive in a trench coat and fedora. He doesn't, of course. But he thinks about it.
That's what makes seeing her such a big surprise. This is his thing. She's not supposed to be a Bogie fan, she's not cool enough. She's probably a Shirley Temple fan, or someone else equally sickening in their goodness. But she's here buying popcorn and a soda. She must be here for something else. He stands and watches her as she pays for her treats, and as she turns around she sees him. And nearly drops her popcorn.
Hellos are exchanged, and for a second there is the awkward silence. He breaks it. "What are you here for? Is there an Andy Hardy double feature I don't know about?"
"Andy Hardy?" She has to think for a moment. Her brain is still stuck on seeing him for the first time in three years. After a few seconds of mental catch-up she smiles and shakes her head. "No. It's 'Treasure of the Sierra Madre' night. I couldn't miss seeing Fred C. Dobbs on the big screen."
It seems like he doesn't say anything for about ten minutes, but it's probably just ten seconds. What the hell is she doing? She doesn't know who Fred C. Dobbs is. She may know who Rick Blaine is but not Fred fucking Dobbs. She is screwing everything up, being here and looking lovely and being excited about his movie. She just cannot be here.
So it comes as a great surprise to him as the words "Let's go, then," pass his lips and he finds himself sitting next to her, eating her popcorn.
The film starts a few minutes later, and when she points to the screen and says "There's Ann Sheridan," he is agog. He can only counter with "There's Robert Blake," but he's pretty sure she doesn't hear him because he doesn't get any response.
The movie sucks him in and he forgets she's there until Fred meets his unfortunate end and she squirms when his head is chopped off. 'They're not even showing it', he thinks to himself. He can't help but lean over and whisper in her ear - "You're such a girl". He won't know, of course, that the warmth of his breath against her skin makes her heart dip into her stomach.
They say their goodbyes under the marquee outside and she walks in the opposite direction as he hails a cab. He wonders if she lives in the East Village, but doesn't say anything. But he thinks about it. And her. He thinks about her on his way to the train station. And at the train station. And maybe even a little on the train. He thinks about how she's still got her blonde hair and how very femme fatale she looks with it. He thinks about how her face hasn't seemed to have aged a bit, and that she still looks like that timid little girl who sat in his office interviewing for a job over ten years ago. He thinks about how she's not a girl though, about how very much a strong woman she must be to still be smiling at him after all this time. Strong or delusional.
But by the time he gets home he's already downed more than enough scotch so he kind of forgets about most of the night. He remembers some of it, which he locks away in the more secret parts of his brain. He really won't think much about this night until he reads that 'The African Queen' is playing. In the furthest recesses of his mind he hopes she'll be there.
+++++++++++++++
He waits around the front lobby for about five minutes before the show starts. He's pretending to make a phone call. His heart skips a beat when she walks in (he tells himself it's because of the scotch he had before got here). She doesn't notice him and goes to the concessions counter to get another small bag of popcorn (must be a movie ritual, he thinks). He takes it upon himself to sidle up next to her and say aloud, "Pinch me, Rosie."
She almost chokes on her popcorn, but she's laughing. She says hello with a smile and he answers with a gesture towards the theatre doors. She silently leads the way and he follows with a smirk on his face.
The part of himself that likes to ruin everything good in his life whispers to him that she's probably just here for Katherine Hepburn. The rest of him hopes it isn't true.
They don't speak during the show, except for a "hey!" coming from him as she takes the popcorn bag away from him, and an "eww" coming from her during the leeches scene.
She doesn't say a word until they're outside. "I really like seeing Bogie in colour."
"Too bad he only made a few of them."
"He kind of missed it, didn't he?"
He doesn't say anything. She seems to know as much about Bogie as he does. And he kind of doesn't like it, because Bogie is his thing. But he's kind of turned on that she's in on the secret. This is apparently enough for him to ask her if she wants a drink before he even knows the words are coming out of his mouth. She nods with a smile and they sit in the bar down the street for the next hour. She only drinks water, and he tries to keep his scotch intake to a minimum. Their conversation is sporadic; there are a lot of moments of silence, but they're good silences. Comfortable. Their main topic of conversation is how John Huston managed to pull off making 'The African Queen' in The Belgian Congo while spending most of the time drunk.
He hopes that maybe all they will ever talk about is old movies. Bogie and Hepburn and Bacall and the Breen Office. He doesn't want to talk about real life. He doesn't want to talk about the past or present. Their phone calls involved no work talk, and she only got personal once, when she told him her divorce had been finalised. And he knows she doesn't speak to anyone from the hospital. He hopes that she's moved on because he knows she's so much better than that place. She was always too good for it. And even though he hated to see her go, he was glad she was getting out. He hasn't told her this, though. He kind of hopes she's psychic and will just figure it out.
He walks her to Perry Street and they part from there. It's not like he'd be able to walk her home even if he wanted to, so he figures just walking her to the general area is polite enough. His back is turned when he hears her call to him. "'In A Lonely Place' plays next month." She grins at him and walks away, not waiting for a response. She knows how it works. He smiles to himself in the cab on the way to the train station.
+++++++++++++++
This time he doesn't make a show of pretending not to wait for her. She doesn't make him wait too long. "This time buy your own popcorn," she says. He grins and counters, "Or you can just buy one of the jumbo buckets and we'll be fine."
"But you don't know how to share." She raises her eyebrow, but goes to buy a jumbo popcorn bucket and two drinks. He watches her, wondering when she became such a gem at playing his games.
They sit in companionable silence for most of the film, except when she offhandedly mentions that sometimes he reminds her of Bogart's Dixon Steele character. He doesn't know what to think of that, because he's pretty sure that he's never tried to kill any of his (nonexistent) fiances. But she probably has a point. He drinks as much as Dix, and is as bitter as Dix. He seems to be always full of the same kind of pent-up anger and paranoia. He wants to ask her what that makes her but he doesn't. He knows that will just open a can of worms that no one really wants to deal with.
When it's over she mentions that he's eaten almost all of the popcorn. He just shrugs his shoulders and she shakes her head. They walk outside together and find themselves at the deli across the street from her apartment building. He wonders who decided on a deli but she swears by their Reuben sandwiches so he gives it a try. It's no Zabar's but it's good enough.
It's when he finds himself in front of her apartment door that he starts getting worried. Is she going to want a kiss goodnight or something? Going to invite him in for coffee? Is he going to ask to use her restroom and then snoop around her medicine cabinet?
She saves him any more worry when she hugs him quickly and says "I had fun," before opening her door. She almost closes it on him before saying, "Goodbye, House." She's probably just as nervous as he is, and he's glad she got it over with quickly before he said (or did) something stupid.
He stands in front of her front door for about a minute before knocking on it. When she answers it he notices she's barefoot. And for some reason he likes it. She has a deep red wine colour on her toenails and it stands out against her porcelain skin.
"'Casablanca'," he blurts out.
"What?"
"Would you like to watch 'Casablanca'? With me?"
"Are they playing that next month? I thought it was going to be that tacky Western he was in with James Cagney."
"No, I mean at my place."
She doesn't say anything right away. He doesn't like that she clearly has to think about it. He would much rather if she was far too eager and excited to spend time alone with him in his home.
"I made a promise to myself that I would never set foot in Jersey ever again if I could help it," she says finally.
He tries not to laugh. Not because what she said was funny (it really wasn't) but because it's probably a great idea. If only he could make that promise to himself.
"Fine. How about here?"
"You want to watch 'Casablanca', alone in my apartment, with me? You realise you'll be without your buffer zone?"
"I think I can handle it. Come on, Cameron. It's 'Casablanca'. It's the best bad movie ever made. I'll even let you say all the famous lines along with it."
He can tell that she's trying not to frown at all of this. It seems like her first instinct about anything is to frown.
"Fine. But I'm not cooking for you or anything like that."
"I'll be here next Saturday, then."
+++++++++++++++
He swears he's not nervous. He hasn't been nervous all week, in fact. He hasn't been worried that somehow, she's going to remember what a jerk he is and won't let him inside her home. And he's not worried about the fact that he's suddenly so nervous about all of this. It's just Cameron. Little girl Cameron, the lost young doctor full of wide-eyed optimism and love for all of mankind. She was supposed to have been in love with him, after all. But when did he start to care what she thought? Or how she felt?
The whole mess with Cameron had never actually been about her, he knew that very well. (Maybe a little about her, she was an expert at annoying him.). But it was almost all him. His issues with women, and his issues with control. He bullied her and ignored her advances because he wanted to be the one in control. And he knew that if he even for a second thought about being with her, he'd be putty in her hands and of absolutely no use to anyone. He liked his life the way it was. (Which wasn't true at all, he hated his life. But he was too old to change.)
And for some reason things were different now. She wasn't her, and he wasn't him. They were just two film fans who enjoyed a good Bogie movie, and enjoyed a good story about power-mad studio heads and the actors that got under their skin. And he loves all of this. He loves pretending to be someone else. But for some reason this new person is slowly falling for this new woman, and he doesn't like it.
But it's not like he can pass up a screening of 'Casablanca'. Even he will admit (not to many, though) that he's a softie for this one. And the possibility that he can needle Cameron into cooking something just cannot be ignored.
+++++++++++++++
She opens the door with what seems to be a genuine smile, and seeing it kind of calms his nerves. He tries to smile back but he knows it comes out half-heartedly and lopsided. She doesn't seem to care.
She isn't wearing shoes again. And again he loves it. He loves that she doesn't bother to make everything perfect like she used to (like she did for that godforsaken date of theirs). As he steps in he surveys her apartment and it's all very 'her'. Green walls and bookshelves and warm lighting and total tidiness. He smells popcorn wafting through the air and asks her what she's making him for dinner.
"You may have free range of the fridge but cooking is off limits."
They eventually settle in with their snacks and drinks (he came armed with a bottle of scotch and she's drinking her's heavily diluted with cola). They're sitting with an appropriate but not too obvious distance between them, she in an armchair and he on the couch.
They enjoy the movie like they've enjoyed all of them - companionable silence. He steals a few furtive glances in her direction, and during the Marseillaise scene he can see her eyes shimmering with tears. She doesn't cry, really, but she's definitely weepy. He doesn't say anything about it because the people on the screen singing the French anthem give him goosebumps, so he kind of understands how she feels. He won't bring it up until years later, and by then she'll have forgotten. But he won't.
They both say the famous lines along with Bogie. In all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into mine. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life.
He notices how much she enjoys saying these lines, and he notices how much he enjoys watching her enjoyment. He notices how much he enjoys her, period. It's scary and dangerous but he likes it. He won't say anything, of course, god no. But as long as they can keep up this 'enjoying movies together thing', he'll be satisfied.
By the time the movie is over, he's not sure if he should just leave or not, but she only gets up to get another drink and makes no motion towards the front door. It's when she sits down on the couch next to him that he starts to get nervous again. Is he supposed to like, maul her now? Paw at her for a bit before she kicks him out and tells him she never wants to see him again? Or worse, be totally into it?
He really has no idea what to do so he just does what he thinks is best - talk Bogie. And they eventually delve into a conversation about the origins of the scar on his upper lip and whether he ever slept with Bette Davis during all those movies they made together. They talk long into the night and have what is probably the best conversation they've ever had together (he silently thanks Bogie for this).
He hopes for no awkward goodbyes. He hopes for more meetings like this one.
She hugs him goodbye, and he thinks that she holds on much longer than she did that other night. He mutters that he hopes to see her again soon, and she agrees and makes a quip about not wanting to see any Bogie movies with George Raft (and she feigns a look of disgust and he can't help but laugh and nod his head). They say goodbye without setting any new meetings (because he can't and won't call them dates) but he's confident. She is too.
It's been three weeks since 'Casablanca'. He had a big case to finish off and she had an article to write. But he calls her soon after the case is closed and suggests 'To Have And Have Not'. After she agrees and he hangs up the phone, he curses himself for picking what is one of Bogart's sexiest movies with some of the sexiest scenes in Golden-Age History. The lump in his throat feels like a forewarning to the massive potential awkwardness for the night ahead. But he doesn't cancel. It's Lauren Bacall, afterall. And it's Cameron.
+++++++++++++++
When she answers the door this time he says, "Here's looking at you kid," and she giggles like a little girl. It kind of drives him wild but he just gives her a crooked grin and walks inside.
This time there is dinner. She didn't cook or anything; it's take-away Chinese, but he's satisfied (and quite hungry). He almost asks how her day was but realises it would be too out of his comfort zone. Although a little part of him actually wants to know.
They sit together eating on her couch, drinking beer and watching the movie that was the beginning of the one of the most famous Hollywood love stories of all time. That fact (and the ease with which this new relationship seems to be flowing) is making him slightly nervous. But they get through the movie (and all the Chinese food and most of the beer) unscathed. He's actually enjoying himself. It's all very weird.
She's cleaning up the dishes in the kitchen with his help (he actually put the plates in the sink - without prompting) when it happens. She's talking about the movie and drying a plate when she says, "You know how to whistle, don't you Steve? You just put your lips together and - blow." And he kisses her. He doesn't plan on it but he can't help himself. It's quick and a little dry and there's no tongue involved but it's still a kiss, and still a big deal. He would have whistled too but he has some self-control.
He pulls away and is kind of frozen with fear. This really just happened. It probably wasn't supposed to happen but it did. And it was kind of nice. Neither of them says anything for what seems like hours.
He's very surprised to find her arms around his waist, looking up at him with clear and open eyes. "You're a Real Joe, you know that?" she says. She kisses him this time, and he cups his hands over her jaw and it's electric. He's loving it and blaming Bogie for everything (and simultaneously thanking him, too).
They don't push it too far. He's far too scared to break this fragile thing they've created, and she's only too happy to take it slow (she's been hurt too, he's well aware). They spend the rest of the evening on her couch, their arms around each other, watching the old movie channel.
He kisses her quickly as he leaves. "Play it, Sam," she says, and he kisses her again. "We'll always have Paris," he counters with a sly smile.
He's back again the next day.
+++++++++++++++
It's been almost a year to the day since he'd first kissed her. A part of him hates himself for remembering the date, but he reasons it just sort of happened, like remembering the day JFK was killed, or some other useless factoid. He remembers, but he won't say anything to her. Because for the past year, it's just been her. Despite the sometimes grueling commute, they've somehow kept all of this up.
It hasn't just been about Bogart and Old Hollywood and the way it seemed that people back then seemed to have a lot more class than they do now. He knew it was inevitable, talking about 'real life'. But it happened, and they've survived. She's actually gone back to Jersey to spend the night at his place (where he always plays 'As Time Goes By' for her on the piano - she always sings along). Wilson knows about it, but he's pretty sure no one else does. To be truthful to himself, he knows that she's too precious to spoil by talking about it with a bunch of people. Talking to her works fine enough.
And they still talk Bogie.
One evening, after a viewing of 'The Maltese Falcon', she surprises him by kissing him out of the blue.
"What was that for?" he asksed with an impish grin.
"Nothing. Just the stuff that dreams are made of." She laughs a little, and so does she.
He kisses her back quickly before responding. "You're too much sometimes, you know that?"
She smiles and he thinks he sees a hint of blush. "Yeah, I know. But you like it that way."
He gets it, and she gets it, and that's how it works.
=============================
Potentially Helpful Notes
+ A Mostly Accurate Humphrey Bogart Biography
+ Bogie Films Mentioned In This Story - The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, The African Queen, In A Lonely Place, Casablanca, To Have And Have Not, The Maltese Falcon (and that crummy western with Jimmy Cagney)
+ "Baby's a Real Joe"
pg-13
house/cameron
notes takes place post-cameron exit. house discovers he and allison cameron have one very important (and wonderful) thing in common - Bogie.
thanks to mary (stillxmyxheart) for the guidance, hand-holding, and all around inspiration.
It's been three years since he last saw her. There are phone calls, of course. Some drunken, some not. But he hasn't seen her since she left. She lives in New York now, and for some reason they seem to speak more than they did back when she worked for him. Things have changed. He pretends she's someone else a lot of the time. Like this is all some kind of weird limbo he's lost in before he reaches his final destination, whatever than may be.
It takes three years, but he finally sees her again. He is in New York for no good reason except to see an old movie at a revival theatre. Some days he thinks he's Humphrey Bogart. So he sees Bogie movies that play at the Cinema Classics Theatre in the Village, usually once a month. It's his secret thing, and he likes that it's his secret. No one knows about it, not even Wilson. Some nights he's tempted to arrive in a trench coat and fedora. He doesn't, of course. But he thinks about it.
That's what makes seeing her such a big surprise. This is his thing. She's not supposed to be a Bogie fan, she's not cool enough. She's probably a Shirley Temple fan, or someone else equally sickening in their goodness. But she's here buying popcorn and a soda. She must be here for something else. He stands and watches her as she pays for her treats, and as she turns around she sees him. And nearly drops her popcorn.
Hellos are exchanged, and for a second there is the awkward silence. He breaks it. "What are you here for? Is there an Andy Hardy double feature I don't know about?"
"Andy Hardy?" She has to think for a moment. Her brain is still stuck on seeing him for the first time in three years. After a few seconds of mental catch-up she smiles and shakes her head. "No. It's 'Treasure of the Sierra Madre' night. I couldn't miss seeing Fred C. Dobbs on the big screen."
It seems like he doesn't say anything for about ten minutes, but it's probably just ten seconds. What the hell is she doing? She doesn't know who Fred C. Dobbs is. She may know who Rick Blaine is but not Fred fucking Dobbs. She is screwing everything up, being here and looking lovely and being excited about his movie. She just cannot be here.
So it comes as a great surprise to him as the words "Let's go, then," pass his lips and he finds himself sitting next to her, eating her popcorn.
The film starts a few minutes later, and when she points to the screen and says "There's Ann Sheridan," he is agog. He can only counter with "There's Robert Blake," but he's pretty sure she doesn't hear him because he doesn't get any response.
The movie sucks him in and he forgets she's there until Fred meets his unfortunate end and she squirms when his head is chopped off. 'They're not even showing it', he thinks to himself. He can't help but lean over and whisper in her ear - "You're such a girl". He won't know, of course, that the warmth of his breath against her skin makes her heart dip into her stomach.
They say their goodbyes under the marquee outside and she walks in the opposite direction as he hails a cab. He wonders if she lives in the East Village, but doesn't say anything. But he thinks about it. And her. He thinks about her on his way to the train station. And at the train station. And maybe even a little on the train. He thinks about how she's still got her blonde hair and how very femme fatale she looks with it. He thinks about how her face hasn't seemed to have aged a bit, and that she still looks like that timid little girl who sat in his office interviewing for a job over ten years ago. He thinks about how she's not a girl though, about how very much a strong woman she must be to still be smiling at him after all this time. Strong or delusional.
But by the time he gets home he's already downed more than enough scotch so he kind of forgets about most of the night. He remembers some of it, which he locks away in the more secret parts of his brain. He really won't think much about this night until he reads that 'The African Queen' is playing. In the furthest recesses of his mind he hopes she'll be there.
+++++++++++++++
He waits around the front lobby for about five minutes before the show starts. He's pretending to make a phone call. His heart skips a beat when she walks in (he tells himself it's because of the scotch he had before got here). She doesn't notice him and goes to the concessions counter to get another small bag of popcorn (must be a movie ritual, he thinks). He takes it upon himself to sidle up next to her and say aloud, "Pinch me, Rosie."
She almost chokes on her popcorn, but she's laughing. She says hello with a smile and he answers with a gesture towards the theatre doors. She silently leads the way and he follows with a smirk on his face.
The part of himself that likes to ruin everything good in his life whispers to him that she's probably just here for Katherine Hepburn. The rest of him hopes it isn't true.
They don't speak during the show, except for a "hey!" coming from him as she takes the popcorn bag away from him, and an "eww" coming from her during the leeches scene.
She doesn't say a word until they're outside. "I really like seeing Bogie in colour."
"Too bad he only made a few of them."
"He kind of missed it, didn't he?"
He doesn't say anything. She seems to know as much about Bogie as he does. And he kind of doesn't like it, because Bogie is his thing. But he's kind of turned on that she's in on the secret. This is apparently enough for him to ask her if she wants a drink before he even knows the words are coming out of his mouth. She nods with a smile and they sit in the bar down the street for the next hour. She only drinks water, and he tries to keep his scotch intake to a minimum. Their conversation is sporadic; there are a lot of moments of silence, but they're good silences. Comfortable. Their main topic of conversation is how John Huston managed to pull off making 'The African Queen' in The Belgian Congo while spending most of the time drunk.
He hopes that maybe all they will ever talk about is old movies. Bogie and Hepburn and Bacall and the Breen Office. He doesn't want to talk about real life. He doesn't want to talk about the past or present. Their phone calls involved no work talk, and she only got personal once, when she told him her divorce had been finalised. And he knows she doesn't speak to anyone from the hospital. He hopes that she's moved on because he knows she's so much better than that place. She was always too good for it. And even though he hated to see her go, he was glad she was getting out. He hasn't told her this, though. He kind of hopes she's psychic and will just figure it out.
He walks her to Perry Street and they part from there. It's not like he'd be able to walk her home even if he wanted to, so he figures just walking her to the general area is polite enough. His back is turned when he hears her call to him. "'In A Lonely Place' plays next month." She grins at him and walks away, not waiting for a response. She knows how it works. He smiles to himself in the cab on the way to the train station.
+++++++++++++++
This time he doesn't make a show of pretending not to wait for her. She doesn't make him wait too long. "This time buy your own popcorn," she says. He grins and counters, "Or you can just buy one of the jumbo buckets and we'll be fine."
"But you don't know how to share." She raises her eyebrow, but goes to buy a jumbo popcorn bucket and two drinks. He watches her, wondering when she became such a gem at playing his games.
They sit in companionable silence for most of the film, except when she offhandedly mentions that sometimes he reminds her of Bogart's Dixon Steele character. He doesn't know what to think of that, because he's pretty sure that he's never tried to kill any of his (nonexistent) fiances. But she probably has a point. He drinks as much as Dix, and is as bitter as Dix. He seems to be always full of the same kind of pent-up anger and paranoia. He wants to ask her what that makes her but he doesn't. He knows that will just open a can of worms that no one really wants to deal with.
When it's over she mentions that he's eaten almost all of the popcorn. He just shrugs his shoulders and she shakes her head. They walk outside together and find themselves at the deli across the street from her apartment building. He wonders who decided on a deli but she swears by their Reuben sandwiches so he gives it a try. It's no Zabar's but it's good enough.
It's when he finds himself in front of her apartment door that he starts getting worried. Is she going to want a kiss goodnight or something? Going to invite him in for coffee? Is he going to ask to use her restroom and then snoop around her medicine cabinet?
She saves him any more worry when she hugs him quickly and says "I had fun," before opening her door. She almost closes it on him before saying, "Goodbye, House." She's probably just as nervous as he is, and he's glad she got it over with quickly before he said (or did) something stupid.
He stands in front of her front door for about a minute before knocking on it. When she answers it he notices she's barefoot. And for some reason he likes it. She has a deep red wine colour on her toenails and it stands out against her porcelain skin.
"'Casablanca'," he blurts out.
"What?"
"Would you like to watch 'Casablanca'? With me?"
"Are they playing that next month? I thought it was going to be that tacky Western he was in with James Cagney."
"No, I mean at my place."
She doesn't say anything right away. He doesn't like that she clearly has to think about it. He would much rather if she was far too eager and excited to spend time alone with him in his home.
"I made a promise to myself that I would never set foot in Jersey ever again if I could help it," she says finally.
He tries not to laugh. Not because what she said was funny (it really wasn't) but because it's probably a great idea. If only he could make that promise to himself.
"Fine. How about here?"
"You want to watch 'Casablanca', alone in my apartment, with me? You realise you'll be without your buffer zone?"
"I think I can handle it. Come on, Cameron. It's 'Casablanca'. It's the best bad movie ever made. I'll even let you say all the famous lines along with it."
He can tell that she's trying not to frown at all of this. It seems like her first instinct about anything is to frown.
"Fine. But I'm not cooking for you or anything like that."
"I'll be here next Saturday, then."
+++++++++++++++
He swears he's not nervous. He hasn't been nervous all week, in fact. He hasn't been worried that somehow, she's going to remember what a jerk he is and won't let him inside her home. And he's not worried about the fact that he's suddenly so nervous about all of this. It's just Cameron. Little girl Cameron, the lost young doctor full of wide-eyed optimism and love for all of mankind. She was supposed to have been in love with him, after all. But when did he start to care what she thought? Or how she felt?
The whole mess with Cameron had never actually been about her, he knew that very well. (Maybe a little about her, she was an expert at annoying him.). But it was almost all him. His issues with women, and his issues with control. He bullied her and ignored her advances because he wanted to be the one in control. And he knew that if he even for a second thought about being with her, he'd be putty in her hands and of absolutely no use to anyone. He liked his life the way it was. (Which wasn't true at all, he hated his life. But he was too old to change.)
And for some reason things were different now. She wasn't her, and he wasn't him. They were just two film fans who enjoyed a good Bogie movie, and enjoyed a good story about power-mad studio heads and the actors that got under their skin. And he loves all of this. He loves pretending to be someone else. But for some reason this new person is slowly falling for this new woman, and he doesn't like it.
But it's not like he can pass up a screening of 'Casablanca'. Even he will admit (not to many, though) that he's a softie for this one. And the possibility that he can needle Cameron into cooking something just cannot be ignored.
+++++++++++++++
She opens the door with what seems to be a genuine smile, and seeing it kind of calms his nerves. He tries to smile back but he knows it comes out half-heartedly and lopsided. She doesn't seem to care.
She isn't wearing shoes again. And again he loves it. He loves that she doesn't bother to make everything perfect like she used to (like she did for that godforsaken date of theirs). As he steps in he surveys her apartment and it's all very 'her'. Green walls and bookshelves and warm lighting and total tidiness. He smells popcorn wafting through the air and asks her what she's making him for dinner.
"You may have free range of the fridge but cooking is off limits."
They eventually settle in with their snacks and drinks (he came armed with a bottle of scotch and she's drinking her's heavily diluted with cola). They're sitting with an appropriate but not too obvious distance between them, she in an armchair and he on the couch.
They enjoy the movie like they've enjoyed all of them - companionable silence. He steals a few furtive glances in her direction, and during the Marseillaise scene he can see her eyes shimmering with tears. She doesn't cry, really, but she's definitely weepy. He doesn't say anything about it because the people on the screen singing the French anthem give him goosebumps, so he kind of understands how she feels. He won't bring it up until years later, and by then she'll have forgotten. But he won't.
They both say the famous lines along with Bogie. In all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into mine. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life.
He notices how much she enjoys saying these lines, and he notices how much he enjoys watching her enjoyment. He notices how much he enjoys her, period. It's scary and dangerous but he likes it. He won't say anything, of course, god no. But as long as they can keep up this 'enjoying movies together thing', he'll be satisfied.
By the time the movie is over, he's not sure if he should just leave or not, but she only gets up to get another drink and makes no motion towards the front door. It's when she sits down on the couch next to him that he starts to get nervous again. Is he supposed to like, maul her now? Paw at her for a bit before she kicks him out and tells him she never wants to see him again? Or worse, be totally into it?
He really has no idea what to do so he just does what he thinks is best - talk Bogie. And they eventually delve into a conversation about the origins of the scar on his upper lip and whether he ever slept with Bette Davis during all those movies they made together. They talk long into the night and have what is probably the best conversation they've ever had together (he silently thanks Bogie for this).
He hopes for no awkward goodbyes. He hopes for more meetings like this one.
She hugs him goodbye, and he thinks that she holds on much longer than she did that other night. He mutters that he hopes to see her again soon, and she agrees and makes a quip about not wanting to see any Bogie movies with George Raft (and she feigns a look of disgust and he can't help but laugh and nod his head). They say goodbye without setting any new meetings (because he can't and won't call them dates) but he's confident. She is too.
It's been three weeks since 'Casablanca'. He had a big case to finish off and she had an article to write. But he calls her soon after the case is closed and suggests 'To Have And Have Not'. After she agrees and he hangs up the phone, he curses himself for picking what is one of Bogart's sexiest movies with some of the sexiest scenes in Golden-Age History. The lump in his throat feels like a forewarning to the massive potential awkwardness for the night ahead. But he doesn't cancel. It's Lauren Bacall, afterall. And it's Cameron.
+++++++++++++++
When she answers the door this time he says, "Here's looking at you kid," and she giggles like a little girl. It kind of drives him wild but he just gives her a crooked grin and walks inside.
This time there is dinner. She didn't cook or anything; it's take-away Chinese, but he's satisfied (and quite hungry). He almost asks how her day was but realises it would be too out of his comfort zone. Although a little part of him actually wants to know.
They sit together eating on her couch, drinking beer and watching the movie that was the beginning of the one of the most famous Hollywood love stories of all time. That fact (and the ease with which this new relationship seems to be flowing) is making him slightly nervous. But they get through the movie (and all the Chinese food and most of the beer) unscathed. He's actually enjoying himself. It's all very weird.
She's cleaning up the dishes in the kitchen with his help (he actually put the plates in the sink - without prompting) when it happens. She's talking about the movie and drying a plate when she says, "You know how to whistle, don't you Steve? You just put your lips together and - blow." And he kisses her. He doesn't plan on it but he can't help himself. It's quick and a little dry and there's no tongue involved but it's still a kiss, and still a big deal. He would have whistled too but he has some self-control.
He pulls away and is kind of frozen with fear. This really just happened. It probably wasn't supposed to happen but it did. And it was kind of nice. Neither of them says anything for what seems like hours.
He's very surprised to find her arms around his waist, looking up at him with clear and open eyes. "You're a Real Joe, you know that?" she says. She kisses him this time, and he cups his hands over her jaw and it's electric. He's loving it and blaming Bogie for everything (and simultaneously thanking him, too).
They don't push it too far. He's far too scared to break this fragile thing they've created, and she's only too happy to take it slow (she's been hurt too, he's well aware). They spend the rest of the evening on her couch, their arms around each other, watching the old movie channel.
He kisses her quickly as he leaves. "Play it, Sam," she says, and he kisses her again. "We'll always have Paris," he counters with a sly smile.
He's back again the next day.
+++++++++++++++
It's been almost a year to the day since he'd first kissed her. A part of him hates himself for remembering the date, but he reasons it just sort of happened, like remembering the day JFK was killed, or some other useless factoid. He remembers, but he won't say anything to her. Because for the past year, it's just been her. Despite the sometimes grueling commute, they've somehow kept all of this up.
It hasn't just been about Bogart and Old Hollywood and the way it seemed that people back then seemed to have a lot more class than they do now. He knew it was inevitable, talking about 'real life'. But it happened, and they've survived. She's actually gone back to Jersey to spend the night at his place (where he always plays 'As Time Goes By' for her on the piano - she always sings along). Wilson knows about it, but he's pretty sure no one else does. To be truthful to himself, he knows that she's too precious to spoil by talking about it with a bunch of people. Talking to her works fine enough.
And they still talk Bogie.
One evening, after a viewing of 'The Maltese Falcon', she surprises him by kissing him out of the blue.
"What was that for?" he asksed with an impish grin.
"Nothing. Just the stuff that dreams are made of." She laughs a little, and so does she.
He kisses her back quickly before responding. "You're too much sometimes, you know that?"
She smiles and he thinks he sees a hint of blush. "Yeah, I know. But you like it that way."
He gets it, and she gets it, and that's how it works.
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Potentially Helpful Notes
+ A Mostly Accurate Humphrey Bogart Biography
+ Bogie Films Mentioned In This Story - The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, The African Queen, In A Lonely Place, Casablanca, To Have And Have Not, The Maltese Falcon (and that crummy western with Jimmy Cagney)
+ "Baby's a Real Joe"