Mapping Disasters, a one-shot Ham Fic
Rating: Mature
Summary: The whole problem started an hour down the road, when House became hopelessly lost.
Spoilers: None.
For my lovely beta, princessklutz04.
The whole problem started an hour down the road, when House became hopelessly lost. He'll claim it started when Cameron tried to help, and read the directions wrong. But for whatever reason, they ended up in the forest, on what he told Cameron was a detour.
A deer in headlights, squealing brakes, and a squealing Cameron later - the car wouldn't start. And they were sitting in silence. Dizzy and invisible to the rest of humanity.
"Well that was fun." The window fogged with the warmth of his breath, as he looked outside into nothing. Literally nothing, but trees and darkness. He thought he could make out some pine straw.
Yep, they were screwed. And big time.
A puff of smoke came from Cameron's mouth as she sighed and stared through the windshield. "Where the hell are we?" She pulled herself closer to her jacket.
"You're the one with the map. You tell me."
"I would if you hadn't driven off the map way back at let's take a shortcut." She glared across the car, where he sat with his thumb tapping a scattered rhythm on the steering wheel.
He set his jaw and returned the glare. "I believe it was you who said let's take a shortcut."
"I said you should avoid the traffic, not take the first back road you see and assume it'll lead you to the highway."
"Oh, please..." He changed his rhythm on the steering wheel. "You're just mad 'cause we didn't stop for tampons."
She quirked her eyebrow at him.
"That's what you wanted, right?"
"A coke." She glared at his thumb, annoyed by the tapping, then returned her eyes to the windshield. "But you were close."
"Well, I just figured... Since you're being so pissy." It earned him an aggravated huff for his efforts. He broke off a square from his candy bar on the console. "Chocolate?" he extended it toward her.
"I'm not on my period!" She swatted him away. "I'm pissy because we're lost, in the dark, in the forest. And because you're too stubborn to ask for directions."
"I asked for directions." He opened his door. "You weren't a lot of help, if I may point out."
She opened her own door and followed him out, the echo resounding as she pushed it closed.
"Shhh." House held up his cane, gesturing for her to be quiet.
"What?" she whispered.
He strained to listen. "You hear that?"
"No."
"It's the sound of silence." He stated with pride. "Every man hopes to hear it once, on a trip where a woman comes a long. Few men have heard it." He lowered his cane, "are you writing this down?", and closed his door, scanning the woods in the distance. He was lost; completely and utterly lost. No food, no water, no car. No house. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket.
Over the car, he could see Cameron shivering. She was looking at a tree, with abandoned hope. No one would find them out here.
"No service," he mumbled, then replaced the phone. "Check yours," he nodded at Cameron.
"No service," she echoed.
He raised his eyebrows and thumped his cane on the ground. It rustled in a patch of pine straw. Great. Plan B. He looked around.
He didn't have a Plan B.
"Don't you know how to fix a car?" Her voice was careful, but House wasn't fooled. She was looking for someone to blame.
"I fix people. That's not enough?"
"You're a man," she accused. Her voice getting stronger. "It's your place in the world to know these things."
"By that logic, you should be good at shutting up, but clearly, that isn't the case."
Cameron put her hands in her pockets and sulked; her last thread of hope had been shattered. "Now we're never getting home." It was more to herself than to him.
"What's the hurry?" His leg really hurt. The cold wasn't helping matters much. "Leave the stove on or something?" His jacket wasn't thick enough for this kind of weather. "Com'on." He started walking away from the car.
"What?" They were in the middle of nowhere.
But he heard her boots crunching along nonetheless. "We're walking."
"To where?"
"There." He stopped, and pointed his cane. She stopped beside him, and squinted.
There was nothing. "Where?"
"To oblivion." And with that, he walked on, pretending to enjoy the silence. But Cameron could tell by the crease of his brow - he was just as worried as she was.
That's when she saw it. She stopped again. "Or maybe not..." She laid her hand on his sleeve. "Look," pointing into oblivion where House had just pointed.
He looked at her hand like she was giving him cooties.
"Is that a house?"
Her hand was warm. He was cold. His mind began to put it together.
"That's a house!" she said brightly, and looked at his face. He was still looking at her hand. She rolled her eyes, removing her hand, and pointed back into the forest. "You see it?"
"Nope."
"Right there." She extended her arm even further.
"Yeah, that's really helping." He brushed his sleeve off and looked behind him. He wanted to get back in the car.
"Between those two trees, House. You see that white thing?" She continued pointing as he looked around, searching in vain for something warm.
"So, it's a piece of trash." He began tapping his cane to keep his arm from going numb.
"No, it's a roof."
"Fine. It's a roof. Can we do this later? My butt cheeks are numb."
Cameron started back toward the car.
"Now what?" he grumbled. "Did I offend you with butt cheeks?"
"I'm getting supplies from the car." She didn't turn around as she said it. Just called it over her shoulder.
"You were a girl scout, weren't you?" House could tell she was getting annoyed, but he had to talk or his mouth would freeze. Then he remembered something. "There's a blanket in the back." He watched as she opened the car door. This time, she turned around.
"Why do you have a blanket in the car?" Her expression was a mix of relief and amusement.
"I'd planned on spreading you over it."
She rolled her eyes again and turned back around, but he knew she was flushing under the collar of her coat. It didn't take much to make Cameron wonder. He chuckled and swung his cane like a golf club, waiting for her to return.
The house was, indeed, a house. He eyed the building as they crunched around sticks, and wondered what the hell they were doing. His leg wasn't cut out for tromping through the forest. And this wasn't safe. It was dark. Cameron could get eaten by a werewolf.
"Ever read Call of the Wild?" he asked her. "All the people were killed in the end." He stepped on a pinecone and cursed when his leg locked.
"By Indians," Cameron added.
"By Native Americans," he corrected, shaming her with a scowl.
"Is there a point to this?" She braced her hand on a tree, crackling over a branch in her path. But then she started flailing and wiping at her face, sputtering something about a spider web. It was when she started spitting that House intervened.
"You're dropping stuff," he reprimanded, bending down to pick up his chocolate bar. "You better hope that didn't land in poison ivy." When she didn't stop flailing, he began fearing for his safety. He could hardly see as it was. "Stop," he gently grabbed her shoulder.
"There's a spider on me!"
"There's not a spider on you."
"That web was huge, House!" She wiped her face again and searched on the ground for her bottle of water. As soon as she bent down to pick it up, House touched a finger to the back of her neck, and she jumped and screamed, "Get if off! Get it off!" frantically wiping at her neck.
"Be quiet," House shushed, and continued walking. "The werewolves will hear you." He shrugged against the blanket draped around his neck. It was the only bit of warmth he could find. His hands were numb. His face was numb.
He stopped when the house was completely in view. There were no lights in the windows; no grass, no bushes. No sign of life at all. It was just a shack. A dilapidated shack, in the middle of the forest.
"Next time, I choose the accommodations," he muttered when Cameron finally caught up. She blankly stared at their findings. He turned to face her, but couldn't see her. "The paint job is terrible."
"Ya think?" She didn't return his gaze. Just trudged to the front door, eyeing the steps leading up to it.
"Don't." House limped up next to her. "They're wooden. I'm sure they're dilapidated too." He pounded his cane into one of the steps, then cocked his head when it didn't budge. "Hm." He pounded it again, the resorted to kicking. The wood only so much as creaked. "Never mind then." He climbed the three stairs and began working on the doorknob.
Cameron stood behind him as he pushed on the door. "Is it stuck?" she asked, worried, when it didn't open.
"No." He pushed harder. "The wood's just expanded from the cold." It opened then, and the hinges creaked as he pushed it all the way with his cane. Cameron stayed behind him as the room was exposed in all of its swallowing darkness. "Sure, the building's old," he snarked, "but it's got a lovely interior."
"How can you tell?" Her eyes were open wide, but she couldn't see a thing.
"Hello?" House suddenly yelled into the room. "You ordered a hooker? Sorry it took so long. She's bad with directions. But she's here and she's ready to rumble." It earned him a punch on the shoulder, and Cameron brushed by him as she entered. House was shocked, to say the least; Cameron had actually hit him. "You punch like a boy." He rubbed his shoulder. "And you're about to get eaten by whatever lives here."
The room lit up with a tiny flame and Cameron held it next to her face. "Call me a whore again and I'll torch you."
"If I were the size of a beetle, I'd agree with you." He slowly followed her into the room. It was musky, and the floorboards creaked as he walked. "At least we know what's for dinner." He looked up just in time to see a tiny glint of white suspended in the air before Cameron. "Whoa, stop." His voice sounded desperate and she stopped in her tracks.
That's when she saw the enormous web. Complete with enormous spider. She held the flame up in front of it, realizing she'd almost walked into it. "Thanks," she said quietly. Relief sinking in.
"It's my spidey sense," he bragged. Then took her lighter and set off in search for something usable.
**********
2 hours and 33 minutes. That's how long they'd been sitting by the fire. Staring at the flames. Staring at the floor. The batteries in his iPod were dead.
"What time is it now?"
Cameron rolled her head down to look at her watch. "11:42," she mumbled. Then rolled it back toward the fire. Watching with a far-off look in her eyes, as one flame swallowed another. It grew higher, then shorter, then higher again. Crackling against the walls of her worry and boredom. "Makes sense." She sighed and let her eyelids fall closed. "Since you asked me 2 minutes ago, and it was 11:40 then."
"It's been 2 minutes and 28 seconds," he countered. "If I'd asked you at 11:40 and 32 seconds, then now it'd be 11:43."
"It's 11:44." Tilting her head back, she brushed her neck against the fleece of her collar and thought of the warmth of home.
"See, we're passing the time." He watched her rubbing her neck on her collar. Watched as she shivered in her coat. She was sitting on the opposite side of the couch - if he could even call it a couch. It was shredded, and dirty, but so was the floor. And the only other furniture he'd found was a table, which he had thoroughly enjoyed feeding to the fire.
Cameron shook her head and curled herself closer to her legs.
"Well aren't you just loads of campfire fun." He rested his chin on his cane. "We're supposed to sing and get drunk."
"Gladly. Pass the Bourbon." She shot him a look. "How is this going to get us home?"
"What is it with you and home?" The fire crackled loudly as he threw in a stick. "Your teddy bears will do fine without you tonight. They're probably staying up and watching Leno."
"I want my pillow."
He fished out his Vicodin and swallowed a couple. "Hotel pillows suck, I agree."
"Hotel?" she snorted, looking around at the rotting walls. "This is ridiculous. I didn't even want to go to this conference."
"And you think I did?"
"No. I think you wanted someone to torture on the way down there."
"Nooo, I wanted my money from Wilson." When she scrunched her forehead at him, he continued. "I bet him that you would say yes if I asked you to go with me to the conference."
Her disappointment was obvious when she bowed her head and began picking at the edge of her jacket. "Wilson bet that I'd say no?"
"He bet that you'd say it was a bad idea." Cameron looked at him then, and he held her gaze. It was curious. And sad. And maybe, maybe, just a little bit hopeful. He averted his eyes then and played with his cane. "Yeah, that you'd say no." His voice was quiet as he threw another stick into the fire.
He tilted his head in Cameron's direction. Her lip was curled under; her hair was a curtain over both of her cheeks. All House could see of her face was her nose, leading up to a pale stretch of forehead. She was pale, but she was glowing. The fire was orange - and everything on her was a tint of orange.
"You're sulking," he informed her. But she didn't respond.
She stared into the flames, and he stared at her. He knew that she knew - it's why he did it. He loved to make Cameron react. But her forlorn expression made him look away. He leaned a bit closer to the fire.
"I told Wilson I'd be back tonight. He'll come looking when I don't come home." He looked at her again, and she nodded vaguely. "He's probably tried to call me already."
They sat for the next ten minutes in silence - with House throwing twigs and Cameron watching. Both becoming sleepy and hungry. But House's toes were too cold for sleep; he imagined that Cameron's were too. He reached across the sofa for her bottle of water, taking a swig and replacing the cap. Setting it back on the sofa.
"Tell me," his cane tapped idly on the floorboards, "how much pride does one have to swallow before the needs of the body win out?"
Cameron looked over, chattering her teeth, and furrowed her brow at the question.
"I'm freezing my ass off," he stated, by way of an explanation. Then roughly added, "Get over here."
She kept her eyes on the slope of his jaw. His offer was tempting. But she shook her head. "That's not a good idea," she responded slowly. Shy and apologetic.
House rolled his eyes. "My genitals are frozen. I can't use them anyway."
She kept looking at him, mulling it over. Imagining the warmth of his arms. She was freezing. But this was House. And this could get awkward on Monday. "You can if I warm them up."
"If you don't warm them up," he paused to shiver, "I'll never use them again." He wasn't about to beg for this, but he desperately needed some heat. Aside from the fire, her body was the warmest thing in the room. "And then I'll be especially grouchy."
"I wasn't aware you could be especially grouchy." Her lips curled up into a smirk as she stood, finding that her joints were like ice cubes. Everything was stiff. She stretched her legs.
"And bring the blanket," he nodded at the pile she'd dumped on the couch.
She cautiously sat down beside him. She had no idea where to put her hands. Where to lean. What to say when she did it. She tried to swallow the anticipation. But his warmth was radiating toward her. She couldn't help but think, as she waited, that maybe this was some kind of milestone. But the thought was fleeting - they were lost in the woods. They were tired and hungry, freezing to death. This was just self-preservation.
"How do you want me to do this?" she asked. Feeling out of place as she said it.
"How many ways are there?" His hand came to rest on the curve of her wrist. The heat from her skin was unbearable. "Wrap your arms around me. Wrap your legs around me. Wrap something around me. Don't care what."
She touched his stomach then, and he flinched. She drew back briefly, then touched him again. Sliding her palm to his rib cage. His jacket was leather, and cold against her fingers.
"It'll warm up," he assured her. His voice was unsteady as he watched her explore. Watched her tiny hand move over him. She seared him wherever she touched. He wanted to speed the process along. Pull her tight into his shivering body and wrap himself up in her limbs. But he understood her need to go slowly. So he patiently endured as she moved a little closer.
She suddenly paused, with her hand on his back, tilting her face up to meet his eyes. He was looking at her. His gaze was unreadable. "Can I put my hands in your jacket?" she whispered. The warm air brushed against his lips.
He nodded.
Frozen fingers were pulled from his pocket, and he tugged on the zipper ‘til his jacket was open. He shuttered at the blast of cold air. "Quickly," he amended, and Cameron slid her arms in. He pulled the flaps closed over her shoulders, relaxing against the feel of her body.
She ran her hands over knots of muscle, squeezing him tighter as her arms began to thaw. A tiny moan escaped her lips, and immediately, she felt embarrassed. She'd never been this close to House. The knowledge alone made her warmer.
Suddenly, a blanket was being wrapped around her, and House's hands were on her back. "This would be easier if you weren't beside me." It rumbled smoothly from his chest to her stomach, and traveled all the way to her toes. "I've never been good at Twister."
He was right; it wasn't very comfortable. "Where do you propose I sit, then?" She knew the answer. But stalling seemed important at the moment.
He patted his knee. "Sit on Daddy's lap. I'll tell you the story of the time I got mauled in the forest by a horny virgin." He finished with a wink, and Cameron looked appalled. "Come on," he tugged, "don't have all night." When Cameron didn't budge, he slumped his shoulders. "Fine. I lied. I've got all night." His voice became sultry. "It's all about you, babe."
Her fingers loosened against the fabric of his shirt - apprehension coiling in her belly. House was going to make this difficult. There was simply no getting around it. So she tightened her grasp again and lifted her leg, settling gently on top of his lap. "Tell me if I hurt you," she managed to breathe. Frightened by the pleasure coursing up her thighs.
It went from a bad idea to worse when House shifted. Attempting to position his leg.
"House..."
He wrapped the blanket around them both and tucked it under his legs.
"House..."
"What?" Pulling her closer, he adjusted the blanket. It's when he heard her whimper that he stilled.
Cameron swallowed, trying to relax, and rested her chin on his shoulder. "Stop moving."
"Why? Getting seasick?"
"Aroused."
It was breathy, and desperate. And House was unprepared. He closed his eyes when her mouth touched his shoulder. Her breath was warm on his shirt. "I was kidding about the horny virgin." He didn't know what else to say. Her thighs began to tense, and he tensed in response. Finding that he was suddenly throbbing.
Cameron shifted lower. He tilted his head back.
"Your genitals may be frozen, House," still breathy and desperate, "but mine aren't." She tried to stop shifting. But his legs were so warm. The room was getting warm, as well. Everything was spinning and she had to get up. So she swallowed again, preparing to move, but squealed when she felt herself falling.
"They aren't frozen," he said, as he lifted her up and tilted her back toward the floor. The blanket fell with her, and he laid her on her back. Directly in front of the fireplace. He should have done this hours ago. His skin was burning from the heat. "Though I still assert that you women are lucky. Got all those folds to keep everything warm."
Her whimper was loud and it drove him further. He pulled her legs away from the couch and carefully knelt in between them. He was close to the fire. Too close, in fact. The danger made his jeans even tighter.
We can't do this was followed by House, and both were interspersed with moaning. He was on top of her - his hands on the floor - his pelvis nestled right below her bellybutton. When Cameron felt the bulge, all protest was lost, and she wrapped her legs around his back.
She twisted him over until she was on top; the scuffle brought them closer to the fire.
But then she just sat there, with her hands on his chest. Watching her victim. As he watched her. He could tell that something was wrong.
He wasn't sure what they were doing here. But somehow, the floor felt familiar. He ran his fingers against the grain of the floorboards, brushing the dirt with his palms. He wanted to say something; he didn't know what. Something poetic. Romantic. Stupid. The flames danced with shadows in her hair.
His hand made a smack as it banged against the floor, and Cameron was startled with a gasp. She watched his stomach. Rising. And falling. Tapering off where they met at the hips. Then her eyes traveled up to his face.
"Cameron..." He was far too warm under the pressure of her ass. "It's only going to feel good for a moment." His fingers rested gently on her thighs. Tracing little circles on her corduroy pants. His erection growing stronger. His breath growing shallow. "And then the moment will pass." He owed her more than a dirty floor. He'd been here before, and it hurt.
Cameron was quiet; his honesty stung. She laid herself down on his chest. Rising and falling as he filled his lungs, and emptied them. Desire streaming through her. When her face touched his neck, he turned into her. And let her rub her cheek on his stubble.
Her breath became moist against the shell of his ear. "I want to have sex with you," she rasped. Rubbing her hips on his throbbing erection. It was raw and untainted. And threw him for a loop.
He rolled his head around to look into her eyes. They were smokey and dark. A deep shade of turquoise. "I want you to have sex with me, too." He curled his lips at her, and she smiled into his cheek. But he shook his head, running his finger down the length of her spine. "I can't...make love to you, though. Not..." His voice trailed off, and he darted his tongue out to wet his lower lip.
She was quiet for a minute, then nuzzled his shoulder. Understanding embedded in the action. "You can give me passion, but you can't give me love." It was sad, but it wasn't malicious.
House rolled his eyes and slid his finger to her pants. "I was actually going to say, there are too many layers of fabric in-between." He chuckled. "But you make a good point." When his finger touched the skin of her lower back, she jumped. And he flattened his palm.
"Do I?" she asked.
He nodded against her.
"I can change that." She shuttered. And he didn't respond..
He slid his hand into her waistband, resting it softly on the slope of her ass. "Now I can tell Wilson I got into your pants." Cameron laughed, and he closed his eyes. "Go to sleep." He pulled her closer. "Wilson will be here in the morning."
She scooted him a few inches away from the fire. Then rested her head on his chest. She was warm. And sleepy. And suddenly glad she'd went to the conference. "You sure about that?" she slurred.
"Yeah."
They were quiet for the rest of the night.
Summary: The whole problem started an hour down the road, when House became hopelessly lost.
Spoilers: None.
For my lovely beta, princessklutz04.
The whole problem started an hour down the road, when House became hopelessly lost. He'll claim it started when Cameron tried to help, and read the directions wrong. But for whatever reason, they ended up in the forest, on what he told Cameron was a detour.
A deer in headlights, squealing brakes, and a squealing Cameron later - the car wouldn't start. And they were sitting in silence. Dizzy and invisible to the rest of humanity.
"Well that was fun." The window fogged with the warmth of his breath, as he looked outside into nothing. Literally nothing, but trees and darkness. He thought he could make out some pine straw.
Yep, they were screwed. And big time.
A puff of smoke came from Cameron's mouth as she sighed and stared through the windshield. "Where the hell are we?" She pulled herself closer to her jacket.
"You're the one with the map. You tell me."
"I would if you hadn't driven off the map way back at let's take a shortcut." She glared across the car, where he sat with his thumb tapping a scattered rhythm on the steering wheel.
He set his jaw and returned the glare. "I believe it was you who said let's take a shortcut."
"I said you should avoid the traffic, not take the first back road you see and assume it'll lead you to the highway."
"Oh, please..." He changed his rhythm on the steering wheel. "You're just mad 'cause we didn't stop for tampons."
She quirked her eyebrow at him.
"That's what you wanted, right?"
"A coke." She glared at his thumb, annoyed by the tapping, then returned her eyes to the windshield. "But you were close."
"Well, I just figured... Since you're being so pissy." It earned him an aggravated huff for his efforts. He broke off a square from his candy bar on the console. "Chocolate?" he extended it toward her.
"I'm not on my period!" She swatted him away. "I'm pissy because we're lost, in the dark, in the forest. And because you're too stubborn to ask for directions."
"I asked for directions." He opened his door. "You weren't a lot of help, if I may point out."
She opened her own door and followed him out, the echo resounding as she pushed it closed.
"Shhh." House held up his cane, gesturing for her to be quiet.
"What?" she whispered.
He strained to listen. "You hear that?"
"No."
"It's the sound of silence." He stated with pride. "Every man hopes to hear it once, on a trip where a woman comes a long. Few men have heard it." He lowered his cane, "are you writing this down?", and closed his door, scanning the woods in the distance. He was lost; completely and utterly lost. No food, no water, no car. No house. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket.
Over the car, he could see Cameron shivering. She was looking at a tree, with abandoned hope. No one would find them out here.
"No service," he mumbled, then replaced the phone. "Check yours," he nodded at Cameron.
"No service," she echoed.
He raised his eyebrows and thumped his cane on the ground. It rustled in a patch of pine straw. Great. Plan B. He looked around.
He didn't have a Plan B.
"Don't you know how to fix a car?" Her voice was careful, but House wasn't fooled. She was looking for someone to blame.
"I fix people. That's not enough?"
"You're a man," she accused. Her voice getting stronger. "It's your place in the world to know these things."
"By that logic, you should be good at shutting up, but clearly, that isn't the case."
Cameron put her hands in her pockets and sulked; her last thread of hope had been shattered. "Now we're never getting home." It was more to herself than to him.
"What's the hurry?" His leg really hurt. The cold wasn't helping matters much. "Leave the stove on or something?" His jacket wasn't thick enough for this kind of weather. "Com'on." He started walking away from the car.
"What?" They were in the middle of nowhere.
But he heard her boots crunching along nonetheless. "We're walking."
"To where?"
"There." He stopped, and pointed his cane. She stopped beside him, and squinted.
There was nothing. "Where?"
"To oblivion." And with that, he walked on, pretending to enjoy the silence. But Cameron could tell by the crease of his brow - he was just as worried as she was.
That's when she saw it. She stopped again. "Or maybe not..." She laid her hand on his sleeve. "Look," pointing into oblivion where House had just pointed.
He looked at her hand like she was giving him cooties.
"Is that a house?"
Her hand was warm. He was cold. His mind began to put it together.
"That's a house!" she said brightly, and looked at his face. He was still looking at her hand. She rolled her eyes, removing her hand, and pointed back into the forest. "You see it?"
"Nope."
"Right there." She extended her arm even further.
"Yeah, that's really helping." He brushed his sleeve off and looked behind him. He wanted to get back in the car.
"Between those two trees, House. You see that white thing?" She continued pointing as he looked around, searching in vain for something warm.
"So, it's a piece of trash." He began tapping his cane to keep his arm from going numb.
"No, it's a roof."
"Fine. It's a roof. Can we do this later? My butt cheeks are numb."
Cameron started back toward the car.
"Now what?" he grumbled. "Did I offend you with butt cheeks?"
"I'm getting supplies from the car." She didn't turn around as she said it. Just called it over her shoulder.
"You were a girl scout, weren't you?" House could tell she was getting annoyed, but he had to talk or his mouth would freeze. Then he remembered something. "There's a blanket in the back." He watched as she opened the car door. This time, she turned around.
"Why do you have a blanket in the car?" Her expression was a mix of relief and amusement.
"I'd planned on spreading you over it."
She rolled her eyes again and turned back around, but he knew she was flushing under the collar of her coat. It didn't take much to make Cameron wonder. He chuckled and swung his cane like a golf club, waiting for her to return.
The house was, indeed, a house. He eyed the building as they crunched around sticks, and wondered what the hell they were doing. His leg wasn't cut out for tromping through the forest. And this wasn't safe. It was dark. Cameron could get eaten by a werewolf.
"Ever read Call of the Wild?" he asked her. "All the people were killed in the end." He stepped on a pinecone and cursed when his leg locked.
"By Indians," Cameron added.
"By Native Americans," he corrected, shaming her with a scowl.
"Is there a point to this?" She braced her hand on a tree, crackling over a branch in her path. But then she started flailing and wiping at her face, sputtering something about a spider web. It was when she started spitting that House intervened.
"You're dropping stuff," he reprimanded, bending down to pick up his chocolate bar. "You better hope that didn't land in poison ivy." When she didn't stop flailing, he began fearing for his safety. He could hardly see as it was. "Stop," he gently grabbed her shoulder.
"There's a spider on me!"
"There's not a spider on you."
"That web was huge, House!" She wiped her face again and searched on the ground for her bottle of water. As soon as she bent down to pick it up, House touched a finger to the back of her neck, and she jumped and screamed, "Get if off! Get it off!" frantically wiping at her neck.
"Be quiet," House shushed, and continued walking. "The werewolves will hear you." He shrugged against the blanket draped around his neck. It was the only bit of warmth he could find. His hands were numb. His face was numb.
He stopped when the house was completely in view. There were no lights in the windows; no grass, no bushes. No sign of life at all. It was just a shack. A dilapidated shack, in the middle of the forest.
"Next time, I choose the accommodations," he muttered when Cameron finally caught up. She blankly stared at their findings. He turned to face her, but couldn't see her. "The paint job is terrible."
"Ya think?" She didn't return his gaze. Just trudged to the front door, eyeing the steps leading up to it.
"Don't." House limped up next to her. "They're wooden. I'm sure they're dilapidated too." He pounded his cane into one of the steps, then cocked his head when it didn't budge. "Hm." He pounded it again, the resorted to kicking. The wood only so much as creaked. "Never mind then." He climbed the three stairs and began working on the doorknob.
Cameron stood behind him as he pushed on the door. "Is it stuck?" she asked, worried, when it didn't open.
"No." He pushed harder. "The wood's just expanded from the cold." It opened then, and the hinges creaked as he pushed it all the way with his cane. Cameron stayed behind him as the room was exposed in all of its swallowing darkness. "Sure, the building's old," he snarked, "but it's got a lovely interior."
"How can you tell?" Her eyes were open wide, but she couldn't see a thing.
"Hello?" House suddenly yelled into the room. "You ordered a hooker? Sorry it took so long. She's bad with directions. But she's here and she's ready to rumble." It earned him a punch on the shoulder, and Cameron brushed by him as she entered. House was shocked, to say the least; Cameron had actually hit him. "You punch like a boy." He rubbed his shoulder. "And you're about to get eaten by whatever lives here."
The room lit up with a tiny flame and Cameron held it next to her face. "Call me a whore again and I'll torch you."
"If I were the size of a beetle, I'd agree with you." He slowly followed her into the room. It was musky, and the floorboards creaked as he walked. "At least we know what's for dinner." He looked up just in time to see a tiny glint of white suspended in the air before Cameron. "Whoa, stop." His voice sounded desperate and she stopped in her tracks.
That's when she saw the enormous web. Complete with enormous spider. She held the flame up in front of it, realizing she'd almost walked into it. "Thanks," she said quietly. Relief sinking in.
"It's my spidey sense," he bragged. Then took her lighter and set off in search for something usable.
**********
2 hours and 33 minutes. That's how long they'd been sitting by the fire. Staring at the flames. Staring at the floor. The batteries in his iPod were dead.
"What time is it now?"
Cameron rolled her head down to look at her watch. "11:42," she mumbled. Then rolled it back toward the fire. Watching with a far-off look in her eyes, as one flame swallowed another. It grew higher, then shorter, then higher again. Crackling against the walls of her worry and boredom. "Makes sense." She sighed and let her eyelids fall closed. "Since you asked me 2 minutes ago, and it was 11:40 then."
"It's been 2 minutes and 28 seconds," he countered. "If I'd asked you at 11:40 and 32 seconds, then now it'd be 11:43."
"It's 11:44." Tilting her head back, she brushed her neck against the fleece of her collar and thought of the warmth of home.
"See, we're passing the time." He watched her rubbing her neck on her collar. Watched as she shivered in her coat. She was sitting on the opposite side of the couch - if he could even call it a couch. It was shredded, and dirty, but so was the floor. And the only other furniture he'd found was a table, which he had thoroughly enjoyed feeding to the fire.
Cameron shook her head and curled herself closer to her legs.
"Well aren't you just loads of campfire fun." He rested his chin on his cane. "We're supposed to sing and get drunk."
"Gladly. Pass the Bourbon." She shot him a look. "How is this going to get us home?"
"What is it with you and home?" The fire crackled loudly as he threw in a stick. "Your teddy bears will do fine without you tonight. They're probably staying up and watching Leno."
"I want my pillow."
He fished out his Vicodin and swallowed a couple. "Hotel pillows suck, I agree."
"Hotel?" she snorted, looking around at the rotting walls. "This is ridiculous. I didn't even want to go to this conference."
"And you think I did?"
"No. I think you wanted someone to torture on the way down there."
"Nooo, I wanted my money from Wilson." When she scrunched her forehead at him, he continued. "I bet him that you would say yes if I asked you to go with me to the conference."
Her disappointment was obvious when she bowed her head and began picking at the edge of her jacket. "Wilson bet that I'd say no?"
"He bet that you'd say it was a bad idea." Cameron looked at him then, and he held her gaze. It was curious. And sad. And maybe, maybe, just a little bit hopeful. He averted his eyes then and played with his cane. "Yeah, that you'd say no." His voice was quiet as he threw another stick into the fire.
He tilted his head in Cameron's direction. Her lip was curled under; her hair was a curtain over both of her cheeks. All House could see of her face was her nose, leading up to a pale stretch of forehead. She was pale, but she was glowing. The fire was orange - and everything on her was a tint of orange.
"You're sulking," he informed her. But she didn't respond.
She stared into the flames, and he stared at her. He knew that she knew - it's why he did it. He loved to make Cameron react. But her forlorn expression made him look away. He leaned a bit closer to the fire.
"I told Wilson I'd be back tonight. He'll come looking when I don't come home." He looked at her again, and she nodded vaguely. "He's probably tried to call me already."
They sat for the next ten minutes in silence - with House throwing twigs and Cameron watching. Both becoming sleepy and hungry. But House's toes were too cold for sleep; he imagined that Cameron's were too. He reached across the sofa for her bottle of water, taking a swig and replacing the cap. Setting it back on the sofa.
"Tell me," his cane tapped idly on the floorboards, "how much pride does one have to swallow before the needs of the body win out?"
Cameron looked over, chattering her teeth, and furrowed her brow at the question.
"I'm freezing my ass off," he stated, by way of an explanation. Then roughly added, "Get over here."
She kept her eyes on the slope of his jaw. His offer was tempting. But she shook her head. "That's not a good idea," she responded slowly. Shy and apologetic.
House rolled his eyes. "My genitals are frozen. I can't use them anyway."
She kept looking at him, mulling it over. Imagining the warmth of his arms. She was freezing. But this was House. And this could get awkward on Monday. "You can if I warm them up."
"If you don't warm them up," he paused to shiver, "I'll never use them again." He wasn't about to beg for this, but he desperately needed some heat. Aside from the fire, her body was the warmest thing in the room. "And then I'll be especially grouchy."
"I wasn't aware you could be especially grouchy." Her lips curled up into a smirk as she stood, finding that her joints were like ice cubes. Everything was stiff. She stretched her legs.
"And bring the blanket," he nodded at the pile she'd dumped on the couch.
She cautiously sat down beside him. She had no idea where to put her hands. Where to lean. What to say when she did it. She tried to swallow the anticipation. But his warmth was radiating toward her. She couldn't help but think, as she waited, that maybe this was some kind of milestone. But the thought was fleeting - they were lost in the woods. They were tired and hungry, freezing to death. This was just self-preservation.
"How do you want me to do this?" she asked. Feeling out of place as she said it.
"How many ways are there?" His hand came to rest on the curve of her wrist. The heat from her skin was unbearable. "Wrap your arms around me. Wrap your legs around me. Wrap something around me. Don't care what."
She touched his stomach then, and he flinched. She drew back briefly, then touched him again. Sliding her palm to his rib cage. His jacket was leather, and cold against her fingers.
"It'll warm up," he assured her. His voice was unsteady as he watched her explore. Watched her tiny hand move over him. She seared him wherever she touched. He wanted to speed the process along. Pull her tight into his shivering body and wrap himself up in her limbs. But he understood her need to go slowly. So he patiently endured as she moved a little closer.
She suddenly paused, with her hand on his back, tilting her face up to meet his eyes. He was looking at her. His gaze was unreadable. "Can I put my hands in your jacket?" she whispered. The warm air brushed against his lips.
He nodded.
Frozen fingers were pulled from his pocket, and he tugged on the zipper ‘til his jacket was open. He shuttered at the blast of cold air. "Quickly," he amended, and Cameron slid her arms in. He pulled the flaps closed over her shoulders, relaxing against the feel of her body.
She ran her hands over knots of muscle, squeezing him tighter as her arms began to thaw. A tiny moan escaped her lips, and immediately, she felt embarrassed. She'd never been this close to House. The knowledge alone made her warmer.
Suddenly, a blanket was being wrapped around her, and House's hands were on her back. "This would be easier if you weren't beside me." It rumbled smoothly from his chest to her stomach, and traveled all the way to her toes. "I've never been good at Twister."
He was right; it wasn't very comfortable. "Where do you propose I sit, then?" She knew the answer. But stalling seemed important at the moment.
He patted his knee. "Sit on Daddy's lap. I'll tell you the story of the time I got mauled in the forest by a horny virgin." He finished with a wink, and Cameron looked appalled. "Come on," he tugged, "don't have all night." When Cameron didn't budge, he slumped his shoulders. "Fine. I lied. I've got all night." His voice became sultry. "It's all about you, babe."
Her fingers loosened against the fabric of his shirt - apprehension coiling in her belly. House was going to make this difficult. There was simply no getting around it. So she tightened her grasp again and lifted her leg, settling gently on top of his lap. "Tell me if I hurt you," she managed to breathe. Frightened by the pleasure coursing up her thighs.
It went from a bad idea to worse when House shifted. Attempting to position his leg.
"House..."
He wrapped the blanket around them both and tucked it under his legs.
"House..."
"What?" Pulling her closer, he adjusted the blanket. It's when he heard her whimper that he stilled.
Cameron swallowed, trying to relax, and rested her chin on his shoulder. "Stop moving."
"Why? Getting seasick?"
"Aroused."
It was breathy, and desperate. And House was unprepared. He closed his eyes when her mouth touched his shoulder. Her breath was warm on his shirt. "I was kidding about the horny virgin." He didn't know what else to say. Her thighs began to tense, and he tensed in response. Finding that he was suddenly throbbing.
Cameron shifted lower. He tilted his head back.
"Your genitals may be frozen, House," still breathy and desperate, "but mine aren't." She tried to stop shifting. But his legs were so warm. The room was getting warm, as well. Everything was spinning and she had to get up. So she swallowed again, preparing to move, but squealed when she felt herself falling.
"They aren't frozen," he said, as he lifted her up and tilted her back toward the floor. The blanket fell with her, and he laid her on her back. Directly in front of the fireplace. He should have done this hours ago. His skin was burning from the heat. "Though I still assert that you women are lucky. Got all those folds to keep everything warm."
Her whimper was loud and it drove him further. He pulled her legs away from the couch and carefully knelt in between them. He was close to the fire. Too close, in fact. The danger made his jeans even tighter.
We can't do this was followed by House, and both were interspersed with moaning. He was on top of her - his hands on the floor - his pelvis nestled right below her bellybutton. When Cameron felt the bulge, all protest was lost, and she wrapped her legs around his back.
She twisted him over until she was on top; the scuffle brought them closer to the fire.
But then she just sat there, with her hands on his chest. Watching her victim. As he watched her. He could tell that something was wrong.
He wasn't sure what they were doing here. But somehow, the floor felt familiar. He ran his fingers against the grain of the floorboards, brushing the dirt with his palms. He wanted to say something; he didn't know what. Something poetic. Romantic. Stupid. The flames danced with shadows in her hair.
His hand made a smack as it banged against the floor, and Cameron was startled with a gasp. She watched his stomach. Rising. And falling. Tapering off where they met at the hips. Then her eyes traveled up to his face.
"Cameron..." He was far too warm under the pressure of her ass. "It's only going to feel good for a moment." His fingers rested gently on her thighs. Tracing little circles on her corduroy pants. His erection growing stronger. His breath growing shallow. "And then the moment will pass." He owed her more than a dirty floor. He'd been here before, and it hurt.
Cameron was quiet; his honesty stung. She laid herself down on his chest. Rising and falling as he filled his lungs, and emptied them. Desire streaming through her. When her face touched his neck, he turned into her. And let her rub her cheek on his stubble.
Her breath became moist against the shell of his ear. "I want to have sex with you," she rasped. Rubbing her hips on his throbbing erection. It was raw and untainted. And threw him for a loop.
He rolled his head around to look into her eyes. They were smokey and dark. A deep shade of turquoise. "I want you to have sex with me, too." He curled his lips at her, and she smiled into his cheek. But he shook his head, running his finger down the length of her spine. "I can't...make love to you, though. Not..." His voice trailed off, and he darted his tongue out to wet his lower lip.
She was quiet for a minute, then nuzzled his shoulder. Understanding embedded in the action. "You can give me passion, but you can't give me love." It was sad, but it wasn't malicious.
House rolled his eyes and slid his finger to her pants. "I was actually going to say, there are too many layers of fabric in-between." He chuckled. "But you make a good point." When his finger touched the skin of her lower back, she jumped. And he flattened his palm.
"Do I?" she asked.
He nodded against her.
"I can change that." She shuttered. And he didn't respond..
He slid his hand into her waistband, resting it softly on the slope of her ass. "Now I can tell Wilson I got into your pants." Cameron laughed, and he closed his eyes. "Go to sleep." He pulled her closer. "Wilson will be here in the morning."
She scooted him a few inches away from the fire. Then rested her head on his chest. She was warm. And sleepy. And suddenly glad she'd went to the conference. "You sure about that?" she slurred.
"Yeah."
They were quiet for the rest of the night.