(no subject)
Title: Prequel to Emily
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3800
Summary: Birthday fic from myself to myself. Prequel to Emily. Tribute (the wall part anyways) to unaloveshugh (who has been waiting for this since, who knows) back due to Alan's umm...thoughtfulness. Thanks!
Disclaimer: Not mine so stop rubbing it in
The day had begun with some personal issues, surely something you'd been stressing for quite some time. Countless number of times throughout the weeks you'd been telling yourself that it been merely from stress, nothing having to do with the affair you'd been part taking in. You'd never felt so alive, enjoying the evenings when you'd talk the night away, falling asleep in his arms and wishing there was no boundaries to let it all out. He'd look at you with a glint of undying love in his eyes and seal it with a kiss.
Today you took a stroll through the beach, one of the many benefits of living in California, watching as the waves clashed with one another, the sun well on its way of setting letting dark and blurry shades of red, orange and yellow mix there way into the sky creating a scenery one would wish to share with. You stop and sit down, unconsciously rubbing your stomach, smiling and on the verge of tears. It'll ruin everything you think, his marriage, his relations with his family, everything he has. A tear silently makes its way down your cheek, landing on the sleeve of your sweater. Taking a reluctant sigh, you know you have to head home and tell him the news.
"Hugh?" you say stepping into your home and draping your coat along side the rack. From the sound of things he's here and apparently searching for something.
There is some rummaging going on as you hear short grunts and sniffs along with toppling of items being discarded furiously to the side. He mutters a chorus of profane words, letting out a small yell of frustration. Since his return, he's become slightly distant and favoring the angrier side of things. There seems to be something bothering him, his temper flaring every now and then fueled by the miniscule of things. You can’t tell if it has something to do with House, family matters or personal issues, but people have been avoiding him like the plague. Just the other day Robert approached him and dragged him to a corner, asking what had been going on. Hugh shook his head and said it was nothing, disregarding his concerned look after him.
Letting out a silent breath, you’re not quite sure on how his reaction might be. It truly scares you. "Hugh," you repeat a little bit softer this time.
"Yea," he rasps out sharply, turning his attention toward you and stopping his rifling of things. He looks a bit flushed, his hair sticking in all different angles, small beads of sweat at the base of his neck along with a small ring around the collar of his shirt.
You fidget and swallow taking your shaky hand into its equal counter part. "I have to tell you something..."
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2 months earlier
"Alright you guys! Quiet on the set...Hugh...Jen...Robert are we ready to go?"
You nod in agreement watching Hugh twirl his cane and jab Robert playfully on the side getting a facetious glare in response. David walks over to Katie and whispers something in her ear. She scrunches up her face in disbelief and takes a deep sigh. With a weird noise coming from deep in her throat, making camera men and women look up from their notepads and cameras, she walks to the middle of the set and raises her hands in announcement.
"Alright you guys, there seems to be something wrong with the lighting...it probably wont be fixed by tomorrow."
You feel relieved which you shouldn't because it just means more work for you tomorrow but smile inwardly at the much needed break. Hugh and Robert walk over to you smiling. You feel a sense of panic and mischievousness begin to build from deep within the pits of your stomach, seeing House Hugh sport some dark denim jeans, a white vintage Pink Floyd shirt and his usual motorcycle jacket. Personally you think he looks mouth watering ruggedly handsome and at that sudden moment you snap yourself out of your own reverie, knowing that you have an idiotic grin plastered on your face and Hugh knows just the reason for it. They reach you and you notice the almost shy look he gives you, but try your hardest to not pay attention to him. It’s a small game that plays throughout the day, catching subtle hints at one another and able to play on until someone else comes near.
"Hey Jennifer you up for some lunch?" Robert asks.
"Yea, sure."
As you eat in the cafeteria of the House set which also serves as a domain for eating in the first place, you can’t help but feel in character. Your clothing and surroundings are that of Cameron but you feel like a prisoner in your own cell. Hugh is subtly stealing glances, taking his eyes off of Robert when he moves to pick up a fry and landing on you almost instantly without hesitation. There is almost a squeal of delight from your left as Lisa heads towards the table. It is the first day back from the strike, some tension still between some of the producers but between the actors, the tension has ceased. She comes over and you stand up to hug her, and then moves over to Hugh then Robert.
"Wow, its glad to be back," Lisa says with a smile.
"Yea I know, I was starting to get stir crazy in my house," you say with one mirroring hers.
"Well she did go out with Gabriella and I to dinner a couple of times, but from there on I don’t know what she could of possibly done the whole time," Robert says playfully, batting his eyelashes for effect.
"Oh ha ha," you say sarcastically.
"Alright you two, enough. Hey, can I steal you for a moment?"
Robert looks around at his 3/4 eaten food and makes a motion between you and Hugh. "You guys want the remaining of my fries?" You and he politely decline with a wave of the hand and smile.
"What is it a Wuddy moment?" you ask.
"Looks like it."
You laugh. "Ok, go ahead take him we don’t need him anyways."
He sticks his tongue out at you and tips a pretend hat at Hugh. "Sir."
Hugh mimics him and gets into his American accent. "Sir."
You laugh at how you guys seem to be portraying teenagers. You love this aspect about your job, the ability to switch into playful friends with the cast and crew and switch back to the character of Cameron. You watch him leave and immediately feel his gaze begin to bore with much needed anticipation.
"Hi," he rasps out, going back into his British accent. It’s mellower with a hint of exasperation and defeat. After his stint in London he's seemed a bit rough along the edges, but nothing out of the ordinary. His attitude has noticeably changed, for you anyways, but you dismiss it from probable longing.
"Hey."
He lowers his head and is about to say something when someone from the crew shouts from the door. "Mr. Laurie we need you."
He scrunches up his face in defeat and sighs. "Ill see you later?"
"Your place or mine?"
"Yours."
"Deal," you say with a devilish smile. He looks after you and darts his tongue ever so slightly against his lips and trails a line along them then gets up. You don’t know how you’re going to make it from here and on.
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Feeling anticipation build, you'd never felt so giddy in your life to enter your home. Usually it runs through the opposite, the almost dreaded entering of it.
"Jen?" you hear his rough British accent float through the room once inside.
"Hey," you say meeting him in the middle of the room and taking his face into your hands. He's clad in only a plain black shirt and jeans but he looks to die for.
"Missed you," you say, kissing him tenderly slow, letting your lips do the talking for you. He smiles against your lips, separating just enough to take a long steady look and crush his with yours. His tongue enters your mouth, letting it feel every crevasse, massaging yours tantalizingly slow in an interpretation of how much he's missed you. It’s a savoring effect that he has, revealing the raw nature of sex by touches and glances, kisses and strokes. Your head begins to swim from the lack of oxygen and separate. Feeling a bit mischievousness, you walk backward towards the room, crooking a finger in a "get over here" motion.
He rushes fowards and pulls you roughly to him. His body screams with sexual frustration, emanating heat all over yours. He throws you onto the wall with a grunt, immediately dwarfing his hands in yours and placing them high above. His kisses are frantic and sloppy, nibbling and sucking every inch of skin that his mouth comes across. A deep throaty moan surfaces, guiding his kisses with more desperation. You don’t trust your legs and as if reading your mind, his hands find the side of your thighs, lifting and guiding them around him. His cock is straining against his pants, nestling against your awaiting entrancing. Your hands find there way into his hair, pulling needlessly at his perpetual assault on your neck and collar bone.
Making quick work of clothes, without separating your lips against his, you take his massive form into your hand and begin to pump slowly, watching the way his face contorts to blissful pleasure. His precum slickens your fingers and bring them up to lick, as if possible in an attempt to torture him more.
With a quick lift of your legs once more, he enters you without hesitation. The wetness coming from you slickens him instantly, not needing a moment to adjust. For a moment you fuck with the only thing structurally sound being Hugh himself. Feeling his support begin to slip, he makes his way towards the wall, slamming you against it and pounding into you. He thrusts into you over and over again, your back scraping along the wall sure of yourself that you'll be coming out of it with marks, possibly scars on your back. Its feel gloriously good, almost agonizing at how you'd had to stretch for him, but your thoughts are blurred with an orgasmic incoherent toppling of words. The first one of the night you say to yourself feeling him let your name come from his mouth simultaneously spurting inside. Slickening in sweat, you keep your legs wrapped around him, sure that there is going to be an extremely hot marathon of sex to come.
Regardless of the nature of the sex or lovemaking, its always fierce, whether it be forceful, deep, hard strokes or soft, tender and languid ones. You've noticed this, and wouldn’t want it any better.
"Give me a sec," Hugh breathes as small beads of sweat trail his brow. You nod and gasp for breath as well, the after math of it making you twitch involuntarily.
Moving off of the wall he walks over to the couch, pumping lazily. The room seems to be spinning, his determination fueled by the weeks of not having any contact with you. Laying you down gently on the arm of the couch he thrusts into you shallowly, keeping his mouth open and breathing coming out in choked pants. He moves your body accordingly with his powerful strokes, keeping his hands tight on your hips watching what makes you close your eyes what feels the most amazing. With a lick of his lips he tips his head to the side and immediately you know what to do. With a quick swing of your leg, you find yourself face to face with the arm of the couch and hang onto whets about to come. He pulls out and leans in, taking your ear for a short nibble, licking the outer shell of it and whispering, "I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to remember your name"
At that moment your knees turn into Jell-O, buckling beneath you and letting you slip into your second orgasmic induced coma. Your walls split in half, closing your eyes in a sheer couch gripping torturous orgasm, sending ripples of hot strings run through you. It’s crazy at how with just words he has you in such a state, causing orgasmic relief without physical contact. Noting your rapid decrease in breath intake he begins to piston inside you, sure that if any neighbors are asleep, they'll be awake in a little less then a couple of seconds. He grabs your ass in his massive hands and begins to massage, pulling you to him in an attempt to feel all of him.
You grab his cock in your hand letting your tongue dance around the head, sucking hard. You could feel your juices with a mix of his float around your mouth and never in your life would you have found something so erotic. A deep gulp makes it way violently down his throat, and from your position you could see it bob up and down. With a final hard suck you climb up for another kiss, feeling him probe at your entrance. Inch by inch you slide down him gasping for the one hundredth time. He begins to bounce you up and down, his hands gripping forcefully at your hips. For a considerable amount of time his thrusts switch from pistoning frantically to slow moving of his hips. There is a sensation down within the pits of your stomach, you gasp and find yourself spasming uncontrollably. Seconds later, Hugh follows your actions, spilling inside with an ear shredding cry. He lays his head down to the side, sweat slickening both your bodies. Your body feels heavy and limp, resting your head on his chest as he feels the strands course through his fingers.
"What brought that on," you say later as you lay there wrapped in his arms.
"I missed you...as you can see quite a considerable amount," he says with a chuckle.
You laugh. "Oh, that I could see."
"Well you have your answer don’t you?"
"I guess I do."
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As he stands there, seething with slight anger, his expression softens as he notes your hesitation. He walks over to you and wraps his arms around you in a comforting hug, something you need at the current moment. After a few moments he separates and lifts your chin kissing you soundly on the lips.
"What is it Jennifer?” His anger has dissipated entirely now clouded with concern.
You start to feel your whole body heat up and begin to sweat. "Nothing, forget I said anything."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
He takes a steady look and nods. "Ok."
"Sorry."
"Don’t be."
"You were looking for something?"
"Yea, don’t worry about it."
"Yea...don’t worry about it."
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Throughout the months you feel as if it was your duty to tell him but there’s been a downfall in House. The writers and production crew split up due to some inconveniences and your relationship with Hugh hasn’t been what it’s been throughout the months. His apartment has been put up for sale and he's moved on in London. He's called you and you'd talk to him, continuing the facade that nothing has changed since his move. You grow bigger and bigger, watching as your belly expands and more reports past by about the birth of your child. You hope to whomever that the news doesn’t reach London headlines, imagining the puzzled and guilty look on his face.
When you feel your child coming out of you, squalling and into the new world, you can't help but feel a surge of guilt and love mixed up into a ball of utter disbelief. The moment that they place her on your chest, your heart swells and begin to cry, amazed at how something so beautiful has come to light. But at the moment, you want to call and tell him that he has a child, that she is finally here and awaiting his first touch, but you can’t. You told yourself you wouldn’t. The nurse walks over and gently takes her from you assuring that she is going to be fine. You see her pink screaming form flail her tiny arms around, squalling and stopping to give an even bigger scream then the previous one. Your hand reaches out, the fingers sprawled awaiting to feel her in your arms once more.
The nurse looks back and gives a reassuring smile taking your now calm baby and heading towards you. When you get her back, you hold back sobs when you see his eyes reflected from your baby. Azure blue.
"What are you going to name her?" the nurse on the side coos placing a pink beanie on her head and running one finger along her cheek.
"Emily," you say holding her into your arms and looking down at her and smiling. You see Jesse pacing back and forth from the other side of the room, mouthing a clenched fist. You nod over to the door. "When can he come in?"
"The father?"
"No," you say quietly shaking your head, "a really good friend."
"Alright then dear he's free to come in. Are you up for it? You should rest."
"I'll rest later, I'm fine really. Can I get some water?"
"Certainly," she says leaving. You catch a glimpse of Robert talking to Jesse, asking if he could go ahead of him to see you. With a nod and smile he motions for him to pass.
"Robert, hi," you say upon seeing him.
"Hey," he says softly, tip toeing over to your exhausted form. "How are you two?"
"Good."
He leans over and places a sound kiss on your forehead. "How is she?"
"Perfect."
You watch as his eyes light up, watching the bundle squirm into a comfortable position. "Can I?"
"Sure."
He grabs Emily from your grasp, cooing and trailing a finger down her cheek. For a minute there is a stunned expression but it slowly fades.
"She has his eyes," you say silently answering his question.
"Do-does he know?" he asks a bit stunned.
"...No... But, please don’t te-"
He cuts you off and grabs your hand. "Jennifer, it’s not my place to say anything but I wish you two the best. If you decide to tell him, it’s your business, if you don’t, just ... don’t regret anything."
You nod your head in understanding and smile. "Thank you."
"No problem."
Robert spends some time there, laughing up past scenes and remembering the good old days. He leaves when the nurse says that visiting times are over, leaving you to think about what he'd said earlier. When the room is empty, you reach over and grab your daughter, well past the point of sleeping. She lays there with a tiny fist clenched inside her mouth surrounded by small bubbles of drool.
"Emily," you say, hoping she'd wake up at her name.
"...Laurie" She does, her eyes partially open looking up at you with small tears embedded at the corners.
As the years pass you see her developing his character more and more. You've become the Gillian Anderson of the decade, keeping your child hidden from the paparazzi, prying eyes of others and constant televised episodes involving the typical headline, 'Jennifer Morrison's baby, who’s the father?’ It’s become a burden, a grudge between you and the rest of the world. What should they care? It’s your life, not there’s. They have no reason to bombard you with questions involving your personal life. It’s just that you think, your personal life. And even then, you don’t think you'd be able to enroll her into a normal school and live the life of a normal child. Instead she'd have the never ending quest of people asking her questions, having to answer such as to who your daddy is and why you don’t have one, which begins to eat away at your heart. There has been reports of Jesse being Emily's father but all of the interviews he's responded with "No, I'm not, but it’s none of my business or anyone’s besides Jennifer."
He’s always been there for you and you couldn’t have asked for more then that. Shaking your head, you watch as your daughter walks over to her toy ducky, placing it in her mouth and drools around it with heartily giggles of laughter. Smiling you walk over to her and scoop her up, letting out a laugh or two at her two small front teeth beginning to show. You kiss her soundly on the head, letting her small face look you over.
Sometimes you can’t help but cry, seeing his features dominate her more and more. Her eyes are identical to his if possible a darker shade of azure but still holding his always familiar shade of blue. Sometimes, you just don’t know what to do...
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"Emily!"
"Yes mommy?"
"What are you doing?"
"I’m colorin', Mrs. Milton says I’m doing really good for my age."
"She did did she?" you say placing the beginning remnants of pasta in a pot. Moving your mouth form side to side you can’t decide between a marinated or creamy choice, and instead favor the marinated.
"Yup, and mommy I’m the wittless one. Mommy?"
"Yes?"
"Can I watch TV?"
"Sure, just give me a sec," you place the remanding things inside of the pot and turn the heat on low. Walking inside of the living room, you turn on the TV and click in the channel you've learned to memorize from here favorite TV shows. You walk to her and place a kiss on her cheek, "You need anything I'll be in the kitchen washing the dishes."
She nods emphatically and smiles. "Ok mommy!"
Walking back into the kitchen you hear her begin to laugh. She cracks up and claps her hands together.
"Mom there's a dog! Dog! Dog! Moooooooooom!!"
I Tarantino'd it. So some may say what a shitty ending when in reality Emily kicks in right here.
Click to viewHouse playing 'Happy Birthday', thanks for the mentioning crispy33 !