31 October 2007 - Morning

[amber_v]

Shrill blares pierced Amber’s mind, tearing her from absolute unconsciousness. At first she didn’t even know what to make of it, what the fuck it could be, and what the fuck she herself was to be bothered by it. Instinctively she threw an arm out, fumbling, finding by sound only. Her hand wrapped around an object, squeezed it; by pure habit her thumb pressed down on the snooze button, and once the noise was gone, she retracted, coiling her arm into her chest, curling into herself.

It was impossible to ignore what was out of her, though. Sunlight insisted its way through the curtains, through her eyelids. Amber groaned, covering her arm with her eyes. Why. Her head hurt. Her eyelids felt huge, her mouth, foul. She ached everywhere, shoulders, back, thighs, ass-- even her vagina was sore. Like she’d overexerted herself.

Or, Amber realized, feeling the heat near her, like she’d overdone the fucking. Pieces came back to her: the crying (oh, god, the crying, why, no wonder her head throbbed), the “baby,” letting Eric—- she flushed. Was surprised by another wave, soft, almost undetectable, of pleasure, as if she were still riding the aftershocks. Amber groaned, covering her face. Sat up, closing her thighs together. Inside, she could feel the memory of his shape, even if she hadn’t been very aware of much at the time.

It was light, too light for when she should be waking up on a weekday. Why? Amber opened her eyes blearily, glanced at the clock. Seven. The time she’d set it for, on Sunday, the last time she’d set her alarm. She hadn’t come home last night, fucking, again, Eric, in his own apartment. “Fuck,” she said, and sprang out of bed, fully alert, trained from years of being on call. “Eric, wake up,” she called out, heading for the bathroom. “I set the alarm too late, we've got no time.” They’d have just about enough time to clean up, get dressed, and maybe grab food to eat on the way. Why did this keep happening? Amber normally woke up well, not brain-dead, spent her morning before work relaxed. It seemed that she always woke up confused, after fucking him. She left the bathroom door open; they wouldn’t have time for separate showers.

Comments

[g_house]

CTB's reactions were nicely delicate. Much more interesting to tease out than Foreman's unsubtle temper tantrums. House found himself leaning forward, investing more in the game. He caught her--interest? Worry?--about Foreman's previous indiscretions. House actually knew less about them than he was implying. He'd like to know more, but two in four years wasn't a winning hole card. Foreman might have snuck in more of a personal life than House ever would have allowed if he'd known. "Aww, please don't tell me you think you're unique," he said, staying loose but examining her for any tell-tale sign. "You're not even the first person to sleep with him to get to me." Seeing Foreman's reaction to finding out that the new Arnie had only wanted into House's pants--or at least, into his pockets for his pharmaceutical business had been damn sweet. That had been personal and about as short-lived as this little affair. A week. Getting his neurologist back on form had been as simple as blowing the chaff from the wheat.

There was better to come, though. Instead of the bitch he got the Ice Queen, eyes like glaciers. "I don't believe that, and I know you don't believe that," House said. CTB was not better than that, and that's why she was still in this game. She'd been proud of that before--was she backing down now? Over Foreman? House's stomach twisted at the idea, but he didn't show it. "Love" got in the way, and CTB was proving that--she was losing her edge. Besides, it wasn't love. It was convenience and sex. And pretty soon it'd be inconvenient, for him, and House didn't want to deal with that. Nipping it in the bud might be the best way to deal with it--once he'd finished playing cat and mouse. House left off leaning on the desk and took a step forward, sly interest increasing as he touched of the detonator, speaking softly despite the distance between them, sincerity radiating from his voice. "And Foreman doesn't believe that."

[amber_v]

Amber stiffened, though she maintained a frozen smile. Unique. She really hadn't thought of that up until now. Eric had been so undeniably novel and unparalleled, a whole new paradigm in her relationships, that there'd been no one to compare him to. She'd more or less assumed she was the same for him. That what they had somehow meant more. Was special. It was a good point, though. On their first date-- supposed one-night stand-- Eric asked if she wanted to know about his exes. He'd had his share. What was the first time to her might be part of this "boring" routine House kept referring to. And it’d been only less than a week, what had ever made her think she was in any way special, compared to the others?

When House said she wasn't the first to get sleep with Eric to get to him, Amber didn't know whether let her insides knot itself up or to laugh. So she compromised, smirking even as her stomach clenched. Worked to emphasize the wry humor reaction; sleeping with Eric as a ticket to House, now that was laughable. It’d have been so much easier just to show up on House’s doorstop with nothing but a quickly opened trench coat. "Just because it's been done before doesn't mean it won't work." She hadn’t completely abandoned the implications this was all about sleeping her way to the top.

House’s reference to that girl, it was concrete, not ambiguous like his other hints about Eric. It sounded like something that could be backed up. Amber could ask Eric about her. It’d be simple enough. And what did it matter, he wasn't with her, or any other girl, now. That was in the past. Hopefully.

Fuck. She'd let one bit of herself slip past her shell, and now House was corroding into the rest of her. Amber couldn't even afford not to come closer, tilting her head so as to hear his suddenly soft words. He harped again about what "Foreman" thought. Amber prickled with annoyance. House kept saying that almost as if Eric had gone up to him and admitted that the woman he was sleeping with-- her-- was just about ready to jump into what bed afforded her the most rewards. House was doing it only to bother her; he must've read in her reaction that the thought disturbed her. But she believed Eric believed her. None of what had happened yesterday would make sense if he didn't.

(The problem was-- no. She wouldn't. It was just a job. Eric was unique, even if he'd been through these feelings with other girls before. Jobs were many, Eric was one. But-- to win-- wouldn't Eric understand? No. This wasn't bullying a carnival clerk into given her toys for "the sick children." It wasn't the same. It wasn't a choice, at all. But how long would this job experience last her, fortifying her resume? And how much longer would that be compared to the time she could expect-- want-- to be with Eric?)

Amber drew a sharp breath. She couldn't let House get anymore to her. He was only taking advantage of her own confusion; close off access to that and he couldn't do any more harm. "You seem to know a lot about Foreman; you're making me jealous." Amber's tone regained the more playful, sensual tone from before. "Do you have a special interest in him, or do you keep a close eye on all your employees?"

[g_house]

He was beginning to score more hits. Might as well turn the metaphor into a game of Battleship--CTB could hide the places where it hurt, but all it took was enough potshots and House could work out where the cracks in her armour were deepest. She definitely didn't like the idea of Eric cozying up to other women. House grinned, imagining the cat fight that would result. Damn, if only that kiddie nurse was still at Princeton-Plainsboro. He'd introduce them like they should be old friends--after all, they had something in common!--and then step back and watch the sparks fly. His money was on CTB, of course, but Chase would run a good book, and House might even benefit from a little cash along with the spectacle. And that was only the start. House had even better material than that--hell, he knew things about Foreman's family that would probably set Amber back on her heels, because Foreman was a close-mouthed bastard with a chip on his shoulder.

House brushed aside the idea of CTB's plot to seduce him "working". Yeah, it might be something, to have those long legs wrapped around him, and he'd bet she was inventive as hell, not to mention completely capable of sucking his brains out through his dick. But he wasn't interested in hiring someone who'd compromise herself that far. It'd be too much like assuring him he was right during differentials, when what he wanted to hear was stupid ideas he could shout down, and good ideas he could poke holes in. Not, "You're right, House," and, by association, not "Here, let me blow you, House." It was a nice fantasy but Cuddy should be glad to know that House had some sort of standards. One of those was no sleeping with anyone nicknamed cut-throat bitch. Even if he'd been the one to name her.

He knew he'd scored again when CTB tried to go on the offensive. It wasn't much of an attack. House knew everything there was to know about his employees, and if he didn't, he tracked down the information until he figured it out. If there was something he didn't know, it was because he hadn't bothered to find out yet. Learning it from the candidates themselves--when they slipped--that was more satisfying that just checking their references or their personnel files. Thirteen, for instance: he'd find out her name, and whatever she was scared of, when he was ready to prod for more information. So far it was more interesting just to watch her trying to hide in plain sight. "Oh, hasn't Eric shared?" he said. "I'm just glad he could love again. Hasn't been long since the last one--" He waved a hand vaguely, as if the name had slipped his mind-- "Left the hospital in disgrace. Or was that because her career was completely stalled here?" Shrug. "Either way." He frowned and nodded, as though it was all academic and he could reassure CTB. If she still was CTB, that was; if she hadn't turned into Weepy Mess overnight. "I'm sure you're not the rebound at all. You two crazy kids have a good time."

With that, and a smirk, House headed for the doors. He wasn't interested in CTB's reaction; knowing that she'd have one, and that it wouldn't be sweetness and light, was good enough for him. It served Foreman right. He wasn't going to be "happy" on House's time; he was going to be good. And CTB would either stay CTB, or she'd break and leave the game. With five other candidates to trim down to two, House didn't really care which.

[amber_v]

Amber narrowed her eyes, frowning lightly; even before House spoke she knew that her attack had been poorly chosen. He just looked too happy, like whenever he'd left a trap and the time had come to collect the reward. She'd failed to hit a spot sensitive enough to throw him back-- then again, her hands were tied. It was a tricky equilibrium, protecting herself but not being so aggressive as to make him fire her. And she'd lost this round.

I'm just glad he could love again. Amber held back a jolt. Yes, she'd lost this round indeed. If it was true or not-- and how could she know, with House-- the fact was that he'd found a weakness of hers. He wouldn't forget, either. She could look forward to more insinuations about Eric's past loves. Right in front of the others, too. Then everyone would know how much that upset her.

It was a lie, or an exaggeration. It had to be. If anyone had left the hospital-- which meant she'd have been a coworker, if she existed, and, jeez, couldn't Eric expand his dating pool-- Amber would've heard about that. The juiciest tales made their way round to even the newest staff. Amber couldn't let herself believe any of this, not until she had the chance to ask Eric himself.

And House, the asshole, didn't even give her the chance to reply. He left with the last word, that trash about her being the rebound. No—that couldn’t be true either, she'd have noticed something like that, like she had the other things bothering Eric, like his work, his brother. But, alone in the room, suddenly quiet after the thud of the door, Amber looked down at her lap. Her hands had curled into themselves of their own accord, tight and hard. Why would she know? What did she really know about Eric?

And then she flushed, hot and angry and furious. Let herself rise to her feet, energy flooding her veins; almost kicked a chair, but didn't, on the off chance that House had his ear to the door, listening in. It was a close call, though. Amber wanted to hit, to smash. She settled for running a hand through her hair, pulling slightly. Fuck. It was happening again. She was making a fool of herself. Over a boy. Forget whether or not Eric had relationships in the past, if he'd loved anyone before-- that was practically a given-- Amber had just very nearly sabotaged her standing in the game. Maybe House had enjoyed this session, and being able to amuse him was probably important in lasting to the final round-- but he couldn't have been impressed. He’d cut her once her wretchedness stopped making him laugh. It was like fucking him: being the joke might get his interest, but it wasn't what counted.

She'd known it this morning, and now she knew it more than ever: being with Eric was making her stupid. Not being able to decide what happened in the bed was nothing compared to the agony of not being able to control her feelings, her actions, her expressions. A week ago, House wouldn't have been able to get to her like this.

Still hot all over, Amber gathered her things. Standing her and seething with impotent rage would do her no good. She'd fucked up, but she'd show House. She'd win. If he wanted a case, she'd get him one. Even if she had to spend all day asking every doctor, nurse, and flunky for a secret mystery patient.