writing by moofoot

yuletide 2008

Tue, 11 Nov 2008 03:07:48 GMT

Hello! I figured I might as well write this, as requests have closed and assignments should be coming out very shortly, and I don't want to be that person who has no Dear Yuletide Writer letter up and so on and so forth.

That said...I am so not picky about things written for me. I know I gave some basic details in the sign up form and it may not seem like much...but I am so easy to please it's not even funny. I really don't have all that much to add.

My favorite parts of 24 are both action and adventure and tension. I love, love, love tension, especially if it makes *me* tense just reading it. I love the black hoodie and I love those aviators. Really, just, I love that show to death and everything about it.

The info I gave for 3:10 and Appaloosa is pretty much all I have to say. I love Westerns. Love them to bits. I like description, landscapes, details, random bits that just fit. I am super easy to please.

I am so, so grateful that you've offered to write a fic in one of my fandoms/requests. Thank you so much!!!

yuletide 2007

Sat, 20 Oct 2007 21:37:46 GMT

Dear Yuletide Santa,

Let's put it this way. Whatever I get, I will be thrilled with. It is my first year doing Yuletide and I would love anything that gets written for me, at all. I love all sorts of relationships, as well as one-character pieces. Doesn't matter if it's action or adventure or anything, really, I am just very grateful for getting a present from you.

You rock, whoever you are. I am so grateful for you being willing to write one of my requests!

:)

Alison (aka ramblinwanderer)

NaNoWriMo 2007

Fri, 05 Oct 2007 08:24:11 GMT

Still about a month away, but, planning stages should be begun.

As of this moment, I have no plot, one or two possible PBs for characters I have no idea what they'll be used for but that's always how I start, and a head cold that's given me reason to down good amounts of cold medicines.

This might explain why I have no ideas.

Eh, there is always tomorrow, but yes, I'll be doing NaNo 2007. It'll be tricky since I've got to get a job come November, but, I think I can manage.

Gotta love the look of that.

house/brittany ficlet

Sat, 28 Oct 2006 03:46:08 GMT

This is just a House/Brittany ficlet set in an AU we're working on. Not sure what prompt it goes for but I'm just getting it out of my system. Rated a rough PG-13/R. Smut!

Greg House is a cheap, angry, sometimes-lying-through-his-teeth son of a bitch.

She's smiling up at him, and he's smiling back at her. Of course he's going to smile back at her, because she's got her mouth against the skin on his hip, nibbling and nipping at the tender skin there. He may be tough on the outside, but when she's that close to a very sensitive area, he's going to play nice. Because he doesn't want her to get pissed off, and retaliate.

Brittany Colefield is smiling up at him, because she trusts him. Not in the way she trusts men like her father, her partner Lex, or the guys on the UCLA baseball squad, which is practically with her life, but in a different way. A trusting, 'you'll take care of me if I take care of you', way.

Which is the truth.

That's why she's here. That's why she's naked, in bed, in his bed, running her tongue lightly over the skin, a finger teasing the thin, dark trail of curls that runs down his stomach, nail scraping every-so-gently, just enough to make him squirm.

Sure, James Wilson, her current boyfriend, and his best friend, is somewhere drowning his sorrows in a pint mug of Sam Adams. And why that distresses her, she really is having fun here, tonight, in Greg's bed, with him.

House smiles to himself.

This might just work out afterall.

And at that moment, as he's closing his eyes and arching his neck in pleasure, fingers curling in the sheets, he's very, very glad he splurged and got the Egyptian cotton instead of the regular.

Glass Waltz: Chapter 99 (099. Writer's Choice)

Sun, 17 Sep 2006 03:53:32 GMT

Title: Glass Waltz (99)
Fandoms: House/24/MI5
Characters/Pairing: Greg House/Brittany House, referenced Brittany House/Michael Colefield and one-sided Brittany House/Jacob Lindsay
Prompt: 099. Writer's Choice
Word Count: 1157
Rating: PG-13 for language, violence, and adult subject matter.
Spoilers: None for this part
Summary: A killer's dying wish brings his last victim to life.
Author's Notes: The 99th chapter of an ongoing novel. All chapter subtitles are from the song "30 Minutes" by TATU.

Ninety-nine.
All Together Now.

for the rest / of my life

September 15, 2011
2:32 P.M. EST
Princeton, New Jersey

House is standing in the living room, staring out the back window, trying to find meaning in his life.

It's been three months since they got out of the game.

And in a lot of ways, it's been the longest, hardest, and most painful months of his life. He misses his friends, who don't call anymore. He misses the coffee runs with Kyle. The intellectual discussions with Julian. Hell, he even misses the the bitchfests he'd have with Hannigan. The man only comes to the basketball games. Never around to really do anything, anymore.

Jackson is six. A very hyper six. But a very intelligent six years old.

They're sitting at the dinner table, having a bit of a late lunch, when Jackson prods at his sandwich and pouts. "I miss Uncle Kyle and Uncle Mike." He says, with his little face in a frown. "Why don't they come over and visit anymore? Why didn't they come to my birthday?"

House pulls in a quiet breath and looks at his son. "They're busy people, Jackson."

"But I miss them!" Jackson protests, thudding his little fist against the table. "I didn't even get any presents from them." He glares at his father.

"Jackson, it isn't about presents,"

"I miss them." His eyes well up with tears and he climbs away from the table, going to run off into his room.

House sighs and looks at his wife, who looks just as distressed, and then gets up from the table, to make the walk into the bedroom. He knows his son misses his uncles, because he misses his friends just as much. They still haven't heard from Michael.

Jackson is curled up in a ball underneath his covers, and sobs shakily as he cries.

It breaks his heart to see his son like this. House quietly walks into the bedroom and sits on the bed, then puts a hand on his son's back. "Jackson, I'm sorry..."

"No," comes the tearful reply. "Because they used to come over even if they were busy. Now they don't come over to play." Jackson rolls over. "Can we go see them, please?"

House swallows. "Jackson..."

"Please, dad? I really want to see Uncle Kyle and Uncle Mike."

"Uncle Mike is in England," House says, even if it isn't the truth, it's the best he can do at the moment. "And Uncle Kyle is teaching classes."

"I want to see them. At least Uncle Kyle. Please?"

"We'll see, Jackson."

Jackson pouts up at him.

In the kitchen, Brittany is sitting at the table in tears, listening to the exchange between father and son. Her son shouldn't have to cry to get to see the men that used to be in her life. Her son shouldn't have to pout and beg to see his role models, his uncles, his grandfather. She wipes away the tears and bites her lip.

House walks out of the bedroom a few minutes later, wiping at his own eyes as he takes a seat at the table. "He misses Kyle, Mike, Jack," he says.

"I know," she says quietly. "I heard him. He's upset that they didn't come to his birthday party like they always do." She reaches for his hand. "Are we doing the right thing?"

He sighs and nods. "This is what we needed to do, I just don't know if it's worth watching his heart break like this at every birthday, every Christmas, every time he misses them. I don't know if it's worth it."

"I know," Brittany echoes. "It kills me to hear him cry like that but I don't know what I can do. They haven't called. They haven't come by. I walked away from them," she swallows hard. "They're just returning the favor."

She never expected it would be like this. She always thought that they'd be able to hang out, still be friends after it all, but she should have known better.

So much for the happy ending.

Jackson wails loudly from the bedroom, sending shivers down both his parents' spines.

House folds his hands on the table. "We need to fix this." He says needlessly, before he pushes himself up to standing and sighs. "I'm going to call them."

"Greg, if they don't want to see us, then we're only going to crush Jackson's heart." Brittany counters.

"I don't care, we have to try." Another wail. "Listen to him. He's going to make himself sick." House stands up and then goes to comfort his son, picking him up into his arms and hugging him close, trying to soothe him and wipe away his tears.

"I miss Uncle Kyle. He always liked," a hiccup and a sniffle. "To play with me." The boy clings to his father's neck as they walk to the living room and sit down on the couch. "I miss Uncle Jake and Uncle Mike and Grandpa Jack. He never talks to me on the phone no more." Jackson wipes his face on his father's shoulder and sniffles.

"I know, bud, I know. I'm gonna try to fix that."

September 17, 2011
5:11 P.M. EST
Princeton, New Jersey

House is sitting at the table again. Jackson is sitting there, coloring a picture for Uncle Kyle when he shows up. Unknown to him, his uncle was supposed to be there ten minutes ago, if he was going to be there at all. Brittany can't bear to sit and wait for the end, so she just locks herself in the office and goes over plays.

Ten minutes late turns into thirty minutes late.

When it turns into an hour, and the sky starts to darken, Jackson realizes that Kyle isn't here yet, and he frowns deeply at the picture before grabbing it and turning it over onto the back so he can't see the careful coloring job he spent the last hour doing. He pushes himself back from the table and pads off to his room to sit and sulk in the corner on the floor.

House sighs as his son's door clicks shut, and he just picks the crayons up and cleans up the mess. It kills him to see his son like this. He picks up a bottle of beer and walks out to the front yard, phone in hand as he opens the bottle and sinks down onto the front steps. He dials Kyle's house number and isn't surprised when he reaches the message machine.

"I hope you realize that you shattered a little boy's heart tonight," he says into the reciever. "It was your choice, but I can't see my son broken hearted and not say something about it. I hope you know what you've done. And you have to live with that."

He hangs up, then dials back again.

Another message.

"Kyle, he misses you. I miss you. Brittany misses you. I can understand why you're not calling, why you're not coming by, but it hurts. I won't lie." He sighs. "Just please, call me."

He takes a drink of the beer, and sits there for awhile, just waiting for the phone to ring.

But when it does, he isn't really expecting it at all.

fyi

Thu, 22 Jun 2006 03:21:18 GMT

At this time, due to the demanding work schedule at my RL retail hell, as well as the level of dedication I have given to the current fic, Glass Waltz, over at project_liberty, some challenges you may have been following are going to be put on pause or slowed.

1sentence, for House/Brittany, and House & Kyle are on pause unless I can get inspiration for those again randomly and I poke them.

100songs, I have 25 left. These I will do when I can.

au100, has been pretty much dropped. I just don't have time.

fanfic100, has been on pause for months. I may drop this, I'm not sure, I do still enjoy poking them.

Any questions, give me a poke here.

New project

Fri, 16 Jun 2006 07:30:09 GMT

I'm working on a new project, everyone. It's a co-authored novel, set in Theatrical Muse canon. ctumuse and myself are collaborating on it.

Glass Waltz isn't current TM canon, however. Set in June, 2011, House and Brittany's son is four and a half years old when she recieves word from her lawyer that a certain man who they'd thought they were done with, left her something in his will. The novel is for 100_situations. Each chapter is co-written/gone over and corresponds to a prompt.

All the chapters will be posted at our new joint fic community, project_liberty. All my individual work will remain here.

The table/archive for Glass Waltz is here. The number by each prompt is the chapter number.

Feel free to friend the community if you want to keep up with it. I won't be crossposting them to here.

100songs prompt # 088.

Thu, 08 Jun 2006 04:09:16 GMT

Title: Eternal
Characters/Pairing: Brittany House/Greg House, Jackson
Prompt: 088. The Sound Of Silence
Word Count: 849
Rating: PG-13
Summary: House has to deal with the one thing he never really wanted to.
Author's Notes: Warning for minor character death, a little bit of angst. Future, speculation fic. Just a 'what if' I've had floating in my brain.

He's standing there, feet sinking into soft grass, as he rocks on his heels to keep from having to stand still while the wind breezes across his face. The snap of a flag draws his attention over his shoulder, and he turns his head slightly to look behind him.

"What is it, sweetheart?" His wife whispers, rubbing a hand at his back.

House narrows his eyes as he gazes across the field, green as far as he can see, marked by neat rows of white marble blocks, forming angles and rows. He nods slightly and turns his attention back to her. "Nothing." He whispers.

Jackson, now four years old, is clinging to his mother's leg. He doesn't quite understand why they're outside in this park and he can't run and play, and why everyone is dressed in black and he has to whisper to ask a question.

Brittany shushes him as her husband turns his head the other way and glances over his shoulder again. The cassion carrying the flag draped casket of her husband's father is being drawn by two black horses, flanked by six men in full Marine dress.

House tries to block out the sound of the lone bagpiper playing 'Amazing Grace', and just tightens his grip on his mother's hand. Blythe presses her cheek against her son's shoulder and he can feel the emotion running off her in waves. He may have lost his father, but she lost her husband, her love. He's nearly lost Brittany enough to know what that feels like, in a sense, so he can understand.

He doesn't listen to the eulogy.

He wants to remember his father as the man he knew.

Not the man they knew.

His mother clings to his side, dabbing her eyes with a hankerchief as the six men step forward and remove the flag from the casket. The sun peeks through the clouds and the oak surface glows with red and blue as the flag is folded, sharp and neat, angles square and orderly. It's five steps to where he's standing, as the flag is handed over by a man who says nothing, just nods respectfully.

House tightens his grip on her hand as they hand her another Purple Heart.

Blythe House just bites her lip and closes her hand around the medal, but turns to her son and hands him the flag, pressing it into his hands. "He wanted you to have this," She whispers.

House swallows and takes it from her, before he feels his wife rubbing her hand up and down his spine.

He doesn't flinch at the first volley of gunshots. Jackson is startled and lets out a small cry of surprise, which his mother soon calms him of, and the second volley rings out across the hills, smoke rising from the tips of polished steel. The third echoes louder than the rest, he thinks, but maybe it's just the silence that follows.

Someone plays 'Taps' on a solitary bugle. When the melody ends, it's almost like all the air has been sucked out of the world. He feels lightheaded, like something's just not balanced. His mother releases his hand to walk to the casket, her fingers trailing along the dark, glossy oak. She's saying something that he can't hear.

The guests begin to leave. A man in a uniform hugs his mother.

House turns around, away from his wife and son, and takes a few steps away, eyes slightly misting over. He never cried in front of his father and he doesn't intend to start now, even if he's only tearing up.

Jackson toddles over to his father and looks up at him. "What's wrong, Da?"

"Your father's fine, Jack," Brittany whispers as she reaches for her son's hand. "He just needs a minute."

House turns around and smiles at his son, eyes clear. He'll deal with his grief later, not now. He reaches for his son's hand and then walks with him to the casket, before he kneels next to it and touches his boy's cheek. "Jackson," He says quietly. "I want you to say goodbye to Grandpa, okay?"

"Grandpa?" The four year old asks, looking around. "Where is he?"

"He's in the casket, Jackson."

The boy looks confused. "Why's Grandpa in the box?" He asks, looking at it. "Is he sleeping?"

House swallows hard, and nods. He can't talk, just nods. "Yeah, Jack. He...just say goodbye to him, okay? Tell him that you love him."

Jackson arches an eyebrow and then shrugs, before turning to the box and knocking on it. "Grandpa?" When there's no answer, he just continues. "I love you. I'll see you later, Da says I have to say bye now."

The innocence in his son's voice is what pushes him to the edge, and he just takes his son's hand in his own and nods. "Good, Jackson. Now, go to your mom a minute, please?" He watches as his son walks away and then swallows to regain his composure, turning back to the casket.

Fingers trace along the edge, smooth wood gliding under his fingertips. He doesn't say anything for a long time, before he simply nods, lifts his fingers, and speaks four words.

"I love you, Dad."

100songs prompt 029.

Wed, 31 May 2006 04:56:18 GMT

Title: Eventually
Characters/Pairing: Brittany House/Greg House
Prompt: 029. Someday
Word Count: 500
Rating: R
Summary: They knew it would happen sometime. When it does, though, it's rather unexpected.
Author's Notes: Spoilers for "No Reason". Adult content.

She's staring at him as he tells her about the Ketamine. About the coma, about the pain loss, about how he can walk again without the cane, without limping. She doesn't really get it until he climbs out of bed and jogs around the room in a circle, careful not to pull the stitches in his side.

He stops and looks at her. Prays she isn't angry with him. She doesn't look angry but he isn't really sure.

There's a moment of silence. She crosses the room to his side and runs a hand down his side, then takes his right hand in hers and kisses the palm of it. Each rough and calloused finger, the palm smooth from years of dependence on the cane, joints tight and bones set in their ways. She closes her eyes to hide the tears of happiness, but it doesn't work.

He reaches for her chin and pulls it up gently. Asks her if she's angry with him.

She shakes her head and whispers that she's not, before she goes back to kissing his hand, his arm, then his lips. She pulls him close and kisses him with a passion that's just his to know about, lips parting to his tongue. Her hands grab his gown and she nudges him up against the wall.

His hands slide down her back. His neck is throbbing and his side is protesting, but his body doesn't care. If they weren't in a hospital he would be stripping her at this point of the making out stage but he remains calm and just slips his hand under her shirt instead.

She groans into his mouth and presses her body against his, then nearly falters when the door slides open to the room. It's their best friend, who's just coming to make sure that they haven't killed themselves, yet, and he stares when he sees her arms around his neck and his hand sliding down the back of her jeans.

Kyle stammers out an apology and practically bolts from the room, going to find something to amuse himself with for the next half hour. House laughs and then shoves a hand down her pants.

Ten minutes later she's on her knees in front of him, rubbing at his leg with a hand as she sucks him off, it's quick and painless and nobody notices that he's not in his bed, thankfully, because he doesn't want to explain this to a nurse. He's back in bed, flushed, and panting, and she takes a moment to goto the restroom and compose herself and calm her breathing.

Her son is doing backflips, practically, as she straightens her shirt and walks out the room. She ignores the cringe from Kyle and just walks to the end of the hall, exhaling a breath and running a hand through her messed hair.

House takes a deep breath as Kyle walks into the room. He tries to explain, but just ends up saying the words 'congratulatory present' and that's explanation enough for both men, right there.

100songs prompt # 024.

Wed, 31 May 2006 04:20:52 GMT

Title: Thicker Than Water
Characters/Pairing: Brittany House/Greg House. Brittany's POV.
Prompt: 024. This Love
Word Count: 220
Rating: PG-13
Summary: What will one do for love?
Author's Notes: Spoilers for the season two finale of House, "No Reason".

If she wasn't 27 weeks pregnant, she would have done it herself.

But she was. And another man was currently in the room with her husband's shooter. There was only a matter of minutes left before the problem would be eliminated. It would only take one silenced, well placed bullet to end the life of Jack Moriarty.

Part of her wondered why this didn't bother her.

But all she had to do was look at the man she loved, lying, asleep, unconcious, in the hospital bed next to her. The bandage on his neck, white, with dark red blood seeping through the gauze. The bandage she can't see, under his gown, on his stomach. The lines of stitches. Torn skin that she prays won't scar, for his sake.

The anger was enough to push away all thoughts of doubt.

She reaches up and touches his neck, under the bandage, wiping away a bit of dried blood with her thumb, gently. His blood. The blood of their unborn son.

That man tried to kill her baby's father.

And that was unacceptable.

She kisses his neck and goes back to pacing around the room, rubbing gently at the swell of her stomach, calming her son, who has decided that now is the perfect time to start some tae kwon do.

Nobody messes with her family and lives to tell about it.

Period.

100songs prompt # 020.

Wed, 31 May 2006 04:02:56 GMT

Title: Waiting
Characters/Pairing: Brittany House/Greg House, Jake Hannigan. Brittany's POV.
Prompt: 020. Someday We'll Know
Word Count: 245
Rating: PG
Summary: Focus on Brittany's thoughts while her husband is unconcious.
Author's Notes: Spoilers for the season two finale of House, "No Reason".

She's sitting there at his beside, his hand clasped firmly in her own, holding back the tears that are threatening to fall and hit the sheets. At first it was shock, then anger, but now it's worry and sadness. She reaches up and fingers the edge of the bandage on his neck, ignoring the spot of blood that's showing against the white gauze.

"Oh, Greg." She whispers. "I'm so sorry." She leans closer and kisses his cheek. "I'm here, baby."

Hours pass, she's not sure how long, when she feels the presence of someone else behind her.

"He gonna make it?"

Brittany turns her head to look at Jake and bites her lip, shrugging slightly. "We'll see." She gives him the information he needs to do what he's come here to do, and then goes back to sitting with her husband. It isn't long before she's crawled into the bed beside him, pregnant swell of her stomach against his uninjured side, head on his shoulder. One hand is on his chest, protectively, and she whispers that she loves her before she ends up falling asleep there.

Jake wakes her up awhile later and nods. She nods back, he turns to leave.

Brittany settles back next to her husband. She leans up and whispers in his ear again.

"You're safe now, baby. He's been taken care of. I love you."

In his sleep, her husband smiles, just slightly. He doesn't wake up, but she knows he can hear her.

It's just a matter of waiting.

100songs prompt # 095.

Tue, 23 May 2006 17:21:08 GMT

Title: Wake Up Call
Characters/Pairing: Brittany House/Greg House
Prompt: 095. Good Morning Sunshine
Word Count: 1086
Rating: PG-13
Summary: She knows how much he means to her, but does she know how much she really means to him?
Author's Notes: Future speculation fic.

"Greg,"

"Mmmph."

Brittany chuckles and shakes her head as her husband burrows his head underneath his pillow and protests waking up. She's almost nervous and damn well allowed to be, because of what she has to say. She leans down and removes the pillow. "Genius," Her husband just whines and burrows closer to her, and she rolls her eyes and leans down to whisper into his ear. "Tiger, your son has decided it's time to show himself."

She waits for that to register in his brain, and he lifts his head and stares at her for a long moment, before putting his hand on her stomach and feeling a definite contraction, not the Braxton-Hicks that had been going on for the last few weeks.

He grins.

She laughs because she's amused, but part of her wants to know what to do. She's not a doctor -- that's what she has her husband for.

He knows. He shifts on the bed. "Water broke?"

"No," She shakes her head. "But they just got stronger."

"When?"

"About ten minutes ago when I got up to tell your boy to stop sitting on my bladder." She teases, then wraps her arms around him and kisses his neck. "I love you."

"I love you too." He kisses her back and starts a list in his head. "Count contractions and time a couple. We've got plenty of time. What do you say we go start a shower and get cleaned up?"

"Sounds like a plan." She takes his help in getting up off the bed, rubbing her hand over the swell in her stomach. She toddles -- for lack of a better term -- to the bathroom and waits for her husband to start the shower before she climbs in.

He steps in behind her and blinks to rub the sleep out of his face. "So today he decided to wake you up with a real contraction,"

"Yep," She gets her hair wet and then snuggles into his skin, pressing her lips against his chest. "Spawn has decided today is the day." Her voice is light with excitement and she can barely keep still, just leans against him with each contraction -- they're not coming very quickly and she can still talk through them -- but she wants him to know what's going on.

"At least it's not the middle of the night," He leans down and kisses the top of her head before going for the shampoo.

"Very true," She smirks. "Thankfully it wasn't last night, I would have hated to have been interrupted."

He chuckles and works the soap into her hair, getting it into a thick lather before he rinses it clean. "You'll want to pull your hair back," He chuckles. "We could sit around like girls at a slumber party and I can braid it for you,"

"I think a ponytail will be fine," She tips her head back and grins up at him. "Thank you though."

A few minutes later he's watching her get dressed as he packs the things from the bathroom they'll need into the bag that's already sitting by the door, his eyes on her form in the sunlight streaming in through the curtains covering the window. She's beautiful, even now, and he reaches into the bag and pulls out a camera.

"Love,"

She turns and sees him and rolls her eyes. "Greg, I look like a whale,"

"You do not." He says, motioning with his hand. "You're beautiful. Always." She moves the way he wants her to and he takes a couple photos of her before setting the camera down and smiling.

She's blushing and struggling with a pair of workout pants by the time she just sits on the bed and gives him a look. "Little help?"

"Always." He says, moving over to help her with her pants, then her socks and shoes, pressing a kiss to the bare stomach in front of him. It's a private side of himself he only lets her and a few other people see, but it's there when it needs to be.

She runs a hand through his hair and just laughs. "C'mon, finish getting ready so we can go. I'm all antsy."

House looks up at her, presses another kiss to her stomach. "They'll just make you lie around in bed. You should get something light to eat before we go, they won't let you eat once we get into the thick of things and you'll probably be pretty hungry."

She thinks for a moment and then smiles down at him. "Donut on the way?"

"Sounds good." He says, pushing himself up off the floor to let her finish getting ready. He takes the next few moments to pour himself a thermos full of fresh coffee and pack a bag with some food for himself. He could eat hospital food but that would require leaving.

She comes back out of the bedroom with her bag in hand and promptly deposits it at her husband's feet with a smile. She's on the phone with her father and is convincing him not to hijack a fighter jet just to get there on time. "He wants to talk to you, Greg."

House accepts the phone from his wife and points at a glass of milk on the counter, then says hello to his father in law. He convinces Jack not to worry that they're still at home and reassures the man he'll call if anything changes.

Brittany downs the glass of milk with a grimace and then rinses it and sets it on the side of the sink, before giving the cat a bit of fresh food and water as her husband ends the call. "Is he on his way?"

"To LAX as we speak," He says proudly. "Now, come on, beautiful. Let's go get that kid out of you."

She nods and reaches for his hand as he grabs everything and they load up the car, making sure the carseat is secure in the back of her Eclipse before he helps her into the seat and then shuts her door for her.

To say he's nervous is one thing. And an understatement.

"You ready to do this, baby?" He looks over at her and takes her hand before starting the car.

She brings his hand to her lips and kisses his knuckles. "As ready as I'll ever be."

He smiles. "That's perfect." He says as he backs the car out the driveway and onto the street, making sure to hit the button for the garage door before he pulls away and makes the drive he can make in his sleep.

"Don't forget my donut, honey."

House chuckles. "I won't, I promise."

"And no pink sprinkles."

"I know."

100songs prompt # 017.

Sat, 20 May 2006 03:35:26 GMT

Title: Fifteen Minutes
Characters/Pairing: Brittany House/Greg House, Brittany's POV.
Prompt: 017. A Moment Like This
Word Count: 345
Rating: PG
Summary: Every moment in their life means something, no matter how insignificant it may seem to everyone else.
Author's Notes: Future fic.

The moment the final buzzer sounds, she throws her hands in the air with a confidence and determination one can only get when this is the fifth game you've won in a row. She won't showboat or gloat or claim that they're unbeatable, but when her team comes off the court she motions them all into a huddle and tells them she's proud of them.

But they know that already. She and the head coach -- she's not the head coach, yet anyways -- go to the opposing team's bench. Hands are shaken and words of congratulations are exchanged. The teams head to the locker rooms, but since Brittany is of the female persuasion, she heads back out, across the stands, looking up at her husband.

He's sitting there, with their son on his lap, amusing the toddler with some stuffed animal -- a small Princeton Tiger mascot the boy insists accompany him to all games he attends -- and watching his wife walk towards him.

She climbs the steps and then drops into the chair next to him, leaning over for a kiss. He brushes his lips against hers despite the noise of his son's excited squealing and babbling for his mother, then promptly hands him off.

They've got fifteen minutes before she'll go down and meet with the team to discuss the plays and the highlights, but those fifteen minutes, as fans stream out of the bleachers and across the court to head home, are theirs.

He tells her he's proud of her, and she blushes and tells him to be proud of her team instead. It's always like this and he always relents until she smiles and buries her face in his shoulder. He'll kiss the top of her head and tell her to go be with her team and she'll lean up to kiss him on the cheek before handing back their son.

She always mouths 'I love you' before she walks into the hall with the lockers, and he always just nods and smiles back. He knows. She knows he knows.

Fifteen minutes. That's all it takes.

Vincere est totum (4)

Sun, 14 May 2006 04:46:32 GMT

Title: Vincere est totum (4)
Characters/Pairing: Greg House/Brittany House, Jake Hannigan, Kyle Porter.
Prompt: 100songs 094. Good Guys
Word Count: 1508
Rating: PG-13. Language, violence.
Summary: Set six months after the birth of House and Brittany's son.
Previous Chapters: 1 || 2 || 3

CTU New York Field Office, Medical -- Manhattan, New York

Brittany is downstairs when the vans roll up to the doors of the parking garage and within minutes, there are stretchers being brought in.

First is a younger agent. His face is burned, but otherwise he's fine.

Next is House, only he's walking under his own power, a metallic emergency blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a badly fashioned superhero's cape. He sees his wife and even though he's dripping wet and ice cold to the touch, he leans down and presses his lips against hers. She's upset at how cold he is, but he ignores her protest and just tells her he'll go take a shower in a few minutes to heat up.

Then, it's Hannigan. Roger Hanson is carrying one end of the stretcher and Brian has the other, and the man under their care is pale and soaking wet, not to mention groggy and disoriented. He's got a bruise forming under his left eye but other than that he looks to be in one piece.

House walks alongside the man he just dragged out of the water and fights against a shiver running up and down his spine like an electrical current. He listens to Brian's explanation to the other medical staff as they move him into a room and work to rid him of his soaked clothing. The blinds are drawn for privacy, and House tells his wife he'll be in the shower and will only be a few minutes.

Even the warm water seems scalding. He doesn't bother with removing his wet clothes, just stands there underneath the spray in the locker rooms and shivers. Shivering is the body's attempt to warm itself up and he's doing plenty of it. He can't seem to move his hands the way he wants to so he just stands there for awhile until he hears Kyle's voice calling his name.

"You need any help, Greg?"

"Yeah," He calls back. "Come over here and help me get my clothes off."

There's a chuckle and then Kyle walks over to the shower. "You're showering while clothed?"

"You try being fucking freezing and undressing yourself." House replies. He pushes the door open and stands there. "Don't be taking off my boxers, but everything else..."

"Trust me, Greg, I'll leave the nudity for your wife." Kyle says, reaching for the hem of his friend's shirt and gently tugging it up. It doesn't take long before House is standing in the steaming shower in boxers and socks. "There. You need anything else?"

"Jus-just a towel." His teeth are chattering and he rakes a hand through his hair. "How's Hannigan?"

"Concious, which, isn't really a good thing for the rest of the medical team. He's a bit confused but that's to be expected." Kyle says, pushing the door shut and leaning his back against the wall.

House strips the rest of his clothes by himself and steps under the spray again, rubbing his hands over his body eagerly to try and warm up. "I'm naked, so no peeking."

Kyle snorts. "Promise, Greg. Cross my heart."

"Good." There's a hiss from the shower and House feels his bones pop and crack. This is job is harder than it looks sometimes and swimming a mile in the storming ocean wasn't his idea of a good evening. "Tell me we at least got the fuckers."

"Coast Guard intercepted the vessel without incident and the cache has been accounted for."

"Thank God." He feels the shivering stop and knows that the next step is a warm, dry towel and a fresh change of clothes. "There's a change of clothes in my backpack, in Julian's office, can you go grab it for me?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll be back in a minute."

House uses the silence to collect his thoughts.

Brittany, meanwhile, is sitting beside her once fellow agent, thought part of her knows they'll always be allies, and she bites her lip and runs a doting hand across his jaw. Hannigan is mildly awake and lying in a hospital bed, bare from the waist up but covered by a few thick blankets, one heated.

Jake cracks an eye open.

She smiles weakly. "Hi."

"I'm dreaming, aren't I."

"Why would you say that?"

Hannigan snorts. "Because you're actually sitting at my bedside after I nearly drown and kill myself."

"What, would you prefer I be cursing God for not sending you to the bottom of the ocean?" Brittany shakes her head. "Greg's getting cleaned up and I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I'm fine." He says gruffly. His head is pounding and his body is sore, and he can't really remember much after jumping onto the boat. "Did we get the fuckers?"

"Coast Guard caught them a few minutes after you guys got out of the water."

Jake's silent for a few minutes. "What...what the hell happened after I got on the boat?" He finally asks.

"According to Kyle, you got taken down and thrown overboard, and Greg went in after you. You were unconcious and he managed to get you both to the shore to a launch ramp and they did CPR. You started breathing and then Greg blacked out from the exertion, and now you guys are here."

Another moment of silence, before Jake speaks again. "Is he okay?"

Brittany nods. "Sore, cold, tired, but he's alright."

All Hannigan says to that is plain and simple. "Good."

House's voice breaks in. "Sorry to disappoint, but yes, Jake, I'm fine." He adds as he walks into the room, dressed in a dry pair of jeans, sneakers, with a thick sweatshirt on and a mug of coffee in his hands.

Hannigan snorts. "Glad to see you're your normal self."

House smirks slightly. "Same to you." A toast of his mug. "Asshole."

Jake just rolls his eyes and smirks back. "Bitch."

"Boys," Brittany warns. "Don't make me separate you."

"I'm being nice," House protests, moving to hand his wife the mug of coffee, which she accepts and sips from, gratefully. He looks up when he feels a hand on his arm, the grip very tight.

Jake gives Brittany a look, and she just nods and leaves the two of them alone. Once she's gone and he's certain her husband isn't going to follow like the lovestricken puppy that he is around her, he releases his arm. "Look,"

"Jake, you don't have to thank me."

"Who says I was going to thank you?"

"Not really a who, and I know common decency is pushing it,"

"Oh, shut up."

House eyes the other man for a moment, not saying a word. Putting them together in a room by themselves is like sticking two piranhas in a little fishbowl, and dropping a gallon of blood into the water.

Kyle is standing outside the room with Brittany, eyeing the two of them, ready to rush in if someone starts trading blows to the face for an insult or three.

She looks at her friend, then at the two of them. "I don't know why the hell he jumped in the water after him."

Kyle shrugs. "He wasn't going to let him die."

"Not like Jake appreciates the sentiment."

"Yeah, and it's not like Greg really gives a damn."

Kyle laughs. "That's true."

Jake, meanwhile, just runs a hand through his hair and exhales a breath. His voice is softer than normal and it's not really very cordial in tone, but it is something. "Thank you."

House turns back to the other man and arches an eyebrow. "What?"

"Thank you. What are you, deaf too?" Jake snarks. "You didn't have to pull me out of the water and I appreciate that."

House blinks. "Well, you're welcome."

Jake eyes him. "This doesn't mean we're friends."

"We're not friends." House smirks. "I can only handle my own ego, I don't have room for yours."

Jake actually laughs at that, even if it is brief and he returns to his stone cold glare after a moment. "Go be with your wife."

"Aye-aye," House mock salutes and turns to walk out of the room. He tugs the sweatshirt a bit warmer around him and wanders to go find his wife. When it comes down to it, he doesn't have to go very far at all. She leans up and kisses him softly and tells him that he should take a nap.

A few minutes later, after discussing things with Julian and Kyle, House is laying on the couch in one of the conference rooms, his head in his wife's lap. He likes the petting of his hair that she's doing, and soon enough he's asleep. When Kyle comes in a few moments later, she has him dim the lights a bit and then sits there, listening to her husband snore lightly in her lap.

Six months.

They had made it six months before being called back into the line. Back into the life they'd worked so hard to get out of. She knows her husband is going to deactivate again when this is over, but it leaves her wondering.

When is it going to happen again? When is something else going to come up?

She doesn't want to think about that. Instead, she calls Cameron and has her bring her son up to CTU. When her husband wakes, she knows he'll want to see his boy, and she plans on letting him do just that.

She leans down and kisses his forehead, and whispers that she loves him.

fin

Vincere est totum (3)

Sat, 13 May 2006 20:14:59 GMT

Title: Vincere est totum (3)
Characters/Pairing: Greg House/Brittany House, Jake Hannigan, Kyle Porter.
Prompt: 100songs 047. Play Dead
Word Count: 1518
Rating: PG-13. Language, violence.
Summary: Set six months after the birth of House and Brittany's son.
Previous Chapters: 1 || 2

Location undisclosed -- Brooklyn, New York

His breath is tight in his chest, and for a brief moment, Jake Hannigan wishes that he wasn't weighed down by a massive assault rifle in addition to the soaking wet gear on his body. His boots pound through puddles as he races down the long stretch of metal dock, bringing the weapon up to fire at the Russian who whirls on him at the sound of his footsteps over the rain.

He's thankful that the rain at least washes the blood off his face when he feels it hit him.

Fifteen steps and he'll be at the end. He can hear someone behind him, and he manages not to duck at the sound of gunfire, the bullet zipping past his head to lodge itself in a post. That was too close. There's a thud, and he whips his head back to see the terrorist fall, another bullet responsible for that.

Kyle Porter is standing on top of the van in the dark, his eye to a high powered scope of a heavy sniper rifle. Even with the rain, he can see what he needs to see, and he's picking off terrorists like flies. Brian is with Matt, inside the building, dragging their wounded (and dead, but Kyle doesn't know that yet) out before the entire place burns to ashes.

He sucks in a deep breath and focuses, then pulls the trigger again.

Another body down.

Just like old times.

Jake reaches the boat a few seconds after that and leaps on in one go, bringing the butt of the assault rifle down on someone, and after that, it breaks out into a full scale brawl. He feels a thud of a slug in the back of his vest and he yells, pulls another gun from his holster and turns and fires.

The boat lurches under his feet and he nearly stumbles to regain his footing. Someone's started it and it pulls away from the dock. It's not a huge boat but it is big enough that there's places someone could hide, so Jake just shoots someone else and slams through a door.

House reaches the end of the dock as he sees the boat thrash on the water and stares for a minute. The flash of gunfire can be seen and someone goes through the glass window of the cabin, hitting the deck with a thud.

"I need Coast Guard!" House yells over the din, not knowing if anyone can still even hear him. He yanks the goggles back over his eyes and watches the boat, now at least fifty yards out.

Two terrorists come at Hannigan from behind, and in an instant, he goes down and gets pitched off the deck, into the water with a splash.

House is shedding gear as he runs back down the dock. "Agent down, Hannigan is in the water, I repeat agent down!" He drops everything with a thud and then turns around and explodes into a sprint to the end of the dock, throwing himself off the end and into the frigid black water without a second thought.

CTU New York Field Office -- Manhattan, New York

Kyle's voice breaks over the storm. "Two agents in the water, I repeat, two agents in the water. Julian, I need you to scramble Harbor Patrol, Coast Guard, Port Authority, whoever."

Brittany is pacing and swearing and there are tears in her eyes. "Who's down and who's in the water? What's going on?"

"Greg radioed that Jake was down and in the water and then his comm went dead. All his gear is at the end of the dock, it looks like he went in after him. I can't see either of them, it's too damn dark out here and there's too much current."

"You can't see them? Lex, get them on infared." Julian says calmly. "Kyle, Coast Guard is on the way."

"Copy. I can't see them but the boat with the terrorists is obviously disabled and they're trying to make a run for it to the east."

"Copy." Julian replies, sending this information out. "Use the nightvision goggles and see if you can pick up House or Hannigan, we'll need a position to give the Coast Guard to pick them up."

"Scramble an ambulance, we need medical backup."

"On their way."

Brittany, meanwhile, is trying not to be sick into the trashcan beside her partner's desk, and Julian walks over to her and pulls her into a gentle hug.

"We're going to find them."

"I know. I just..."

"I know."

Location undisclosed -- Brooklyn, New York

The water is absolutely freezing. The salt stings his eyes but he doesn't stop swimming, riding down the backside of waves, ticking off the yards in his head.

"Hannigan!"

His voice gets lost on the wind but he yells it over and over and over, glancing around. Everything is black and cold and he wonders for a moment if he's drowned and is in hell, but the voice that comes back to him assures him that he's not.

"House!"

He snaps his head right and cuts through the water, one swell taking him up high enough to see the other agent up to his neck. He swims like it's life or death, and it is, because Hannigan doesn't yell back another time. He reaches the spot and then dives down, opening his eyes in the murk and the dark and manages to see a flash of skin, and he curls his fingers around a wrist and swims for the surface. His lungs are burning when he surfaces and he gasps for air, before going for his knife.

He cuts the kevlar vest off the other man, as well as the gun holster and the extra ammo clips. Anything that weighs anything that he can reach goes, except the badge.

Jake's lips are blue, eyes rolled back in his head. House tries to listen for breath sounds but he gets swamped by a rogue whitecap, so instead he just hauls back and slaps Hannigan across the face the best he can. Later he'll apologize and he doubts Jake would ever care.

"Jake!" He yells, hooking an arm around his fellow agent. "Come on, Jake, you've gotta come to, I can't swim for the both of us!"

The only sound that answers him is the wind and the roar of the thunder in his ears.

Kyle is on the radio with the Coast Guard in a panic, and Brittany is pouring over the satellite images and trying to spot her husband and Jake. Everything is a mess of grainy images. Nobody can see anything.

Then she grabs the comm. "Kyle!"

"Go ahead, Brittany."

"Fifty yards west of your location and moving fast, the current's pulling them to the docks, get down there!"

"On it." Kyle says, before he grabs Brian and they both take off running.

House isn't shivering at this point anymore. He knows he's hypothermic and he can't quite coordinate his limbs with his brain, and a pounding headache to match, but he just cries out when he feels himself slam into a pylon in the water. But that's a good sign. They're closer to shore. His arm is practically frozen to Jake's midsection and he hauls the both of them in a desperate swim up a boat launch ramp, the slick concrete making him slip and stumble, but once he's on solid ground he wastes no time.

He eyes the man on the ground and tilts his head to the side, fist over palm against his chest, and he pounds down, again and again. "Come on Jake!"

He listens to his chest and hears nothing, frantic, rubbing at Hannigan's chest and arms, before he just decides to fuck whatever the hell relationship they have and seal his lips to Jake's, exhaling a solid breath into his lungs before he resumes chest compressions.

When Brian and Kyle slide down the ramp, they're met with the scene of House giving Jake full blown CPR. Brian yells something about needing an ambulance and Kyle immediately grabs House and tells him to focus on the breathing, which House both appreciates and some part of him brain protests at. He's too sore and shaking to care as Kyle pulls him aside and begins a solid rhythm of pumping his fists against Jake's chest, and just breathes into his lungs again on the proper count.

Because House isn't planning on letting Jake die, no matter how much they might hate each other when it comes down to it.

"Come on, Jake." Kyle urges. "Come on, Jake."

"Breathe, you son of a bitch." House yells over the wind. "You're an asshole and this is not how you're supposed to die!"

Maybe that's what does it.

The body underneath his hands sputters to life and House grabs Jake's head as he promptly rolls over and throws up seawater practically into his lap. He doesn't care, just lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, before looking to Brian and sitting back, body shaking and freezing, hands raw and limbs aching from staying above water for so long.

He only briefly registers Brian's voice and hands on him as he gets laid down on the pavement, where he promptly presses his face into rough concrete and closes his eyes, losing conciousness.

Vincere est totum (2)

Sat, 13 May 2006 07:07:09 GMT

Title: Vincere est totum (2)
Characters/Pairing: Greg House/Brittany House, Jake Hannigan, Kyle Porter.
Prompt: 100songs 089. Rainy Day Man
Word Count: 1505
Rating: PG-13. Language, violence.
Summary: Set six months after the birth of House and Brittany's son. First part here.

CTU New York Field Office -- Manhattan, New York

Brittany House adjusts her jacket as she steps out of her car and eyes the clouded, dark grey skies overhead, threatening to pour down a flood at any moment. The weather has taken a turn for the worse, and she just walks inside the building and flashes her old badge at security. She may not be an agent anymore, but they know her and she's come by enough that security still recognizes her.

The floor is alive with movement and people and for a moment, she feels the familiar rush creeping into her veins. Kyle is standing over Lex's shoulder, Julian and Jake are looking up and pointing at the board, and Brian is sitting alone at his desk.

Her husband is nowhere to be found. She narrows her eyes and scans the room a moment, before a cup of coffee appears in her line of vision. She rolls her eyes and takes it. "Hello, sweetheart."

"Thought you could use something warm." He says, moving to stand beside her.

She eyes his leg, then him. "Again, Greg?"

It's his turn to roll his eyes. "Jesus, people, you all act as if one of those days is enough to call the Pope." He notices Kyle's head perk at the word and just snickers. "I'm not a miracle, I just..."

"Have friends in high places with superpowers, I know, I know." She says, leaning up to press her lips against his. "Anything new?"

"Well we've picked up some increased traffic over some comm channels but nothing really telling at this point." He kisses her in return. "So no, not really. How was Jack?"

"Screaming his bloody head off." She says, shaking her head. "Remind Wilson never to have kids."

"Duly noted." He says, giving her a smile before he hears Brian calling him over. He excuses himself and walks to his friend, listens, and then nods. "I'll go get suited up."

A few moments later he's downstairs with another group of men, changing into what they consider their tactical gear. Black cargo pants, a black t-shirt, bulletproof vest, with a pair of boots to match. He looks over as both Kyle and Jake walk into the room. Jake moves away to his own corner to dress, but Kyle goes to the locker a bit down from him and pulls it open.

"Where's our target?"

"A warehouse in Brooklyn, down by the waterfront."

House looks skyward and promptly curses the powers that be for making life utter hell. Jake didn't look happy either, and Kyle was attempting not avoid the whole mess of shooting riddled flashbacks. He was intending on staying at the mobile command and running things from there.

He nods. Jake mutters something under his breath as he pulls on a flak jacket and chambers the first round in his gun. House wanders upstairs to tell his wife that he loves her.

They step outside and it's raining.

Everything goes downhill after that.

Location undisclosed -- Brooklyn, New York

House looks out of the windows of the van as he screws a silencer on the gun in his hands. With the wind coming off the water and the thunder overhead, he doesn't expect much of the gunfire to be heard, but he isn't going to take any chances. His backpack has a variety of medical supplies in it and he straps a knife to the chest strap. Never hurts.

Kyle is going over something with Jake. Brian is checking something else.

Back at CTU, Brittany is sitting in a chair next to Lex, glasses on, eyeing the screen with her partner. She may not be in the game anymore, but it's like riding a bike. Just get back on and pedal, and hang on for the ride.

"Jake, you're going in from the north entrance, Matt, you take the west side, Hanson is covering the east. South is the water, so if they go that way, there's some docks and loading platforms. There are probably guards all over this place, even in this weather, so watch it." Kyle says. "Everyone, get wired in."

House reaches into his pocket for the wireless earpiece and slips it into his ear, doing a check with Brian, before he pulls on his helmet.

Kyle stares at him. "Greg?"

"Yeah?"

"Where do you think...?"

House dons a pair of night vision goggles and straps them to the helmet. "Someone has to guard our position."

There's a moment of silence in the van, and then Kyle just nods. "You stay near the van unless they need medical."

"Understood." House replies, flicking on the switch and watching the world come alive in shades of green. A moment later, the signal is given and they slip out of the van, directly into a winter rainstorm on the East Coast. They're parked about a half block away from their target, and House can see at least two guards down by the docks, as well as a few small boats tied, bobbing fiercely in the waves.

He's soaking wet within three minutes.

The radio crackles to life in his ear within five. Gunshots and yelling. The thunder makes it hard to hear what's going on, but he knows whatever it is, it isn't good. Matt yells something about another agent, one he doesn't know, as being down.

House forgets his promise to Kyle to stay by the van and takes off in a dead run.

He hears orders and directions in his ear, unscrews the silencer off his weapon while he's running, and drops over a wall and hides behind a box.

"They're making a run for it!" Roger yells, and House glances up to see a heavily armed guard burst out the back door of the building. He pulls the trigger and watches the body fall to the ground.

"They're moving the cache." Jake's voice is a lot calmer. "Hold, let them get out. Then we'll trap them against the water."

"Copy." House says, pressing back against the wall and holding his position against the wet concrete. He's soaking wet but not at all freezing, his heart pounding in his chest. The Russians aren't very happy about dead men but quickly begin to empty out the warehouse into a waiting boat.

He hears rapid paced voices from behind him and whirls, then fires when he's drawn upon, dropping two bodies.

The gunshots alert the rest and everything breaks into a firefight.

CTU New York Field Office -- Manhattan, New York

"Lex, bring up satellite on the warehouse,"

"I can't get a visual, the cloud cover is too thick, and I won't be in infared range for another five minutes."

"Well can't we do...I don't know...traffic cameras or security from another building or something to see what the hell is going on?" Brittany runs a hand through her hair as the entire room listens to the pop and snap of gunfire broken up by static and thunder, the sound of pounding rain.

"As soon as we have thermal, I'll throw it up on the board, but it's still four and a half minutes from being in range. I'm working on it." Lex replies.

Julian rubs at the bridge of his nose and eyes the screen for a moment. "Kyle, any word?"

"I can barely get a clear channel from our guys, let alone at all. The electrical interference from the storm is throwing everything off."

"What do you know?" He asks.

"I know we've got several Russians down, one of our own is down, Greg's on site with the tactical unit,"

Brittany whirls in her chair. "What?!"

Kyle's voice is laced with the pop and crack of static but it's still clear enough that she can understand. "Matt yelled for medical when the other man went down, Greg was guarding our position and went in. Brian's here with me."

Lex calls out, "I've got it on infared!" And a few clicks of the keys later, the board comes to life with a realtime image of the firefight below, save for the occasional total flash when a bolt of lightning streaked across the sky. It was grainy and you couldn't tell who was who, but it was clear enough when the comm channels were filled with the loud sound of an explosion.

They think it's thunder until the ball of flame glows bright green on the screen, and Brittany stands there, mouth wide open and gaping. "Oh my God."

Julian puts his hand to his ear. "Status, all teams."

The radio is silent, save for a hiss of static.

"Status, all teams." He repeats.

Brittany grabs an earpiece and patches in. "Kyle. Greg. Jake. Status." She squeezes her eyes shut. "Fuck."

Kyle's voice breaks through. "All teams clear of the explosion, I repeat, all teams clear." It's heavy and it sounds like he's running, which he is, he and Brian. "Brian and I are moving in now, I've heard from Matt and Roger, and Greg, but not Jake. Greg says he's alright."

House's voice breaks in next. "Hostiles are on the move, going for the boat, I repeat, going for the boat, Jake, go." There's a grunt and then the sound of heavy breathing and hard pounding footsteps, as well as more gunfire.

Brittany closes her eyes and bows her head, and prays.

Vincere est totum (1)

Sat, 13 May 2006 02:06:14 GMT

Title: Vincere est totum (1)
Characters/Pairing: Greg House/Brittany House, Jake Hannigan, Kyle Porter.
Prompt: 100songs 090. Fighter
Word Count: 1500
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Set six months after the birth of House and Brittany's son.

Princeton University -- Princeton, New Jersey.

She remembers the phone call from her husband. She was in the middle of running her team on the basketball court, prepping for that weekend's game, when her cell phone had bleated a ring she knew all too well. There was the sound of a car door slamming.

"Brittany,"

"Yeah, sweetheart? What's up." She tells her team to take five to drink some water and moves away.

"I just got a call from Julian."

There's a long moment of silence on the phone. She nods and runs her hand over her hair. "What did he want?"

"Something's going down and Julian wants me to activate, come in to help Brian in case there's a reason we need to roll medical." A pause. "I just dropped Jackson off with Wilson and Cameron, they said they'll watch him until you get off work or whenever we need them to."

"Alright." She says. Her brain is racing, even though she won't admit it. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," He replies. "I just think it's got to be something if they want me in to help Brian. I'm taking the bike and I'll call you as soon as I find something out, alright?"

"Alright." She says again. "Drive carefully, okay? I love you."

"I love you too," He replies. "And I'll be safe. I'll call you soon."

The last thing she hears is the sound of the engine of his motorcycle revving to life, and she merely folds her phone closed and takes a deep breath. Six months without this life, she'd gotten used to forgetting it existed at all.

Blissful ignorance. She thinks, not noticing as Dan walks up behind her. She turns her head at the sound of his voice, asking if she's alright. She smiles and nods. "Yeah, Greg's just going to be out late tonight." She whistles and gets the attention of her team. They are her distraction, even if under her breath she's muttering a prayer for her husband and her friends.

"Alright guys, let's run a bit more and then we'll wrap with some weights." She says. They listen. She's a leader; this is how it was meant to be.

CTU New York Field Office -- Manhattan, New York

The badge is heavy around his neck as he walks into the office, leather jacket on his shoulders and a gun against his side, one hand on his cane and the other gripping the helmet of his motorcycle. He contemplates something for a moment as he walks into Julian's office, asking where he can toss his backpack, and Julian merely points to a corner and hands him a folder.

House nods and walks away. His free hand goes to his pocket, for his cell phone, and he moves back out of the room and down to the elevators. A brief ride down, and he's in the training rooms.

He dials while he's changing out of his shirt. But he's not calling his wife. He's calling a good friend. He has a favor to ask.

"Frost."

The familiar British accent is like a reprieve from the chaos and he sighs. "Emma, I need a favor."

"Darling, I think Brittany would protest if I did that on such short notice."

House smirks and pulls a fresh white undershirt on. "Emma, you flatter me." He drawls. "No, I need a much bigger favor."

"Oh?" There's a pause. "What's in it for me?"

He sighs. "What do you want?" He can hear her chiding him in the background.

"Oh, Gregory. Shush. I'm merely teasing, now, what is it that you need?"

Five and a half minutes later, he hangs up the phone and exhales a deep breath, before he hooks his cane on the hook next to his shirt, in the empty locker that is now his as far as he's concerned. He adjusts the gun on his shoulders and then pulls his jacket back on, checks himself for the Vicodin, and turns and calmly walks away after shutting the door behind him.

Thankfully, the agents at CTU have learned to stop asking.

He walks back into the bullpen, ignoring the few slight looks from some of the newer agents on the staff, and goes straight to Brian.

Brian looks at him, then looks at his leg, then back up to his friend's face. "Again, Greg?"

House shrugs. "What can I say, I just got up this morning and realized I could walk. It's a miracle." He deadpans, a smirk tugging at his lips. "So what are we looking at?"

"Nothing major, just, I wanted someone with experience on my team. This is the first major operation since she left. I've got some new guys under me, but you know how this game is."

"Stupid mistakes kill people." He says simply, nodding. "I get it. So, explosive? Biological? Nuclear? Guns?"

Brian looks up at him. "Basically, you want to know if Brittany needs to take Jackson off the East Coast?" He asks. It's no secret that to anyone that their six month old son comes first in their lives.

"Basically, yeah."

"No. We're looking at a raid, basically. No real threats but these guys are well armed. Mostly in case of any gunfire."

"Alright. I'm going to call her and let her know that." House says, reaching again for his phone. He converses briefly with his wife, and she tells him that she'll probably come up after practice is over. He tells her that it's just a raid and that it'll probably be nothing, but she won't take no for an answer. He lifts his gaze when he hears the voice of another good friend over the quiet din of the room.

Kyle's standing there with his hands on his hips, next to Jake. As much as Kyle hates to admit it, the years of service with the ATF, coordinating raids and taking out drug dealers comes in handy when they're going to go into a terrorist stronghold.

House tells his wife he needs to go, he loves her, and then hangs up the cell phone, focusing his attention on his friend, and at the moment, the man who is partially in charge for what's going to go down.

"Alright, everybody, listen up." Kyle says. "Jake is going to run point on this. Julian is going to coordinate everything from HQ, and I am taking control of the technical details. Lex is working on an updated matrix for everyone, Brian is in charge of medical. Everyone keep an eye on the board, there should be a few updates once things fall in place."

"What are we dealing with?" Another agent asks.

"It's not really a what," Kyle replies. "But we've got information on a group of Russian nationals. Arms dealers. According to intel, they're going to try to move a cache of weapons within the next ten hours, and we're going to stop them."

House checks his watch, then presses a button and sets a ten hour timer. It's already three in the afternoon.

Ten hours puts them at one AM.

And at that thought, he leaves the desk he's sharing with Brian and goes to find himself a cup of coffee. Because he knows how this works. When it's one AM, if they're done, then there will be a dozen extra things to do. He's not planning on getting any sleep anytime soon.

He leaves a message on his wife's phone.

"Brittany," There's the sound of him manuvering a coffeepot off the machine and then liquid pouring into a paper cup. "Got a little more intel for you. Russian arms dealers, they're expecting a transport of a cache of weapons in the next hours." A pause. "You don't need to get Jackson off the coast," He adds. "I'm just sticking with Brian. Jake's running point in the field, Kyle's doing tactical, and Julian is calling the shots from home base. Just so you know."

He stirs in a bit of sugar. "I only left them with a couple of diapers, you may want to run by and feed him too." He adds to that, softly. I love you." He says, before he hangs up and takes a sip of the bitter liquid. He manages not to make a face, but does turn when he hears Kyle's voice behind him in the doorway.

"Again, Greg?"

"I can hear you smirking," House says, glancing over his shoulder. "And hey, I'm not very useful when I'm gimpy, and I just had to call in a favor."

Kyle shakes his head. "She okay with you doing this?"

"What, running backup for medical? Yeah, she understands. This is what I signed up for when I didn't turn in my badge."

Kyle hands him another folder. "Your activation papers. You just need to sign them and you'll be reinstated as a full member of CTU." He clicks a pen and hands him that, watching as his friend signs his name across the line on a single sheet and then hands it back. "Welcome back, Greg." He says, reaching for his friend's hand and giving it a shake.

House just nods and shakes his friend's hand in return.

Six months.

He had always known that the fairytale would have to end sometime.

100songs prompt #016.

Fri, 12 May 2006 05:59:27 GMT

Title: First
Characters/Pairing: Brittany House/Greg House
Prompt: 016. When You Say You Love Me
Word Count: 269
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Just a short bit about the past.
Author's Notes: Minor sexual references.

He says it first.

To this day, he'll never really know what spurred him to say it. Maybe it was how beautiful she was. How relaxed he was. The way the sun was setting over graceful lines of concrete, casting shadows on the empty parking lot and their car.

All he knows is that he just got the guts and said it. Blunt up, said it, and there was that and it was quiet but the truth. He loves her and she loves him, hopelessly, totally.

So what that it had only been three days.

She says it after he does. Only a moment or two of a gap between them, and hers is spent wondering if this is really happening. If this is really what their life is, a beautiful mess.

That she can't get enough of. She's addicted to him. She wants him. She can tell her wants her, just from the way his eyes glance over her body. It's not creepy in the slightest and it's not like he's drooling or she can hear him moaning her name at night when he's in the bedroom next door.

It's lust, mixed with love.

She leans over and presses her lips to his.

It's not as spectacular as their first kiss. But it's still very good. Very, very good. He leans in closer. This is another first. Another first under the pretense of love.

He likes it. It's comfortable. Like the way her hand fits in his and the way he can make her laugh when nobody else can.

It's the beginning of a wild, crazy thing.

Lucky for the both of them, adrenaline is a good, wanted, needed drug.

100songs prompt # 097.

Fri, 12 May 2006 05:16:05 GMT

Title: Protection
Characters/Pairing: Brittany House/Greg House
Prompt: 097. Writer's Choice
Word Count: 1444
Rating: PG-13
Summary: What is the price of love?
Author's Notes: Not a happy fic. Language, violence, torture, death. Originally written for something else but it's fresh.

"You fucking son of a bitch!"

House may not be a kind and caring individual, but rarely is he pushed to the point where he wants to grab whoever is pissing him off by the throat and slam them into a wall. He prefers to slam his cane against his desk or throw heavy glasses at the wall to watch them shatter, but he respects the human body and its limitations. He's also not the most nimble creature when it comes to being able to set his feet and slug his fists into someone's ribcage, but when his heart is pounding in his chest, adrenaline rushing through his veins, he takes it, feeds off it, and needs it.

He's very close to breaking past the point of no return.

He grabs the handle of his cane and brings it down sharply on the steel table, before he tosses it aside and grabs the other man in the room by the throat, the other hand gripping his shoulder, and throws him up against the wall and gets in their face.

"You, are going to pay for this. And it is going to hurt."

"Do I look like I give a shit what you're gonna do to me?"

House growls in the back of his throat and curls his fingers around the other man's neck. This man is a criminal. A terrorist. And the reason his wife is currently pacing around the halls of CTU outside of medical with her ex-husband. The reason the man who saved his life the year before is bleeding all over the floor of an operating suite. The reason one of his best friends is working himself into a panic as he tries to repair the damage before McCarron dies under his hands.

He thinks of his son, two years old and still innocent to the crimes of the world and the violence that goes on behind the scenes. They were in Los Angeles to see her father over the break in the season. They'd gotten a phone call that Jimmy was in trouble that afternoon. Their son is upstairs in his grandfather's office, coloring with his aunt watching over him. His grandfather is making phonecalls and running the floor. His mother is holding onto her ex-husband's shirt and trying not to cry.

And his father is in an interrogation room with the man who pulled the trigger.

"No," He says. "But you know what? That's not going to change the fact that you are a dead man."

"Do what you want, cripple."

That does it.

He slams his hand harder against the windpipe, knowing this will bruise and this guy won't be able to breath properly for a week, if he makes it past the next ten hours once he's done with him. Then it's a hand on the shoulder, yanking him to the table, ribs hitting the edge with a sound and a crack. He doesn't register the yelp of pain that gets him out of the worthless excuse for a human in front of him.

House is livid. He contemplates just strangling him here and now, but that would take away all the fun.

He punches hard. His knuckles will bruise later, and he'll tell his son that his daddy is okay, just a little sore from working.

The man in front of him has a name, but he won't bother acknowledging it. It's easier this way, not to think of the parents, of a brother, of a sister, someone who might actually miss the pathetic asshole, the one who's currently bent over in pain and trying not to choke on his own blood. House stalks away from the table and walks to the wall, flexing his hands and eyeing the scrapes on the knuckles. He wonders how Jimmy is doing. Four slugs in the chest. He had a vest on but House knows first hand what bullets can do to a person.

He's silent. Letting himself calm down a little. Killing the guy won't get him anywhere.

Yet, anyways.

Ten minutes of absolute silence later, he's screaming and throwing a chair across the room. The terrorist hits his knees and bows his head, almost like he's waiting for the end, waiting to be finished off and put to death at the hand of his commander.

But House won't give him the dignity of a bullet between the eyes. He steps out of the room and returns with a fine edged knife, flicking it open and moving calmly back to the center of the room. He carefully presses the tip of the blade against flushed, sweat covered skin, and then digs it in, ignoring the scream that gets him. He moves the blade and does it again. The man before him can't move his right arm, tendons severed and torn. He contemplates doing the same to the left, then the legs, then finally ending it, but that again, takes out the fun in things.

His cell phone ringing jarrs him back into reality. He wipes the blood off his hands into a white rag and then flips the phone open.

"Yeah."

His face grows just a little bit colder. He nods and walks out of the room, retriving a case and setting it on the table as he hangs up.

"What was that?"

House looks up. "Like I'd tell you?"

There's a moment of silence between the two men. Much too long. Uncomfortable. House likes uncomfortable.

He draws a gun out of the case and eyes the chamber. Clicks the safety off and then turns it around, and hands it to the terrorist.

"This is your one chance to avoid a hell of a lot more pain. Shoot yourself."

Another moment of silence. The man looks down and raises the gun to his temple. House watches. He jerks his head up and turns the gun and pulls the trigger, the sound of the blast and pop deafening to them both. When he opens his eyes, he just smirks.

"You really are a moron." He says, unbuttoning his dress shirt to reveal a bulletproof Kevlar vest beneath it. He plucks a shell from the fabric. "You honestly think I was going to give you a gun with real bullets?" He reaches into the waistband of his jeans and pulls out another gun, clicks off the safety, then levels it at the chest and fires. The puff of smoke mixes with the splatter of blood in the air.

The man screams.

"Oh, stop your bitching, it's only your spleen. Who needs a spleen, anyways?" He wipes the blood off his face and then turns to walk out of the room.

"You can't leave me like this!"

House stops and turns. "Why not?"

"I'll die." It's at that moment the man realizes that maybe, just maybe, that's the point. "What happened to the detective?"

House stares at him a moment, then raises the gun. "He's going to make a full recovery. You, however,"

He pulls the trigger and there's the dull sound of a body hitting the floor with a thud. The air is bitter with sulfur and blood and the scent of death, but House just shakes it off and walks out of the room. They'll send the coroner to pick up the body later. It will be written off as a neccesary death. There will be no autopsy.

He washes his hands and cleans the blood from his skin, combs his hair back, and pulls on a fresh shirt before he heads out onto the bullpen floor. His son squeals and toddles over eagerly to his father, wrapping his arms around his legs and the cane in turn. House smiles and ruffles his son's hair. "Did you have fun coloring?"

"Yeah, Dad." Jackson smiles up at him. "Where's Mama?"

House reaches for his son's hand. "She's downstairs with Uncle Mike. You know Uncle Jimmy?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, he got in an accident and got hurt. Uncle Brian fixed him all up though, so we're gonna go down and see your Mom and your Uncle Mike and make them feel better, okay?" He says, as they walk towards the elevators. "Your mom needs a big, big hug when you see her, alright? She's kinda sad right now."

When his son lays eyes on his mother a moment later, he toddles over eagerly and wraps his arms around her legs, making a squishy noise. House looks at his wife, who's wiped tears from her eyes, and nods slowly. She mouths the words 'thank you' to her husband, then lifts her boy into her arms. "You wanna go see Uncle Jimmy? You gotta be quiet though, he's resting."

He watches the two most important people in his life walk down the hall and knows that the blood on his hands is worth the smile on his son's face and the gratitude in his wife's eyes.

100songs prompt # 015.

Fri, 05 May 2006 08:17:48 GMT

Title: Sugar Shock
Characters/Pairing: Brittany House/Greg House
Prompt: 015. Overkill
Word Count: 814
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Cotton candy. Stuffed animals. Flirtation.
Author's Notes: Random fluffy ficlet. Little adult towards the end.

He's laughing and spinning her with one hand. She's laughing and attempting not to thwack him upside the head with her cardboard stick full of cotton candy -- the blue kind, as she won't eat the pink -- and finally squeals and protests and demands that he stop.

So he does. He takes her hand and lets her drag him towards the next ride.

It isn't long, however, before the rides are forgotten and she's bounding towards the midway.

"These are all rigged, you know." House says, eyeing the games on either side of them "Hoop is the wrong size, baseball is the wrong weight, bucket is too small or tilted." He shakes his head. "Carnival midway games are for suckers.

As the words leave his mouth, he hears his wife making a sound of cute and he follows her line of vision to the gigantic stuffed tiger hanging above a game.

One duty in every good boyfriend or husband's life is to win an obscenely huge stuffed animal for their significant other at a carnival. He eyes the game. Tossing rings around bottles. He eyes his wife, who is looking very cute and attempting not to plead with him.

He sighs. "Oh all right." He has a feeling this will take awhile. "I can't just buy the tiger and pay you back with some really kinky sex later?"

She smirks. "Well I'm already getting the sex, but I want my big strong tiger to prove his skills and win me a stuffed snuggletiger." She feeds him a piece of cotton candy as he shells over some cash. "Must keep him well fed."

"Uh huh," House says, turning to the game and tossing the first ring, which misses. He narrows his eyes. Concentrates. This is gonna take awhile.

It does take awhile. Too much money and too much time later, House is handed a large stuffed tiger and given a pat on the back by a man he hopes learns the importance of daily hygenine and quick. The thing is huge. His wife is estatic. She hugs him and the beast and then pulls him down for a kiss.

"My hero."

"I practically bought the thing."

"Still." She beams up at him. "You got it."

His shoulder is a little sore from the repeditive tossing of the rings. He smiles. "Yeah, I did. Now the question is, what are we going to do with it?"

She shrugs. "Stick it in the spawn's room?" She asks, rubbing at the swell in her stomach. She feels absolutely massive. "I feel like I'm as big as that thing's head."

House eyes the stuffed tiger and then his wife's very pregnant shape. "Nah. He's got you beat by a longshot."

She rolls her eyes. "Does not."

He snickers and makes the tiger kiss her stomach. "Shush, don't make the tiger pounce..."

"That's coming later, remember?"

He blinks.

She smirks. And then laughs. "You so lose it when I mention sex!"

"What can I say?!" He protests. "My wife offers me great sex just because I won her a giant stuffed animal, I mean, hello, of course I'm going to be damn excited."

"Well I would hope I'm still exciting. Even if I look like Shamu."

"You do not look like a giant whale, Brittany."

"Yes I do."

He groans and resists the urge to smack her upside the head with the giant thing tucked under his arm, and instead just pulls her into a hug and kisses her hard, right in the middle of the midway, with lights flashing and enough background noise to make a deaf person cover their ears.

It does take long before she's got her hand on his ass. He squeaks.

She grins. "I win."

"No, you don't, I won the tiger."

She squeezes and that shuts him the hell up in a hurry. "No, I get the tiger." She whispers, voice low and soft enough that he has to strain to hear it over the bells and whistles of the carnival.

House nods. "Alright." He says, shivering a little at the tone. "Maybe you do win."

"Maybe?"

He lowers his voice. "Okay, you do win."

She leans up and presses a kiss to his cheek. "Good tiger." She whispers, then smirks. "Now, your unborn son is asking for a funnel cake, so I suggest you find him one before he attempts to remake Alien and find one himself."

He grins. "Only if I get a bite too."

Brittany laughs. "Of course, dork. You did spend all that energy winning my new friend there." A bigger smirk. "A bite."

He wraps an arm around her waist and smiles. "Topping?"

"Just powdered sugar."

"You got it."

She smiles widely. "God, I love you."

He knows it. And nods. "Love you too."

They feed each other funnel cake while sitting at a table, getting stares from little kids, some who want to know why two grown adults are snuggling so close, and others just jealous of the giant stuffed prize sitting in the third seat on the bench.

100songs prompt # 012.

Fri, 05 May 2006 07:43:55 GMT

Title: Scars
Characters/Pairing: Brittany House/Greg House
Prompt: 012. Knowing Me, Knowing You.
Word Count: 504
Rating: PG
Summary: Sometimes the scars on a person's body are more telling than the ones on the heart.
Author's Notes: Mild adult content.

He's afraid to touch her. She's so perfect under his hands that he can't imagine being anywhere but here and now, with her, about to be with her for the very first time. The lights are turned down low in the hotel room and she's looking at him with a gaze that he knows is passion and want and nerves all jumbled into one. He knows because it's just what he looks like.

He's scared, and so is she. He wants her, and so does she. She wants him. At this point it's more of a raw need for affection and something that's real, that defines them in a sense that they've never been able to define themselves with before.

His fingertips brush her skin. Every inch of her skin. Every freckle, every curve, every line. Every scar.

He knows what they must feel like. How they make her feel. He whispers that she's beautiful and she protests, only relenting when his lips hit her skin and begin to trace the lines and ridges much like his fingers had been doing before. Soon she's only protesting the lack of attention in other areas.

Her hands touch his leg and he jerks slightly, out of nervous reaction. It doesn't hurt -- he assures her when she pulls away -- it's just that he hasn't been touched, loved, held, wanted, this tenderly, in a long, long time. Something flickers through her eyes, a sadness that fades when he flicks his eyes to a scar on her arm and then back again. He won't see it again.

She's too busy moaning his name and running her hands over his chest to say much else when things really get heated. This isn't just sex to him, it means more and he's not really sure why. It almost scares him, the intimacy of the moment, and when she locks her lips to his and kisses him like she means it, he understands.

She understands him. She understands the scars on his leg and the scars on his heart, but they don't matter to her. He draws an arm close around her middle and presses his hips into hers with a sound, deep in his throat, pleasure and a little bit of pain. It's a good pain, one that comes with the release of a stigma that's burned his mind and his heart too long to remember.

She loves him and wants him. Even though he's scarred up.

Because she's scarred up too. She's the broken little girl and he's her protector and her lover. People think they're crazy for loving each other the way that they do, but it works for them and it's just real and alive and everything else that love is supposed to be when too people actually give it a go.

She tells him he's beautiful.

He smiles, and says it right back.

Then he's kissing her. And her lips are on his skin, tracing his jaw, fingers on his thigh, tracing his scars. Taking away his pain the only way she can see how.

It works.

100songs prompt # 007.

Fri, 05 May 2006 07:28:09 GMT

Title: Distance
Characters/Pairing: Brittany House/Greg House
Prompt: 007. Walk Away
Word Count: 239
Rating: PG
Summary: Based of the 'One In Three' storyline.
Author's Notes: Small piece.

She's looking at him as he walks away down the hall. She can tell he doesn't want to turn around, but at the same time, she knows he's trying his hardest to keep from crying and running back to her arms. Each step is another three feet between them, three feet farther apart, and it feels like her soul is being ripped out in the process with each sound of his cane against the thick carpet.

He knows he has to leave. But that doesn't mean he wants to. He told her he'd never walk away from her but she's making him. There's someone trying to get what he has and he has to protect it. Matter of national security, tucked into his jacket pocket, right next to the loaded gun.

She wipes her eyes and shuts the door behind him once he's gone in the elevator. She sobs into his pillow and wraps her arms tight around it. Tries to keep from sniffling until it hurts but she can't help it.

He checks the parking lot. He gets in the car and drives. Putting more distance between them. Hundreds of miles.

But nothing feels as distant as the pain in her heart when she gets a phonecall the next afternoon from her husband's best friend. She throws up and books a flight home.

Her husband is gone. Taken.

Not knowing where someone is makes them feel even farther away than watching them walk away.

100songs prompt # 021.

Tue, 02 May 2006 18:41:20 GMT

Title: Hush
Characters/Pairing: Brittany House/Greg House
Prompt: 021. Learning to Breathe
Word Count: 409
Rating: PG
Warnings/Spoilers: Mild kissing.
Summary: Just a random piece.

The first time he kisses her, sitting at a desk in the back of a private jet, everything goes silent. The hum of the engines disappears completely from his ears, the light chatter of conversation from the closed door fades, and even the pounding of his heart in his chest gets blocked out.

He's not sure what it is about her. What it is about this moment.

She can see the look on his face when they pull away. It's like he's in a stunned state of shock. She worries for a moment, until he looks up at her, smiles, and asks if he can kiss her again, because he liked that. She nods.

And then he's kissing her again. She runs her hands up the sides of his face, brushing scruff and skin with her palms.

She likes this too.

He doesn't realize how long this goes on, just hears the bleating of a phone break into the silence, and he groans and rests his head against her shoulder, panting softly before he leans back and sucks oxygen back into his lungs. As she turns and picks up the phone off the wall, he tips his head back at the roof of the cabin and attempts to slow his breathing down.

It's hard. He hasn't been kissed like that in a long, long time, and definitely not by a girl so attractive it makes him have very impure thoughts.

She hangs up the phone and they just look at each other for a long moment. He smiles, and she nods, and then he's kissing her again.

Because who needs oxygen, anyways.

It's still the same way, even a year later. She'll look at him and smirk, and he'll just lean in and press his lips against hers, reaching up to cradle her face in his hands, fingers brushing skin and tangling in hair, tugging her closer. He wants her like nothing he's never known before, not even the Vicodin when he's really, really aching for a hit to make the pain go away.

He's been trying to cut back. Slowly. This helps.

She knows. So she kisses him back and tells him that she loves him. That she needs him. That she wants him, so bad.

It's always the same.

Panting for air after they part and stop mauling each other. Because while kissing may be better than breathing, the more oxygen they get on the their little breaks, the more time they can spend making out next time.

100songs prompt #055.

Mon, 01 May 2006 00:04:52 GMT

Title: Labor Of Love
Characters/Pairing: Brittany House/Greg House
Prompt: 055. Beautiful Life.
Word Count: 824
Rating: PG
Warnings/Spoilers: Small talk of labor/birth.
Summary: What is love worth?

Brittany House, on her good days, has the mouth of a sailor.

When her husband makes the offhand comment that all the screaming of obscenities is going to scar their child and make his first words be 'oh my fucking God', she just glares at him and calmly suggests that perhaps he try pushing a watermelon out of his penis to see how it feels.

He, wisely, holds his tongue and just reaches for her hand.

She's tried. And cranky. And excited, even if it doesn't show. Because any minute now, her son, the little hellspawn that has been practicing kicking field goals with her bladder as the ball for the past five months, will be out of her stomach. And he's sure as hell not going back in.

House steps back when Brian moves up to talk to his best friend, giving her quiet words of encouragement. He goes and talks to the doctors, who say everything is going fine and the baby should be born within the next half hour. He checks the clock in the room and smiles when he thinks about the practical takeover of the waiting room outside the doors. He knows for certain that Jack is there, and his mother is there too. Kyle, and Julian, are also positives, and he's sure that Wilson and Cameron are keeping up to date on the progress. Lex and Blaine are probably there by now. Hannigan probably isn't, but he figures the man will come by later to see the kid and make sure Brittany's alright.

He thinks about the phone call to his father in law the night before. How he told Jack that Brittany was definitely in labor and that they were going to leave for the hospital after she finished up with a shower and they packed their last minute things. He's contemplating all this when she yells another swear word at the ceiling and then whimpers at him, reaching for his hand, which he gives.

With the next contraction, she squeezes his hand so hard it snaps a bone in his pinky.

He manages not to yell. Not to scream or upset her, just pry her hand away and tell her he needs a second. He has Brian tape the finger pback in place and then resumes his hand holding -- with his other hand -- and strokes her hair, pressing his lips to hers.

A moment later, he's being called down by his friend, to catch his son as he's born. The first person to hold the screaming little infant is his father, who's in practical awe and shock at the lungs on his boy. He laughs and waits for the cord to stop pulsing before it's clamped and cut, and then he hands his son off to a nurse, who quickly rubs him off and then sets him on his mother's chest, still screaming his little head off in protest.

Brittany's in tears, looking at the little red face and tiny fingers and arms flailing awkwardly, and she reaches up to touch her son, soothing him and whispering to him. The boy stops wailing and after a few minutes, opens his eyes and looks around, unfocused and confused, but much happier because he knows this is his mother.

House takes a moment to watch them, before he tells Brittany he'll be right back, and he sheds the gown that has a bit of blood on it and grabs his cane, limping down the hall to the waiting room. He's practically grinning from ear to ear when he pushes the doors open and looks at a good half dozen heads that jerk up and look at him. He finds Jack's eyes and nods. "You're a grandfather, sir." Then his mother's. "And you're a grandmother, mom."

Lex lets out a whistle. "And we're all uncles!"

House laughs and nods. He holds up his hand, with the taped finger. "Hopefully he'll inherit her grip." He teases, before he gives the weight and length, which gets a low whistle from Kyle, and then tells her that it'll be awhile until they can see her, because he's going to go spend some time with his wife and son. They all understand and nod as he turns and walks away, going back to the hospital room, where they've cleaned up most of the mess and his wife is hugging Brian.

Within another few minutes there alone, save for one nurse who's showing her how to help Jackson latch on to her breast to nurse, and Brittany moves to the side to allow her husband room on the bed before she gets her son settled in her arms and suckling happily.

When it's just them, he smiles weakly and kisses her, slow and steady, whispering that he loves her so very much.

And when she smiles and says it back, he turns to watching his son nurse. She apologizes for breaking his finger.

He shakes his head and tells her that it was worth it, ten times over.

100songs prompt # 043.

Sun, 30 Apr 2006 23:26:37 GMT

Title: Black And Blue
Characters/Pairing: Brittany House/Greg House
Prompt: 043. Crash and Burn
Word Count: 450
Rating: PG-13
Warnings/Spoilers: Mild adult content.
Summary: There comes a point in every relationship where the pain doesn't matter anymore.
Author's Notes: Just a random piece.

The moment House feels the tires on his motorcycle skid, he knows that this is going to hurt.

Everything goes quiet, the sound of the highpowered engine of the car that clipped him fading, the chirp of the tires on asphalt, gravel, dirt, everything going dark in his mind as he wisely ditches the bike and braces himself for the fall.

His helmet hits the concrete with a dull thud, and he keeps going, rolling, sliding down an embankment after the motorcycle, feeling rocks and sticks and mud and everything else he hits on his slide down. His ankle hurts like hell by the time he stops and he has enough sense of mind to get up, turn off the bike, and then pass out.

Time gets fuzzy after that. He wakes up and the sun has set. The stars have come out. He's cold and his leg feels like it's been smacked hard in the ankle with a large ruler by a very, very vengeful nun. He passes out again.

A few hours later, his friends find him, lying there, cold and alone, and then help him up and get him and his damaged bike home. He'll call the Honda dealership a few days later to take her into the shop, and his ankle will heal up to being able to walk on it in a day or two, but it's the first time he looks at himself in the mirror that he realizes something.

Other than the fact that his wife isn't home.

The next day she comes home and doesn't say much to him. Doesn't act like she's grateful that he's alive, not lying somewhere in the hospital with a broken spine and massive amounts of missing skin. She barely speaks to him. He spends the next night sleeping on the couch in her office, because she's gone somewhere and left him behind with his thoughts.

He calls the next morning and talks to her. She tells him where she is. He practically drives the Corvette to death to get to her.

After a sprinkled donut, a bottle of Cherry Pepsi and a back massage later, he's lying next to her, running his hands over her body, his lips over her skin, and she's doing the same to him, moving in time. It's slow at first, but then it gets desperate. Needy. Hungry.

When she whispers his name in his ear as she comes, he knows that he's forgiven. They spend the next few minutes looking over his skin, at the bruises, at the cut on his face he got defending her honor. No matter how much he bleeds or how much he hurts, she is his wife, and he will do anything to keep her.