Title Phases
Rating R
Characters House/Amber
Word Count 200
Spoilers None
Summary Their responses are as different as fire and water; the way they cope isn't.
A/N Concrit, please.



She can't think; he can't stop thinking. They're not so much alike, after all.

For all the times she's said "screw House," Amber never expected to find herself with a hiked up skirt, straddling him on this uneven couch. But she needs to thaw out; she’s useless in this state. The dark is the one part that doesn’t surprise her.

Amber’s mind clears as she defrosts, the ice melting and trickling down her skin. House is different, his mind a flame threatening to burn itself out. She brings him down to her temperature, steam into water. They're both focused now, only on the feel of velvet skin against skin, the sound of harmonized moans and creaking of couch springs echoing through the apartment.

Her fingers dig into the leather; his into her hips.

The coldness starts its creep back, returning to equilibrium. They can't coexist in this moment; either she'd put him out or he'd evaporate her, nothing left of them, just like that. Amber gets up. The first rays of sunlight arrive, already warm against her skin. Too little, too late.

She buttons her shirt. "Someone should be there when he wakes up."

"If," House reminds her. She’s vapor.