Shiksa (PG)
Dec. 23rd, 2006 02:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deelaundryPosted to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
house_wilson, house_slash, housefic
Title: Shiksa
Author: Dee Laundry
Pairing: Julie/OFC (House/Wilson undertones)
Rating: PG
Summary: “I’m a doctor; she’s used to being alone.”
Notes: For the dazzlingly talented![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fallen_arazil, who wanted femslash. Set in the House universe because that’s all that I can comprehend. Set during the final montage of episode 1-5 (Damned If You Do). Thanks to daisylily for the beta.
She’d expected the bar to be deserted; it was Christmas Eve, after all. But a surprising number of people seemed to have nowhere better to be.
She ignored the tables in favor of a high stool at the bar itself. As she waited for the bartender to finish up with another patron, she contemplated herself in the mirror behind the bar.
She could stand a haircut, but the coloring that made her shoulder-length hair blonde was still looking good. She’d actually taken the time to put on eye makeup tonight (normally it was just moisturizing foundation and lip gloss), and that helped emphasize her light blue eyes. The free weight routine added to her workout a few months ago was bringing some definition to her arms and shoulders, and even seemed to be helping her chest. Overall, not too bad for thirty-five.
But, really, who was she kidding?
The bartender was suddenly in front of her, and she tried to smile. Truthfully, she hadn’t thought about what she was going to drink and felt flustered at having to make a decision.
“They have a nice Australian Chardonnay here,” said a young woman, slipping onto the stool next to her.
“I do like Chardonnay,” she replied. She was strangely grateful and almost blushed.
Smiling, the woman nodded to the bartender. “Two glasses of the Petaluma Piccadilly Valley ‘04.”
“Thanks. My name’s Julie.” She extended her hand, and the young woman shook it, firmly but warmly.
“I’m Rebecca. Escaping from too much family togetherness,” she explained, dipping her shoulder briefly against Julie’s in a friendly way. They picked up their glasses simultaneously and sipped.
“And you’re out on this hallowed eve because?” Rebecca asked. “Too much family?”
“Not enough,” Julie replied, and then immediately wished she could take it back. It brought up too many raw feelings and was definitely too much to admit to a stranger.
Rebecca only smiled and turned back to her drink. The silence that followed was companionable, the most pleasant silence Julie had heard in eons. That, and the elegant tang of wine on her tongue, relaxed her. A tension in her shoulders she hadn’t realized was there released.
She chanced a look at the woman next to her. Rebecca was probably not as young as Julie had first thought. She was around thirty, light brown hair in a bob, clothes casual but still put together well. She was… pretty, Julie realized.
Rebecca caught her looking and twisted a bit toward Julie. “What?” she asked, one eyebrow cocked and a smile playing around her lips.
“Just… Sorry for being abrupt earlier.” She smiled, and received a wider smile in return. “My husband’s working tonight, unexpectedly, and my family is, well, far away.”
“Oh, too bad,” Rebecca replied. “Can’t believe he got called into work tonight.”
“He’s a doctor. And he’s Jewish, so the hospital knows that this holiday really isn’t his, anyway.”
Rebecca shifted in her seat so that she was now halfway turned toward Julie. “He’s Jewish; you’re not?”
Julie laughed lightly, really just one chuckle. “Nope. Shiksa all the way.” She sipped her wine, once, twice, and then was surprised to catch a confused look on Rebecca’s face.
“Shiksa?” Rebecca asked.
“Oh. I – it means – never mind. It just means I’m not a Jewish girl. Raised Episcopalian, actually, although now…” Julie trailed off, thinking of the tiny Christmas tree she’d put up at work, and the messages from her mother, reminding her about midnight mass. She probably could have had a tree at home, but with James not caring, it was easier just to not.
That thought stopped her short. If that wasn’t emblematic of their entire relationship at this point, she didn’t know what was.
The bartender brought the bottle of wine back then, placing it next to Rebecca and then moving away. Rebecca poured them both another glass and then sat back. Her face was open, expectant but not demanding. It was comforting to Julie, the way Rebecca was interested without being insistent.
Julie reached for her glass and had another sip of wine. To be honest, it was more of a swallow or gulp, but she wasn’t trying to get drunk, no sir. She’d only come out to – feel a little of the holiday spirit. To hear Christmas songs and think of happy times.
Rebecca was smiling, and Julie couldn’t help smiling back.
“My problem,” Rebecca said softly, “is too much family. Parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, all driving me crazy with questions.
“You said –” Rebecca stopped, took a sip – really a sip – of wine. “You said not enough family. So no kids, I suppose?”
Julie blushed and looked down. The veneer on the bar was ugly, far, far too dark. “J–” She couldn’t say his name, just couldn’t make him that real. “He doesn’t want them, I think.”
“You think?” At some time, Rebecca had turned more. She was perpendicular to the bar at this point, fully toward Julie, engaged wholly in their conversation. It had been a long time since anybody had taken that much of an interest, and Julie could feel a strange heat rising.
“It’s complicated,” she whispered. The wine in her glass was swirling; she steadied it, drank it down, put the glass firmly on the bar. Magically, more wine appeared. Julie closed her eyes briefly and then re-opened them. She willed her voice to be steady.
“A child’s not Jewish unless the mother’s Jewish. His mother wants me to convert, and I don’t know if I can.” She looked then into Rebecca’s eyes; they were green, with little flakes of hazel. “It’s not like I still go to church, but the whole son-of-God thing is so intrinsic, I don’t know.”
Rebecca nodded. “It’s one thing to add something new to your life. It’s another thing entirely to deny something you feel.”
Julie looked back at her wine, raised the glass to her lips, and drank it down. Why did this woman she’d just met understand it better than her own husband? James of all people should be empathetic to the desire not to contradict the way you’d been raised… She inhaled sharply and covered her face with one hand. No, she wasn’t going to think that way. It wasn’t true.
“Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry.” Rebecca’s voice was just as warm but had softened somehow.
Julie pushed her hand into her lap and looked back. Rebecca had that same open, caring face, tinged just now with some concern. Concern for her? Amazing.
Julie stared for a second more, and then found her words. “It’s fine; you’re fine. Just my mind getting away from me; no worries.” She smiled, and took another sip of wine, and realized she’d lost track of how much she’d had to drink. James was a stickler for counting. He didn’t like the redness that would saturate her cheeks when she’d had a little too much a little too fast. “Unbecoming,” she imagined him saying, but it was his mother’s voice coming out of James’ lips.
God, she was so messed up. It was time to go – corral herself into bed and wait for the beep of the home alarm indicating James was coming in the front door. Six a.m., she thought, or seven. Or later, if he decided to make breakfast over there. Can’t make an omelet without cracking some eggs.
“I have to –” she started, but stopped when she noticed Rebecca had taken her hand.
“I’m sorry,” Rebecca repeated. “Obviously, you’re bothered about something.”
“No, I just –” Julie stared at their hands joined together. She couldn’t feel it; her nerves weren’t working properly tonight. Then suddenly, there it was: the warmth of Rebecca’s palm against her own. Rebecca’s hands were smaller than most men’s and definitely softer. Rebecca squeezed her hand, and Julie could feel the light press of manicured nails into the sensitive skin on the back of her hand.
“I need some air,” Julie finally said. “Would you go with me?”
That produced Rebecca’s warmest smile yet. It curved her cheeks appealingly and leant a sparkle to her eye.
Julie threw a twenty on the bar, and Rebecca matched it with two of her own. “It never hurts to over-tip,” she said in a stage whisper, and pulled on Julie’s hand.
Julie laughed enthusiastically and stumbled after Rebecca. They bundled themselves into their coats and fell out the door into the nighttime air. Julie almost tripped on the single step down to the sidewalk, but Rebecca caught her and pushed her back against the front wall of the bar.
They laughed together then, for a long moment, and the chill in the air was comforting somehow. Rebecca finally put her forehead against Julie’s collarbone and held there as the laughs subsided.
“I told you before,” Rebecca breathed into Julie’s chest, “that my family was driving me crazy with questions.” She pulled back and caught Julie again with those beautiful green eyes.
“Really it was just the one question: When are you going to settle down and get married? I told them I hadn’t found the right woman yet.”
Julie sucked in a breath sharply.
“So they kicked me out,” Rebecca continued. Her hands were running up and down Julie’s sides. No way for her to know that was a favorite gesture of James’, but it ratcheted up the emotion, nonetheless. “No big deal. They’ll take me back tomorrow; I know it.”
Julie let her head fall back against the wall. There were tears in her eyes, but she couldn’t decide who she was the saddest for.
“So tonight I’ll check into some cheap motel, and everything will be fine tomorrow.”
“No!” The exclamation felt like it was torn from Julie. It was simultaneously the most right and most wrong thing she had ever said. “Why don’t you stay with me?”
“Your husband won’t mind?”
“My husband.” Julie stopped. The word was like ashes in her mouth. She realized in that second that she’d lost him, and she’d lost the will to care. “My husband’s not coming home tonight.”
“He’s working overnight?”
“He’s not working at all. That’s what he said, but it’s not what’s happening. He’s – he’s with his true love.”
“Your husband is cheating on you? Poor baby.” Rebecca leaned in and kissed Julie on the cheek. Only, she missed a little, and caught the corner of Julie’s lips, too.
“No. That’s not what I mean. I don’t know what I mean, except – Except I want you to come home with me.”
This time Rebecca didn’t miss at all. She kissed Julie squarely on the lips, and Julie immediately responded by pressing back and opening her mouth eagerly. Rebecca didn’t push, though; she kept her own lips together and kissed all the way around Julie’s mouth. First the upper lip, four gentle kisses as Julie tried to trace Rebecca’s lip with her tongue. Then Julie pulled back and just waited.
Five gentle kisses across Julie’s lower lip and then, finally, a tongue tracing Julie’s lips, glancing across Julie’s teeth, so soft, so gentle, so caring. It was the care that Julie missed, and she couldn’t recall in that moment if it had been there even at the beginning. Maybe James had spent, was spending, all his caring somewhere else.
Julie pulled back suddenly. “Not here,” she said. “Let’s go.”
“I don’t want to drive, and I don’t think you should.”
“I’m sober enough to know what I want.”
“And drunk enough to take it.” Rebecca smiled, and it was Julie’s favorite brand of evil. Wanton, beyond concern about consequences, but not beyond warmth, not beyond kindness. It was the willingness to throw the world away and exist in the moment.
“There are plenty of cabs,” Julie noted, and suddenly she was aware of everything around her. Lights and sounds and people. She was kissing another woman in full view of everyone. James would be shocked, and his mother would just die, and Julie laughed and laughed at that thought. She didn’t wish a soul in the world ill will, but the thought of the look on Evelyn Wilson’s face filled her with a joy she didn’t think was possible.
“Now,” she breathed, and pulled Rebecca along by the hand.
They cuddled in the cab, and Julie used her husband’s money to pay the fare.
house_wilson, house_slash, houseficTitle: Shiksa
Author: Dee Laundry
Pairing: Julie/OFC (House/Wilson undertones)
Rating: PG
Summary: “I’m a doctor; she’s used to being alone.”
Notes: For the dazzlingly talented
fallen_arazil, who wanted femslash. Set in the House universe because that’s all that I can comprehend. Set during the final montage of episode 1-5 (Damned If You Do). Thanks to daisylily for the beta.She’d expected the bar to be deserted; it was Christmas Eve, after all. But a surprising number of people seemed to have nowhere better to be.
She ignored the tables in favor of a high stool at the bar itself. As she waited for the bartender to finish up with another patron, she contemplated herself in the mirror behind the bar.
She could stand a haircut, but the coloring that made her shoulder-length hair blonde was still looking good. She’d actually taken the time to put on eye makeup tonight (normally it was just moisturizing foundation and lip gloss), and that helped emphasize her light blue eyes. The free weight routine added to her workout a few months ago was bringing some definition to her arms and shoulders, and even seemed to be helping her chest. Overall, not too bad for thirty-five.
But, really, who was she kidding?
The bartender was suddenly in front of her, and she tried to smile. Truthfully, she hadn’t thought about what she was going to drink and felt flustered at having to make a decision.
“They have a nice Australian Chardonnay here,” said a young woman, slipping onto the stool next to her.
“I do like Chardonnay,” she replied. She was strangely grateful and almost blushed.
Smiling, the woman nodded to the bartender. “Two glasses of the Petaluma Piccadilly Valley ‘04.”
“Thanks. My name’s Julie.” She extended her hand, and the young woman shook it, firmly but warmly.
“I’m Rebecca. Escaping from too much family togetherness,” she explained, dipping her shoulder briefly against Julie’s in a friendly way. They picked up their glasses simultaneously and sipped.
“And you’re out on this hallowed eve because?” Rebecca asked. “Too much family?”
“Not enough,” Julie replied, and then immediately wished she could take it back. It brought up too many raw feelings and was definitely too much to admit to a stranger.
Rebecca only smiled and turned back to her drink. The silence that followed was companionable, the most pleasant silence Julie had heard in eons. That, and the elegant tang of wine on her tongue, relaxed her. A tension in her shoulders she hadn’t realized was there released.
She chanced a look at the woman next to her. Rebecca was probably not as young as Julie had first thought. She was around thirty, light brown hair in a bob, clothes casual but still put together well. She was… pretty, Julie realized.
Rebecca caught her looking and twisted a bit toward Julie. “What?” she asked, one eyebrow cocked and a smile playing around her lips.
“Just… Sorry for being abrupt earlier.” She smiled, and received a wider smile in return. “My husband’s working tonight, unexpectedly, and my family is, well, far away.”
“Oh, too bad,” Rebecca replied. “Can’t believe he got called into work tonight.”
“He’s a doctor. And he’s Jewish, so the hospital knows that this holiday really isn’t his, anyway.”
Rebecca shifted in her seat so that she was now halfway turned toward Julie. “He’s Jewish; you’re not?”
Julie laughed lightly, really just one chuckle. “Nope. Shiksa all the way.” She sipped her wine, once, twice, and then was surprised to catch a confused look on Rebecca’s face.
“Shiksa?” Rebecca asked.
“Oh. I – it means – never mind. It just means I’m not a Jewish girl. Raised Episcopalian, actually, although now…” Julie trailed off, thinking of the tiny Christmas tree she’d put up at work, and the messages from her mother, reminding her about midnight mass. She probably could have had a tree at home, but with James not caring, it was easier just to not.
That thought stopped her short. If that wasn’t emblematic of their entire relationship at this point, she didn’t know what was.
The bartender brought the bottle of wine back then, placing it next to Rebecca and then moving away. Rebecca poured them both another glass and then sat back. Her face was open, expectant but not demanding. It was comforting to Julie, the way Rebecca was interested without being insistent.
Julie reached for her glass and had another sip of wine. To be honest, it was more of a swallow or gulp, but she wasn’t trying to get drunk, no sir. She’d only come out to – feel a little of the holiday spirit. To hear Christmas songs and think of happy times.
Rebecca was smiling, and Julie couldn’t help smiling back.
“My problem,” Rebecca said softly, “is too much family. Parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, all driving me crazy with questions.
“You said –” Rebecca stopped, took a sip – really a sip – of wine. “You said not enough family. So no kids, I suppose?”
Julie blushed and looked down. The veneer on the bar was ugly, far, far too dark. “J–” She couldn’t say his name, just couldn’t make him that real. “He doesn’t want them, I think.”
“You think?” At some time, Rebecca had turned more. She was perpendicular to the bar at this point, fully toward Julie, engaged wholly in their conversation. It had been a long time since anybody had taken that much of an interest, and Julie could feel a strange heat rising.
“It’s complicated,” she whispered. The wine in her glass was swirling; she steadied it, drank it down, put the glass firmly on the bar. Magically, more wine appeared. Julie closed her eyes briefly and then re-opened them. She willed her voice to be steady.
“A child’s not Jewish unless the mother’s Jewish. His mother wants me to convert, and I don’t know if I can.” She looked then into Rebecca’s eyes; they were green, with little flakes of hazel. “It’s not like I still go to church, but the whole son-of-God thing is so intrinsic, I don’t know.”
Rebecca nodded. “It’s one thing to add something new to your life. It’s another thing entirely to deny something you feel.”
Julie looked back at her wine, raised the glass to her lips, and drank it down. Why did this woman she’d just met understand it better than her own husband? James of all people should be empathetic to the desire not to contradict the way you’d been raised… She inhaled sharply and covered her face with one hand. No, she wasn’t going to think that way. It wasn’t true.
“Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry.” Rebecca’s voice was just as warm but had softened somehow.
Julie pushed her hand into her lap and looked back. Rebecca had that same open, caring face, tinged just now with some concern. Concern for her? Amazing.
Julie stared for a second more, and then found her words. “It’s fine; you’re fine. Just my mind getting away from me; no worries.” She smiled, and took another sip of wine, and realized she’d lost track of how much she’d had to drink. James was a stickler for counting. He didn’t like the redness that would saturate her cheeks when she’d had a little too much a little too fast. “Unbecoming,” she imagined him saying, but it was his mother’s voice coming out of James’ lips.
God, she was so messed up. It was time to go – corral herself into bed and wait for the beep of the home alarm indicating James was coming in the front door. Six a.m., she thought, or seven. Or later, if he decided to make breakfast over there. Can’t make an omelet without cracking some eggs.
“I have to –” she started, but stopped when she noticed Rebecca had taken her hand.
“I’m sorry,” Rebecca repeated. “Obviously, you’re bothered about something.”
“No, I just –” Julie stared at their hands joined together. She couldn’t feel it; her nerves weren’t working properly tonight. Then suddenly, there it was: the warmth of Rebecca’s palm against her own. Rebecca’s hands were smaller than most men’s and definitely softer. Rebecca squeezed her hand, and Julie could feel the light press of manicured nails into the sensitive skin on the back of her hand.
“I need some air,” Julie finally said. “Would you go with me?”
That produced Rebecca’s warmest smile yet. It curved her cheeks appealingly and leant a sparkle to her eye.
Julie threw a twenty on the bar, and Rebecca matched it with two of her own. “It never hurts to over-tip,” she said in a stage whisper, and pulled on Julie’s hand.
Julie laughed enthusiastically and stumbled after Rebecca. They bundled themselves into their coats and fell out the door into the nighttime air. Julie almost tripped on the single step down to the sidewalk, but Rebecca caught her and pushed her back against the front wall of the bar.
They laughed together then, for a long moment, and the chill in the air was comforting somehow. Rebecca finally put her forehead against Julie’s collarbone and held there as the laughs subsided.
“I told you before,” Rebecca breathed into Julie’s chest, “that my family was driving me crazy with questions.” She pulled back and caught Julie again with those beautiful green eyes.
“Really it was just the one question: When are you going to settle down and get married? I told them I hadn’t found the right woman yet.”
Julie sucked in a breath sharply.
“So they kicked me out,” Rebecca continued. Her hands were running up and down Julie’s sides. No way for her to know that was a favorite gesture of James’, but it ratcheted up the emotion, nonetheless. “No big deal. They’ll take me back tomorrow; I know it.”
Julie let her head fall back against the wall. There were tears in her eyes, but she couldn’t decide who she was the saddest for.
“So tonight I’ll check into some cheap motel, and everything will be fine tomorrow.”
“No!” The exclamation felt like it was torn from Julie. It was simultaneously the most right and most wrong thing she had ever said. “Why don’t you stay with me?”
“Your husband won’t mind?”
“My husband.” Julie stopped. The word was like ashes in her mouth. She realized in that second that she’d lost him, and she’d lost the will to care. “My husband’s not coming home tonight.”
“He’s working overnight?”
“He’s not working at all. That’s what he said, but it’s not what’s happening. He’s – he’s with his true love.”
“Your husband is cheating on you? Poor baby.” Rebecca leaned in and kissed Julie on the cheek. Only, she missed a little, and caught the corner of Julie’s lips, too.
“No. That’s not what I mean. I don’t know what I mean, except – Except I want you to come home with me.”
This time Rebecca didn’t miss at all. She kissed Julie squarely on the lips, and Julie immediately responded by pressing back and opening her mouth eagerly. Rebecca didn’t push, though; she kept her own lips together and kissed all the way around Julie’s mouth. First the upper lip, four gentle kisses as Julie tried to trace Rebecca’s lip with her tongue. Then Julie pulled back and just waited.
Five gentle kisses across Julie’s lower lip and then, finally, a tongue tracing Julie’s lips, glancing across Julie’s teeth, so soft, so gentle, so caring. It was the care that Julie missed, and she couldn’t recall in that moment if it had been there even at the beginning. Maybe James had spent, was spending, all his caring somewhere else.
Julie pulled back suddenly. “Not here,” she said. “Let’s go.”
“I don’t want to drive, and I don’t think you should.”
“I’m sober enough to know what I want.”
“And drunk enough to take it.” Rebecca smiled, and it was Julie’s favorite brand of evil. Wanton, beyond concern about consequences, but not beyond warmth, not beyond kindness. It was the willingness to throw the world away and exist in the moment.
“There are plenty of cabs,” Julie noted, and suddenly she was aware of everything around her. Lights and sounds and people. She was kissing another woman in full view of everyone. James would be shocked, and his mother would just die, and Julie laughed and laughed at that thought. She didn’t wish a soul in the world ill will, but the thought of the look on Evelyn Wilson’s face filled her with a joy she didn’t think was possible.
“Now,” she breathed, and pulled Rebecca along by the hand.
They cuddled in the cab, and Julie used her husband’s money to pay the fare.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Fic: Shiksa
Date: 2006-12-27 01:13 am (UTC)Lovely tone for the moment, determined, but kind of lost. Not quite bitter, not quite understanding.
Wilson's mother and the lack of kids makes a sad kind of sense.
Rebecca smiled, and it was Julie’s favorite brand of evil.
And Australian Chardonnay! :-)