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hopelesslyromanticgay · 1 year

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How about Tara and R grew very close, kissed here and there but then Tara friendzones R. R distances herself and only then Tara realizes that she wants more than friendship

We're Gonna Make It Work

5 times Tara and Y/N shared meaningless kisses + one time they actually meant it. Or: A quick 5 + 1 fic!

Disclaimer: certain themes in this story I don't have tons of experience with, so sorry if not everything's accurate. EX: I definitely haven't been to a college party lmao.

Tara and I met on our first day in college. Freshmen year in college is intimidating enough. Freshmen Year in a big city like New York is terrifying.

We bonded quickly, and soon enough I was spending tons of time with her friend group. I even introduced my roommate, Anika to my new friend, Mindy, and now the two are happily dating. It seems I've seamlessly assimilated into their group.

I've always thought she was extremely beautiful. I really don't want to risk the friendship I've worked so hard to build with her. At the same time, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to try.

The first time we kissed it was an accident. That's all it was. An accident.

She was blackout drunk at a party. Mindy and Anika had disappeared into some room. Chad was doing shots in the kitchen. Ethan was at his dorm, doing homework like the "quirky" pick me he is.

So many people crowded the building, dancing terribly to awful music, drunk on cheap booze. The frat house reeked of liquor and the distinct scent of marijuana.

Not to say I wasn't drunk too, though. Just less drunk than everyone else in the group. There was a slight wobble in my step as I walked from the kitchen to the living room, wanting to sit for a split second.

Tara had a three round winning streak at beer pong against some guy I'd never seen before. In the corner of my eye, I could see her downing a cup every 45 seconds or so. Maybe if the alcohol hadn't clouded my judgement, I would have been smart enough to get her away from that sooner.

It wasn't until I saw her wobbling towards the steps with he guy she had just been competing with that I sprang into action.

In retrospect, can see why people call booze liquid courage. Man, if I were sober, there would have been no way I would do what I did next.

"Hey, Tara, your boyfriend's looking for you," I grabbed her away from the clearly less drunk man in front of me. He reached out and grabbed her other arm, "she'll be fine."

"Her boyfriend is a football recruit," I lied, "he'll beat the shit out of your weak ass."

"What?" she slurred, unable to comprehend what I'm saying.

"I said, your boyfriend's here, let's go find him," I repeated, dragging her away from the situation.

"Why did you do thattttt," she whined once we're out of ear shot.

"He was taking advantage of you, you'll thank me in the morning," I told her, "you're a mess, let's get you home."

Luckily, her apartment wasn't far, because I was practically carrying her down the street. She flutters in and out of consciousness, making her balance even less stable.

The elevator ride was painfully quiet, what even is there to say. I opened the apartment door, guiding the barely conscious Tara inside. Immediately, I saw Sam, sitting in the kitchen. Waiting for us.

"Where were you?" she interrogated, "I was scared out of my mind."

"Hey, Sam, she's pretty fucked up right now, maybe you should wait for her to sober up. I'm gonna get her to sleep, okay?" She nods, angrily. I can tell she isn't happy about this.

I walkedvTara down to her room, setting her down on the bed.

"Goodnight, Tara," I smiled, helping her take off her shoes and pulling the blankets up over her.

"Night Night, pretty girl," she pulled my face down for a quick kiss.

What the fuck is happening? I could taste the burning liquor on her lips. She's gonna have one hell of a headache in the morning. I quickly break away, I can't do this while she's drunk.

The second time we kiss, she's actually sober.

It's a silly situation, really.

We're at Rockefeller center, shopping for clothes on sale. They put up the ice rink for the winter. Even though it's technically November, I guess New York doesn't care about technical seasons though.

Tara and I stroll down the pavement, warm coffee in our hands. She's very cute all bundled up in her winter gear. A beanie compresses her bangs, and her winter coat looks nearly suffocating yet not nearly arm enough for a New York winter.

"Fuck," she mumbles, looking behind us.

"What's wrong?" I ask, concerned.

"I need you to kiss me, right now," she commands.

"Damn, at least take me out to dinner first," I laugh awkardly.

"Y/N, shut up and do it, I'll explain later," she pleads. I happily oblige her, allowing her lips to make their way to mine. She caresses my cheek through her gloved hands, and I find myself lost in a daze. She's good at this. Her hands slide down my face to wrap themselves around my neck and she slowly breaks the kiss. A part of me wished it would never end.

"So you wanna tell me what that was about?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Creepy ex, wanted to make sure he didn't think he had a shot," she explains. My face falls. Such an amazing experience, ruined by the context.

"I'm sorry, Tar," I pull her closer to me, wrapping my arms around her.

We kiss for a third time a month later.

"Hi," I smile, walking through the apartment door, "why'd you call?"

"I don't know, I'm just bored I guess," she shrugs.

"Okay," I say. To be honest, I needed something to do with my afternoon, and who better to spend it with.

We decide to put on a movie, Clueless. I found some popcorn in the cabinet, so I decided to microwave some up.

I place the metal bowl between us on the couch. I think if I'm much closer to her I might try to kiss her again.

"So, what have you been doing these past few weeks?" she asks.

"The usual," I respond, "homework, my job, and sleeping. And you?"

"Yeah, just homework," she purses her lips, trying to think.

God what I would give to feel those soft warm lips again.

"No, I've also been reading some weird ass Stephen King book about a guy going crazy."

"So pretty much every Stephen King book?" I ask.

"Not true!" she playfully shoves me, "IT is about multiple people going crazy. The Dark Half is about someone who thinks he's crazy, but also knows he's not. There's lots of non insanity related ones too."

"Nerd," I playfully tease her.

"Shut up," she laughs.

"Make me?" I tease her more.

"Nope, sorry, you gotta earn that," she teases back.

I open a beer for each of us, "It's happy hour somewhere."

"It's 4:30, so we're not doing terribly," she reminds me.

"We're great at this," I joke.

"So great at this."

We go back to the movie, it's such a classic. Other than the ending, it's a perfect movie.

She smiles a priceless smile when Cher assumes Tai doesn't know seven multiplied by seven.

"This girl! I swear, she was a perfect casting for Tatum in Stab!"

"You have a great smile," I muse aloud, quickly regretting it. Damn it. Why did I say that?

"Thank you," I can see a blush creeping up her cheeks as she starts to smile even wider.

The movie seems to fade out of view as does everything else except us. The popcorn bowl is quickly discarded and her lips crash onto mine, kissing with a desperation so strong it's almost aggressive. I immediately reciprocate the kiss, leaning forward to get closer to her.

"If we do this," she pants in between kisses, "there's no strings attached."

I nod in agreement.

We fall into a routine of kissing or hooking up no strings attached. I know friend with benefits never works. Especially if you already have feelings for that person but god, she's irresistible.

There's two notable times after that afternoon when it feels different.

The first time, she's coming out of a rough therapy session.

"Hello, this is Y/N L/N," I answer the phone.

"Hey, Y/N, it's Tara," I can hear her voice crack.

"Hey Tara, what's up?" I ask.

"C-can you come over?" she says, trying to sound nonchalant about it. I see right through her facade.

"On my way, stay safe, pretty girl," I rush to the subway, trying to catch the first train I can to her side of the city.

I practically tear down the door to get into the apartment, there's nothing to do but make a beeline for Tara's room.

"Hey Tar, I'm here," I quietly announce.

She bolts up and wraps herself around me in a near suffocating hug. Her tears soak their way through my shirt, and I caress her hair comfortingly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask.

"No," she shakes her head.

"Can I do anything at all to help?"

"You can distract me," she winks. I nod, a little unsure of what to do.

Is this really the right time to hook up with her? Like she should be in a place of emotional stability to properly consent, right?

"Y/N, I know your like panicking about the morals, but please. Just do it. I need it. Please?" she widens her eyes pleadingly. How can I say no to that?

The next time of note is also the last time.

I've become unhappy with this whole "friends with benefits thing." I know, it was stupid of me to agree to it in the first place. And don't get me wrong, I've had tons of fun. So much fun. But there's limits to our situation.

I want to be able to tell her how I feel, I want strings attached. I want to take her out on dates, and hold her hand in front of our friends.

It's a freezing cold Thursday, I'm so tired. I forgot my textbooks at Tara's apartment after our "study" session last night, so i had to take a subway back to get them, which made me late the the only lecture I was interested in. Damn it.

I had thirty minutes to kill until my next class, so here I am, in the school courtyard, thinking about Tara.

Do I love her? Yes.

Does she love me? I don't know.

Will telling her I need to be more than just friends with benefits risk everything? Yes.

Speak of the devil and she shall appear, because right as I'm thinking about this, I see a short brunette making a beeline towards me. I think this means we need to discuss this.

"Hey there, tiny Carpenter," I tease her.

"Shut up!" she gets on the tips of her toes to pat my head.

"Do you wanna come over tonight?" I ask, "Anika and Mindy are having a date night?" I figure then would be a good time to tell her.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur and just a few hours later, I hear Tara's familiar voice at my door.

I take a deep breath, "Hey Tar, can we talk? I ask.

"What's up?" she asks.

"I feel like this isn't working," I admit, it's pretty obvious almost immediately what I'm talking about.

"O-oh," she stammers, "why?"

Oh god this is so awkward, like what are you supposed to say, yeah no I'm in love with you.

"I.... cuz friends with benefits never works out when there's feelings involved," I word vomit.

"Oh...."

"Yeah...."

We sit in an awkward silence.

"Tara, please say something," I say quietly.

"I'm so sorry, I can't do this anymore," she gets up and leaves, but I'm frozen in my seat. Unable to move.

I don't see Tara except in a few classes for at least a month. Though it could have been longer or shorter. Not like I want to see her though.

The days begin to blend together in a big lengthy mess.

I barely turn my assignments in, and the best grade I've gotten was a low C.

I go to parties more often than before. Hooking up with strangers, drinking myself to a blackout and being hungover as hell in the morning.

Anika's voiced her concern for me, but I find it so hard to listen.

I'm just numb.

I don't think I ever felt anything before I met Tara, and I don't think I'll feel anything again without her.

And to think of all the times we've kissed, made out and hooked up. Did those mean anything to her? She barely meets my gaze in class.

We haven't talked at all.

Lying down in my bed, I stare at the ceiling, out of the corner of my eye, I can see the date on the calendar.

March 7. It's been four months since our kiss at Rockefeller. I guess I should just forget about that though.

I hear a quiet knocking on my door, "come in, Anika.

The door slowly creaks open and in steps Tara.

"Hey," she says quietly. I scramble up to my feet, preparing to tell her to get out.

"Before you scream at me and tell me to go away, just let me talk?"

I nod wondering why can I never say no to her. I gesture for her to sit next to me.

"Look, I fucked up," she admits, "friends with benefits almost never works out. And I'm so so sorry. I didn't realize fucking it up would mean hurting you. I really thought about what you said."

"What did I say?" I asked.

"That what we had wasn't working," she says.

"And what have you decided?"

"It wasn't," she reassured me, "but it could."

I'm totally taken aback, "If you think I want to be 'just a friend that you sometimes fuck,' you're crazy, Tara."

"No, I mean a real relationship," she blurts.

"Huh?"

"Y/N, I have feelings for you!" she exasperatedly exclaims.

"Y-you do?" I ask incredulously.

"Yeah, I do," I see a blush creep up her cheeks.

"Well I like you too," I smile. She starts to get closer to me, but I stop her, "Look, give me a week to turn around my mental wellbeing, and I'll take you out on a date. I want to do this, but I want to do it right."

"Take your time," she smiles back, "see ya on Saturday for this 'date' you wanna take me on."

She winks, gets up, and leaves the dorm, blowing me a kiss on the way out.

We're gonna make this work.

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lizzydizzyyo · 6 months

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I think what's really compelling about House's absolute unwillingness to bow down to anything or anyone (the ethical board, the law, extra rich CEO, vindictive police officer, and even the patients themselves) regardless of how absolutely batshit and downright illegal his actions are, is because it's coming from a chronically disabled person, in more ways than one.

He cannot walk without agony or his cane. His chronic and severe pain led him down the path of deep Vicodin addiction until he also becomes psychologically dependent on it too (once, Dr Cuddy gives him saline placebo and it "works", in that he is not feeling his leg pain anymore for a few hours).

He understands it deeply just how desperate people can be when they're in pain and nobody can (or are willing to) help them—at least, so far, until they land on his doorstep. Which is canonically the most extreme step patients take when everything else fails—you don't just go straight to Plainsborough Teaching Hospital and to Dr Gregory House MD's office; you have to go through dozens of other doctors in various specialties and failed treatments too.

(Although that's a separate discussion about how doctors, particularly resident ones, are overworked and underpaid and redtaped by shithead insurance companies even if they do know how to treat a patient and want to).

He knows, from the bottom of his heart, that having such a painful and life-limitting debilitating condition is comparable to hell on earth, because he has one. He knows, that despite his disability being visible to everyone, yet no one wants to put an effort to help him deal with it—is also hell on earth.

Cuddy simply throws money at him and turns the other way to his Vicodin abuse, like she is saying, "I don't care if he takes 10 Vicodin pills a day or more, and I have to pay at least $1M every year for lawsuits, as long as he gets the job done," (and when they decide to go into relationship, she immediately drops him when he relapses, even if the reason for his relapse is her—although, yes, there is another discussion to be had about keeping yourself and your child(ren) safe being a priority compared to helping an addict, recovering or not). Wilson, as loyal as he is to House, simply either enables him or lectures him without going into the root of the issue and thoroughly help House that way. His subordinates, especially after the original trio, are simply too scared, too ignorant, or too ambitious to even approach the issue and choose to keep their job than help House (also another discussion to be had about how you can't help people who don't want to help themselves and so on).

So when he sees a patient who has gone through hell trying to get a correct diagnosis and treatment, he becomes laser-focused on doing everything under the sun to get to the bottom of it and cure the patient. He doesn't care if he has to break into countless of houses (haha pun) and collect insane and probably biohazard samples to do it—he absolutely will, no question.

Yes, hate-criming and being a bigot is his favorite hobby (still livid at the asexual ep and the production's choice for the resolution, let's just say I still have beef with Hugh Laurie and the entire production team for it), and so is insulting patients in so many ways that Shakespeare would personally fly to New Jersey and shake his hands if someone manage to successfully perform necromancy on ol' Billy boy. But House is no one if not dedicated. "Yes, my patient is an idiot, everyone is an idiot too, but I WILL cure their condition like my life depends on it," is basically his middle name.

Besides, you can make the argument that he is more compassionate than all the other doctors around him, because despite his absolute disdain towards some of his patients' beliefs and stupidity, he still works his ass off to treat them. He will call your god an idiot in 7 different languages while putting you in a diagnostic machine he manipulated the whole hospital into letting him use so that you could get a test which weren't available to you before. He will tell you that your currently-happy marriage will end in a bloody divorce and your ex will leave you penniless so love is not real while injecting you with a medication he had to hack the CDC's database for.

There are even episodes that show him being truly earnest, like the clinic duty scene where he is snarky as usual to a girl who seemingly stupidly had unprotected sex until she lashes out, and House is like, "Oh shit, this is above my paygrade", and immediately goes to Cuddy with a very serious expression and no sarcastic dilly-daliying, demanding her to transfer the patient to someone else because he is not good with "curing" rape case (interesting choice on the writers' part to make the patient insist to have therapy with House, though).

There is an episode about a very workaholic woman executive in a fashion company who has tremor and partial paralysis, and later on it's shown that she seems to tie her worth as a person to her corporate success while band-aiding her deep psychological issue like her suicidal ideation, and House genuinely asks her, "Do you want to live? I cannot help you unless you want me to," or something along the line.

There is also the cursed 9-year-old terminal brain cancer episode where Chase kissed the patient (ew), where at first it shows House being a usual misanthophe to Wilson and saying, "She is not brave, it's the brain tumor clot talking because it must be near the amygdala." Later in the episode, House sits near the patient alone, and compassionately asks her if she even wants to live, going through the rest of her short-lived but horrible agony, even if they catch the clot. The surgery to find and get rid of the clot is risky and can debilitate her even more, and this is why House is laying the decision to her hands. That she gets to choose. This is what truly reveals to him that she is genuinely brave (aside from the scan showing the clot to be so far away from her amygdala), but for the wrong reason. She is brave for her mom, willing to go through horrible surgery and drag out her already painful cancer-ridden life because, "My mom needs me". When everyone is congratulating her in the end, you can tell House has a bittersweet expression of both awe towards her bravery, and sadness that this 9-year-old sick girl has to bear the brunt of her horrible pain just so that her mother is not sad. That he couldn't convince her to be a child until the nearing end of her life.

The most interesting evidence of his compassion to me is the gunman hostage episode. It might sound weird because in the whole episode, he is depicted to first want to outsmart the gunman patient, then becomes laser-focused but only because he sees it as a puzzle, then absolutely selfish and dangerous because he volunteers himself as the last hostage and gives the gun back to the guy after the MRI. I do think it's true that his dedication to solving patients-are-just-puzzle-to-me conditions shines through in the episode, especially the scene of him returning his gun, but there is something else I catch when I rewatched it before.

When the gunman patient is put in the MRI because Cameron tells him a theory through the hostage call, the remaining doctors in the room including House are wary at the gunman but also hopeful. Yet, when the result shows up on the screen, he realizes that the theory is wrong and the guy let go his only bargaining chip for nothing. If you watch this part carefully, you'll notice that House actually looks pitying and sad at the gunman's disappointed demeanor and expression. He realizes he is going to be another notch in the guy's failed doctors list, and at this point (with the gun given away and even the best, most talented doctor also not finding out what's wrong with him), the guy has given up hope that he will ever see the day he will be cured, certainly not behind the bars.

Yes, his thirst for puzzle is House's big driving force in giving back the gun, but you'll be lying to yourself if you don't notice House's compassion for the guy because he doesn't want the guy to go out empty-handed, with absolutely no more hope because House knows once they step out of the door, this guy will never, ever be allowed to be in the vicinity of any hospital or doctor ever again in his life, aside from jail's bare-minimum exams and medications. House can't handle the thought of putting someone else through his own disappointment—that nothing works to help his leg pain. He especially doesn't want to be the cause for this gunman guy's case either. Even in the end when House realizes the guy is a fucking moron because he doesn't know that Florida is, in fact, in earthwide-horizontal tropical zone and this is what stumps most of the guy's previous doctors—House still gives him a subtle salute to the guy while being handcuffed and led away, almost to say, "Enjoy your healing and the defeat of your arch nemesis The Sickness™, glad to be part of it."

Majority of his drive to stop at nothing until his patient is cured is definitely thanks to his own fucked-up leg, even if there are some dialogues with Cuddy and Stacy Warner (House's ex wife) that seem to imply he has always been a misanthrophe whose hobby is getting into malpractice (or general) lawsuits. I wholeheartedly believe that after his leg clot rendered him disabled and with chronic pain, he became much more dedicated and obsessed with getting to the bottom of a patient's medical information, even for info that seems innocuous or irrelevant that always turn out to be important (probably more like a plot armor than established characterization, to be honest), almost like this is his method of relating to the patients in his own weirdly human way, and maybe a little bit (actually, a lot) of projecting.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

#house md #rec #media analysis #writing #english #me #i hv more to say abt this show like him making the mistake of not amputating his leg bc of his bias against (particularly visible)disabilit #even tho cuddy and his other past ortho surgeons suggest against keeping the leg because the clot is really bad and unsalvagable #years later even while having his leg it's now useless because all it gives him is pain and anger issue with a dash of opioid addiction #so when he sees patient being stupid or refusing a certain test/treatment he KNOWS in the bottom of his heart to be right #he just won't take it lying down & he will drag his patients kicking & screaming bc ''trust me i was an idiot too don't repeat my mistake''#but that's an essay for another day #whump #whump meta #disability

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