fic: Cold Comforts (2/2)
May. 10th, 2007 04:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rubberbuttonTitle: Cold Comforts
Pairing: Wilson/Chase
Rating: soft R for some sexuality, themes
Words: 12,000ish
Summary: Wilson and Chase find a new way to cope.
Pairing: Wilson/Chase
Rating: soft R for some sexuality, themes
Words: 12,000ish
Summary: Wilson and Chase find a new way to cope.
Part One
“Hey. The Tivoli is showing a She Gods Of Shark Reef and Cat-Women of the Moon double feature tonight.”
Wilson looked up from the patient file to House who leaned over him, blithely ignoring the filthy looks Nurse Previn was shooting his direction. Wilson wrote in a note that Propofol couldn’t be used during the colonoscopy due to the patient’s egg allergy and set the folder on the stack he was working through.
“You in?” House demanded and made a face at Previn and another nurse who had the nerve to be at the Nurse’s Station.
Wilson had told Chase he’d meet him for dinner. “What time?”
“The first show starts at seven and I want to be there early so we can get good seats.”
“I can’t make it,” Wilson said. “I’ve got to start staff evaluations.”
House snorted dismissively. “Let them do their own reviews like I do. You get out of doing it and they get the review they were hoping for. It’s win-win. Unless you’re Cameron, she always has half a dozen areas that need improvement.”
“How responsible of her,” Wilson tone was just the slightest bit reproving. “Some of us actually have real departments to run.”
“Zing,” House acknowledged the slight. “Come on, are you really so lame that you’d rather work than see women in cat suits?”
Wilson hesitated; House was clearly set on this and a refusal would mean putting up with his sulking. “Fine. But don’t complain if I can’t hang out on Friday because I’m stuck doing evaluations.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” House promised airily and, the argument won, he turned and retreated to make someone else’s life miserable.
Wilson found Chase later that afternoon, working a shift in NICU. Chase smiled brightly as he saw Wilson’s approach, waving him over.
“Hey, Dr. Wilson,” he said cheerfully. After a quick glance around, he said in a quieter but no less enthusiasm, “We still on for tonight?”
Wilson rubbed the back of his neck and Chase’s smile faltered. “Actually...I’m afraid I’m going to have to cancel. Some stuff’s come up...”
“Cat women who live on the moon, by any chance?” Chase asked blandly. “House was talking the film up earlier. A real cinematic gem, apparently.”
“I’m sorry,” Wilson tried. “I really am.”
Chase shrugged lightly. “It’s no problem. Really. We can do it some other time. It wasn’t anything special.”
Wilson squelched the impulse to embrace Chase, settling instead for leaning in a little closer. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.” Chase looked at him skeptically. “This weekend? I’ll cook,” Wilson offered.
“All right,” Chase said, expression softening. “But it had better be good.”
The movies were true classics. Cheesy costumes, flimsy sets and the most tenuous of plots. But still, there was nothing like planets of Amazonian women to inspire a few heterosexual fantasies.
“I wonder why they stopped making these films,” House mused as they cleared out of the theater. “Best genre ever.”
“Sure,” Wilson agreed. “If you don’t actually have disbelief to suspend.”
“You’re such a snob,” House told him.
“Amazing how standards have that effect.”
“I have to say I’m worried about you,” House confessed with over-enunciated concern. “If girls in cat suits don’t do it for you, maybe it’s time to turn in the Hetero Club membership card.”
“Right, definitely the litmus test for straight,” Wilson agreed, collecting House’s empty popcorn bucket and stacking it under his own.
“Oh my God, Jimmy!” House yelled at the top of his lungs. “I had no idea you felt that way about me!”
Wilson’s shoulders tightened and he struggled to keep from craning around to see how many of the remaining theater patrons had turned to stare at them. “Shut up, House,” he snapped.
“No, I will not knock boots with you!” House managed to be even louder and more scandalized this time. “It’s an abomination before God.”
“We’re leaving now.” Wilson took a firm grip on House’s arm and steered him to the door.
House let Wilson pull him along, but not without shouting, “Help! This man is trying to have his way with me! Rape!” In a normal tone to Wilson he said, “Dammit, I need a whistle for people to take me seriously.”
Wilson dropped House’s arm outside the theater, the tips of his ears burning. “I hope that was as amusing as you’d thought it would be,” he gritted out.
“Better actually,” House grinned, “but you know I was kidding—you can have your way with me anytime.” He leered suggestively.
“Currently the only way I want to have with you involves a baseball bat and a body bag,” Wilson muttered darkly.
“Mmm, kinky.” House prodded Wilson ankle with his cane. “You want to get something to eat?”
“Actually,” Wilson grimaced, “I don’t. See you tomorrow, House.” He turned and walked away. For a moment he thought that House might follow him but he refused to look. When he got to his car, he was alone.
Chase opened the door on the second knock, wearing white boxers and a ratty maroon t-shirt with what looked like mustard down the front.
“Uh, hey,” he managed, obviously taken aback at finding Wilson on his doorstep.
“Can I come in?”
Chase blinked and got out of the way. “Sure. What’s up?”
Wilson stalked past Chase and threw himself down on the futon. The TV was on, Jay Leno monologueing about world events that made poor fodder for comedy. Chase took a more hesitant seat beside him, watching Wilson from the corner of his eye.
“It’s nothing,” Wilson said shortly.
“Okay,” Chase agreed. They watched Jay tell scripted jokes for a few minutes.
At the next commercial Wilson said to no one in particular, “He really has no regard for me. None at all.”
Chase wisely said nothing, apparently absorbed in a commercial for feminine hygiene products.
“I’m sorry,” Wilson said quietly. “I shouldn’t have blown you off for House.”
“It’s okay. It wasn’t a big deal.” Chase reached out and placed hand on Wilson’s knee. “How bad was he?”
“He wasn’t. Not really, not more that usual.” Wilson rubbed his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know how poison ivy gets worse the more you’re exposed?”
Chase shook his head shortly. “No, Australia doesn’t have poison ivy.”
“You get poison ivy and you get an miserable rash, which is bad, but it gets worse because your allergy is exacerbated on every subsequent exposure. Each time you have it, it’s that much worse.” Wilson scratched absently along his forearm, remembering a particularly bad rash he’d gotten after a camping trip. “House had been having that effect on me. Every encounter leaves me with weeping blisters.”
Chase swallowed. “Oh.”
“The problem is clearly me,” Wilson concluded, slumping back into the lumpy embrace of Chase’s futon. “He’s no worse than usual. Sure, he accused me of attempted rape, loudly, in a crowded theater—” Chase winced in sympathy, “—but that’s really par for the course in House world.”
“He treats you like absolute shite; you have a right to be annoyed,” Chase reasoned.
“I’m pretty sure it’s a right I forfeit when I go running back for more.”
Chase grinned crookedly. “I don’t know about that.” He leaned in slowly and kissed Wilson softly once and then again. “Want me to help you with your rash?”
Wilson grunted, “Okay, I realize that you meant that to be sexy...”
Chase’s fingers worked down the buttons of Wilson’s shirt. “Is that a yes?”
“Mmm, yes,” Wilson murmured and pulled Chase in for another kiss. “Most definitely a yes.”
Wilson pushed open the door to House’s office. House sat at his desk, feet propped up on his desk. “Hey, have you seen my phone...” Wilson didn’t bother finishing the sentence as he recognized the cell that House was currently fidgeting with as his own. “Oh good. You’ve found it.”
“Yeah, it accidentally fell into my pocket.” House sat up, feet dropping to the floor. “More importantly, you’ve been cheating on me.” House’s blank expression was his best poker face.
“I have?” Wilson repeated dumbly.
“With Chase.”
Wilson felt his stomach bottom out. But House didn’t seem vengeful, merely sarcastic. He held up the open phone, displaying Wilson’s call history. “Apparently you two have been quite chummy, lately.”
“Oh.” Wilson’s nerves steadied. “Yeah, apparently working for you is stressful, though I never would have guessed it. He just wanted to talk to some one who knew what an asshole you are.”
“Right. Chase sure does like to talk about the feelings. He’s almost as bad as Cameron.”
Wilson held out a hand. “Can I have my phone back or do you still have to call China?”
House’s eyes narrowed and Wilson’s palms prickled in under that piercing gaze. “Sure.” He tossed the phone to Wilson so quickly that Wilson nearly dropped it. “I’ve got things to do.”
He left Wilson standing in his empty office, wondering what had just happened.
The fellows were gathered in the lab, waiting for their tests to come back. Or pretending to wait, in Chase’s case. He already had the results but didn’t feel like returning to the conference room without Cameron or Foreman to act as a buffer between himself and House. He’d been working to keep a low profile these past few months.
“Just because I don’t feel the need to share the intimate details of my life with patients doesn’t mean I don’t relate,” Foreman shot at Cameron, who gave him a thin-lipped grimace over her microscope. They’d been going back and forth about the issue for the past half-hour. “Besides, we’re their doctors, not their friends. We need them to respect our judgment and authority.”
“You just say that so you can buffalo them into doing whatever you think is best.”
“Twelve years of school says that I do know best,” Foreman retorted.
“Ugh!” Cameron exclaimed in exasperation and contempt. “Maybe you think you know the best medical course, but that doesn’t make it the right choice for the patient.”
Foreman’s rolled his eyes, but his answer was interrupted by House’s arrival. House ignored them, however, heading for straight for Chase, wearing a dark look that made Chase’s immediately uneasy. Chase scrambled to his feet, as House closed the distance between them.
“How long have you been sleeping with Wilson?” House demanded.
At first Chase wasn’t sure he’d heard the question right—the roaring in his ears made it difficult to hear—but House repeated it, enunciating viciously.
“Uh. I...” Chase struggled to put the right words in the right order. “Since January.”
House took a step back, surprised, which confused Chase. How could House be surprised? Unless he’d been bluffing and Chase had just had cracked like an egg.
“You’re fired,” House told him.
“You can’t sack me,” Chase returned incredulously. He was acutely aware of Cameron and Foreman looking on, united for once in matched expressions of disbelief.
“Of course I can,” House sneered. “You don’t have anyone to protect you this time.”
Chase tried to swallow, which was difficult with his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. “What I do with my personal time isn’t grounds for dismissal.”
“It is when Wilson’s what you’re doing.”
“I understand that you’re angry...” Chase started, trying to think of a defense that would satisfy House.
“Angry?” House snorted dismissively. “Why would I be angry that a lazy, sycophant in my employ decided to seduce my best friend?”
“I didn’t seduce him,” Chase protested, feeling his face heat in a bright flush. “It just happened.”
“Geez, Chase. You seem to be ‘just happening’ to most of your coworkers. You’re becoming quite the office slut.” Chase realized that there was no way this conversation was going to be anything but bad for him and tried to exit, but House braced his cane against the edge of the counter, blocking Chase’s retreat. “What?” he asked, “Is Foreman next?” Chase flinched away, remembering the last time he’d really pissed House off. “Or are you just trying to get to me? And here I always thought it was just your daddy issues.”
Chase flinched involuntarily as House shifted his grip on his cane. House looked over to where Cameron and Foreman stood, slack-jawed and staring. Hopefully he realized they would be witnesses, Chase thought miserably, and that they’d be enough to keep House from actually bludgeoning him to death with his cane. House hesitated, reconsidered what he was about to say and instead spat, “I’ll finish with you later,” and stalked out of the room.
Chase took a breath and held it for a moment before turning to Cameron and Foreman. “I think I’m going to take the rest of the day off.”
Cameron nodded tightly and Foreman looked from the door back to Chase, as if expecting House to come back through it with a semiautomatic.
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Forman said.
“Hey,” Wilson answered his phone, Chase’s number on the caller ID.
“He knows.” Chase’s voice was calm, almost toneless.
“What?” Wilson asked, unsettled. “Who knows what?”
“About us. House knows about us,” Chase elaborated. “He asked me flat out...caught me by surprise. And I just told him.”
“It’s okay,” Wilson assured him, trying to muster some kind of conviction. He sank down onto his chair, just catching the edge of the seat. “He was going to find out sooner or later, no matter how careful we were. And he got the idea from snooping through my phone. It’s not your fault.”
“He fired me.”
“He can’t fire you,” Wilson returned quickly. “Not for this, the liability—”
“He’s not going to put ‘slept with my best friend’ on the dismissal. It’ll be something else, something plausible, something reputation ruining.”
“Cuddy won’t let him, once she understands...” Wilson winced at the thought of explaining the situation to her. Her expression alone would be brutal. Never mind that, he’d deal with it when he had to.
“Even if he doesn’t fire me he can still make my life miserable enough to quit.”
“Chase,” Wilson pleaded, “he’s not going to do that. I won’t let that happen.”
“Yeah, okay.” Chase didn’t sound convinced of Wilson’s ability to keep that promise and Wilson didn’t blame him.
“Hey, I have to go,” Wilson said hurriedly, as House himself flung open the door to his office. “Talk to you later. Don’t worry.” Wilson hung up. He turned to House, who stood leaning heavily on his cane and glaring at him. “So you know,” he sighed.
House didn’t say anything at first, giving him a hard look before pacing across the room to the window and turning back to Wilson. “The truth came out—kind of like you two,” House sneered. “I always knew you had a thing for hot blonds but really—Chase? Seems a little desperate, even for you.”
“He had me at g’day.” Wilson shrugged. “What’s it to you, House?”
“You cannot sleep with Chase,” House ordered, throwing himself into a chair across from Wilson’s desk.
Wilson folded his arms across his chest. “Why not?”
“He’s my employee and I said so.”
“That’s not actually how it works. You don’t own your employees. Or your best friend,” Wilson added pointedly.
House ignored that comment, snagging a bent-nail puzzle from Wilson’s desk and taking it apart nimbly. “So who’s on top? I never pegged Chase for a top—no pun intended—but I bet he’d do whatever you ask.”
“House,” Wilson warned.
“What? I’m just curious, is all. Who gets the...” Here House made lewd thrusting gesture with his cane to make his point. “Oh, God, don’t tell me you take turns.”
Wilson rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Is this what it’s going to take? Enough humiliation and you’ll forgive me?”
“Sure,” House agreed too readily. “And you like getting it up the ass from Chase?”
“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.”
“Yeah, I can see how—” House started, twisting the words viciously, but Wilson cut him off.
“I’m not breaking up with him, House. You have two choices—either you accept that and our friendship continues, or you don’t accept that and our friendship doesn’t.” Wilson was pleased that his voice was steady and even. “No matter what, though, you’re going to treat him well, or at least no worse than usual. You don’t get to fire him, or threaten to, or make his life hell.”
House stared at him for a long moment and Wilson waited for the retaliation but House just got up and left, leaving Wilson in his wake.
Chase kept a low profile in the following weeks. He spent as much time waiting for results, checking on the patient or in the clinic as possible. When he couldn’t avoid House’s presence, he contrived to have Foreman or Cameron in the room as human shields. Even with those precautions, he felt on edge most of the time, sure that when House’s retribution came, it would be as thorough as it was brutal.
And each day that he escaped unscathed, Chase’s apprehension grew. It didn’t help that Cameron and Foreman were treating him like some kind of outsider. They weren’t exactly antagonistic but strangely cool and twice he caught them talking about him, judging form Cameron’s guilty look and the hastily discontinued conversation. He tried not to let it bother him, but the only times he really forgot his concerns was when he was with Wilson.
“So...Dr. Wilson, huh?” Cameron queried casually. She’d asked him if he’d wanted to help her with this MRI, but he hadn’t realized she was planning an interrogation when he’d agreed.
“Yeah,” he answered vaguely, examining an illuminated slice of the occipital lobe.
“You’re really together?” she pressed.
“Yep.” He hoped monosyllabic answers would dissuade her inquires.
“You’re gay now?”
“Sure.” He didn’t feel up to explaining the intricacies of his sexuality to Cameron. Besides, she’d believe what she wanted to, regardless of his actual answer.
“I see,” she muttered, her mouth a thin line of judgment. He hoped that she was finished but several minutes later she started again. “I know that it’s not my business, but I’m worried about you.”
“You don’t have to be,” he told her shortly. He pointed to a blur on the screen. “What’s that?”
“A shadow,” she dismissed. “I know you’ve had a tough time since we broke up.”
“We didn’t break up. We were never together,” he reminded her. “I believe the term is fuck buddies.”
She ignored his correction. “But I don’t think Wilson is a healthy choice. I’m sure he means well...” she trailed off ominously and when he didn’t react continued with, “I don’t think you know what you want and he’s taking advantage of that.”
“He’s not taking advantage of me,” Chase said flatly.
“I doubt he thinks he is either,” she assured him, “but Wilson can’t see beyond his own pathologies. He’ll take what he wants and justify it later.” She held up a hand to ward off his protest. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I don’t want to talk about this, Cameron.”
“Right, and that’s your choice,” she confirmed unnecessarily. “But just think about it. You shouldn’t have to be ashamed.”
“I’m not.”
“Sure—which is why you bent over backwards trying to hide your affair. That’s not ashamed at all.”
“Oh here’s a thought,” Chase snapped, losing patience. “Maybe it was to avoid lectures like this one. As much as I appreciate your concern, you lost the right to give me advice about my personal life a long time ago.” He stood abruptly, the chair legs scraping against the tile floor. “You can manage the rest of this yourself, right?” She nodded dumbly, as he turned and exited, hands deep in the pockets of his lab coat.
In his anger, he didn’t realize his miscalculation until he was back in the conference room, where House had the patient file and a selection of journals scattered across the table. Foreman was no where in sight, Chase saw with alarm. Unable to retreat gracefully, he moved to the coffee maker, pouring the dregs into a clean mug.
“Results back?” House asked.
“No, Cameron’s working on them.” After tasting the sludge and realizing he’d been optimistic in judging it drinkable, he poured it out in the sink and began hunting for the coffee filters. After a fruitless search in the cupboards, he slammed the door shut in frustration and turned back to House. “What do you want?”
At the anger in his tone, House looked up. “For you to do your job? I know that must be very frustrating for you...”
“No—I mean, what do you want from me? What are you planning?”
“Besides world domination?”
“I know you’ve got some god-awful punishment planned. You’re just biding your time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.”
House sat back in his chair, regarding Chase with surprise. “Are you suffering any delusions or hearing voices to go along with that paranoia?”
“There’s no way you’d forgive me for sleeping with Wilson that easily. You want to punish me? Fine, but just do it. I’m sick of watching my back, looking for the sniper,” Chase finished breathlessly.
House laughed, taking Chase aback. “You want punishment—”
“I don’t want it. I just know that’s coming and would like to get it out of the way. So come on. Hit me with your best shot.”
“Okay, Pat Benatar, I’d love to,” House said, rolling his eyes, “unfortunately, I can’t deal out justice. If I punish you, you go crying to Wilson and he punishes me.”
“...And you care?” Chase asked incredulously.
House made a face. “Of course not, but it’ll make my life uncomfortable. So when your relationship with Wilson goes down in flames—which is inevitably will—it won’t be my fault.
“Really?”
“Yes, really,” House snapped, “What do you want to hear? That I’ve put itching powder in you scrubs?”
“That’s more believable.”
“And tempting. But you’re safe.”
“Okay. Wow—I feel like I’ve just had a stay of execution,” Chase confessed.
“If Wilson hadn’t foiled my plan to cut your brake lines, it would be.”
“I’ll have to thank him.”
Wilson unlocked his office and his heart seized until he recognized the shadowy figure lurking behind his desk as House. He took a breath and flipped on the light. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“I can’t help it if your nerves are delicate,” House retorted.
“Move,” Wilson ordered, rounding the desk. House hesitated, looking up at him with a guarded expression, finally he got up and abandoned Wilson’s chair. It did not escape Wilson that House made a show of rubbing his bad thigh. Wilson set his briefcase down, surprised at the easy victory and took the newly vacated seat.
House made his way to the window, pushing the blinds aside to look outside. Wilson squelched the impulse to tell him he was going to bend them.
“Why Chase?” House asked, still intent on the view out, though there was nothing much to see.
Wilson sighed shortly, considering the question and abandoning each answer as soon as he thought of it. “I don’t know,” he finally confessed. “Is this the part where you harass me about my no longer latent homosexuality?”
House turned back, still leaning on the window sill. “I was figuring that or make a crack about Chase being prettier than any of the girls you’ve dated—had to see which opening presented itself.” He crossed his arms, shrugging slightly.
“Do you think I’m gay?” Wilson asked, unsure what he wanted to hear.
“If you say so. You’re a little old to call it a youthful indiscretion,” House allowed.
Wilson forced himself to meet House’s gaze. “And you’re...okay with this?” he pressed further.
House strode to the low sofa and threw himself onto it. “Of course not. Homosexuals are the devil’s foot-soldiers and why God’s punishing America. That and the feminists.” He gesticulated wildly, apparently trying to encompass the army of gays trying to take over the government. “Please don’t tell me you think women are human.”
Wilson couldn’t help but smile at House’s dramatics. “Afraid so,” he apologized.
“Ah!” House clutched his face in pain and disappointment. “No wonder Cuddy’s getting uppity.” House sobered as the joke died. “I’m okay with it. It just makes things...different.”
“What,” Wilson asked wryly, “afraid I’ll make a pass at you?”
“Or that you’ll take advantage of me when I’m drunk,” House suggested. Wilson’s bemused expression faltered. He recovered but House had caught it and scowled deeply. “I was kidding, for Christssake. I don’t think you’re going to rape me. Please.” House voice was scornful. “If you’re bending Chase over your desk three times a day, it’s not like you’d be interested in my bony ass.”
“Yes, thank you.” Wilson frowned. “I appreciate the sentiment.”
* * * * *
Chase checked his reflection nervously, feeling silly for doing so. House didn’t care much for personal presentation and Wilson had already seen him at his worst. But he still couldn’t help but feel that his clothing would be assessed as some kind of statement. He really hoped that jeans and a light pink dress shirt said something like “I’m confident and not at all concerned about hanging out with my boss and my lover who also happens to be my boss’s best friend.” Maybe the pink shirt was too gay. The less ammunition he gave House, the better this would go.
He changed into a more reserved white, rolling the sleeves up to give it a casual air. Or maybe it just made him look like Wilson. He reconsidered his whole dress-shirt decision, but it was too late to change again, because Wilson knocked and let himself into the apartment.
Chase ran a hand through his hair, assessing the affected tousle in the mirror before turning for Wilson’s inspection.
“You look nice,” Wilson said appreciatively, pressing a quick kiss to Chase’s cheek. “Hmm,” he muttered looking down. “You’re wearing sandals?” His voice was a strained sort of neutral.
Chase examined his nude toes, glad the nails were at least trimmed. “I...could change into my loafers.”
“Oh, good idea,” Wilson confirmed. “You do look good though.” He leaned in for a more lingering kiss, before pulling away to ask, “You do have clean socks, right?”
Chase laughed and left Wilson to rummage through his dresser. “Yeah—they may even match.” And he did manage to find a suitable pair of socks.
“Right, let’s go. We’ve got to pick up beer on the way over,” Wilson said with a final appraisal.
The ride over was surprisingly relaxed. They argued good-naturedly about what to listen to. Wilson scoffed at Chase’s musical selections and Chase refused to listen to golden oldies until he actually was one. They compromised on a soft-rock station that was relatively inoffensive.
House the open the door to his apartment, demanding, “Beer?” Wilson held up the six-pack and House inspected it briefly before admitting them.
“Have you started the burgers?” Wilson asked, following House with Chase taking up the rear.
“Yeah, in the kitchen.”
Wilson wasn’t too amused when he realized House had “started” the burgers by leaving a package of frozen ground beef in the sink. He took charge, busying himself about the kitchen, as comfortable as if it were his own. He dubbed Chase his sous-chef and set him to work washing and slicing potatoes. House leaned against the counter, getting in the way and watching them, Chase imagined, for signs of gayness.
“So. You guys.” House pushed himself up into a seat on the counter, his heels thumping irregularly against the cabinetry. Chase felt himself tense at the affected casualness in House’s tone. It always marked the calm before the storm. “Do you ever—”
“House.” Wilson turned from kneading onion, parsley and Worcestershire sauce into the ground beef. The two stared at each other, the standoff made ridiculous by the bits of raw meat clinging to Wilson’s fingers and swinging of House’s sneaker-clad feet. Finally House looked away.
“Hey, Chase, wasn’t that an insane amount of puss we lanced from the patient yesterday? I swear, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that much pus come out of a human before. Ugh. And the smell...”
“Yeah,” Chase agreed, actually glad for the safer—if more disgusting—turn in the conversation. “It’s too bad you missed it, Wilson.”
Wilson grimaced. “Uh huh, sounds like. Oh well, maybe next time.”
“The expression on Cameron’s face was so worth it, even if I can never eat tapioca again,” House started again, sharing a grin with Chase over the memory of Cameron’s distress. “You have to see the way her eyes get kind of wide—”
“Actually,” Wilson interrupted, “I’m pretty familiar with that expression. It’s the one where her eyebrows knit and she looks like she’s trying to kill you with her brain? You’re going to dip those in olive oil and put them on the baking sheet,” he directed to Chase. “It’s an expression she frequently wears in my presence. That girl should really take a chill pill.”
“Do people still say ‘chill pill’?” House sneered. “Besides, you’re just bitter that she’s the only woman yet to be unaffected by your charms.”
Wilson shook his head in ruefully agreement. “And on my otherwise perfect record. I don’t get it—she like you and you’re a thoroughly reprehensible human being.”
“It’s part of my appeal,” House sniffed.
“Really,” Chase interjected, before a discussion of House’s appeal could erupt, “I’m not sure what the fuss is about, because I’ve been there and it’s not that great.” He laid the thin slices of potato out in on the baking sheet.
“That’s true,” Wilson agreed.
“Of course you say that,” House retorted with an eye roll directed at Wilson. “You like to think that Chase has up-graded.” They bother turned to Chase, looking for confirmation or denial.
“Most definitely,” Chase answered. “Cameron is like doing a judgmental coat rack.”
Wilson rewarded his loyalty with a smile, while House scoffed and replied that Chase was bound to say that.
“I might have to say it,” Chase conceded, “but that doesn’t make it not true.”
“Gag me with a spoon, you two are disgusting,” House grumbled, but the insult held none of his usual venom.
They proceeded to discuss Cameron’s many failings and then moved on to Foreman and Cuddy, who were also pretty easy targets. There was unanimous agreement that Cuddy was a hard-ass but totally do-able.
“What do you think she’d say to a threesome?” Wilson asked Chase, his expression sly.
“Hey, no fair,” House protested, “Cuddy’s had the hots for me for years, no moving in to take advantage of that sexual frustration.”
“Why haven’t you moved in on that?” Wilson asked.
“She’s easier to manipulate when she’s frustrated,” House assured them. “It’s all part of my plan.”
“She’d probably be even easier to manipulate if you gave her what she needed on a regular basis,” Wilson pointed out.
“More pleasant too,” Chase added.
House looked cross. “My system works. I don’t need you do putting your various kinks in it.”
“Aw, don’t tell me you’re jealous,” Wilson teased.
“Why would I be jealous? If Chase is as bad in bed as he is with a scalpel, I’m not sure your acclaimed prowess would be enough to make up for it.”
Wilson blinked at House’s attack, and then said simply, “I meant jealous of us, not her.”
There was a distinctly uncomfortable silence.
“Oh. Right,” House said shortly.
“I should probably go check on the potatoes.” Wilson stood and exited, leaving House and Chase and a spot on the couch that wasn’t wide enough for Chase’s comfort.
“I don’t—” House started.
“I know,” Chase finished hurriedly.
“Good.” They sat and watched the Yankees make a mess of things, the occasional clang of pans from the kitchen. Wilson reemerged with their plates precariously balanced.
Chase accepted his gratefully, ready for a distraction. “Thank you,” he murmured as Wilson sank down into his seat between them.
“The potatoes are good,” House said around a mouthful.
“Those were all Chase,” Wilson replied modestly, though he’d carefully directed Chase’s actions and prevented him from over-salting, “and they are good.”
House turned to Chase. “You didn’t fuck it up.”
Chase settled into his seat, exchanging a wry look with Wilson. “Thanks so much.”
“You’re welcome.” House looked back to the TV. “Who’s up for Rocky II?”
Epilogue: Six Months Later
Wilson let himself into Chase’s apartment. Chase was sitting at his dining room table, cup of coffee clasped before him.
“Hey,” he greeted as Wilson entered. “There’s a fresh pot if you want some.”
Wilson made himself a mug and took it in to sit across from Chase.
“I have some news,” Chase said, having drained his cup. “I was offered a position at Roanoke Memorial as an attending.”
Wilson took a quiet sip of coffee and traced the handle of his mug with a thumb. “You going to take it?’
“I think I am.” Chase eyes were clear but solemn; the morning sunlight caught strands of his hair and turned them gold.
Wilson nodded once slowly. “I think you should. It’s a great opportunity for you.”
“I’m excited about it.” Chase didn’t sound terribly excited. “But it brings me to my next point.” He paused.
“You’re breaking it off.” Wilson voice was neither surprised nor upset, merely stating fact.
“Yeah.” Chase swallowed with difficulty.
“It’s for the best,” Wilson assured him. “Roanoke is a long way away.”
“Seven hours. I Mapquested it.”
“And I don’t think either of us would be up to a long-distance relationship.”
Chase nodded, his eyes looking from the table to Wilson. “You’re okay?”
“I’m going to miss you,” Wilson confessed, “but my world isn’t lying in smoldering ruins right now.”
Chase smiled. “Good.”
Wilson got up and circled around the table to stand over Chase. He took Chase’s chin in his hand, studying his face for a moment. “You’re going to do great.” He bent over to kiss Chase lightly. “You’ll see.” He smiled fondly and then took their empty mugs out to the sink and left.
House was sprawled across the couch when Wilson entered. He looked over, but didn’t get up.
Wilson shut the door, standing near the doorway as though not quite sure he really wanted to be here.
“Chase broke up with me.” This got House’s attention; he sat up, an arm slung over the back of the sofa. “He’s taking a job in Roanoke,” Wilson finished evenly. He took the seat on the couch that House’s feet had just vacated.
“I know.” House watched Wilson from the corner of his eye. “I wrote his recommendation.”
“Oh.”
House hesitated. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Wilson propped his feet on the coffee table, “I think I am.”
“Hey. The Tivoli is showing a She Gods Of Shark Reef and Cat-Women of the Moon double feature tonight.”
Wilson looked up from the patient file to House who leaned over him, blithely ignoring the filthy looks Nurse Previn was shooting his direction. Wilson wrote in a note that Propofol couldn’t be used during the colonoscopy due to the patient’s egg allergy and set the folder on the stack he was working through.
“You in?” House demanded and made a face at Previn and another nurse who had the nerve to be at the Nurse’s Station.
Wilson had told Chase he’d meet him for dinner. “What time?”
“The first show starts at seven and I want to be there early so we can get good seats.”
“I can’t make it,” Wilson said. “I’ve got to start staff evaluations.”
House snorted dismissively. “Let them do their own reviews like I do. You get out of doing it and they get the review they were hoping for. It’s win-win. Unless you’re Cameron, she always has half a dozen areas that need improvement.”
“How responsible of her,” Wilson tone was just the slightest bit reproving. “Some of us actually have real departments to run.”
“Zing,” House acknowledged the slight. “Come on, are you really so lame that you’d rather work than see women in cat suits?”
Wilson hesitated; House was clearly set on this and a refusal would mean putting up with his sulking. “Fine. But don’t complain if I can’t hang out on Friday because I’m stuck doing evaluations.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” House promised airily and, the argument won, he turned and retreated to make someone else’s life miserable.
Wilson found Chase later that afternoon, working a shift in NICU. Chase smiled brightly as he saw Wilson’s approach, waving him over.
“Hey, Dr. Wilson,” he said cheerfully. After a quick glance around, he said in a quieter but no less enthusiasm, “We still on for tonight?”
Wilson rubbed the back of his neck and Chase’s smile faltered. “Actually...I’m afraid I’m going to have to cancel. Some stuff’s come up...”
“Cat women who live on the moon, by any chance?” Chase asked blandly. “House was talking the film up earlier. A real cinematic gem, apparently.”
“I’m sorry,” Wilson tried. “I really am.”
Chase shrugged lightly. “It’s no problem. Really. We can do it some other time. It wasn’t anything special.”
Wilson squelched the impulse to embrace Chase, settling instead for leaning in a little closer. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.” Chase looked at him skeptically. “This weekend? I’ll cook,” Wilson offered.
“All right,” Chase said, expression softening. “But it had better be good.”
The movies were true classics. Cheesy costumes, flimsy sets and the most tenuous of plots. But still, there was nothing like planets of Amazonian women to inspire a few heterosexual fantasies.
“I wonder why they stopped making these films,” House mused as they cleared out of the theater. “Best genre ever.”
“Sure,” Wilson agreed. “If you don’t actually have disbelief to suspend.”
“You’re such a snob,” House told him.
“Amazing how standards have that effect.”
“I have to say I’m worried about you,” House confessed with over-enunciated concern. “If girls in cat suits don’t do it for you, maybe it’s time to turn in the Hetero Club membership card.”
“Right, definitely the litmus test for straight,” Wilson agreed, collecting House’s empty popcorn bucket and stacking it under his own.
“Oh my God, Jimmy!” House yelled at the top of his lungs. “I had no idea you felt that way about me!”
Wilson’s shoulders tightened and he struggled to keep from craning around to see how many of the remaining theater patrons had turned to stare at them. “Shut up, House,” he snapped.
“No, I will not knock boots with you!” House managed to be even louder and more scandalized this time. “It’s an abomination before God.”
“We’re leaving now.” Wilson took a firm grip on House’s arm and steered him to the door.
House let Wilson pull him along, but not without shouting, “Help! This man is trying to have his way with me! Rape!” In a normal tone to Wilson he said, “Dammit, I need a whistle for people to take me seriously.”
Wilson dropped House’s arm outside the theater, the tips of his ears burning. “I hope that was as amusing as you’d thought it would be,” he gritted out.
“Better actually,” House grinned, “but you know I was kidding—you can have your way with me anytime.” He leered suggestively.
“Currently the only way I want to have with you involves a baseball bat and a body bag,” Wilson muttered darkly.
“Mmm, kinky.” House prodded Wilson ankle with his cane. “You want to get something to eat?”
“Actually,” Wilson grimaced, “I don’t. See you tomorrow, House.” He turned and walked away. For a moment he thought that House might follow him but he refused to look. When he got to his car, he was alone.
Chase opened the door on the second knock, wearing white boxers and a ratty maroon t-shirt with what looked like mustard down the front.
“Uh, hey,” he managed, obviously taken aback at finding Wilson on his doorstep.
“Can I come in?”
Chase blinked and got out of the way. “Sure. What’s up?”
Wilson stalked past Chase and threw himself down on the futon. The TV was on, Jay Leno monologueing about world events that made poor fodder for comedy. Chase took a more hesitant seat beside him, watching Wilson from the corner of his eye.
“It’s nothing,” Wilson said shortly.
“Okay,” Chase agreed. They watched Jay tell scripted jokes for a few minutes.
At the next commercial Wilson said to no one in particular, “He really has no regard for me. None at all.”
Chase wisely said nothing, apparently absorbed in a commercial for feminine hygiene products.
“I’m sorry,” Wilson said quietly. “I shouldn’t have blown you off for House.”
“It’s okay. It wasn’t a big deal.” Chase reached out and placed hand on Wilson’s knee. “How bad was he?”
“He wasn’t. Not really, not more that usual.” Wilson rubbed his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know how poison ivy gets worse the more you’re exposed?”
Chase shook his head shortly. “No, Australia doesn’t have poison ivy.”
“You get poison ivy and you get an miserable rash, which is bad, but it gets worse because your allergy is exacerbated on every subsequent exposure. Each time you have it, it’s that much worse.” Wilson scratched absently along his forearm, remembering a particularly bad rash he’d gotten after a camping trip. “House had been having that effect on me. Every encounter leaves me with weeping blisters.”
Chase swallowed. “Oh.”
“The problem is clearly me,” Wilson concluded, slumping back into the lumpy embrace of Chase’s futon. “He’s no worse than usual. Sure, he accused me of attempted rape, loudly, in a crowded theater—” Chase winced in sympathy, “—but that’s really par for the course in House world.”
“He treats you like absolute shite; you have a right to be annoyed,” Chase reasoned.
“I’m pretty sure it’s a right I forfeit when I go running back for more.”
Chase grinned crookedly. “I don’t know about that.” He leaned in slowly and kissed Wilson softly once and then again. “Want me to help you with your rash?”
Wilson grunted, “Okay, I realize that you meant that to be sexy...”
Chase’s fingers worked down the buttons of Wilson’s shirt. “Is that a yes?”
“Mmm, yes,” Wilson murmured and pulled Chase in for another kiss. “Most definitely a yes.”
* * * * *
Wilson pushed open the door to House’s office. House sat at his desk, feet propped up on his desk. “Hey, have you seen my phone...” Wilson didn’t bother finishing the sentence as he recognized the cell that House was currently fidgeting with as his own. “Oh good. You’ve found it.”
“Yeah, it accidentally fell into my pocket.” House sat up, feet dropping to the floor. “More importantly, you’ve been cheating on me.” House’s blank expression was his best poker face.
“I have?” Wilson repeated dumbly.
“With Chase.”
Wilson felt his stomach bottom out. But House didn’t seem vengeful, merely sarcastic. He held up the open phone, displaying Wilson’s call history. “Apparently you two have been quite chummy, lately.”
“Oh.” Wilson’s nerves steadied. “Yeah, apparently working for you is stressful, though I never would have guessed it. He just wanted to talk to some one who knew what an asshole you are.”
“Right. Chase sure does like to talk about the feelings. He’s almost as bad as Cameron.”
Wilson held out a hand. “Can I have my phone back or do you still have to call China?”
House’s eyes narrowed and Wilson’s palms prickled in under that piercing gaze. “Sure.” He tossed the phone to Wilson so quickly that Wilson nearly dropped it. “I’ve got things to do.”
He left Wilson standing in his empty office, wondering what had just happened.
* * * * *
The fellows were gathered in the lab, waiting for their tests to come back. Or pretending to wait, in Chase’s case. He already had the results but didn’t feel like returning to the conference room without Cameron or Foreman to act as a buffer between himself and House. He’d been working to keep a low profile these past few months.
“Just because I don’t feel the need to share the intimate details of my life with patients doesn’t mean I don’t relate,” Foreman shot at Cameron, who gave him a thin-lipped grimace over her microscope. They’d been going back and forth about the issue for the past half-hour. “Besides, we’re their doctors, not their friends. We need them to respect our judgment and authority.”
“You just say that so you can buffalo them into doing whatever you think is best.”
“Twelve years of school says that I do know best,” Foreman retorted.
“Ugh!” Cameron exclaimed in exasperation and contempt. “Maybe you think you know the best medical course, but that doesn’t make it the right choice for the patient.”
Foreman’s rolled his eyes, but his answer was interrupted by House’s arrival. House ignored them, however, heading for straight for Chase, wearing a dark look that made Chase’s immediately uneasy. Chase scrambled to his feet, as House closed the distance between them.
“How long have you been sleeping with Wilson?” House demanded.
At first Chase wasn’t sure he’d heard the question right—the roaring in his ears made it difficult to hear—but House repeated it, enunciating viciously.
“Uh. I...” Chase struggled to put the right words in the right order. “Since January.”
House took a step back, surprised, which confused Chase. How could House be surprised? Unless he’d been bluffing and Chase had just had cracked like an egg.
“You’re fired,” House told him.
“You can’t sack me,” Chase returned incredulously. He was acutely aware of Cameron and Foreman looking on, united for once in matched expressions of disbelief.
“Of course I can,” House sneered. “You don’t have anyone to protect you this time.”
Chase tried to swallow, which was difficult with his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. “What I do with my personal time isn’t grounds for dismissal.”
“It is when Wilson’s what you’re doing.”
“I understand that you’re angry...” Chase started, trying to think of a defense that would satisfy House.
“Angry?” House snorted dismissively. “Why would I be angry that a lazy, sycophant in my employ decided to seduce my best friend?”
“I didn’t seduce him,” Chase protested, feeling his face heat in a bright flush. “It just happened.”
“Geez, Chase. You seem to be ‘just happening’ to most of your coworkers. You’re becoming quite the office slut.” Chase realized that there was no way this conversation was going to be anything but bad for him and tried to exit, but House braced his cane against the edge of the counter, blocking Chase’s retreat. “What?” he asked, “Is Foreman next?” Chase flinched away, remembering the last time he’d really pissed House off. “Or are you just trying to get to me? And here I always thought it was just your daddy issues.”
Chase flinched involuntarily as House shifted his grip on his cane. House looked over to where Cameron and Foreman stood, slack-jawed and staring. Hopefully he realized they would be witnesses, Chase thought miserably, and that they’d be enough to keep House from actually bludgeoning him to death with his cane. House hesitated, reconsidered what he was about to say and instead spat, “I’ll finish with you later,” and stalked out of the room.
Chase took a breath and held it for a moment before turning to Cameron and Foreman. “I think I’m going to take the rest of the day off.”
Cameron nodded tightly and Foreman looked from the door back to Chase, as if expecting House to come back through it with a semiautomatic.
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Forman said.
* * * * *
“Hey,” Wilson answered his phone, Chase’s number on the caller ID.
“He knows.” Chase’s voice was calm, almost toneless.
“What?” Wilson asked, unsettled. “Who knows what?”
“About us. House knows about us,” Chase elaborated. “He asked me flat out...caught me by surprise. And I just told him.”
“It’s okay,” Wilson assured him, trying to muster some kind of conviction. He sank down onto his chair, just catching the edge of the seat. “He was going to find out sooner or later, no matter how careful we were. And he got the idea from snooping through my phone. It’s not your fault.”
“He fired me.”
“He can’t fire you,” Wilson returned quickly. “Not for this, the liability—”
“He’s not going to put ‘slept with my best friend’ on the dismissal. It’ll be something else, something plausible, something reputation ruining.”
“Cuddy won’t let him, once she understands...” Wilson winced at the thought of explaining the situation to her. Her expression alone would be brutal. Never mind that, he’d deal with it when he had to.
“Even if he doesn’t fire me he can still make my life miserable enough to quit.”
“Chase,” Wilson pleaded, “he’s not going to do that. I won’t let that happen.”
“Yeah, okay.” Chase didn’t sound convinced of Wilson’s ability to keep that promise and Wilson didn’t blame him.
“Hey, I have to go,” Wilson said hurriedly, as House himself flung open the door to his office. “Talk to you later. Don’t worry.” Wilson hung up. He turned to House, who stood leaning heavily on his cane and glaring at him. “So you know,” he sighed.
House didn’t say anything at first, giving him a hard look before pacing across the room to the window and turning back to Wilson. “The truth came out—kind of like you two,” House sneered. “I always knew you had a thing for hot blonds but really—Chase? Seems a little desperate, even for you.”
“He had me at g’day.” Wilson shrugged. “What’s it to you, House?”
“You cannot sleep with Chase,” House ordered, throwing himself into a chair across from Wilson’s desk.
Wilson folded his arms across his chest. “Why not?”
“He’s my employee and I said so.”
“That’s not actually how it works. You don’t own your employees. Or your best friend,” Wilson added pointedly.
House ignored that comment, snagging a bent-nail puzzle from Wilson’s desk and taking it apart nimbly. “So who’s on top? I never pegged Chase for a top—no pun intended—but I bet he’d do whatever you ask.”
“House,” Wilson warned.
“What? I’m just curious, is all. Who gets the...” Here House made lewd thrusting gesture with his cane to make his point. “Oh, God, don’t tell me you take turns.”
Wilson rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Is this what it’s going to take? Enough humiliation and you’ll forgive me?”
“Sure,” House agreed too readily. “And you like getting it up the ass from Chase?”
“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.”
“Yeah, I can see how—” House started, twisting the words viciously, but Wilson cut him off.
“I’m not breaking up with him, House. You have two choices—either you accept that and our friendship continues, or you don’t accept that and our friendship doesn’t.” Wilson was pleased that his voice was steady and even. “No matter what, though, you’re going to treat him well, or at least no worse than usual. You don’t get to fire him, or threaten to, or make his life hell.”
House stared at him for a long moment and Wilson waited for the retaliation but House just got up and left, leaving Wilson in his wake.
* * * * *
Chase kept a low profile in the following weeks. He spent as much time waiting for results, checking on the patient or in the clinic as possible. When he couldn’t avoid House’s presence, he contrived to have Foreman or Cameron in the room as human shields. Even with those precautions, he felt on edge most of the time, sure that when House’s retribution came, it would be as thorough as it was brutal.
And each day that he escaped unscathed, Chase’s apprehension grew. It didn’t help that Cameron and Foreman were treating him like some kind of outsider. They weren’t exactly antagonistic but strangely cool and twice he caught them talking about him, judging form Cameron’s guilty look and the hastily discontinued conversation. He tried not to let it bother him, but the only times he really forgot his concerns was when he was with Wilson.
“So...Dr. Wilson, huh?” Cameron queried casually. She’d asked him if he’d wanted to help her with this MRI, but he hadn’t realized she was planning an interrogation when he’d agreed.
“Yeah,” he answered vaguely, examining an illuminated slice of the occipital lobe.
“You’re really together?” she pressed.
“Yep.” He hoped monosyllabic answers would dissuade her inquires.
“You’re gay now?”
“Sure.” He didn’t feel up to explaining the intricacies of his sexuality to Cameron. Besides, she’d believe what she wanted to, regardless of his actual answer.
“I see,” she muttered, her mouth a thin line of judgment. He hoped that she was finished but several minutes later she started again. “I know that it’s not my business, but I’m worried about you.”
“You don’t have to be,” he told her shortly. He pointed to a blur on the screen. “What’s that?”
“A shadow,” she dismissed. “I know you’ve had a tough time since we broke up.”
“We didn’t break up. We were never together,” he reminded her. “I believe the term is fuck buddies.”
She ignored his correction. “But I don’t think Wilson is a healthy choice. I’m sure he means well...” she trailed off ominously and when he didn’t react continued with, “I don’t think you know what you want and he’s taking advantage of that.”
“He’s not taking advantage of me,” Chase said flatly.
“I doubt he thinks he is either,” she assured him, “but Wilson can’t see beyond his own pathologies. He’ll take what he wants and justify it later.” She held up a hand to ward off his protest. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I don’t want to talk about this, Cameron.”
“Right, and that’s your choice,” she confirmed unnecessarily. “But just think about it. You shouldn’t have to be ashamed.”
“I’m not.”
“Sure—which is why you bent over backwards trying to hide your affair. That’s not ashamed at all.”
“Oh here’s a thought,” Chase snapped, losing patience. “Maybe it was to avoid lectures like this one. As much as I appreciate your concern, you lost the right to give me advice about my personal life a long time ago.” He stood abruptly, the chair legs scraping against the tile floor. “You can manage the rest of this yourself, right?” She nodded dumbly, as he turned and exited, hands deep in the pockets of his lab coat.
In his anger, he didn’t realize his miscalculation until he was back in the conference room, where House had the patient file and a selection of journals scattered across the table. Foreman was no where in sight, Chase saw with alarm. Unable to retreat gracefully, he moved to the coffee maker, pouring the dregs into a clean mug.
“Results back?” House asked.
“No, Cameron’s working on them.” After tasting the sludge and realizing he’d been optimistic in judging it drinkable, he poured it out in the sink and began hunting for the coffee filters. After a fruitless search in the cupboards, he slammed the door shut in frustration and turned back to House. “What do you want?”
At the anger in his tone, House looked up. “For you to do your job? I know that must be very frustrating for you...”
“No—I mean, what do you want from me? What are you planning?”
“Besides world domination?”
“I know you’ve got some god-awful punishment planned. You’re just biding your time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.”
House sat back in his chair, regarding Chase with surprise. “Are you suffering any delusions or hearing voices to go along with that paranoia?”
“There’s no way you’d forgive me for sleeping with Wilson that easily. You want to punish me? Fine, but just do it. I’m sick of watching my back, looking for the sniper,” Chase finished breathlessly.
House laughed, taking Chase aback. “You want punishment—”
“I don’t want it. I just know that’s coming and would like to get it out of the way. So come on. Hit me with your best shot.”
“Okay, Pat Benatar, I’d love to,” House said, rolling his eyes, “unfortunately, I can’t deal out justice. If I punish you, you go crying to Wilson and he punishes me.”
“...And you care?” Chase asked incredulously.
House made a face. “Of course not, but it’ll make my life uncomfortable. So when your relationship with Wilson goes down in flames—which is inevitably will—it won’t be my fault.
“Really?”
“Yes, really,” House snapped, “What do you want to hear? That I’ve put itching powder in you scrubs?”
“That’s more believable.”
“And tempting. But you’re safe.”
“Okay. Wow—I feel like I’ve just had a stay of execution,” Chase confessed.
“If Wilson hadn’t foiled my plan to cut your brake lines, it would be.”
“I’ll have to thank him.”
* * * * *
Wilson unlocked his office and his heart seized until he recognized the shadowy figure lurking behind his desk as House. He took a breath and flipped on the light. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“I can’t help it if your nerves are delicate,” House retorted.
“Move,” Wilson ordered, rounding the desk. House hesitated, looking up at him with a guarded expression, finally he got up and abandoned Wilson’s chair. It did not escape Wilson that House made a show of rubbing his bad thigh. Wilson set his briefcase down, surprised at the easy victory and took the newly vacated seat.
House made his way to the window, pushing the blinds aside to look outside. Wilson squelched the impulse to tell him he was going to bend them.
“Why Chase?” House asked, still intent on the view out, though there was nothing much to see.
Wilson sighed shortly, considering the question and abandoning each answer as soon as he thought of it. “I don’t know,” he finally confessed. “Is this the part where you harass me about my no longer latent homosexuality?”
House turned back, still leaning on the window sill. “I was figuring that or make a crack about Chase being prettier than any of the girls you’ve dated—had to see which opening presented itself.” He crossed his arms, shrugging slightly.
“Do you think I’m gay?” Wilson asked, unsure what he wanted to hear.
“If you say so. You’re a little old to call it a youthful indiscretion,” House allowed.
Wilson forced himself to meet House’s gaze. “And you’re...okay with this?” he pressed further.
House strode to the low sofa and threw himself onto it. “Of course not. Homosexuals are the devil’s foot-soldiers and why God’s punishing America. That and the feminists.” He gesticulated wildly, apparently trying to encompass the army of gays trying to take over the government. “Please don’t tell me you think women are human.”
Wilson couldn’t help but smile at House’s dramatics. “Afraid so,” he apologized.
“Ah!” House clutched his face in pain and disappointment. “No wonder Cuddy’s getting uppity.” House sobered as the joke died. “I’m okay with it. It just makes things...different.”
“What,” Wilson asked wryly, “afraid I’ll make a pass at you?”
“Or that you’ll take advantage of me when I’m drunk,” House suggested. Wilson’s bemused expression faltered. He recovered but House had caught it and scowled deeply. “I was kidding, for Christssake. I don’t think you’re going to rape me. Please.” House voice was scornful. “If you’re bending Chase over your desk three times a day, it’s not like you’d be interested in my bony ass.”
“Yes, thank you.” Wilson frowned. “I appreciate the sentiment.”
* * * * *
Chase checked his reflection nervously, feeling silly for doing so. House didn’t care much for personal presentation and Wilson had already seen him at his worst. But he still couldn’t help but feel that his clothing would be assessed as some kind of statement. He really hoped that jeans and a light pink dress shirt said something like “I’m confident and not at all concerned about hanging out with my boss and my lover who also happens to be my boss’s best friend.” Maybe the pink shirt was too gay. The less ammunition he gave House, the better this would go.
He changed into a more reserved white, rolling the sleeves up to give it a casual air. Or maybe it just made him look like Wilson. He reconsidered his whole dress-shirt decision, but it was too late to change again, because Wilson knocked and let himself into the apartment.
Chase ran a hand through his hair, assessing the affected tousle in the mirror before turning for Wilson’s inspection.
“You look nice,” Wilson said appreciatively, pressing a quick kiss to Chase’s cheek. “Hmm,” he muttered looking down. “You’re wearing sandals?” His voice was a strained sort of neutral.
Chase examined his nude toes, glad the nails were at least trimmed. “I...could change into my loafers.”
“Oh, good idea,” Wilson confirmed. “You do look good though.” He leaned in for a more lingering kiss, before pulling away to ask, “You do have clean socks, right?”
Chase laughed and left Wilson to rummage through his dresser. “Yeah—they may even match.” And he did manage to find a suitable pair of socks.
“Right, let’s go. We’ve got to pick up beer on the way over,” Wilson said with a final appraisal.
The ride over was surprisingly relaxed. They argued good-naturedly about what to listen to. Wilson scoffed at Chase’s musical selections and Chase refused to listen to golden oldies until he actually was one. They compromised on a soft-rock station that was relatively inoffensive.
House the open the door to his apartment, demanding, “Beer?” Wilson held up the six-pack and House inspected it briefly before admitting them.
“Have you started the burgers?” Wilson asked, following House with Chase taking up the rear.
“Yeah, in the kitchen.”
Wilson wasn’t too amused when he realized House had “started” the burgers by leaving a package of frozen ground beef in the sink. He took charge, busying himself about the kitchen, as comfortable as if it were his own. He dubbed Chase his sous-chef and set him to work washing and slicing potatoes. House leaned against the counter, getting in the way and watching them, Chase imagined, for signs of gayness.
“So. You guys.” House pushed himself up into a seat on the counter, his heels thumping irregularly against the cabinetry. Chase felt himself tense at the affected casualness in House’s tone. It always marked the calm before the storm. “Do you ever—”
“House.” Wilson turned from kneading onion, parsley and Worcestershire sauce into the ground beef. The two stared at each other, the standoff made ridiculous by the bits of raw meat clinging to Wilson’s fingers and swinging of House’s sneaker-clad feet. Finally House looked away.
“Hey, Chase, wasn’t that an insane amount of puss we lanced from the patient yesterday? I swear, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that much pus come out of a human before. Ugh. And the smell...”
“Yeah,” Chase agreed, actually glad for the safer—if more disgusting—turn in the conversation. “It’s too bad you missed it, Wilson.”
Wilson grimaced. “Uh huh, sounds like. Oh well, maybe next time.”
“The expression on Cameron’s face was so worth it, even if I can never eat tapioca again,” House started again, sharing a grin with Chase over the memory of Cameron’s distress. “You have to see the way her eyes get kind of wide—”
“Actually,” Wilson interrupted, “I’m pretty familiar with that expression. It’s the one where her eyebrows knit and she looks like she’s trying to kill you with her brain? You’re going to dip those in olive oil and put them on the baking sheet,” he directed to Chase. “It’s an expression she frequently wears in my presence. That girl should really take a chill pill.”
“Do people still say ‘chill pill’?” House sneered. “Besides, you’re just bitter that she’s the only woman yet to be unaffected by your charms.”
Wilson shook his head in ruefully agreement. “And on my otherwise perfect record. I don’t get it—she like you and you’re a thoroughly reprehensible human being.”
“It’s part of my appeal,” House sniffed.
“Really,” Chase interjected, before a discussion of House’s appeal could erupt, “I’m not sure what the fuss is about, because I’ve been there and it’s not that great.” He laid the thin slices of potato out in on the baking sheet.
“That’s true,” Wilson agreed.
“Of course you say that,” House retorted with an eye roll directed at Wilson. “You like to think that Chase has up-graded.” They bother turned to Chase, looking for confirmation or denial.
“Most definitely,” Chase answered. “Cameron is like doing a judgmental coat rack.”
Wilson rewarded his loyalty with a smile, while House scoffed and replied that Chase was bound to say that.
“I might have to say it,” Chase conceded, “but that doesn’t make it not true.”
“Gag me with a spoon, you two are disgusting,” House grumbled, but the insult held none of his usual venom.
They proceeded to discuss Cameron’s many failings and then moved on to Foreman and Cuddy, who were also pretty easy targets. There was unanimous agreement that Cuddy was a hard-ass but totally do-able.
“What do you think she’d say to a threesome?” Wilson asked Chase, his expression sly.
“Hey, no fair,” House protested, “Cuddy’s had the hots for me for years, no moving in to take advantage of that sexual frustration.”
“Why haven’t you moved in on that?” Wilson asked.
“She’s easier to manipulate when she’s frustrated,” House assured them. “It’s all part of my plan.”
“She’d probably be even easier to manipulate if you gave her what she needed on a regular basis,” Wilson pointed out.
“More pleasant too,” Chase added.
House looked cross. “My system works. I don’t need you do putting your various kinks in it.”
“Aw, don’t tell me you’re jealous,” Wilson teased.
“Why would I be jealous? If Chase is as bad in bed as he is with a scalpel, I’m not sure your acclaimed prowess would be enough to make up for it.”
Wilson blinked at House’s attack, and then said simply, “I meant jealous of us, not her.”
There was a distinctly uncomfortable silence.
“Oh. Right,” House said shortly.
“I should probably go check on the potatoes.” Wilson stood and exited, leaving House and Chase and a spot on the couch that wasn’t wide enough for Chase’s comfort.
“I don’t—” House started.
“I know,” Chase finished hurriedly.
“Good.” They sat and watched the Yankees make a mess of things, the occasional clang of pans from the kitchen. Wilson reemerged with their plates precariously balanced.
Chase accepted his gratefully, ready for a distraction. “Thank you,” he murmured as Wilson sank down into his seat between them.
“The potatoes are good,” House said around a mouthful.
“Those were all Chase,” Wilson replied modestly, though he’d carefully directed Chase’s actions and prevented him from over-salting, “and they are good.”
House turned to Chase. “You didn’t fuck it up.”
Chase settled into his seat, exchanging a wry look with Wilson. “Thanks so much.”
“You’re welcome.” House looked back to the TV. “Who’s up for Rocky II?”
Epilogue: Six Months Later
Wilson let himself into Chase’s apartment. Chase was sitting at his dining room table, cup of coffee clasped before him.
“Hey,” he greeted as Wilson entered. “There’s a fresh pot if you want some.”
Wilson made himself a mug and took it in to sit across from Chase.
“I have some news,” Chase said, having drained his cup. “I was offered a position at Roanoke Memorial as an attending.”
Wilson took a quiet sip of coffee and traced the handle of his mug with a thumb. “You going to take it?’
“I think I am.” Chase eyes were clear but solemn; the morning sunlight caught strands of his hair and turned them gold.
Wilson nodded once slowly. “I think you should. It’s a great opportunity for you.”
“I’m excited about it.” Chase didn’t sound terribly excited. “But it brings me to my next point.” He paused.
“You’re breaking it off.” Wilson voice was neither surprised nor upset, merely stating fact.
“Yeah.” Chase swallowed with difficulty.
“It’s for the best,” Wilson assured him. “Roanoke is a long way away.”
“Seven hours. I Mapquested it.”
“And I don’t think either of us would be up to a long-distance relationship.”
Chase nodded, his eyes looking from the table to Wilson. “You’re okay?”
“I’m going to miss you,” Wilson confessed, “but my world isn’t lying in smoldering ruins right now.”
Chase smiled. “Good.”
Wilson got up and circled around the table to stand over Chase. He took Chase’s chin in his hand, studying his face for a moment. “You’re going to do great.” He bent over to kiss Chase lightly. “You’ll see.” He smiled fondly and then took their empty mugs out to the sink and left.
House was sprawled across the couch when Wilson entered. He looked over, but didn’t get up.
Wilson shut the door, standing near the doorway as though not quite sure he really wanted to be here.
“Chase broke up with me.” This got House’s attention; he sat up, an arm slung over the back of the sofa. “He’s taking a job in Roanoke,” Wilson finished evenly. He took the seat on the couch that House’s feet had just vacated.
“I know.” House watched Wilson from the corner of his eye. “I wrote his recommendation.”
“Oh.”
House hesitated. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Wilson propped his feet on the coffee table, “I think I am.”