![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: Six Months (ch 3)
Pairing: House/Chase by the end.
Author: alanwolfmoon
Rating: PG
Warnings: ummm... none that I can think of
Summary: Chase quit six months ago because he knew something was wrong with his body, and he didn't want pity. This story covers the six months after he comes back.
Disclaimer: MINE! ALL MINE!....uh, no. Not mine.
Feedback: Reviews and flames are welcome. (They make it look like I'm writing fast)
Notes: No more information on what Chase had/has in this chappie folks... but there's plenty of actingweird!house!
Pairing: House/Chase by the end.
Author: alanwolfmoon
Rating: PG
Warnings: ummm... none that I can think of
Summary: Chase quit six months ago because he knew something was wrong with his body, and he didn't want pity. This story covers the six months after he comes back.
Disclaimer: MINE! ALL MINE!....uh, no. Not mine.
Feedback: Reviews and flames are welcome. (They make it look like I'm writing fast)
Notes: No more information on what Chase had/has in this chappie folks... but there's plenty of actingweird!house!
T
Chase sighed, sitting in his typical chair in the differential room, fingers roaming lazily over the bumps and ridges of the machine in front of him.
It had apparently just turned up, one morning, in place of the old printer in the corner, connected to the differential room computer by a long cord.
Foreman had printed something, walked over, and stopped.
Chase had raised his head at the stop, having heard that the sound of the printer was off.
“Paper jam?” he guessed, hopefully. It was fun, when things like that turned out right even though he couldn’t see them.
Foreman had walked over, put the sheet down in front of Chase, and put Chase’s hand on the sheet.
“Somebody replaced the ink printer with a braille printer?”
“Yeah. I take it wasn’t you, then.”
Chase had shaken his head–he certainly wouldn’t have done that, especially not without asking first.
Inquires had been made, but nobody in the entire hospital confessed to having bought or installed the thing. Which was interesting, because the instructions were actually printed in braille, with no pictures, according to foreman.
It remained a mystery–Chase privately thought it might have been Wilson with the help of a patient–until one day, when Chase’s stick and House’s cane had gotten tangled up in the doorway, and they had both dropped their papers.
House had sorted them back out, grunting occasionally as he knelt, then snickering for no apparent reason.
“What?” asked Chase.
“The adventures of McSteamy and the dirty mistress’ club?” House had asked, dryly.
Chase had blushed, and been glad that no one else was in the room.
Then he had blinked.
“Wait... how did....”
“I was bored at one point or another, and it seemed like a useful thing to know. Mostly I was bored.”
“It was you. The printer. Nobody else knows the password to the computer, and can read braille.”
A quiet chuckle.
“A few years ago, you wouldn’t have ever guessed that.”
“A few years ago, I wouldn’t have needed to.”
“Point.”
House had gotten up, handed Chase his papers, and limped into the office.
Chase had considered for a moment, then gone back to sit at the table.
Like House had any right to object to people reading... odd things, at work. And anyway, it wasn’t *technically* porn.... ok, parts of it were porn. Most of it was porn. But it was well-written porn with a good and extensive backstory.
Chase sighed, sitting on the steps out of his apartment, waiting.
He pressed the button on his watch.
9:48.
House was more than forty-five minutes late.
Chase shook his head, pulling out his phone to call House and find out what was going on.
As he touched it, it started buzzing.
“Hello?” he asked, opening it.
“Chase?”
“Yeah, what’s going on?”
“There’s a big traffic jam about a block away from your street. Water main broke, I think. Been stuck in it for the past half hour. You probably want to call a cab, the bus is stuck in the same jam as me. And it’s all grid-locked, nobody can turn around to get out of the mess.”
“Oh. Thanks for calling. I hope it clears up soon.”
A snort, then the sound of House’s phone snapping shut.
Chase closed his own phone, thinking.
House sighed, leaning forward to rest his chin on the space between the handlebars of his bike, the kickstand down, eyes closed.
This sucked.
And what was he supposed to tell Cuddy when she called him to lecture? The truth, that he was stuck in traffic? This was probably the only traffic in town. But... what else would explain both his and Chase’s lateness?
He resigned himself to at least the part of the truth where the bus was stuck and Chase needed a ride.
There was a shout to his right, but he ignored it. It took several repetitions of the sound for him to realize the pattern was that of his name.
He sat up, looking around.
Chase, standing on the sidewalk, frowning, about to put his hands to his mouth again.
House gunned his engine and Chase smiled, carefully making his way towards the sound.
It was too tight for House to get off and help, because there wasn’t room for him to use his cane, but he directed Chase around a spot where two cars were actually touching just by yelling to him.
“Why didn’t you call a cab?” he asked, as Chase finally reached him.
“Because cabs are boring and the last time I called one the driver got hit waiting for me.”
House reached out, giving Chase a very light slap on the cheek. If Chase hadn’t remembered what House had said back when they had been hiding in a bathroom on an emergency department hallway, about slapping him for feeling guilty, he would have thought House was comforting him.
He just smiled, reaching out for the back of House’s jacket to steady himself while he got on.
They sat there for a while, too sleepy to say much.
Then it occurred to Chase that this was probably the one time he would have a chance to get a really private conversation with House. One that House couldn’t flee.
“Why’re you doing all this?”
House grunted sleepily.
“House.”
House jerked a little.
Chase smiled. Only House would fall asleep on a motorcycle in the middle of a traffic jam....
“What?” he asked.
“How-come you’re doing all this? Picking me up, and the printer, and everything like that?”
“Because you proved perfectly well that you don’t need help dealing, and as such, helping isn’t an insult, it’s just acknowledgment that I respect how you handled, and are handling things, as well as understand what you’re dealing with, to some degree, at least. Also, you're a blind intensivist. Which is cool.”
Chase blinked.
That had been... about twelve times as straight an answer as he had been expecting.
Then he smiled to himself, laughing a little.
“I think you’re channeling Wilson’s spirit. You’d better make sure he’s not dead. And I hope you don't think I can still crack people open and squeeze their hearts back to life, 'cause I can't.”
House laughed.
“No, Wilson’d’ve said something much sappier. And, yeah, I know. But it's still cool.”
House’s phone rang.
Chase pulled it out of House’s jacket, simply because it was awkward for House to get his hand in his pocket without elbowing Chase in the ribs.
He held it forward, but House pushed it back lightly, probably after looking at the caller id.
“What?”
“It’s Cuddy. Answer it.”
Chase laughed, opening the phone.
“Hello?”
“House, where the hell are you?! You’ve got a case, and Chase isn’t here either! He’s got an excuse, there’s a traffic jam near his apartment so the bus is probably stuck, but unless you’re blind too now....”
“Hi Cuddy.”
Silence.
“Chase?”
“Yeah, hi.”
“Uh... sorry, no offence meant. But why are you answering House’s phone?”
“No offense heard, whether it was meant or not. Because I’m sitting behind him and he thought it would be funny.”
“Wait... where are you?”
“On his motorcycle, stuck in the traffic jam near my apartment.”
Silence.
“Why?”
“Because he was going to pick me up like usual, but he got stuck in the traffic jam.”
Silence.
“Like usual?”
“Like usual.”
Silence.
“Can you put House on?”
“Sure.”
Chase held out the phone.
“She wants to talk to you.”
“Ah.”
House took the phone, taking off his helmet at the same time.
“Hi Cuddy.”
“You have no clinic duty for the next month.”
“Uh... not that I’m complaining, but... why?”
“Because I’m very, very pleased with you.”
Chase suddenly jerked, behind House.
“Hang on. What is it?”
“There’s a sound, under the road. I guess it’s just the water-main, but–”
He was cut off, as House dragged him off the bike, pushed him to the ground, and shoved him under a car.
He felt House scoot in next to him, and was about to ask what the hell was going on, when House yelled at him to cover his ears.
A huge boom sounded from behind them, and hey heard crashes and yells from around them.
Chase lay perfectly still, quivering. House’s hands were over his ears, his own having been too awkwardly positioned to get there fast enough.
He dimly heard House coughing, next to him, as the dust settled, having been blown even under the cars.
“House? Are you ok?” asked Chase after a moment, clearing his throat–he hadn’t been in the middle of telling House to cover his ears when the explosion had hit, so he hadn’t gotten dust all in his mouth and throat, and wasn’t coughing.
House didn’t answer.
“House?! Are you ok?!”
“Uh... yeah... *cough* think so.” said House loudly, letting go of Chase’s head.
House seemed to be having trouble hearing, after the boom.
Chase frowned, feeling something dripping onto him from the car.
“Can you see what this is?” he asked loudly.
House grasped his hand, and he heard a penlight click on.
“Yeah, I can see what it is.”
Chase would have glared at him, if it would have done any good.
“Sorry. I’m not being glib, it’s just... it’s blood, alright? Figured it’d be less unpleasant if you didn’t know.”
“Oh,” said Chase, annoyance fading.
“What?”
“OH.”
They hadn’t heard any large thunks for a while–or, at least, Chase hadn’t. House hadn’t heard any of them to start with–so they gingerly crawled out from under the car.
Chase started feeling around for House’s phone, but couldn’t find it.
House gave him a hand up.
“Shit....” muttered House loudly.
“What?” asked Chase, forcefully enough for House to hear.
“The whole block blew up... your street included....”
“What?!”
“I said, the whole–”
“I know what you said!” snapped Chase.
Chase managed to help, as much as it was possible for him to do so, with keeping as many injured people alive as was possible until emergency services arrived.
As soon as the responsibility was gone, he started to shake.
“Is my building seriously gone?” he asked, flatly, over-loud.
“Yes,” said House, just as loud.
“I need... I need to see it.”
“You can’t see it.”
“I know... I... it has to be real.”
He heard House sigh.
Then a hand took his, and he felt himself being led carefully between cars and blocks of asphalt and concrete lying in the road.
Chase followed, slowly being led down the familiar street, now filled with rubble and holes.
He could hear House’s breathing growing somewhat faster, but knew House would stop if he really needed a break.
Chase blinked, as House stopped.
“This is in front of your building. We’re on the sidewalk.”
Chase nodded; he knew where they were.
“Ok....”
He heard House sigh, then felt a tug on his hand, and a jolt run through his body, as he felt a broken chunk of brick.
“That's your building.”
Chase swallowed.
House was right, it had seriously blown up. The gas lines inside must have exploded, along with the main ones in the street.
“Do you know if any of your neighbors were home? If you tell me, I’ll deal with the police.”
“I don’t know. I don’t have much to do with them, and I don’t know if their cars were there.”
“Ok.”
Chase sunk to the ground, head in his hands.
House knelt next to him, and he leaned into the older doctor’s shoulder.
“Come on. You can’t sit here forever.”
Chase nodded, shaking.
House led him back to the cars, and stood him at the corner of a car, so he would have some support as he shivered, then limped a few feet away.
“Well, it’s awful dusty, it needs a new windshield, and both sides of it are scraped now, but it looks like it should run, at least.”
Chase nodded, lower lip trembling. He wasn’t about to cry, he was just completely overwhelmed.
He heard House talking to someone, then a crunch that made him jolt and press himself against the car he was anchoring himself on, until House took his hand, led him to the motorcycle, and pulled out of there.
The next time Chase was really aware of what was going on, he was on something soft but lumpy, curled partially on top of something warm but... bony?
He reached out, gently running his fingers over the face.
High cheekbones, thin cheeks, long face, straight nose, dusty stubble.
House.
He considered for a moment, then decided that if House didn’t care, he didn’t care, and laid his head back down.
He remembered something of the layout of House’s apartment, but he had no idea if everything was still in the same place, or if his memories were good enough to be of any help. He had no idea where his stick was, or anything else that would be helpful.
As he shifted, it must have disturbed House, because he grunted and sat up.
“Nnng?”
“I’m guessing I’m at your apartment?”
“Mmm... yeah.”
House yawned, and Chase scooted off of him.
“Why’d you bring me here?”
“Because you looked like you were about to faint, and Cameron would have been insufferable if she saw you all shaky and covered in dust. Speaking of which....”
“What?”
“I forgot to tell Cuddy we’re not dead.”
Chase laughed, shaking his head, as he swung his feet off the couch.
“Soo... before you do that... um, I need to pee.”
House snorted, stood with a grunt, and put his hand beneath Chase’s.
Chase took it, and House got him to the bathroom.
“Kitchen’s a straight walk to the left when you come out. Just follow the wall till you hit a doorway.”
“Okay.”
A few minutes later, Chase was working his way towards the kitchen, when he heard a loud noise from the direction he was headed.
He frowned, and took a few long steps, just trailing his hand along the wall.
“Are you ok?” he asked, tentatively, standing the in the doorway.
“Urng... yeah. I got blown over by Cuddy’s rant.”
Chase tilted his head, “Seriously, what happened?”
House sighed.
“I couldn’t find my cane, so I had to leave without it. I still had a stupid four point one from a long time ago, but I caught it on the stool and tripped.”
“Oh.” said Chase, holding back a snicker.
He put out his hand, extending it downwards.
“Over here.”
Chase took a step in, so House could actually reach the hand.
He blinked, surprised, when he felt a tug, but pulled House to his feet.
“Since when do you let someone help you up? That time Wilson’s dog messed up your cane you didn’t let me help you.”
“As a general rule, if someone’s got it worse than you do, you have a very low risk of them pitying you.”
Chase paused.
Then he laughed.
“I guess that’s true.”
An hour and a drop by the scene of the explosion to find House’s cane and Chase’s stick later, they were sitting at the differential room table, with Cameron hovering nervously in a corner, Wilson sitting on a low bookcase, and everybody Chase had ever had anything to do with dropping by to offer help, or a place to stay, or anything else they could think of.
After almost and hour of this Chase finally got up, locked the door, closed the blinds, and leaned against the glass, sighing.
“I’m guessing it’s safe to assume you don’t need to sleep on my couch.” commented foreman, who had been reading his newspaper throughout the entire thing.
“God... I don’t even know who those people were. I didn’t recognize their voices, I’m not sure I’ve ever done more than say hello to them once or twice....”
Foreman snorted.
A side effect, it seemed, of working for the diagnostics department, was that you were utterly shocked when anyone did something nice, and completely overwhelmed when that many people did it.
“Did you guys recognize any of them?” asked Chase, wearily.
“Um, Cuddy’s old assistant....” said Cameron, frowning.
“Mike the gay RN, the quiet nurse with the pigtail braids, nurse Brenda, the two blond NICU nurses, the redheaded NICU intern who used to have braces, though she doesn’t anymore, all four NICU residents, the three residents and two interns from gynecology, three of the residents from peds, the one with the balloon animals, the one with the green ties, and the one with mismatched socks and hangover every Monday, the wife of a surgeon we blackmailed with the fact he had been cheating, the day shift ER attending and the two fifth year residents of the same shift, the Puerto Rican lab technician that likes blue eyes, and the four surgeons that aren’t whiney about their numbers.”
Cameron and foreman both stared at House.
Chase turned his face in House’s direction with his mouth open.
Wilson just smiled and shook his head.
House hadn’t noticed any of their reactions, he had been sitting in the chair next to the computer, feet propped up on the desk, reading the file Cuddy had sent by fax... which was unfortunate for two of the diagnostics team, because the fax number now connected to “Spot”, the braille printer.
Chase sighed, sitting in his typical chair in the differential room, fingers roaming lazily over the bumps and ridges of the machine in front of him.
It had apparently just turned up, one morning, in place of the old printer in the corner, connected to the differential room computer by a long cord.
Foreman had printed something, walked over, and stopped.
Chase had raised his head at the stop, having heard that the sound of the printer was off.
“Paper jam?” he guessed, hopefully. It was fun, when things like that turned out right even though he couldn’t see them.
Foreman had walked over, put the sheet down in front of Chase, and put Chase’s hand on the sheet.
“Somebody replaced the ink printer with a braille printer?”
“Yeah. I take it wasn’t you, then.”
Chase had shaken his head–he certainly wouldn’t have done that, especially not without asking first.
Inquires had been made, but nobody in the entire hospital confessed to having bought or installed the thing. Which was interesting, because the instructions were actually printed in braille, with no pictures, according to foreman.
It remained a mystery–Chase privately thought it might have been Wilson with the help of a patient–until one day, when Chase’s stick and House’s cane had gotten tangled up in the doorway, and they had both dropped their papers.
House had sorted them back out, grunting occasionally as he knelt, then snickering for no apparent reason.
“What?” asked Chase.
“The adventures of McSteamy and the dirty mistress’ club?” House had asked, dryly.
Chase had blushed, and been glad that no one else was in the room.
Then he had blinked.
“Wait... how did....”
“I was bored at one point or another, and it seemed like a useful thing to know. Mostly I was bored.”
“It was you. The printer. Nobody else knows the password to the computer, and can read braille.”
A quiet chuckle.
“A few years ago, you wouldn’t have ever guessed that.”
“A few years ago, I wouldn’t have needed to.”
“Point.”
House had gotten up, handed Chase his papers, and limped into the office.
Chase had considered for a moment, then gone back to sit at the table.
Like House had any right to object to people reading... odd things, at work. And anyway, it wasn’t *technically* porn.... ok, parts of it were porn. Most of it was porn. But it was well-written porn with a good and extensive backstory.
Chase sighed, sitting on the steps out of his apartment, waiting.
He pressed the button on his watch.
9:48.
House was more than forty-five minutes late.
Chase shook his head, pulling out his phone to call House and find out what was going on.
As he touched it, it started buzzing.
“Hello?” he asked, opening it.
“Chase?”
“Yeah, what’s going on?”
“There’s a big traffic jam about a block away from your street. Water main broke, I think. Been stuck in it for the past half hour. You probably want to call a cab, the bus is stuck in the same jam as me. And it’s all grid-locked, nobody can turn around to get out of the mess.”
“Oh. Thanks for calling. I hope it clears up soon.”
A snort, then the sound of House’s phone snapping shut.
Chase closed his own phone, thinking.
House sighed, leaning forward to rest his chin on the space between the handlebars of his bike, the kickstand down, eyes closed.
This sucked.
And what was he supposed to tell Cuddy when she called him to lecture? The truth, that he was stuck in traffic? This was probably the only traffic in town. But... what else would explain both his and Chase’s lateness?
He resigned himself to at least the part of the truth where the bus was stuck and Chase needed a ride.
There was a shout to his right, but he ignored it. It took several repetitions of the sound for him to realize the pattern was that of his name.
He sat up, looking around.
Chase, standing on the sidewalk, frowning, about to put his hands to his mouth again.
House gunned his engine and Chase smiled, carefully making his way towards the sound.
It was too tight for House to get off and help, because there wasn’t room for him to use his cane, but he directed Chase around a spot where two cars were actually touching just by yelling to him.
“Why didn’t you call a cab?” he asked, as Chase finally reached him.
“Because cabs are boring and the last time I called one the driver got hit waiting for me.”
House reached out, giving Chase a very light slap on the cheek. If Chase hadn’t remembered what House had said back when they had been hiding in a bathroom on an emergency department hallway, about slapping him for feeling guilty, he would have thought House was comforting him.
He just smiled, reaching out for the back of House’s jacket to steady himself while he got on.
They sat there for a while, too sleepy to say much.
Then it occurred to Chase that this was probably the one time he would have a chance to get a really private conversation with House. One that House couldn’t flee.
“Why’re you doing all this?”
House grunted sleepily.
“House.”
House jerked a little.
Chase smiled. Only House would fall asleep on a motorcycle in the middle of a traffic jam....
“What?” he asked.
“How-come you’re doing all this? Picking me up, and the printer, and everything like that?”
“Because you proved perfectly well that you don’t need help dealing, and as such, helping isn’t an insult, it’s just acknowledgment that I respect how you handled, and are handling things, as well as understand what you’re dealing with, to some degree, at least. Also, you're a blind intensivist. Which is cool.”
Chase blinked.
That had been... about twelve times as straight an answer as he had been expecting.
Then he smiled to himself, laughing a little.
“I think you’re channeling Wilson’s spirit. You’d better make sure he’s not dead. And I hope you don't think I can still crack people open and squeeze their hearts back to life, 'cause I can't.”
House laughed.
“No, Wilson’d’ve said something much sappier. And, yeah, I know. But it's still cool.”
House’s phone rang.
Chase pulled it out of House’s jacket, simply because it was awkward for House to get his hand in his pocket without elbowing Chase in the ribs.
He held it forward, but House pushed it back lightly, probably after looking at the caller id.
“What?”
“It’s Cuddy. Answer it.”
Chase laughed, opening the phone.
“Hello?”
“House, where the hell are you?! You’ve got a case, and Chase isn’t here either! He’s got an excuse, there’s a traffic jam near his apartment so the bus is probably stuck, but unless you’re blind too now....”
“Hi Cuddy.”
Silence.
“Chase?”
“Yeah, hi.”
“Uh... sorry, no offence meant. But why are you answering House’s phone?”
“No offense heard, whether it was meant or not. Because I’m sitting behind him and he thought it would be funny.”
“Wait... where are you?”
“On his motorcycle, stuck in the traffic jam near my apartment.”
Silence.
“Why?”
“Because he was going to pick me up like usual, but he got stuck in the traffic jam.”
Silence.
“Like usual?”
“Like usual.”
Silence.
“Can you put House on?”
“Sure.”
Chase held out the phone.
“She wants to talk to you.”
“Ah.”
House took the phone, taking off his helmet at the same time.
“Hi Cuddy.”
“You have no clinic duty for the next month.”
“Uh... not that I’m complaining, but... why?”
“Because I’m very, very pleased with you.”
Chase suddenly jerked, behind House.
“Hang on. What is it?”
“There’s a sound, under the road. I guess it’s just the water-main, but–”
He was cut off, as House dragged him off the bike, pushed him to the ground, and shoved him under a car.
He felt House scoot in next to him, and was about to ask what the hell was going on, when House yelled at him to cover his ears.
A huge boom sounded from behind them, and hey heard crashes and yells from around them.
Chase lay perfectly still, quivering. House’s hands were over his ears, his own having been too awkwardly positioned to get there fast enough.
He dimly heard House coughing, next to him, as the dust settled, having been blown even under the cars.
“House? Are you ok?” asked Chase after a moment, clearing his throat–he hadn’t been in the middle of telling House to cover his ears when the explosion had hit, so he hadn’t gotten dust all in his mouth and throat, and wasn’t coughing.
House didn’t answer.
“House?! Are you ok?!”
“Uh... yeah... *cough* think so.” said House loudly, letting go of Chase’s head.
House seemed to be having trouble hearing, after the boom.
Chase frowned, feeling something dripping onto him from the car.
“Can you see what this is?” he asked loudly.
House grasped his hand, and he heard a penlight click on.
“Yeah, I can see what it is.”
Chase would have glared at him, if it would have done any good.
“Sorry. I’m not being glib, it’s just... it’s blood, alright? Figured it’d be less unpleasant if you didn’t know.”
“Oh,” said Chase, annoyance fading.
“What?”
“OH.”
They hadn’t heard any large thunks for a while–or, at least, Chase hadn’t. House hadn’t heard any of them to start with–so they gingerly crawled out from under the car.
Chase started feeling around for House’s phone, but couldn’t find it.
House gave him a hand up.
“Shit....” muttered House loudly.
“What?” asked Chase, forcefully enough for House to hear.
“The whole block blew up... your street included....”
“What?!”
“I said, the whole–”
“I know what you said!” snapped Chase.
Chase managed to help, as much as it was possible for him to do so, with keeping as many injured people alive as was possible until emergency services arrived.
As soon as the responsibility was gone, he started to shake.
“Is my building seriously gone?” he asked, flatly, over-loud.
“Yes,” said House, just as loud.
“I need... I need to see it.”
“You can’t see it.”
“I know... I... it has to be real.”
He heard House sigh.
Then a hand took his, and he felt himself being led carefully between cars and blocks of asphalt and concrete lying in the road.
Chase followed, slowly being led down the familiar street, now filled with rubble and holes.
He could hear House’s breathing growing somewhat faster, but knew House would stop if he really needed a break.
Chase blinked, as House stopped.
“This is in front of your building. We’re on the sidewalk.”
Chase nodded; he knew where they were.
“Ok....”
He heard House sigh, then felt a tug on his hand, and a jolt run through his body, as he felt a broken chunk of brick.
“That's your building.”
Chase swallowed.
House was right, it had seriously blown up. The gas lines inside must have exploded, along with the main ones in the street.
“Do you know if any of your neighbors were home? If you tell me, I’ll deal with the police.”
“I don’t know. I don’t have much to do with them, and I don’t know if their cars were there.”
“Ok.”
Chase sunk to the ground, head in his hands.
House knelt next to him, and he leaned into the older doctor’s shoulder.
“Come on. You can’t sit here forever.”
Chase nodded, shaking.
House led him back to the cars, and stood him at the corner of a car, so he would have some support as he shivered, then limped a few feet away.
“Well, it’s awful dusty, it needs a new windshield, and both sides of it are scraped now, but it looks like it should run, at least.”
Chase nodded, lower lip trembling. He wasn’t about to cry, he was just completely overwhelmed.
He heard House talking to someone, then a crunch that made him jolt and press himself against the car he was anchoring himself on, until House took his hand, led him to the motorcycle, and pulled out of there.
The next time Chase was really aware of what was going on, he was on something soft but lumpy, curled partially on top of something warm but... bony?
He reached out, gently running his fingers over the face.
High cheekbones, thin cheeks, long face, straight nose, dusty stubble.
House.
He considered for a moment, then decided that if House didn’t care, he didn’t care, and laid his head back down.
He remembered something of the layout of House’s apartment, but he had no idea if everything was still in the same place, or if his memories were good enough to be of any help. He had no idea where his stick was, or anything else that would be helpful.
As he shifted, it must have disturbed House, because he grunted and sat up.
“Nnng?”
“I’m guessing I’m at your apartment?”
“Mmm... yeah.”
House yawned, and Chase scooted off of him.
“Why’d you bring me here?”
“Because you looked like you were about to faint, and Cameron would have been insufferable if she saw you all shaky and covered in dust. Speaking of which....”
“What?”
“I forgot to tell Cuddy we’re not dead.”
Chase laughed, shaking his head, as he swung his feet off the couch.
“Soo... before you do that... um, I need to pee.”
House snorted, stood with a grunt, and put his hand beneath Chase’s.
Chase took it, and House got him to the bathroom.
“Kitchen’s a straight walk to the left when you come out. Just follow the wall till you hit a doorway.”
“Okay.”
A few minutes later, Chase was working his way towards the kitchen, when he heard a loud noise from the direction he was headed.
He frowned, and took a few long steps, just trailing his hand along the wall.
“Are you ok?” he asked, tentatively, standing the in the doorway.
“Urng... yeah. I got blown over by Cuddy’s rant.”
Chase tilted his head, “Seriously, what happened?”
House sighed.
“I couldn’t find my cane, so I had to leave without it. I still had a stupid four point one from a long time ago, but I caught it on the stool and tripped.”
“Oh.” said Chase, holding back a snicker.
He put out his hand, extending it downwards.
“Over here.”
Chase took a step in, so House could actually reach the hand.
He blinked, surprised, when he felt a tug, but pulled House to his feet.
“Since when do you let someone help you up? That time Wilson’s dog messed up your cane you didn’t let me help you.”
“As a general rule, if someone’s got it worse than you do, you have a very low risk of them pitying you.”
Chase paused.
Then he laughed.
“I guess that’s true.”
An hour and a drop by the scene of the explosion to find House’s cane and Chase’s stick later, they were sitting at the differential room table, with Cameron hovering nervously in a corner, Wilson sitting on a low bookcase, and everybody Chase had ever had anything to do with dropping by to offer help, or a place to stay, or anything else they could think of.
After almost and hour of this Chase finally got up, locked the door, closed the blinds, and leaned against the glass, sighing.
“I’m guessing it’s safe to assume you don’t need to sleep on my couch.” commented foreman, who had been reading his newspaper throughout the entire thing.
“God... I don’t even know who those people were. I didn’t recognize their voices, I’m not sure I’ve ever done more than say hello to them once or twice....”
Foreman snorted.
A side effect, it seemed, of working for the diagnostics department, was that you were utterly shocked when anyone did something nice, and completely overwhelmed when that many people did it.
“Did you guys recognize any of them?” asked Chase, wearily.
“Um, Cuddy’s old assistant....” said Cameron, frowning.
“Mike the gay RN, the quiet nurse with the pigtail braids, nurse Brenda, the two blond NICU nurses, the redheaded NICU intern who used to have braces, though she doesn’t anymore, all four NICU residents, the three residents and two interns from gynecology, three of the residents from peds, the one with the balloon animals, the one with the green ties, and the one with mismatched socks and hangover every Monday, the wife of a surgeon we blackmailed with the fact he had been cheating, the day shift ER attending and the two fifth year residents of the same shift, the Puerto Rican lab technician that likes blue eyes, and the four surgeons that aren’t whiney about their numbers.”
Cameron and foreman both stared at House.
Chase turned his face in House’s direction with his mouth open.
Wilson just smiled and shook his head.
House hadn’t noticed any of their reactions, he had been sitting in the chair next to the computer, feet propped up on the desk, reading the file Cuddy had sent by fax... which was unfortunate for two of the diagnostics team, because the fax number now connected to “Spot”, the braille printer.
Tags:
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
From:
no subject
I'll be reading the rest of these.
From:
no subject
Sincerely,
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
Guh, this story just gets better and better.
<3
From:
no subject
I'm glad Chase will find his place at House's home... and his heart, ehehehehe
I'm glad you don't write the other kind of fics *wink*
I'm loving this one. And I'm glad Chase has so many people caring for him and offering their help.
:D
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
And about wanting to get into his pants, lol, I would want too, ehehehehe
:D
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
And of course, Spot, FTW.
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
BTW, Spot FTW~