045. Clinic
Title: Just For A Little While
Characters/Pairing: Chase
Prompt: 045. Clinic
Word Count: 581
Rating: PG-13, although I actually blushed writing some of it. (But I'm lame.)
Spoilers: Not really.
Author's Notes: wildcatlizzie requested Chase being brilliant. I wrote Chase being... conniving, I suppose. Has anyone else noticed the big difference between Season 1 Chase and Season 2 Chase? I'm not quite sure which one this is.
Chase actually enjoys his clinic hours. He doesn't shirk them like House does, and he doesn't just go through the motions like Foreman. He's good in the clinic.
He might even be better there than he is when he's working on one of House's cases, but he'd never admit that. The clinic isn't brain-work.
He'll go through the glass doors and pick up the file on top. Sometimes it's old codgers who are grumpy about waiting so long, but he'll flash them a smile and they smile back. They won't complain. He listens to them, looks them straight in the eye, and writes them a prescription. Before they leave, he makes sure to pat their shoulders.
They look at him as though they wish he was their son. (Their own children make them drive to teaching hospitals and only call to make sure they haven't died of a heart attack or stroke. Yet.)
Sometimes he finds a trophy wife with new breast implants waiting for him in the exam room. It's with only a little difficulty that he hides the sneer in his eyes. It becomes something confidential; they're in on the joke. He stands a little too close. She bats her eyelids a few too many times. He'll (accidentally!) move her bra when he listens to her heart.
She'll leave and he knows that she's looking at his name-badge. He knows that she wants him the next time she come to the clinic. (Her own husband doesn't pay attention to her unless he's fucking her. He probably only wants her if he's taken some little blue pills, if she's wearing her new lace panties. Anyway.)
But he looks forward to the teenage girls the most. It's not that he's a pervert. (The trophy wives are far more willing.) It's just that he doesn't really have to work with them. They've usually sprained an ankle, twisted a wrist. Or they need birth control, and they blush adorably, avoiding the word "sex." He doesn't look them in the eye, not quite, because he did that once and the girl came into the clinic every day for a week and started at him. He just has to keep talking and smiling while he wraps the ankle or writes the perscription without asking too many questions.
The girls leave slowly, fishing for some excuse to stay. (They begin making the inevitable comparisons to their boyfriends, who have pimples and harsh American accents. They might dream about him. Once or twice.)
There are others, not nearly so interesting. Yet they all adore him.
If he doesn't like them, he grins and tells them the tonsil story. They're still charmed.
And afterwards, Cuddy pays him overtime for all the clinic hours he does. (He'd jump her if he wasn't so sure House would give him absolute hell for it.) She smiles and he smiles back and if their fingers brush against each other when she gives him the checks, well, it's accidental.
It's too bad Cuddy never gets sick.
But after he goes through the glass doors into House's office, he's back to being the dumb one, the conniving idiot. It's all right -- he gets paid for it. He gets to think. It'll look great on his resume. So what if he gets treated like there's a hole in his head where his med school education should be? It's just for now.
(Sometimes he just wants to be God. Just for a little while.)
Characters/Pairing: Chase
Prompt: 045. Clinic
Word Count: 581
Rating: PG-13, although I actually blushed writing some of it. (But I'm lame.)
Spoilers: Not really.
Author's Notes: wildcatlizzie requested Chase being brilliant. I wrote Chase being... conniving, I suppose. Has anyone else noticed the big difference between Season 1 Chase and Season 2 Chase? I'm not quite sure which one this is.
Chase actually enjoys his clinic hours. He doesn't shirk them like House does, and he doesn't just go through the motions like Foreman. He's good in the clinic.
He might even be better there than he is when he's working on one of House's cases, but he'd never admit that. The clinic isn't brain-work.
He'll go through the glass doors and pick up the file on top. Sometimes it's old codgers who are grumpy about waiting so long, but he'll flash them a smile and they smile back. They won't complain. He listens to them, looks them straight in the eye, and writes them a prescription. Before they leave, he makes sure to pat their shoulders.
They look at him as though they wish he was their son. (Their own children make them drive to teaching hospitals and only call to make sure they haven't died of a heart attack or stroke. Yet.)
Sometimes he finds a trophy wife with new breast implants waiting for him in the exam room. It's with only a little difficulty that he hides the sneer in his eyes. It becomes something confidential; they're in on the joke. He stands a little too close. She bats her eyelids a few too many times. He'll (accidentally!) move her bra when he listens to her heart.
She'll leave and he knows that she's looking at his name-badge. He knows that she wants him the next time she come to the clinic. (Her own husband doesn't pay attention to her unless he's fucking her. He probably only wants her if he's taken some little blue pills, if she's wearing her new lace panties. Anyway.)
But he looks forward to the teenage girls the most. It's not that he's a pervert. (The trophy wives are far more willing.) It's just that he doesn't really have to work with them. They've usually sprained an ankle, twisted a wrist. Or they need birth control, and they blush adorably, avoiding the word "sex." He doesn't look them in the eye, not quite, because he did that once and the girl came into the clinic every day for a week and started at him. He just has to keep talking and smiling while he wraps the ankle or writes the perscription without asking too many questions.
The girls leave slowly, fishing for some excuse to stay. (They begin making the inevitable comparisons to their boyfriends, who have pimples and harsh American accents. They might dream about him. Once or twice.)
There are others, not nearly so interesting. Yet they all adore him.
If he doesn't like them, he grins and tells them the tonsil story. They're still charmed.
And afterwards, Cuddy pays him overtime for all the clinic hours he does. (He'd jump her if he wasn't so sure House would give him absolute hell for it.) She smiles and he smiles back and if their fingers brush against each other when she gives him the checks, well, it's accidental.
It's too bad Cuddy never gets sick.
But after he goes through the glass doors into House's office, he's back to being the dumb one, the conniving idiot. It's all right -- he gets paid for it. He gets to think. It'll look great on his resume. So what if he gets treated like there's a hole in his head where his med school education should be? It's just for now.
(Sometimes he just wants to be God. Just for a little while.)