House admissions; and a ficlet you probably won't want to read
New layout. I hope it isn't distractingly different.
I've been lurking like hell, reading slash, and sometimes het, too, when the mood strikes me. I've been reading enough that I had a dream last night that the characters from House made a complete and permanent crossover to Lost, and the very last episode of Lost was called "Cameron." Which is odd, because I mostly don't care about Cameron in the fic world (hence the lack of het reading, because I'm equally uninterested in House/Cuddy fic...even if I like both women as characters and not as halves of potential pairings, although Cameron/Chase is nice when I want to go into a diabetic coma...)
Anyway, I swore I wouldn't write in this fandom, and I mostly don't want to. I'm in the weird position of really enjoying other people's output but not particularly wanting to generate any of my own. That's a relief, in some ways. I've got so many fandoms and pairings as it is.
But, still, a ficlet nibbled at me. And it forces me to admit that I have weird weird weird taste in House fic. I rather love House/Wilson (best friend OTPs are fabulous), but I have this kink for...
House/Chase. *ducks*
I know. Weird, right.
My favorite House/Chase is when House is being unrepentantly House and it totally works for Chase. But I think if you're a House/Chase shipper, you must also have a not-so-secret desire to see Chase really get to him. (This is what fic is for--things you wouldn't necessarily abide out of the show's writers but are curious to see anyway.) You want House to show a few cracks in his armor but not too many. It's a fic that can push but not far enough to break character that I like. A lot.
Enough to have written something that probably does go over that line. But the scene wouldn't leave me be. So here it is. I don't think it's really all that out of character (or no more so than any established relationship fic is); it's just not full of snark. Fair warning.
Title: Hush
Pairing: House/Chase
Rating: PG
Summary: Just a quiet moment before dawn. Established relationship. 800 words.
Hush
Chase swung his legs over the side of the bed and immediately groped for his t-shirt, discarded somewhere on the floor. A few days ago, he had wondered how long it would take to feel at home living with House, but the man had taken care of that negotiation rather quickly: he insisted on discarding Chase's clothing on the floor along with his own every night after he peeled it off him.
The world was chilly outside the warm confines of the blankets, but the bed was too without House's extra body heat beside him. He'd woken up to find him gone, but his cane was still propped up against the nightstand. He couldn't have ventured very far.
Everything was dark, but Chase could see his way well enough to come down the hallway and into the living room. Hints of street light cast odd shadows across the room as well as on House's face, where he stood looking out the window, a coffee mug cradled in his hand.
After House turned and acknowledged his presence, he let Chase approach him without saying anything. Chase had been surprised to discover that House was sometimes almost spookily quiet, and not like he was for that long heartbeat of a moment he was totally focused on a patient. Rather a protracted calm would come over him, one where he didn't seem to focus on anything in particular; his eyes just stayed wide open and searching-the world or maybe even himself. Chase wondered where a mind like that went when it was allowed to go free.
He came to stand at the window beside him, seeing what he saw, and he found that it was snowing. Small flakes, but they whirled anyway, a bright swirl of them loping down and around the lamppost and its diffusion of orange light, dusting over the grass and the cars in the parking lot. The sky was hinting at dawn, a deep blue rather than black. The scene was surreal, but there was also something natural and lovely about it.
When House looked at him, Chase finally broke the silence to speak: "Is that coffee?"
House took another sip before he said in a voice gravelly, unused, "What are you doing out of bed?"
"I didn't know where you'd gone," he replied. "I couldn't get back to sleep."
House smirked, but he turned his eyes quickly to the world outside the window again.
"Shut up," Chase mumbled as he turned to look, too. It was rather mesmerizing. Cool and silent, but warm and charged-quietly charged.
After a long moment, letting that feeling settle into him, almost down to his bones, Chase said, "What are you doing lurking about the house in the dark?"
"Curing cancer, obviously."
"I see."
"I couldn't sleep," he said with a weary shrug. "Didn't want to wake you."
Chase let his voice warm as he said, smirking, "I see."
"Shut up," House said halfheartedly, in mocking echo.
But after that, he was mute again, and Chase watched him watching the snow, sipping from his mug. As much as Chase might want to stay, it felt a little like an intrusion. He longed to slide closer, press his lips to the stubble at House's jaw, maybe even coax him into some lazy, sleepy sex, but instead he slowly reached out with his hand and let it settle at House's waist for a moment, rubbing his thumb into the small of his back, just briefly, saying, "I'll leave you alone, then."
As he withdrew from House's personal space and turned to go back to the bedroom, House grabbed him by the wrist and held him lightly, thumb pressed over his pulse point. Chase turned back, and House passed the mug to him, at the same time shifting his gaze back to the window.
Chase sipped at something deliciously sweet that was decidedly not coffee.
"Hot chocolate?" he said with an incredulous giggle.
"Go ahead. Mock me. See if I make you any."
Chase opened his mouth to reply, even if his wit wasn't awake enough to be sharp, but House was already drifting away from him. He left the mug there in Chase's hands as he made his way slowly toward the kitchen, one hand skirting along the back of the couch for support, and then the kitchen counters. He put the kettle on without even turning on the light.
As Chase listened to him rummaging in the cabinets, he looked out the window and saw a bit of brighter sky, still muted and gray, begin to edge its way over the horizon. With a yawn, contentedly fuzzy-feeling and not entirely awake, he turned away, but only to retrieve a couple of chairs and drag them back for the sunrise.
I've been lurking like hell, reading slash, and sometimes het, too, when the mood strikes me. I've been reading enough that I had a dream last night that the characters from House made a complete and permanent crossover to Lost, and the very last episode of Lost was called "Cameron." Which is odd, because I mostly don't care about Cameron in the fic world (hence the lack of het reading, because I'm equally uninterested in House/Cuddy fic...even if I like both women as characters and not as halves of potential pairings, although Cameron/Chase is nice when I want to go into a diabetic coma...)
Anyway, I swore I wouldn't write in this fandom, and I mostly don't want to. I'm in the weird position of really enjoying other people's output but not particularly wanting to generate any of my own. That's a relief, in some ways. I've got so many fandoms and pairings as it is.
But, still, a ficlet nibbled at me. And it forces me to admit that I have weird weird weird taste in House fic. I rather love House/Wilson (best friend OTPs are fabulous), but I have this kink for...
House/Chase. *ducks*
I know. Weird, right.
My favorite House/Chase is when House is being unrepentantly House and it totally works for Chase. But I think if you're a House/Chase shipper, you must also have a not-so-secret desire to see Chase really get to him. (This is what fic is for--things you wouldn't necessarily abide out of the show's writers but are curious to see anyway.) You want House to show a few cracks in his armor but not too many. It's a fic that can push but not far enough to break character that I like. A lot.
Enough to have written something that probably does go over that line. But the scene wouldn't leave me be. So here it is. I don't think it's really all that out of character (or no more so than any established relationship fic is); it's just not full of snark. Fair warning.
Title: Hush
Pairing: House/Chase
Rating: PG
Summary: Just a quiet moment before dawn. Established relationship. 800 words.
Hush
Chase swung his legs over the side of the bed and immediately groped for his t-shirt, discarded somewhere on the floor. A few days ago, he had wondered how long it would take to feel at home living with House, but the man had taken care of that negotiation rather quickly: he insisted on discarding Chase's clothing on the floor along with his own every night after he peeled it off him.
The world was chilly outside the warm confines of the blankets, but the bed was too without House's extra body heat beside him. He'd woken up to find him gone, but his cane was still propped up against the nightstand. He couldn't have ventured very far.
Everything was dark, but Chase could see his way well enough to come down the hallway and into the living room. Hints of street light cast odd shadows across the room as well as on House's face, where he stood looking out the window, a coffee mug cradled in his hand.
After House turned and acknowledged his presence, he let Chase approach him without saying anything. Chase had been surprised to discover that House was sometimes almost spookily quiet, and not like he was for that long heartbeat of a moment he was totally focused on a patient. Rather a protracted calm would come over him, one where he didn't seem to focus on anything in particular; his eyes just stayed wide open and searching-the world or maybe even himself. Chase wondered where a mind like that went when it was allowed to go free.
He came to stand at the window beside him, seeing what he saw, and he found that it was snowing. Small flakes, but they whirled anyway, a bright swirl of them loping down and around the lamppost and its diffusion of orange light, dusting over the grass and the cars in the parking lot. The sky was hinting at dawn, a deep blue rather than black. The scene was surreal, but there was also something natural and lovely about it.
When House looked at him, Chase finally broke the silence to speak: "Is that coffee?"
House took another sip before he said in a voice gravelly, unused, "What are you doing out of bed?"
"I didn't know where you'd gone," he replied. "I couldn't get back to sleep."
House smirked, but he turned his eyes quickly to the world outside the window again.
"Shut up," Chase mumbled as he turned to look, too. It was rather mesmerizing. Cool and silent, but warm and charged-quietly charged.
After a long moment, letting that feeling settle into him, almost down to his bones, Chase said, "What are you doing lurking about the house in the dark?"
"Curing cancer, obviously."
"I see."
"I couldn't sleep," he said with a weary shrug. "Didn't want to wake you."
Chase let his voice warm as he said, smirking, "I see."
"Shut up," House said halfheartedly, in mocking echo.
But after that, he was mute again, and Chase watched him watching the snow, sipping from his mug. As much as Chase might want to stay, it felt a little like an intrusion. He longed to slide closer, press his lips to the stubble at House's jaw, maybe even coax him into some lazy, sleepy sex, but instead he slowly reached out with his hand and let it settle at House's waist for a moment, rubbing his thumb into the small of his back, just briefly, saying, "I'll leave you alone, then."
As he withdrew from House's personal space and turned to go back to the bedroom, House grabbed him by the wrist and held him lightly, thumb pressed over his pulse point. Chase turned back, and House passed the mug to him, at the same time shifting his gaze back to the window.
Chase sipped at something deliciously sweet that was decidedly not coffee.
"Hot chocolate?" he said with an incredulous giggle.
"Go ahead. Mock me. See if I make you any."
Chase opened his mouth to reply, even if his wit wasn't awake enough to be sharp, but House was already drifting away from him. He left the mug there in Chase's hands as he made his way slowly toward the kitchen, one hand skirting along the back of the couch for support, and then the kitchen counters. He put the kettle on without even turning on the light.
As Chase listened to him rummaging in the cabinets, he looked out the window and saw a bit of brighter sky, still muted and gray, begin to edge its way over the horizon. With a yawn, contentedly fuzzy-feeling and not entirely awake, he turned away, but only to retrieve a couple of chairs and drag them back for the sunrise.