house fic: single ladies
Drabble: Single Ladies.
Character/s: House, Chase, Cuddy, Lucas.
Word Count: Like, 130. Probably. I didn't count.
Warning: Spoilers for 'Known Unknowns' and 'Teamwork'
Disclaimer: David Shore would scoff at me for this. Katie Jacobs might find it amusing, however.
This is just a tiny drabble I wrote a while ago and forgot to post. It's entirely silly.
She's holed up in her office and has been for the last two hours; she's at her desk, head bent and face obscured by a heavy curtain of hair he doesn't remember being quite so dark nor so straight before.
At least the one tiny sliver of silver lining is that just as much as she's been staunchly ignoring him as he slaves away in the clinic, she also seems to be ignoring Lucas, who is at present lounging with his feet up on her Italian suede sofa, feigning interest in an interior design magazine, and casting hang-dogged glances every few seconds to where she sits, ensconced in paperwork.
He is almost able, for a minute or two at least, to enjoy the fact that she seems as disinterested in her boyfriend as she is in him and his voluntarily extraneous clinic hours, until his peripheral vision reveals Chase, walking with that characteristically heavy step he's recently developed, case file in hand.
It's too late to dodge or hide or grab another patient from the waiting area, so he has no choice but to join in with the day's apparent theme and ignore Chase, too. The Australian's eyes are shielded with a black-and-blue lack of sleep, but he's not too stupid to miss that the focus of House's attention is elsewhere. His overlong hair flops dispiritedly as he turns to follow House's gaze, taking in the two figures in the office in the middle distance.
"If you liked it then you shoulda put a ring on it."
House could laugh, if it wasn't so close to the truth. Ah, pop music; my eternal downfall, he thinks to himself, before rearragning his face into an expression of suitably childish taunting, and turning back to Chase.
"Yeah, 'cause that's working out so great for you."
It's to his credit, or perhaps it is more indicative of depression and exhaustion, but Chase doesn't respond with a bitchy return or an eyebrow quirk; the younger man just sighs, world-wearily, and flips open the file in his hands.
"We've got a patient."
~