M is for Mars
Author: cerieblue819
Title: Full of Grace
Rating: G
Pairing: Chase/Foreman (House, MD)
Disclaimer: Totally don’t own anything pertaining to House, MD
Summary: Tuesday’s child is full of grace…well, unless his name rhymes with grace…
Theme: M is for Mars---loosely. The Norse counterpart for Mars is Tiu, where we get our word for the third day of the week, Tuesday.
don’t cry over broken centrifuges
“Damn. Fourth one this week.” Chase picked up the broken glass from the calibration tube and cleared it away before anyone could cut themselves on the sharp glass. In the process, he managed to nick himself and yelped slightly, index finger going into his mouth almost instinctively to soothe the bite. Foreman arched a brow in his direction and walked over, his notes from the morning’s QC in his left hand. He took Chase’s hand from his mouth and looked at it, ensuring no glass remained in the wound.
“Not exactly known for steady hands, are you?” Chase glared at Foreman for a few moments but it didn’t hold. He’d always been slightly clumsy…something he’d hoped that years of playing football would cure. However, being clumsy had no bearing on how well you could play goalie apparently. Chase had been highly ranked in university but hadn’t really played much since then. New Jersey wasn’t exactly known for its pick-up games of soccer and Chase didn’t have time to play with a club like he did in medical school.
my dance card is full
Cameron walked in then, hair pulled back from the nape of her neck in an attempt to look more professional after Foreman and Chase had teased her for trying to “Rapunzel” House into bed with her. She pushed charts into both of their hands and Chase couldn’t stifle his groan when he saw he was being put on clinic duty. He much preferred the solitude of the lab or ICU. Clinic duty meant interactions with patients and the potential for social faux pas.
“So. Chase. Birthday…I thought maybe we could all go out to dinner tonight to celebrate? Maybe drinks afterwards?” Cameron looked at Foreman and then back at Chase, who smiled sort of half-heartedly. Foreman seemed game enough, however, so Cameron hoped she wouldn’t have to brow-beat Chase into coming to his own birthday party.
“I guess. Quiet dinner, few drinks and then home…I’m not going to embarrass myself like the last time we all went out.” Cameron laughed, remembering her birthday. Neither Foreman nor Chase had the foresight to purchase a present and instead told Cameron that they would take her out and give her a favor that she could call at any point. Foreman’s was relatively simple: since Cameron’s birthday was in January, she wanted him to go out and heat up her car before picking her up at the door, ensuring she didn’t have to brave the below zero temperatures and blustery winds. Chase’s favor, however, turned out to be a bit more complex.
“Dance with me. One dance, that’s it.” Cameron had been nursing a bit of a crush for Chase when she first started working at Princeton-Plainsboro and made the mistake of telling him one night a few weeks before Foreman accepted his fellowship. Chase had always been one of those types who got incredibly uncomfortable around women who were actively pursuing him, so his already-lacking dancing skills would be that much worse. Needless to say, the experience ended badly with much laughter on Cameron and Foreman’s end.
active assumptions lead to active ass-kickings
Lunch came and went, the long stretch of the afternoon filled with nameless patients that were unremarkable…letters on a chart to Chase. He glanced at the preliminary examination notes for his next patient before calling her back softly. He tried to tone down his natural accent some in order to stem the embarrassing tide of comments like “I just love your accent” or “Oh, what a voice…I wish my husband could sound like that.”
Names like McAllister, however, didn’t allow him such luxuries. Especially not when the name was Ashley McAllister. Broad A’s would always be his downfall. Ms. McAllister was a tall woman, full breasted and narrow hipped. She had a long cascade of red hair and spoke with a low voice that would probably sound intimate even if she were reading the telephone book. Chase was praying she didn’t come onto him.
“Your accent is delicious, you know.” Chase barely acknowledged the comment and asked her general questions about her condition, finally determining that she was slightly anemic and that was causing her tiredness. He began to explain how she should eat more foods rich in iron, such as fortified cereals and breads…typical medical advice for an anemic.
“I know how to get iron, Dr. Chase. I’m a licensed nutritionist.” Chase’s head snapped up slightly, somewhat stunned. Apparently, he didn’t hide his thoughts very well, because the patient continued getting flustered about his assumptions that she was employed in some other field. To his credit, the woman had uncrossed her legs to reveal a very provocative garter beneath a very short skirt. He didn’t figure her for a licensed nutritionist, especially given her iron deficiency.
“I should file a lawsuit…for…uh…whatever discrimination this is.” Chase neglected to mention her practically molesting him from the time she walked in and decided to let Stacy Warner and her legal team deal with this mess. Foreman would have his back if anything got too crazy: Foreman knew that he wouldn’t intentionally insult a patient…well…other than that one time with the little girl.
when the stars are bright and the moon goes hazy, good little ducklings get a little crazy
“Ruby Tuesday’s on a Tuesday? That’s low, even for you, Cameron.” Foreman slid into the booth across from Cameron and a somewhat-sulky Chase. He’d already told Cameron the story of the slighted nutritionist and she’d laughed before seriously telling him to work on his people skills. Chase laughed a little too, but he knew she was right. It wasn’t all about being brilliant. Sometimes you had to reserve your judgment…not everyone could be House.
They ate, steak for Foreman and pasta dishes for both Cameron and Chase. A bottle of wine was shared between the three of them; they were saving the cocktails for after dinner at a neighborhood bar they tended to frequent when House let them away from the hospital. Cameron was grinning from ear to ear and Foreman nodded almost imperceptibly, as if to confirm something. Chase tried to sit up and look behind his shoulder, but the tall booth prevented it as such. He knew, however, when he heard the birthday song ringing out. He could practically see his blush at this point.
The waiters put down some sort of chocolate cake and left, Chase still somewhat embarrassed that Foreman and Cameron would do such a thing. He blew the candle out silently and without much fanfare, waiting for the inevitable, “What did you wish for?” question to rear its ugly head. Truth be told, he wished for something so unobtainable that he wouldn’t think too long on it himself, much less tell someone else about it.
“Presents then? Oh good. Mine first!” Cameron pulled out a small gift bag, green and silver. Chase pulled the tissue paper out, revealing a small leather journal. He wasn’t much for journaling, not since he left seminary, but it was a nice enough present. He turned in his seat to thank her properly before she told him to open the journal.
Chase paged through the journal, seeing that it was already filled up. What use was an already-filled journal? Stopping to read, however, he realized that it was about him. A note from Becky in ICU, a long-winded few pages in a childish script that had to be Andie learning cursive and the gentle loops of Cameron’s own handwriting. Flipping toward the back, he found various other notes, including a “You have great hair, Chasey-poo” from House and an apology from Wilson underneath.
Foreman bought him a tie….in a soft, muted green. Chase thanked him for it and the other man brushed it off saying that it was about damn time Chase had something that didn’t look like the Salvation Army’s castoffs. Chase pulled off his own garish tie right at the table, not noticing both Foreman and Cameron staring at him as he struggled in the low lighting.
They finished the bottle of wine, asking for another. They wasted well over two hours just drinking and talking and of course, the obligatory boss bashing. They each called separate cabs, Chase’s depositing him at his door and even waiting around long enough to ensure he wasn’t going to fall over or pass out. Chase stripped, crawling into bed before remembering the journal. He hadn’t read the last page. Foreman’s.
“Chase-
You’re arrogant and tactless and not to mention clumsy. But, you know what? I still like you anyway. Happy Birthday, Captain Kangaroo.
Enjoy the present. I know you love to be tied.
--Foreman.”
Chase smiled in spite of himself. It might take some coaxing, but he might be able to think on that birthday wish a little more.
A/N: It's organized weirdly. Call it creative license.
Title: Full of Grace
Rating: G
Pairing: Chase/Foreman (House, MD)
Disclaimer: Totally don’t own anything pertaining to House, MD
Summary: Tuesday’s child is full of grace…well, unless his name rhymes with grace…
Theme: M is for Mars---loosely. The Norse counterpart for Mars is Tiu, where we get our word for the third day of the week, Tuesday.
don’t cry over broken centrifuges
“Damn. Fourth one this week.” Chase picked up the broken glass from the calibration tube and cleared it away before anyone could cut themselves on the sharp glass. In the process, he managed to nick himself and yelped slightly, index finger going into his mouth almost instinctively to soothe the bite. Foreman arched a brow in his direction and walked over, his notes from the morning’s QC in his left hand. He took Chase’s hand from his mouth and looked at it, ensuring no glass remained in the wound.
“Not exactly known for steady hands, are you?” Chase glared at Foreman for a few moments but it didn’t hold. He’d always been slightly clumsy…something he’d hoped that years of playing football would cure. However, being clumsy had no bearing on how well you could play goalie apparently. Chase had been highly ranked in university but hadn’t really played much since then. New Jersey wasn’t exactly known for its pick-up games of soccer and Chase didn’t have time to play with a club like he did in medical school.
my dance card is full
Cameron walked in then, hair pulled back from the nape of her neck in an attempt to look more professional after Foreman and Chase had teased her for trying to “Rapunzel” House into bed with her. She pushed charts into both of their hands and Chase couldn’t stifle his groan when he saw he was being put on clinic duty. He much preferred the solitude of the lab or ICU. Clinic duty meant interactions with patients and the potential for social faux pas.
“So. Chase. Birthday…I thought maybe we could all go out to dinner tonight to celebrate? Maybe drinks afterwards?” Cameron looked at Foreman and then back at Chase, who smiled sort of half-heartedly. Foreman seemed game enough, however, so Cameron hoped she wouldn’t have to brow-beat Chase into coming to his own birthday party.
“I guess. Quiet dinner, few drinks and then home…I’m not going to embarrass myself like the last time we all went out.” Cameron laughed, remembering her birthday. Neither Foreman nor Chase had the foresight to purchase a present and instead told Cameron that they would take her out and give her a favor that she could call at any point. Foreman’s was relatively simple: since Cameron’s birthday was in January, she wanted him to go out and heat up her car before picking her up at the door, ensuring she didn’t have to brave the below zero temperatures and blustery winds. Chase’s favor, however, turned out to be a bit more complex.
“Dance with me. One dance, that’s it.” Cameron had been nursing a bit of a crush for Chase when she first started working at Princeton-Plainsboro and made the mistake of telling him one night a few weeks before Foreman accepted his fellowship. Chase had always been one of those types who got incredibly uncomfortable around women who were actively pursuing him, so his already-lacking dancing skills would be that much worse. Needless to say, the experience ended badly with much laughter on Cameron and Foreman’s end.
active assumptions lead to active ass-kickings
Lunch came and went, the long stretch of the afternoon filled with nameless patients that were unremarkable…letters on a chart to Chase. He glanced at the preliminary examination notes for his next patient before calling her back softly. He tried to tone down his natural accent some in order to stem the embarrassing tide of comments like “I just love your accent” or “Oh, what a voice…I wish my husband could sound like that.”
Names like McAllister, however, didn’t allow him such luxuries. Especially not when the name was Ashley McAllister. Broad A’s would always be his downfall. Ms. McAllister was a tall woman, full breasted and narrow hipped. She had a long cascade of red hair and spoke with a low voice that would probably sound intimate even if she were reading the telephone book. Chase was praying she didn’t come onto him.
“Your accent is delicious, you know.” Chase barely acknowledged the comment and asked her general questions about her condition, finally determining that she was slightly anemic and that was causing her tiredness. He began to explain how she should eat more foods rich in iron, such as fortified cereals and breads…typical medical advice for an anemic.
“I know how to get iron, Dr. Chase. I’m a licensed nutritionist.” Chase’s head snapped up slightly, somewhat stunned. Apparently, he didn’t hide his thoughts very well, because the patient continued getting flustered about his assumptions that she was employed in some other field. To his credit, the woman had uncrossed her legs to reveal a very provocative garter beneath a very short skirt. He didn’t figure her for a licensed nutritionist, especially given her iron deficiency.
“I should file a lawsuit…for…uh…whatever discrimination this is.” Chase neglected to mention her practically molesting him from the time she walked in and decided to let Stacy Warner and her legal team deal with this mess. Foreman would have his back if anything got too crazy: Foreman knew that he wouldn’t intentionally insult a patient…well…other than that one time with the little girl.
when the stars are bright and the moon goes hazy, good little ducklings get a little crazy
“Ruby Tuesday’s on a Tuesday? That’s low, even for you, Cameron.” Foreman slid into the booth across from Cameron and a somewhat-sulky Chase. He’d already told Cameron the story of the slighted nutritionist and she’d laughed before seriously telling him to work on his people skills. Chase laughed a little too, but he knew she was right. It wasn’t all about being brilliant. Sometimes you had to reserve your judgment…not everyone could be House.
They ate, steak for Foreman and pasta dishes for both Cameron and Chase. A bottle of wine was shared between the three of them; they were saving the cocktails for after dinner at a neighborhood bar they tended to frequent when House let them away from the hospital. Cameron was grinning from ear to ear and Foreman nodded almost imperceptibly, as if to confirm something. Chase tried to sit up and look behind his shoulder, but the tall booth prevented it as such. He knew, however, when he heard the birthday song ringing out. He could practically see his blush at this point.
The waiters put down some sort of chocolate cake and left, Chase still somewhat embarrassed that Foreman and Cameron would do such a thing. He blew the candle out silently and without much fanfare, waiting for the inevitable, “What did you wish for?” question to rear its ugly head. Truth be told, he wished for something so unobtainable that he wouldn’t think too long on it himself, much less tell someone else about it.
“Presents then? Oh good. Mine first!” Cameron pulled out a small gift bag, green and silver. Chase pulled the tissue paper out, revealing a small leather journal. He wasn’t much for journaling, not since he left seminary, but it was a nice enough present. He turned in his seat to thank her properly before she told him to open the journal.
Chase paged through the journal, seeing that it was already filled up. What use was an already-filled journal? Stopping to read, however, he realized that it was about him. A note from Becky in ICU, a long-winded few pages in a childish script that had to be Andie learning cursive and the gentle loops of Cameron’s own handwriting. Flipping toward the back, he found various other notes, including a “You have great hair, Chasey-poo” from House and an apology from Wilson underneath.
Foreman bought him a tie….in a soft, muted green. Chase thanked him for it and the other man brushed it off saying that it was about damn time Chase had something that didn’t look like the Salvation Army’s castoffs. Chase pulled off his own garish tie right at the table, not noticing both Foreman and Cameron staring at him as he struggled in the low lighting.
They finished the bottle of wine, asking for another. They wasted well over two hours just drinking and talking and of course, the obligatory boss bashing. They each called separate cabs, Chase’s depositing him at his door and even waiting around long enough to ensure he wasn’t going to fall over or pass out. Chase stripped, crawling into bed before remembering the journal. He hadn’t read the last page. Foreman’s.
“Chase-
You’re arrogant and tactless and not to mention clumsy. But, you know what? I still like you anyway. Happy Birthday, Captain Kangaroo.
Enjoy the present. I know you love to be tied.
--Foreman.”
Chase smiled in spite of himself. It might take some coaxing, but he might be able to think on that birthday wish a little more.
A/N: It's organized weirdly. Call it creative license.