"Co-Workers Are Probably Not Toys", House MD, Chase/Wilson
Title: Co-Workers Are Probably Not Toys
Fandom: House MD
Pairing: Chase/Wilson (with hints of House/Cameron and Amber/13)
Challenge/Prompt: un_love_you 02. I was wrong about you & fanfic100 029. Birth
Rating: PG-13 (mild sexual references which I’m sure y’all can cope with)
Word Count: 5180
Genre: Slash
Summary: “Wilson thinks you’re pretty. Go do something with that information.”
Author’s Notes: I’ve been ridiculously distracted from my Original OTP lately, but the bitch is back with a vengeance now :D Based on Wilson’s line of dialogue in season 4’s Ugly, because social experiments are all kinds of fun. I’m using the prompt “Birth” because of the whole birth of an idea thing. Still not using 13’s name until UK canon does.
“Wilson thinks you’re pretty,” House says, in lieu of ‘hello’.
Chase is scrubbing out of surgery. He has other people’s blood in places that he does not want other people’s blood, and when he stopped working for House (ok, fine, when House fired him) he kind of had this thought that maybe situations like this would stop happening. Apparently not.
“Oh good,” he murmurs, concentrating on washing his hands and not turning around. “And you’re telling me this because…?”
“It’s a social experiment,” House explains, as though somehow that makes everything entirely ok.
“I don’t work for you,” Chase reminds him. “So you really don’t have the right to use me as a test subject any more. Go torment your team.”
“I already am,” House replies. “I fully expect 13 and Cut-Throat Bitch to be tearing each other’s eyes out by the end of the day. Or having sex in exam room one, you know, one of the two. Preferably the second one.”
“That’s… nice,” Chase says neutrally. And then decides that he’s had enough of this shit over the last four years. He’s done social experiments to death; like the what will happen if we don’t tell Chase that his father is dying and see what happens experiment that ended so beautifully. Even though this one doesn’t immediately look like it’s going to end in lawsuits, one of the most important things he learned from his time in diagnostics is that anything can end in a lawsuit when House gets his hands on it.
“Look,” he begins, “You fired me. Cameron left on her own terms which technically means you can continue playing head games with her, and Foreman is one of your fellows again which means that he’s signed up for letting you do what you want to him. But you fired me, which means you lost interest in me and therefore you lost the right to conduct social experiments with me as the subject.”
House tips his head to one side in order to stare at Chase for a moment.
“I’m sure the mirror you practised that in front of was impressed,” he says. “I’m not. Wilson thinks you’re pretty. Go do something with that information.”
Chase grits his teeth and says nothing.
+
The thing is, Wilson could have said that Chase was pretty. It was probably a passing remark or maybe just a continuation of a conversation topic. It’s highly unlikely that Wilson walked in one morning and announced: House, I think Chase is pretty and by the way could you stop stealing my lunch because I’m getting sick of living on peanut butter sandwiches from the employee lounge. Of course, it’s also entirely possible that House has just made this whole thing up to see what Chase will do because, of course, pissing off Cuddy can become so samey after a while and it’s always fun to torment the people who technically don’t work for you any more but who are still too whipped to say ‘no’.
Not that he wants to do anything with this knowledge. Nothing at all. He and Cameron are pretending to be a happy couple more to irritate those around them than because of any deep and real affection, but it doesn’t make a difference. Chase isn’t stupid enough to screw it up just because Wilson may or may not have said something inadvisable to House once - and oh God he’s obsessing over this just like Cameron did with her highly unconvincing: I love House as a boss. Even though he’s not my boss any more. Have I mentioned I’m engaged? Yeah!
They are so very damn screwed.
+
Chase isn’t hiding from Wilson because they don’t normally see each other. Chase never has any reason to go near the Oncology department, he doesn’t have clinic duty any more, and the surgeons have their own lounge. Therefore he is in no way hiding from him; and anyway, even if he were hiding from him, it wouldn’t matter, because it’s not like Wilson is going to notice.
…And it still really doesn’t matter whether Wilson thinks Chase is pretty or not, because he’s probably sleeping with one of the nurses. That’s what everyone does - even Foreman did, and while he’s not exactly Jesus or anything, he was at least meant to be The Reasonably Good Guy (Chase and Cameron screwed that up, what with the whole inappropriate drug sex thing).
So of course he isn’t avoiding Wilson, because that would be stupid and childish and playing right into House’s hands. However, when Wilson comes up to him in the hall, holding a file and with one of those would you like to help out with my surgery kind of expressions; well, instinct basically takes over. Before he can even think about what he’s doing, Chase fakes a page and practically flees down the corridor in the opposite direction.
As exits go, it lacks things like sense and dignity and has the added bonus of making Chase looks like a complete lunatic. Which is just great.
+
“Chase just went running down the hall like all the hounds of hell were after him,” Wilson says, walking into House’s office. “Since I’m pretty certain I remembered to put deodorant on this morning, I think you must’ve done something.”
“Chase isn’t mine to screw with,” House says dismissively, not taking his eyes off the people in the conference room. “Go chew out those bastards in surgery.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you always let firing people get in the way of screwing with them,” Wilson mutters dryly, walking over to the desk and following House’s line of sight. “Should I ask why you’re perving quite so blatantly over your team? At least with Cameron there was a degree of subtlety.”
The women currently unfortunately known as ‘13’ and ‘Cut-Throat Bitch’ are arguing about something.
“That doesn’t look a lot like foreplay, does it?” House asks conversationally.
Wilson tips his head to one side. “Not unless they’re having some kind of telepathic sex,” he murmurs.
They’re silent for a moment, watching the two women fighting, before turning to look at each other.
“Unlikely,” House says.
“Very unlikely,” Wilson agrees. Then he realises that he’s allowed House’s present form of madness and potential sexual harassment lawsuits to distract him from his original point. “What have you done to Chase?”
House waves a dismissive hand. “Social experiment.”
“That’s not filling me with confidence,” Wilson says carefully.
Social experiment are two of the worst words that can come out of House’s mouth, second only to I’m bored and Your wife-
“What exactly did you tell him?”
House shrugs. “That you’ve got some kind of really infectious form of the clap from that nurse you were screwing in radiology. The exposure to radiation makes it that bit more virulent.”
Wilson gapes a bit. “I… never actually slept with her,” he manages.
“My bad.” House grins at him. “Maybe we could get you one of those leper bells.”
“I do not actually have radioactive syphilis!” Wilson yells a little too loudly. 13 and Amber stop their childish bickering/telepathic foreplay in order to turn around and stare at him. Wilson feels himself flush and House’s bemused expression in no way helps the situation.
“I hate you,” he mutters, turning around for what will either be a dramatic exit or just a plain hissy fit.
“Come on Jimmy,” House calls after him, “We both know you can do better than that!”
+
Cameron is in the ER, putting stitches into the leg of a man who has cleverly managed to get the majority of a broken bottle stuck in his calf. Chase loves the general public.
“House is conducting social experiments,” Chase warns her. “If you see him coming, run for your life.”
“Like you did with Wilson this morning?” Cameron teases him. “You do know there’s no such thing as radioactive syphilis, right?”
The patient looks a mixture of fascinated and revolted, and Chase is about to suggest that they continue their conversation later, and in a more private place, when he remembers that most of their lives have been played out in front of patients and voyeuristic hospital staff, so what the hell.
“What does radioactive syphilis have to do with anything?” Chase frowns. “I think I’m missing something here.”
“That’s what House told you, right?” Cameron asks, turning her attention back to the sutures. “That Wilson caught an STD off one of the radiology nurses?”
For a moment, Chase hates his girlfriend. And then he hates his ex-boss. And his ex-boss’ best friend. And everyone, really. Seriously, this hospital.
“House knows you told the camera crew that you love him,” he shoots back.
“But-but I didn’t mean it like that-” Cameron stammers. Like Chase hasn’t heard this like a million times already.
“He doesn’t know that,” he adds maliciously, watching Cameron flush. Then he turns and walks away, leaving the patient gleefully asking Cameron: so, who’s House then? And for a terrifying moment of megalomania, Chase suddenly realises why House so enjoys conducting social experiments. Sure, it’ll be pretty crap if he loses his girlfriend to House, but then it won’t be entirely unexpected and he could have all kinds of awesome rebound hate sex.
It occurs to him that that’s probably not the attitude to adopt.
And Chase is almost definitely growing up, because he doesn’t run when Wilson corners him outside the ER.
“Look,” he begins, “I don’t have-”
“I know,” Chase grins. “Look, I’ve been sold all kinds of bullshit by House, but I do know better than to believe in radioactive STDs.”
“Oh.” Wilson continues looking slightly uncomfortable. “Right. Well, good.” He frowns. “Then what did House tell you?”
“Nothing,” Chase lies, because he is not getting into this.
“So you’re not avoiding me?”
“Why would I be avoiding you?” All fine, except for the bit where Chase’s voice cracks. That probably doesn’t help.
“Ok.” Wilson turns to go, then turns back, a surprisingly insecure expression crossing his face. “Look, whatever he told you - it’s probably not true, ok?”
Chase just smiles.
+
There’s a certain expression that people get when exposed to House. For those used to seeing him on a regular basis it’s a sort of flinch tinged with resignation, a deadening in the eyes. For those who don’t see him very often but it’s been pretty bad every time they’ve met, the expression is sort of crumpled and considerably more angry. Chase watches it pass over every face in the room as the door slides open.
“I’m elbow deep in a man’s intestines,” he points out. “This is probably not the time to do whatever it is you’re planning on doing.”
To show willing, House has a mask pressed against his face with one hand, though he’s probably trailing all kinds of inappropriate bacteria into the operating theatre with him anyway.
“You didn’t jump Wilson,” House says accusingly.
“I didn’t realise that was the objective,” Chase murmurs, and then realises he probably should have said something like I am engaged to Cameron or possibly the old favourite I am not having this conversation.
“You’ve ruined the social experiment,” House adds. “I’m going to try and draw a graph and there are going to be axes all over the place. How will I present my findings now?”
Chase glances hopefully around to see if he can see anything to bang his head against in frustration. He finds nothing except his colleagues, and they’re probably out.
“Why are you trying to get Wilson laid anyway?” he asks. “Why can’t Wilson manage it He’s done pretty well on his own so far.”
“I’m not trying to get Wilson laid,” House says, tone condescending, as though somehow that should be obvious and Chase has missed something important. It’s the tone he uses during differential diagnoses and Chase finds himself gritting his teeth as though nothing at all has changed. “I wanted you to try and see if you could get him laid. There is a difference.”
“Wilson hasn’t ever shown the slightest bit of interest in me,” Chase says. “Well, other than to tell me he doesn’t have a radioactive STD, which I know for Wilson is practically a declaration of love, but still. Can’t you go back to trying to get your team to claw each other’s eyes out?”
“People might think I’m formulaic,” House says, as though that’s the most offensive thing anyone has said to him ever.
“God forbid,” Chase mutters, and lets the other surgeons order House out of the theatre.
Later, he’s walking down the hall in search of a coffee because he reckons he’s earned one, and he brushes past Wilson walking the other way.
“Wow,” Wilson says, “You look…”
Chase resists the urge to say pretty? because that is a road he does not ever want to go down and instead waits for Wilson to say something.
“…tired,” Wilson finishes.
Chase manages a smile. “I’m starting to think I should actually have moved to Arizona,” he says. “Instead of pretending to just to piss House off.”
“He would still have gotten hold of you,” Wilson shrugs. “Distance is really never an issue for House.”
He smiles that disarmingly charming smile and for a second Chase almost thinks… but no, and the moment thankfully passes.
+
Foreman looks the same as he always does, smart suit, smug expression, although the fact that he’s two floors away from where he should be while drinking coffee from a machine paper cup indicates that all is not well in Diagnostics Land.
Then again, when have things ever been well in Diagnostics Land?
“House isn’t trying to persuade you to sleep with me, is he?” Chase asks, only half-joking. He and Foreman have come to like each other far more now they only spend a few hours a week in each other’s company. They’re still not friends and probably never will be but they’ve progressed from wanting to punch each other every ten minutes, which is a pretty good start.
“Not that I’ve noticed,” Foreman replies. “Though I’m still not sure what he’s up to half the time, so maybe there’s some kind of subliminal messaging underneath the whole ‘I’m going to insult you as often as I can’ thing.”
Chase shrugs. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”
Foreman looks him up and down, a smirk twitching on his lips. Chase’s scrubs are crumpled and his hair feels crushed and flat and he hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep in… ooh, when was it he got fired again?
“Excuse me if I don’t jump you,” Foreman tells him.
Chase reaches for Foreman’s coffee absent-mindedly, and surprisingly enough Foreman actually lets him take it. “Give it time,” he sighs. “And why are you hiding from House anyway?”
“I might not be hiding from House,” Foreman protests mildly.
The coffee is so strong that Chase can feel his head spinning after just one sip. It’s the kind of coffee that people only drink when they’ve been up for forty-eight hours straight or when their lives just aren’t worth living any more. “You’re hiding from House.”
“I’m hiding from House,” Foreman agrees. “He and Cameron are having some kind of discussion in his office and I don’t want to get involved. Plus 13 and Kutner seem to be taking some kind of voyeuristic interest in whatever they’re talking about and it’s claustrophobic enough as it is.”
Cameron and House are talking. Chase can’t help thinking that’s something to do with him.
“I may have told Cameron that House knows she’s still in love with him,” Chase says casually.
Foreman stares at him like he’s crazy. Chase hasn’t had that particular expression aimed at him in a couple of months, and he’s slightly worried when he realises that he’s actually missed it. To his surprise, the first words out of Foreman’s mouth are not but Cameron is your girlfriend so isn’t this kind of shooting yourself in the foot?
“But Cameron doesn’t know that she’s still in love with House,” Foreman points out. “At least, not yet.”
Chase smirks. “Great, huh?”
Foreman frowns. “And what are you trying to achieve?”
“Social experiment,” Chase shrugs.
The incredulous expression on Foreman’s face is absolutely priceless. He takes his coffee back from Chase, still looking disbelieving and kind of scathing.
“What?” Chase says. “You’re not the only one who left House too late to learn any better.”
+
“If I had a watch, I would be tapping it,” House tells him.
“Go away,” Chase mumbles, without much conviction. It’s not going to pay off, after all. “Can’t you go back to stealing Cuddy’s belongings? Or getting other people to do that for you?”
“Cuddy’s changed the locks on her office,” House explains, “I’ve got wait for Foreman the breaking-and-entering expert to figure them out. So I figured you could fill in the time left over.”
“Don’t you think the juvenile delinquency references are a bit tired now?” Chase asks. “I mean, it’s been three and a half years.”
“You don’t mess with a winning formula,” House informs him. “Come on, you’re buying me a coffee.”
Chase obediently walks with House towards the cafeteria, because he is honestly too tired to argue. “I thought you didn’t want to be thought of as ‘formulaic’,” he points out.
“It’s Foreman,” House reminds him. “He likes formulaic. It annoys him more.”
“I bet you have a database somewhere,” Chase sighs, “Full of the different nuances you need to piss everyone off.”
“I’m not nearly as obnoxious as you think I am,” House replies.
“You fired me,” Chase says.
“I wasn’t being obnoxious, I was being kind,” House informs him blithely.
“Sure, firing me without a reference. That was really kind. Almost as kind as not telling me my dad had terminal cancer.”
House rolls his eyes. “At least you didn’t kill anyone this time around,” he shrugs. “And you came to work here anyway, you didn’t need a reference.” He gets a thoughtful expression. “Did you screw Cuddy to get her to rehire you?”
“…No.”
“Did Cameron?”
“I don’t have to buy you a coffee,” Chase tells him.
“You’re pouting,” House observes cheerfully. “You should do that around Wilson. He might even upgrade you from ‘pretty’ to ‘drool-worthy’.”
“Be still my beating heart,” Chase mutters. They get to the cashier and Chase willingly hands over some money for two coffees. House takes his and heads over to a table with a head jerk that implies Chase is going to have to sit down and drink with him. Oh good.
“Nice move with Cameron,” House says as Chase sits down. “Seems kind of masochistic, but then you are the guy who screwed around with a dominatrix. Not forgetting your flammable girlfriend.”
“Wow, vintage mockery,” Chase murmurs. “I haven’t heard about Annette in a while.”
“You started sleeping with Cameron,” House says. “That turned out to be more fun. The gift that never stopped giving. Well, until you told her I knew she was in love with me.”
“Social experiment,” Chase shrugs.
House gives him a look that’s very nearly impressed. Chase smirks, and takes a sip of coffee.
“And what are you trying to achieve with this social experiment?” House enquires.
Chase shakes his head. “No,” he says. A thought occurs to him. “Why are you still pushing me to sleep with Wilson? Shouldn’t you have gotten bored with this by now?”
“At first I wanted to know if you would,” House clarifies. “Now, I’m interested in why you won’t.”
House being interested in things is never good because although he has the attention span of a small child, he doesn’t rest until he gets an answer that satisfies him. This could never end.
Chase is about to tell House that it doesn’t matter what he tries, there is never going to be a different result so he should just go back to trying to persuade 13 and Amber to have sex in the clinic, because that has a slightly higher chance of succeeding, when he realises that House’s attention has been caught by someone entering the cafeteria. Chase gets a feeling in the pit of his stomach that everyone who works for House, no matter how short the space of time they actually stay with him, gets within their first five minutes. Turning around, he sees Wilson, who is making a beeline for their table.
Even though he hates giving in at all to House, Chase murmurs: “I’m due in surgery” and then swiftly heads off. He leaves his coffee behind.
+
“There is no point in playing innocent,” Wilson informs House tightly, sitting down. “You have definitely told Chase something that makes him run away every time I come near him.”
House shrugs in a bored sort of way. “Did I tell you that Chase told Cameron that I know she’s still in love with me?”
“We’re not in high school,” Wilson sighs, “This isn’t passing notes at the back of the class.” Then, what House has said sinks in. “Whoa. Why would he do that?”
House shrugs. “He’s got pretty good money against me hiring 13,” he suggests. “Maybe Chase thinks if he distracts me with Cameron I won’t feel the need to hang around with any more hot women.”
“13 doesn’t even compare to CIA woman,” Wilson says.
House gets a faintly embarrassed look that is worth its weight in gold. Wilson is going to remember that expression next time House is an ass to him. Which will probably be in… ooh, about five minutes’ time.
“She had a name, you know,” House finally manages, wiping the awkward look right off his face. “And people call you the Nice One.”
“I am the Nice One,” Wilson shrugs, picking up Chase’s discarded coffee. “But she made you turn into an idiot which basically makes her a superhero, so I think CIA Woman is as good a name as any.”
House scowls. “Of course,” he says, “Chase might just be very stupid. Or Australian. They think differently to… people.”
“No one thinks like you, House,” Wilson reminds him. And then realises that, once again, he’s let House distract him. Damn. “Talking of your depraved thought processes, seriously, what have you told Chase?”
A smirk that Wilson does not like at all curves across House’s mouth. It is the slightly sinister, slightly smug smirk that all sane people know to run the hell away from. It has never boded well, in the entire history of their friendship.
“It bothers you, doesn’t it?” he says. “The fact that Chase is avoiding you.”
“Chase isn’t avoiding me,” Wilson replies immediately. And then realises that, ok, he and Chase have never exactly been given to socialising or anything, but normally they see each other in the halls and exchange false pleasantries. That kind of thing. Lately, Chase always seems to be leaving rooms and disappearing around corners. Even in scrubs, he’s got a great ass, but…
Oh dear God, Chase is avoiding him.
“What have you told him.” Wilson’s teeth are gritted and the words come out kind of mangled.
“You do care,” House tells him, looking triumphant as he leans back in his chair.
“Weirdly enough, I do mind what my co-workers think about me,” Wilson says sharply.
“Shouldn’t have screwed so many of them then,” House replies immediately. “And that’s not it, by the way.”
“What else would it be?” Wilson demands.
House sighs theatrically in his best you are a mere mortal puppet and today you’re being so very trying, do attempt to keep up kind of way. “Go and ask Chase,” he says.
Wilson frowns suspiciously, trying to work out House’s angle. House always has one, but sometimes it takes a few minutes to work out what it is.
“I was kind of hoping Chase would have told you by now,” House adds, “But since he hasn’t you’d better go confront him.”
“So this is still all part of your great big social experiment?” Wilson doesn’t really need to ask, but he does anyway.
“Duh.” House carries on drinking his coffee. Wilson suddenly wishes that it was spiked with something - laxatives, anti-depressants, cyanide. He’s not picky.
“Can’t you just continue manipulating 13 and Cut-Throat Bitch?” he suggests, without much hope.
“Cut-Throat Bitch brought in an extra doughnut for 13 when she was getting my breakfast the other day,” House replies. “She’s either very slowly poisoning her or trying to get into her panties. Either way will be entertaining.”
“Would it kill you to treat people like people for once?” Wilson asks, just because it’s his job to be Jiminy Cricket. It’s a thankless task without much hope of success; but Wilson is very good at persevering with damn near hopeless situations. He has been married three times, after all.
“Maybe,” House says gravely. “I wouldn’t want to risk it.”
“Says the man who electrocuted himself a few weeks ago.”
+
It’s getting pretty late and Chase isn’t exactly in the mood to go home because he has the nasty suspicion that if he heads home he and Cameron are going to have A Conversation. He brought it on himself, but nonetheless he’s going to stick to his favourite strategy of avoid avoid avoid at all costs. Instead, he hangs around the hospital drinking shitty coffee and procrastinating. It’s less easy to procrastinate now he’s no longer in diagnostics; at least then he had the option of doing House’s paperwork all night.
He’s kind of too tired to run away when Wilson catches him in an empty hallway.
“Don’t you have a home to go to?” Chase asks. “Or a hotel room or whatever?”
“Paperwork,” Wilson shrugs.
“Right.”
It never used to be awkward between them because there just used to be a vague kind of solidarity and mutual lack of interest. But this is definitely awkward.
“What did House tell you?” Wilson asks. He’s doing that earnest expression that is very hard to resist because it gives everyone the feeling that if they do resist, they will ruin Wilson’s entire week. The man is a pro at emotional manipulation, whether he knows he’s doing it or not.
“Nothing,” Chase says quickly.
“Well then, why are you avoiding me?”
“I’m not avoiding you.”
Wilson sighs. “You are very bad at lying, which is weird, ‘cause you’d think that working for House would have made you good at it. But you blink way too much.”
The fact that Wilson knows this is kind of disconcerting.
“Oh,” he mumbles, looking down at his feet.
“You might as well tell me,” Wilson continues. “Because I’m getting pretty sick of that smug look on House’s face and also people are going to get suspicious if you run away every time I get near you.”
This is true. Chase is acting like a teenager and it’s silly and he’s still doing it.
“Fine.” It’s going to sound embarrassing but there’s nothing he can do to fix that. Maybe if he just comes out with it, things will somehow be better. Ripping off the band-aid and everything. “House told me you said you thought that I was pretty.”
He feels himself flushing, which is ridiculous because House really should have stamped out all his shame years ago.
“Oh.” Even Wilson looks kind of floored, which in no way helps. “Well, I didn’t. Not in so many words.”
Even though that is exactly what he was expecting Wilson to say, Chase still feels sort of rejected on a very low, secret level. He resists the urge to ask: but why don’t you think I’m pretty? After all, he still has to work in the same building as the man and he cannot avoid Wilson forever. At least, not without actually moving to Arizona. Hey, maybe he could book a flight in the morning.
“See, that’s what I thought.” Chase manages a smile, and turns away. “I should, uh…” He waves a feeble hand and is about to walk away because he’s already learned that banging his head against brick walls leads pretty much nowhere.
“But I do think you’re pretty,” Wilson informs him. Calm, steady, and apparently not joking. What the hell?
Chase turns back around. “Oh. Right.” He smiles awkwardly. “That last bit… wasn’t meant to happen.”
Wilson shrugs. Chase considers the possibility that he and House spend their lives coming up with new and exciting ways to disconcert people. It would explain a lot.
“You can carry on avoiding me,” Wilson offers. “It’ll be a lot less awkward now we both know why.”
Chase frowns. “What exactly did you say to House in the first place?” he enquires, ignoring Wilson’s suggestion because he’s not sure what to do with it right now.
“Well, House was turning into an idiot in front of CIA Woman,” Wilson informs him. He looks faintly embarrassed, but hell, this whole situation is fairly mortifying. “He wanted to know why Foreman wasn’t, and suggested that he was gay. So I asked if Foreman had ever gone to pieces in front of you.”
“And what House took from that was the fact you think I’m pretty,” Chase says carefully, afraid the universe could implode around him if he doesn’t take this slow. “If you’re about to tell me that Foreman thinks I’m pretty I will actually scream.”
“You’d have to ask Foreman that yourself,” Wilson replies.
“I can see that conversation going so well,” Chase remarks. “‘Hey Foreman, I know this is kind of unexpected, but do you think I’m pretty?’ I think I’d get off lightly if he only punched me once.”
“I won’t punch you,” Wilson says calmly, and Chase becomes aware of two thinks. Firstly, that they’re standing kind of really close together, and secondly, Wilson has that flirtatious spark in his eyes. Chase has never had The James Wilson Flirtatious Spark aimed in his direction, but it’s infamous so he recognises it instantly. Huh.
“Well then,” he murmurs, and realises that Jesus, he is actually flirting back, “Wilson, do you think I’m pretty?”
He doesn’t know exactly what he was expecting as a response, but it wasn’t Wilson cupping his cheek with one steady hand and kissing him. Chase technically does have a girlfriend - or, at the very least, he has a Cameron, which is slightly different - but the chances are he’s either going to lose her to House or she’s going to realise that they really have no long-term future, and anyway, as it turns out, the rumours are true and Wilson is an embarrassingly good kisser. Chase lets his eyes shut, though he thinks he might still be blushing, and just goes with it.
Hell, they might be ok provided that House never ever finds out. He’ll never let them hear the end of it if he finds out that his social experiment actually paid off. But they could be discreet and House doesn’t know everything. It would be highly improbable for him to know everything.
Chase realises that he isn’t fooling anyone.
Fandom: House MD
Pairing: Chase/Wilson (with hints of House/Cameron and Amber/13)
Challenge/Prompt: un_love_you 02. I was wrong about you & fanfic100 029. Birth
Rating: PG-13 (mild sexual references which I’m sure y’all can cope with)
Word Count: 5180
Genre: Slash
Summary: “Wilson thinks you’re pretty. Go do something with that information.”
Author’s Notes: I’ve been ridiculously distracted from my Original OTP lately, but the bitch is back with a vengeance now :D Based on Wilson’s line of dialogue in season 4’s Ugly, because social experiments are all kinds of fun. I’m using the prompt “Birth” because of the whole birth of an idea thing. Still not using 13’s name until UK canon does.
“Wilson thinks you’re pretty,” House says, in lieu of ‘hello’.
Chase is scrubbing out of surgery. He has other people’s blood in places that he does not want other people’s blood, and when he stopped working for House (ok, fine, when House fired him) he kind of had this thought that maybe situations like this would stop happening. Apparently not.
“Oh good,” he murmurs, concentrating on washing his hands and not turning around. “And you’re telling me this because…?”
“It’s a social experiment,” House explains, as though somehow that makes everything entirely ok.
“I don’t work for you,” Chase reminds him. “So you really don’t have the right to use me as a test subject any more. Go torment your team.”
“I already am,” House replies. “I fully expect 13 and Cut-Throat Bitch to be tearing each other’s eyes out by the end of the day. Or having sex in exam room one, you know, one of the two. Preferably the second one.”
“That’s… nice,” Chase says neutrally. And then decides that he’s had enough of this shit over the last four years. He’s done social experiments to death; like the what will happen if we don’t tell Chase that his father is dying and see what happens experiment that ended so beautifully. Even though this one doesn’t immediately look like it’s going to end in lawsuits, one of the most important things he learned from his time in diagnostics is that anything can end in a lawsuit when House gets his hands on it.
“Look,” he begins, “You fired me. Cameron left on her own terms which technically means you can continue playing head games with her, and Foreman is one of your fellows again which means that he’s signed up for letting you do what you want to him. But you fired me, which means you lost interest in me and therefore you lost the right to conduct social experiments with me as the subject.”
House tips his head to one side in order to stare at Chase for a moment.
“I’m sure the mirror you practised that in front of was impressed,” he says. “I’m not. Wilson thinks you’re pretty. Go do something with that information.”
Chase grits his teeth and says nothing.
+
The thing is, Wilson could have said that Chase was pretty. It was probably a passing remark or maybe just a continuation of a conversation topic. It’s highly unlikely that Wilson walked in one morning and announced: House, I think Chase is pretty and by the way could you stop stealing my lunch because I’m getting sick of living on peanut butter sandwiches from the employee lounge. Of course, it’s also entirely possible that House has just made this whole thing up to see what Chase will do because, of course, pissing off Cuddy can become so samey after a while and it’s always fun to torment the people who technically don’t work for you any more but who are still too whipped to say ‘no’.
Not that he wants to do anything with this knowledge. Nothing at all. He and Cameron are pretending to be a happy couple more to irritate those around them than because of any deep and real affection, but it doesn’t make a difference. Chase isn’t stupid enough to screw it up just because Wilson may or may not have said something inadvisable to House once - and oh God he’s obsessing over this just like Cameron did with her highly unconvincing: I love House as a boss. Even though he’s not my boss any more. Have I mentioned I’m engaged? Yeah!
They are so very damn screwed.
+
Chase isn’t hiding from Wilson because they don’t normally see each other. Chase never has any reason to go near the Oncology department, he doesn’t have clinic duty any more, and the surgeons have their own lounge. Therefore he is in no way hiding from him; and anyway, even if he were hiding from him, it wouldn’t matter, because it’s not like Wilson is going to notice.
…And it still really doesn’t matter whether Wilson thinks Chase is pretty or not, because he’s probably sleeping with one of the nurses. That’s what everyone does - even Foreman did, and while he’s not exactly Jesus or anything, he was at least meant to be The Reasonably Good Guy (Chase and Cameron screwed that up, what with the whole inappropriate drug sex thing).
So of course he isn’t avoiding Wilson, because that would be stupid and childish and playing right into House’s hands. However, when Wilson comes up to him in the hall, holding a file and with one of those would you like to help out with my surgery kind of expressions; well, instinct basically takes over. Before he can even think about what he’s doing, Chase fakes a page and practically flees down the corridor in the opposite direction.
As exits go, it lacks things like sense and dignity and has the added bonus of making Chase looks like a complete lunatic. Which is just great.
+
“Chase just went running down the hall like all the hounds of hell were after him,” Wilson says, walking into House’s office. “Since I’m pretty certain I remembered to put deodorant on this morning, I think you must’ve done something.”
“Chase isn’t mine to screw with,” House says dismissively, not taking his eyes off the people in the conference room. “Go chew out those bastards in surgery.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you always let firing people get in the way of screwing with them,” Wilson mutters dryly, walking over to the desk and following House’s line of sight. “Should I ask why you’re perving quite so blatantly over your team? At least with Cameron there was a degree of subtlety.”
The women currently unfortunately known as ‘13’ and ‘Cut-Throat Bitch’ are arguing about something.
“That doesn’t look a lot like foreplay, does it?” House asks conversationally.
Wilson tips his head to one side. “Not unless they’re having some kind of telepathic sex,” he murmurs.
They’re silent for a moment, watching the two women fighting, before turning to look at each other.
“Unlikely,” House says.
“Very unlikely,” Wilson agrees. Then he realises that he’s allowed House’s present form of madness and potential sexual harassment lawsuits to distract him from his original point. “What have you done to Chase?”
House waves a dismissive hand. “Social experiment.”
“That’s not filling me with confidence,” Wilson says carefully.
Social experiment are two of the worst words that can come out of House’s mouth, second only to I’m bored and Your wife-
“What exactly did you tell him?”
House shrugs. “That you’ve got some kind of really infectious form of the clap from that nurse you were screwing in radiology. The exposure to radiation makes it that bit more virulent.”
Wilson gapes a bit. “I… never actually slept with her,” he manages.
“My bad.” House grins at him. “Maybe we could get you one of those leper bells.”
“I do not actually have radioactive syphilis!” Wilson yells a little too loudly. 13 and Amber stop their childish bickering/telepathic foreplay in order to turn around and stare at him. Wilson feels himself flush and House’s bemused expression in no way helps the situation.
“I hate you,” he mutters, turning around for what will either be a dramatic exit or just a plain hissy fit.
“Come on Jimmy,” House calls after him, “We both know you can do better than that!”
+
Cameron is in the ER, putting stitches into the leg of a man who has cleverly managed to get the majority of a broken bottle stuck in his calf. Chase loves the general public.
“House is conducting social experiments,” Chase warns her. “If you see him coming, run for your life.”
“Like you did with Wilson this morning?” Cameron teases him. “You do know there’s no such thing as radioactive syphilis, right?”
The patient looks a mixture of fascinated and revolted, and Chase is about to suggest that they continue their conversation later, and in a more private place, when he remembers that most of their lives have been played out in front of patients and voyeuristic hospital staff, so what the hell.
“What does radioactive syphilis have to do with anything?” Chase frowns. “I think I’m missing something here.”
“That’s what House told you, right?” Cameron asks, turning her attention back to the sutures. “That Wilson caught an STD off one of the radiology nurses?”
For a moment, Chase hates his girlfriend. And then he hates his ex-boss. And his ex-boss’ best friend. And everyone, really. Seriously, this hospital.
“House knows you told the camera crew that you love him,” he shoots back.
“But-but I didn’t mean it like that-” Cameron stammers. Like Chase hasn’t heard this like a million times already.
“He doesn’t know that,” he adds maliciously, watching Cameron flush. Then he turns and walks away, leaving the patient gleefully asking Cameron: so, who’s House then? And for a terrifying moment of megalomania, Chase suddenly realises why House so enjoys conducting social experiments. Sure, it’ll be pretty crap if he loses his girlfriend to House, but then it won’t be entirely unexpected and he could have all kinds of awesome rebound hate sex.
It occurs to him that that’s probably not the attitude to adopt.
And Chase is almost definitely growing up, because he doesn’t run when Wilson corners him outside the ER.
“Look,” he begins, “I don’t have-”
“I know,” Chase grins. “Look, I’ve been sold all kinds of bullshit by House, but I do know better than to believe in radioactive STDs.”
“Oh.” Wilson continues looking slightly uncomfortable. “Right. Well, good.” He frowns. “Then what did House tell you?”
“Nothing,” Chase lies, because he is not getting into this.
“So you’re not avoiding me?”
“Why would I be avoiding you?” All fine, except for the bit where Chase’s voice cracks. That probably doesn’t help.
“Ok.” Wilson turns to go, then turns back, a surprisingly insecure expression crossing his face. “Look, whatever he told you - it’s probably not true, ok?”
Chase just smiles.
+
There’s a certain expression that people get when exposed to House. For those used to seeing him on a regular basis it’s a sort of flinch tinged with resignation, a deadening in the eyes. For those who don’t see him very often but it’s been pretty bad every time they’ve met, the expression is sort of crumpled and considerably more angry. Chase watches it pass over every face in the room as the door slides open.
“I’m elbow deep in a man’s intestines,” he points out. “This is probably not the time to do whatever it is you’re planning on doing.”
To show willing, House has a mask pressed against his face with one hand, though he’s probably trailing all kinds of inappropriate bacteria into the operating theatre with him anyway.
“You didn’t jump Wilson,” House says accusingly.
“I didn’t realise that was the objective,” Chase murmurs, and then realises he probably should have said something like I am engaged to Cameron or possibly the old favourite I am not having this conversation.
“You’ve ruined the social experiment,” House adds. “I’m going to try and draw a graph and there are going to be axes all over the place. How will I present my findings now?”
Chase glances hopefully around to see if he can see anything to bang his head against in frustration. He finds nothing except his colleagues, and they’re probably out.
“Why are you trying to get Wilson laid anyway?” he asks. “Why can’t Wilson manage it He’s done pretty well on his own so far.”
“I’m not trying to get Wilson laid,” House says, tone condescending, as though somehow that should be obvious and Chase has missed something important. It’s the tone he uses during differential diagnoses and Chase finds himself gritting his teeth as though nothing at all has changed. “I wanted you to try and see if you could get him laid. There is a difference.”
“Wilson hasn’t ever shown the slightest bit of interest in me,” Chase says. “Well, other than to tell me he doesn’t have a radioactive STD, which I know for Wilson is practically a declaration of love, but still. Can’t you go back to trying to get your team to claw each other’s eyes out?”
“People might think I’m formulaic,” House says, as though that’s the most offensive thing anyone has said to him ever.
“God forbid,” Chase mutters, and lets the other surgeons order House out of the theatre.
Later, he’s walking down the hall in search of a coffee because he reckons he’s earned one, and he brushes past Wilson walking the other way.
“Wow,” Wilson says, “You look…”
Chase resists the urge to say pretty? because that is a road he does not ever want to go down and instead waits for Wilson to say something.
“…tired,” Wilson finishes.
Chase manages a smile. “I’m starting to think I should actually have moved to Arizona,” he says. “Instead of pretending to just to piss House off.”
“He would still have gotten hold of you,” Wilson shrugs. “Distance is really never an issue for House.”
He smiles that disarmingly charming smile and for a second Chase almost thinks… but no, and the moment thankfully passes.
+
Foreman looks the same as he always does, smart suit, smug expression, although the fact that he’s two floors away from where he should be while drinking coffee from a machine paper cup indicates that all is not well in Diagnostics Land.
Then again, when have things ever been well in Diagnostics Land?
“House isn’t trying to persuade you to sleep with me, is he?” Chase asks, only half-joking. He and Foreman have come to like each other far more now they only spend a few hours a week in each other’s company. They’re still not friends and probably never will be but they’ve progressed from wanting to punch each other every ten minutes, which is a pretty good start.
“Not that I’ve noticed,” Foreman replies. “Though I’m still not sure what he’s up to half the time, so maybe there’s some kind of subliminal messaging underneath the whole ‘I’m going to insult you as often as I can’ thing.”
Chase shrugs. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”
Foreman looks him up and down, a smirk twitching on his lips. Chase’s scrubs are crumpled and his hair feels crushed and flat and he hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep in… ooh, when was it he got fired again?
“Excuse me if I don’t jump you,” Foreman tells him.
Chase reaches for Foreman’s coffee absent-mindedly, and surprisingly enough Foreman actually lets him take it. “Give it time,” he sighs. “And why are you hiding from House anyway?”
“I might not be hiding from House,” Foreman protests mildly.
The coffee is so strong that Chase can feel his head spinning after just one sip. It’s the kind of coffee that people only drink when they’ve been up for forty-eight hours straight or when their lives just aren’t worth living any more. “You’re hiding from House.”
“I’m hiding from House,” Foreman agrees. “He and Cameron are having some kind of discussion in his office and I don’t want to get involved. Plus 13 and Kutner seem to be taking some kind of voyeuristic interest in whatever they’re talking about and it’s claustrophobic enough as it is.”
Cameron and House are talking. Chase can’t help thinking that’s something to do with him.
“I may have told Cameron that House knows she’s still in love with him,” Chase says casually.
Foreman stares at him like he’s crazy. Chase hasn’t had that particular expression aimed at him in a couple of months, and he’s slightly worried when he realises that he’s actually missed it. To his surprise, the first words out of Foreman’s mouth are not but Cameron is your girlfriend so isn’t this kind of shooting yourself in the foot?
“But Cameron doesn’t know that she’s still in love with House,” Foreman points out. “At least, not yet.”
Chase smirks. “Great, huh?”
Foreman frowns. “And what are you trying to achieve?”
“Social experiment,” Chase shrugs.
The incredulous expression on Foreman’s face is absolutely priceless. He takes his coffee back from Chase, still looking disbelieving and kind of scathing.
“What?” Chase says. “You’re not the only one who left House too late to learn any better.”
+
“If I had a watch, I would be tapping it,” House tells him.
“Go away,” Chase mumbles, without much conviction. It’s not going to pay off, after all. “Can’t you go back to stealing Cuddy’s belongings? Or getting other people to do that for you?”
“Cuddy’s changed the locks on her office,” House explains, “I’ve got wait for Foreman the breaking-and-entering expert to figure them out. So I figured you could fill in the time left over.”
“Don’t you think the juvenile delinquency references are a bit tired now?” Chase asks. “I mean, it’s been three and a half years.”
“You don’t mess with a winning formula,” House informs him. “Come on, you’re buying me a coffee.”
Chase obediently walks with House towards the cafeteria, because he is honestly too tired to argue. “I thought you didn’t want to be thought of as ‘formulaic’,” he points out.
“It’s Foreman,” House reminds him. “He likes formulaic. It annoys him more.”
“I bet you have a database somewhere,” Chase sighs, “Full of the different nuances you need to piss everyone off.”
“I’m not nearly as obnoxious as you think I am,” House replies.
“You fired me,” Chase says.
“I wasn’t being obnoxious, I was being kind,” House informs him blithely.
“Sure, firing me without a reference. That was really kind. Almost as kind as not telling me my dad had terminal cancer.”
House rolls his eyes. “At least you didn’t kill anyone this time around,” he shrugs. “And you came to work here anyway, you didn’t need a reference.” He gets a thoughtful expression. “Did you screw Cuddy to get her to rehire you?”
“…No.”
“Did Cameron?”
“I don’t have to buy you a coffee,” Chase tells him.
“You’re pouting,” House observes cheerfully. “You should do that around Wilson. He might even upgrade you from ‘pretty’ to ‘drool-worthy’.”
“Be still my beating heart,” Chase mutters. They get to the cashier and Chase willingly hands over some money for two coffees. House takes his and heads over to a table with a head jerk that implies Chase is going to have to sit down and drink with him. Oh good.
“Nice move with Cameron,” House says as Chase sits down. “Seems kind of masochistic, but then you are the guy who screwed around with a dominatrix. Not forgetting your flammable girlfriend.”
“Wow, vintage mockery,” Chase murmurs. “I haven’t heard about Annette in a while.”
“You started sleeping with Cameron,” House says. “That turned out to be more fun. The gift that never stopped giving. Well, until you told her I knew she was in love with me.”
“Social experiment,” Chase shrugs.
House gives him a look that’s very nearly impressed. Chase smirks, and takes a sip of coffee.
“And what are you trying to achieve with this social experiment?” House enquires.
Chase shakes his head. “No,” he says. A thought occurs to him. “Why are you still pushing me to sleep with Wilson? Shouldn’t you have gotten bored with this by now?”
“At first I wanted to know if you would,” House clarifies. “Now, I’m interested in why you won’t.”
House being interested in things is never good because although he has the attention span of a small child, he doesn’t rest until he gets an answer that satisfies him. This could never end.
Chase is about to tell House that it doesn’t matter what he tries, there is never going to be a different result so he should just go back to trying to persuade 13 and Amber to have sex in the clinic, because that has a slightly higher chance of succeeding, when he realises that House’s attention has been caught by someone entering the cafeteria. Chase gets a feeling in the pit of his stomach that everyone who works for House, no matter how short the space of time they actually stay with him, gets within their first five minutes. Turning around, he sees Wilson, who is making a beeline for their table.
Even though he hates giving in at all to House, Chase murmurs: “I’m due in surgery” and then swiftly heads off. He leaves his coffee behind.
+
“There is no point in playing innocent,” Wilson informs House tightly, sitting down. “You have definitely told Chase something that makes him run away every time I come near him.”
House shrugs in a bored sort of way. “Did I tell you that Chase told Cameron that I know she’s still in love with me?”
“We’re not in high school,” Wilson sighs, “This isn’t passing notes at the back of the class.” Then, what House has said sinks in. “Whoa. Why would he do that?”
House shrugs. “He’s got pretty good money against me hiring 13,” he suggests. “Maybe Chase thinks if he distracts me with Cameron I won’t feel the need to hang around with any more hot women.”
“13 doesn’t even compare to CIA woman,” Wilson says.
House gets a faintly embarrassed look that is worth its weight in gold. Wilson is going to remember that expression next time House is an ass to him. Which will probably be in… ooh, about five minutes’ time.
“She had a name, you know,” House finally manages, wiping the awkward look right off his face. “And people call you the Nice One.”
“I am the Nice One,” Wilson shrugs, picking up Chase’s discarded coffee. “But she made you turn into an idiot which basically makes her a superhero, so I think CIA Woman is as good a name as any.”
House scowls. “Of course,” he says, “Chase might just be very stupid. Or Australian. They think differently to… people.”
“No one thinks like you, House,” Wilson reminds him. And then realises that, once again, he’s let House distract him. Damn. “Talking of your depraved thought processes, seriously, what have you told Chase?”
A smirk that Wilson does not like at all curves across House’s mouth. It is the slightly sinister, slightly smug smirk that all sane people know to run the hell away from. It has never boded well, in the entire history of their friendship.
“It bothers you, doesn’t it?” he says. “The fact that Chase is avoiding you.”
“Chase isn’t avoiding me,” Wilson replies immediately. And then realises that, ok, he and Chase have never exactly been given to socialising or anything, but normally they see each other in the halls and exchange false pleasantries. That kind of thing. Lately, Chase always seems to be leaving rooms and disappearing around corners. Even in scrubs, he’s got a great ass, but…
Oh dear God, Chase is avoiding him.
“What have you told him.” Wilson’s teeth are gritted and the words come out kind of mangled.
“You do care,” House tells him, looking triumphant as he leans back in his chair.
“Weirdly enough, I do mind what my co-workers think about me,” Wilson says sharply.
“Shouldn’t have screwed so many of them then,” House replies immediately. “And that’s not it, by the way.”
“What else would it be?” Wilson demands.
House sighs theatrically in his best you are a mere mortal puppet and today you’re being so very trying, do attempt to keep up kind of way. “Go and ask Chase,” he says.
Wilson frowns suspiciously, trying to work out House’s angle. House always has one, but sometimes it takes a few minutes to work out what it is.
“I was kind of hoping Chase would have told you by now,” House adds, “But since he hasn’t you’d better go confront him.”
“So this is still all part of your great big social experiment?” Wilson doesn’t really need to ask, but he does anyway.
“Duh.” House carries on drinking his coffee. Wilson suddenly wishes that it was spiked with something - laxatives, anti-depressants, cyanide. He’s not picky.
“Can’t you just continue manipulating 13 and Cut-Throat Bitch?” he suggests, without much hope.
“Cut-Throat Bitch brought in an extra doughnut for 13 when she was getting my breakfast the other day,” House replies. “She’s either very slowly poisoning her or trying to get into her panties. Either way will be entertaining.”
“Would it kill you to treat people like people for once?” Wilson asks, just because it’s his job to be Jiminy Cricket. It’s a thankless task without much hope of success; but Wilson is very good at persevering with damn near hopeless situations. He has been married three times, after all.
“Maybe,” House says gravely. “I wouldn’t want to risk it.”
“Says the man who electrocuted himself a few weeks ago.”
+
It’s getting pretty late and Chase isn’t exactly in the mood to go home because he has the nasty suspicion that if he heads home he and Cameron are going to have A Conversation. He brought it on himself, but nonetheless he’s going to stick to his favourite strategy of avoid avoid avoid at all costs. Instead, he hangs around the hospital drinking shitty coffee and procrastinating. It’s less easy to procrastinate now he’s no longer in diagnostics; at least then he had the option of doing House’s paperwork all night.
He’s kind of too tired to run away when Wilson catches him in an empty hallway.
“Don’t you have a home to go to?” Chase asks. “Or a hotel room or whatever?”
“Paperwork,” Wilson shrugs.
“Right.”
It never used to be awkward between them because there just used to be a vague kind of solidarity and mutual lack of interest. But this is definitely awkward.
“What did House tell you?” Wilson asks. He’s doing that earnest expression that is very hard to resist because it gives everyone the feeling that if they do resist, they will ruin Wilson’s entire week. The man is a pro at emotional manipulation, whether he knows he’s doing it or not.
“Nothing,” Chase says quickly.
“Well then, why are you avoiding me?”
“I’m not avoiding you.”
Wilson sighs. “You are very bad at lying, which is weird, ‘cause you’d think that working for House would have made you good at it. But you blink way too much.”
The fact that Wilson knows this is kind of disconcerting.
“Oh,” he mumbles, looking down at his feet.
“You might as well tell me,” Wilson continues. “Because I’m getting pretty sick of that smug look on House’s face and also people are going to get suspicious if you run away every time I get near you.”
This is true. Chase is acting like a teenager and it’s silly and he’s still doing it.
“Fine.” It’s going to sound embarrassing but there’s nothing he can do to fix that. Maybe if he just comes out with it, things will somehow be better. Ripping off the band-aid and everything. “House told me you said you thought that I was pretty.”
He feels himself flushing, which is ridiculous because House really should have stamped out all his shame years ago.
“Oh.” Even Wilson looks kind of floored, which in no way helps. “Well, I didn’t. Not in so many words.”
Even though that is exactly what he was expecting Wilson to say, Chase still feels sort of rejected on a very low, secret level. He resists the urge to ask: but why don’t you think I’m pretty? After all, he still has to work in the same building as the man and he cannot avoid Wilson forever. At least, not without actually moving to Arizona. Hey, maybe he could book a flight in the morning.
“See, that’s what I thought.” Chase manages a smile, and turns away. “I should, uh…” He waves a feeble hand and is about to walk away because he’s already learned that banging his head against brick walls leads pretty much nowhere.
“But I do think you’re pretty,” Wilson informs him. Calm, steady, and apparently not joking. What the hell?
Chase turns back around. “Oh. Right.” He smiles awkwardly. “That last bit… wasn’t meant to happen.”
Wilson shrugs. Chase considers the possibility that he and House spend their lives coming up with new and exciting ways to disconcert people. It would explain a lot.
“You can carry on avoiding me,” Wilson offers. “It’ll be a lot less awkward now we both know why.”
Chase frowns. “What exactly did you say to House in the first place?” he enquires, ignoring Wilson’s suggestion because he’s not sure what to do with it right now.
“Well, House was turning into an idiot in front of CIA Woman,” Wilson informs him. He looks faintly embarrassed, but hell, this whole situation is fairly mortifying. “He wanted to know why Foreman wasn’t, and suggested that he was gay. So I asked if Foreman had ever gone to pieces in front of you.”
“And what House took from that was the fact you think I’m pretty,” Chase says carefully, afraid the universe could implode around him if he doesn’t take this slow. “If you’re about to tell me that Foreman thinks I’m pretty I will actually scream.”
“You’d have to ask Foreman that yourself,” Wilson replies.
“I can see that conversation going so well,” Chase remarks. “‘Hey Foreman, I know this is kind of unexpected, but do you think I’m pretty?’ I think I’d get off lightly if he only punched me once.”
“I won’t punch you,” Wilson says calmly, and Chase becomes aware of two thinks. Firstly, that they’re standing kind of really close together, and secondly, Wilson has that flirtatious spark in his eyes. Chase has never had The James Wilson Flirtatious Spark aimed in his direction, but it’s infamous so he recognises it instantly. Huh.
“Well then,” he murmurs, and realises that Jesus, he is actually flirting back, “Wilson, do you think I’m pretty?”
He doesn’t know exactly what he was expecting as a response, but it wasn’t Wilson cupping his cheek with one steady hand and kissing him. Chase technically does have a girlfriend - or, at the very least, he has a Cameron, which is slightly different - but the chances are he’s either going to lose her to House or she’s going to realise that they really have no long-term future, and anyway, as it turns out, the rumours are true and Wilson is an embarrassingly good kisser. Chase lets his eyes shut, though he thinks he might still be blushing, and just goes with it.
Hell, they might be ok provided that House never ever finds out. He’ll never let them hear the end of it if he finds out that his social experiment actually paid off. But they could be discreet and House doesn’t know everything. It would be highly improbable for him to know everything.
Chase realises that he isn’t fooling anyone.