Release by Haldane
Title: Release
Author: Haldane
Pairing: Chase/House.
Rating: R
Note: Set shortly after Chase returns from his week's suspension in Mistake. For plot purposes I'm ignoring the scene between Chase and Cameron in Hunting. Not my characters. No profit being made, no harm intended.
Prompt: How did Chase deal with finding out that his father died of cancer and that House and Wilson knew about it? Must have happy or at least a happyish ending but can have as much angst wanted until the ending. Chase/House or Chase/Wilson or Chase/House/Wilson.
===============
Release.
"You are aware that your contract here has another four months to run." Dr. Cuddy was cool and formal, almost remote, fully in her Dean persona. "And that breaking your contract short will seriously affect your ability to gain another position."
"Yes. I'll settle for a transfer to another department and work out my time if you insist on it, but I'd rather leave. I can't - I don't want to work in close association with Dr. House any longer."
"In that case, I could always assign you to the clinic for four months." Cuddy said dryly. "Now are you going to tell me what, exactly, has caused this? I mean," she added, lifting one hand to prevent interruptions, "the real reason you want to leave. Specifics. I already have the official version here." One manicured fingernail tapped the letter lying on her desk, next to the manila folder from Personnel. She could have simply signed off on the resignation request, but she didn't particularly want to lose this one. There was more to this situation than had so far been said. If she was going to put up a convincing case for staying, she needed to know which straw had proven to be the one too many.
"It's not the what, it's the why. House has done some really unbelievable things, but they're mostly either to do with a case or at least with making us perform as he thinks we should. Do something stupid, and he picks it up and slaps you in the face with it, that I can live with. But this time... " the voice trailed off into silence.
Cuddy frowned, not at the young doctor struggling for words in front of her, but at the volume of traffic still present in the halls beyond. There wouldn't be any revelations if an interruption occurred now. She got up and closed the internal blinds of her office, and before sitting down again, pressed a button on her phone so that her calls would be transferred to voicemail until further notice.
"Okay. Now or never, Chase. Spill it."
Chase drew one deep breath and the words started, running over each other as if he was afraid that, if he paused, he'd never be able to get going again. "When I look at him, all I can think is that he trailed me around the hospital with bated breath for two months, knowing I was going to fuck up and curious as to how big it would be. If he'd told me, I would have had time to get used to the idea, but it wouldn't have been so interesting that way. If that's how things are done at the high rollers' table, I don't want to play anymore."
The drawn blinds gave them privacy, but also prevented them from seeing into the outer part of the office. Neither of them was aware of House limping through the door from the hallway and pausing to look thoughtfully at the screened glass. He pulled up a chair and slumped down into it, the very picture of a bored man waiting his turn for a busy administrator's attention.
When it seemed his arrival had gone unnoticed, he slipped a stethoscope from his pocket. He placed it in his ears backwards, so it hung behind him, making it effectively invisible to anyone looking in from the hallway. His right hand twirled his cane idly in trademark fashion, while his left reached behind the back of the chair and pressed the chestpiece against the glass.
It's easier to be omniscient if you cheat.
"Are you blaming House for Kayla McGinty's death?" The question was posed completely neutrally, giving no indication of her own opinion.
"No. She was my patient; it was my mistake, my fault. If he hadn't known at all about my dad, it would have fallen out exactly the same. But now I know he could have prevented it. He put the chance to have fun watching me crash and burn ahead of the possible cost of it, and I can't work with him."
Cuddy sighed. It wasn't surprising that Chase would see things this way, especially after a week's suspension with nothing to do but brood over all the what-ifs possible. She wondered if she could change his mind, or if he was locked into his own explanation. She had really hoped that Diagnostics had achieved a stable staff, doctors who could work with House and whom he would tolerate. With the right environment, House's results were astonishing, but if Chase left and Diagnostics had to be rearranged again...
"I don't think you're being completely fair to House. Yes, he plays games, and yes, they get out of hand sometimes. But I honestly don't think that's what happened this time. If it had been anybody but your father, he would probably been able to handle it."
"He would have been able to handle it? It was my dad dying! What does it being my dad have to do with it?"
"House has been engaged in a serious rupture with his father since before you were born. Put "problems" or "issues" and "father" into one sentence, and it's like, oh, putting a ten-foot hedge in front of a horse. I can't speak for him, but as someone who's known him for a long time, my guess would be he intended to tell you. But he put it off, and then he forgot, then he remembered but it wasn't a good time or you weren't there, and he put if off again...
"And then there is your reaction to consider. If you didn't care, then there's no reason to tell you, but if you fell apart right in front of him, he would have had to do something about it, and House doesn't do emotions well. I'm not saying he thought all this through consciously, but subconsciously, delaying in telling you meant he wasn't there when the shit hit the fan. It's partly plain bad luck that you were in the clinic when the call came through. You could just have easily been at home or in the office or anywhere else."
"So you're defending him too." Chase's voice was dead, as if some last hope had been extinguished.
"Of the charge of malicious intent, yes. But if you want to call it cowardice or selfishness, I won't argue with you.
"Look, Chase, you've only been back at work for one day... Would you like to take some leave and think about it a bit longer? Actually," and Cuddy frowned for a moment, then opened Chase's personnel file again, "you didn't put in for any leave at the time. You're automatically entitled to bereavement leave, and I would have thought you needed to go to Sydney. "
"More correctly, I did put in for leave, and then cancelled it." Chase's voice could not have held less expression if he had been discussing the weather.
"Why?'
"You don't know? I assumed you did. It's not like House to keep his little victories quiet." Chase leaned forwards and stared directly into Cuddy's eyes. "I set about arranging for flights and leave and everything, but when I hadn't heard from my stepmother again after two days, I called to get the details. She informed me that she had called me at work the day before, only to be told that I was at home, stoned and hung over from raging all night at a massive party, having such a good time that they hadn't the heart to tear me away from the strippers I was dancing with to get me home at any reasonable hour. Since this was, and I quote, "a senior person in my department", she believed him completely, and informed me that my presence in Sydney was unwelcome, and to make sure of it she refused to tell me a thing about the arrangements for my father's funeral."
Chase broke away from the desk, shifting restlessly to stare out the window at nothing in particular. "So now he's in a billion little ashes scattered somewhere in the bush, and all my family and his friends think I couldn't be stuffed turning up to say goodbye to him. I was twenty minutes late into work that day; I never even knew there had been a call for me."
"She didn't believe you instead of somebody she'd never met?"
Chase shrugged. "She's only met me twice. It's not like she knows me. Given how far away I moved the minute I had the chance, she's hardly going to give me the benefit of the doubt. At the time I put it down to a prank with cosmically bad timing. It looks different now, that House could take a call for me from Sydney and use it for his stupid games, knowing as much as he did."
"I didn't know it was from Sydney." Both heads whipped around and stared at House, standing in the open doorway. "It came to me from the switch, it was just this woman asking for Dr. Robert Chase. She sounded young, uncertain of herself; I thought it was some girl you'd met in a bar who was chasing you through work, since you hadn't given her your home number."
House looked like his usual self to Chase; Cuddy, who knew him better, could see he was uncomfortable with the consequences of his carelessness. His actions had caused more ripples than he had been expecting. With Chase's letter of resignation of the table, the possible total cost here was definitely too high.
"I'm sorry, I thought this was in confidence." Chase opted for utter blandness, giving House no edges to work on. He rose from his chair, and nodded to Cuddy. "I'll come back later. I'm sure Dr. House has something much more important to talk to you about." He was polite to the point of being insulting.
House refused to bite, holding his position in the doorway. He hated being on the defensive, and it made him even more snappish than usual. "Is that true? About your father's funeral?"
"Why don't you call my stepmother back? I'm sure she'd be delighted to hear more negative stories about me, true or just made up. You two could talk for hours." Chase's pain and bitterness was clear in every word.
House scowled, knowing he was holding the weaker hand. "Don't be a complete ass, you know it wasn't meant to be taken seriously. Even you put it down to bad luck."
"And that's supposed to make me feel so much better? Except that would involve you actually caring about how I feel." Chase shook his head.
"I don't," House retorted with brutal honesty. "What I care about is my section running as it should, without your feelings getting in the way. Doctors work better without them."
"Well, that makes it easier. For a moment there, I actually thought you were trying to patch up some of the damage you've done." Chase turned to Cuddy. "I'll work out my four months, wherever I'm put. But the letter stays."
"Fine. I happen to need an intensivist in Diagnostics." Cuddy waited for the explosion, or at least an argument of some sort. She was oddly disturbed when Chase merely nodded and left. She turned to House, who was also frowning.
"Did I just miss something?" she asked.
"I don't know. If you did, I missed it too."
"I know you're only going to respond with some tactless, useless and unreassuring comment, but I'll ask anyway: would you be just the tiniest bit careful around Chase? I don't need a second loose cannon around here."
When House left without making the expected sharp rejoinder, Cuddy felt even more disturbed.
==========================
Chase returned to Diagnostics, doing the tasks he was assigned without comment and keeping his head down. He blocked off all attempts, well-meaning or otherwise, to talk about his father or his suspension. He appeared to be operating on a kind of autopilot, doing his job and then disappearing at the end of the day. He was there on time every morning, with no evidence of hangovers or other forms of self-abuse, but he wasn't himself. In a larger department it might not have mattered so much, but being such a small group, they all felt the strain.
Chase himself didn't know what was different about the day things changed. Just something about the direction he was already moving, combined with the sight of Wilson crossing the corridor in front of him, headed towards his office. Wilson, who hadn't spoken a word to him in the last month. Chase sped up and turned right.
He opened the door to Wilson's office without knocking and walked in. Wilson looked up, smile fading as he saw Chase.
"What, thought I was House?"
"Well, he's usually the only one who doesn't knock. Did... you want to see me about something?"
"No, in fact I don't want to see you at all." Chase knew this was going past the limits of tolerable rudeness, but the festering hurt in his chest insisted on being expressed. "But I thought perhaps we could have a word about doctor-patient confidentiality. You kept my father's cancer secret from me, but had fun gossiping about him with your best friend?"
Wilson stood up, but didn't come around from behind his desk. He hadn't seen Chase like this before, but it wasn't the first time he'd been threatened by someone with too much pain and anger to control. "It wasn't like that. You know House has his ways of finding things out, whether you tell him or not. I didn't tell him; your father did."
"And you can tell me to my face that you never mentioned it between yourselves?" Chase read Wilson's silence accurately, and laughed, short and bitter. "Thought so."
"Chase, it was your father's wishes not to tell you. I-"
Chase interrupted before Wilson got any further. "My father's wishes! Yes, that's a nice excuse to hide behind. Since when has House felt bound by anyone's wishes? Or somehow my father whom you'd never met before is more important than someone you work with? Didn't either of you think about me?" He stopped slightly too late; he hadn't meant to say it like that. "Not at a personal level; I know you don't like me. But as a colleague, you sat on something that was going to impact on me professionally. Did you keep it back to watch me screw up?"
Wilson planted his palms on the desk and leaned forwards. "You were lazy and careless," he said coldly. "This wasn't my doing; you fucked up just fine all by yourself."
Chase never had a conscious recollection of his next move. It was as if he was watching somebody else, as he balled up his right hand and punched Wilson straight in the face. Wilson fell back, one hand pressing his cheekbone, and both men stared at each other in shock. Chase's mouth twisted in a grimace of disgust, at himself or at Wilson, or both, and he left the room without speaking again.
=======================
Chase was hardly surprised when the knock came at his door that evening. He'd been wondering how long it would take House to come after him.
"Took you long enough. Have trouble with the traffic?"
"What the hell gave you the right to take things out on Wilson?" House snapped while he was still in the doorway.
"Well, let's see. You knew, and Wilson knew, and both of you knew I didn't know my father was going to die, and neither of you thought that perhaps I should be told? I don't see how he's any less to blame than you, unless he wanted to tell me and you ordered him not to."
"I - " House broke off. He moved into the hallway and shut the door behind him, while Chase backed up a few paces. House didn't want to be here, didn't want to be having this conversation, but the afternoon's events had forced his hand. Wilson was uneasy enough about his own role to prefer avoiding official attention, but Chase was obviously closer to his emotional edge than they had realized and that had to be dealt with.
Given the outcome the last time Chase had been seriously upset while at the hospital, House had chosen to thrash out the issue after work. Making a mistake was one thing; making the same one again was just stupidity.
"I carry more responsibility than Wilson does. You're in my department, not his." Chase started to speak, but House cut him off. "Cuddy was right - and your existence is terminated the day she finds out I said so - I didn't want to tell you, so I shoved it off and thought maybe I wouldn't have to. And Wilson was bound by doctor/patient confidentiality, even if I wasn't."
"Does that mean I'm actually going to get an apology?"
"If you do, will you retract your resignation?"
"No." Chase folded his arms and shook his head. "If I have to purchase an apology by making concessions, it's worth nothing. I'd never believe you meant it. The letter stays."
"Then there's not much point, is there? If the outcome's the same if I do or I don't, why bother?" House turned around in the front hall and limped two paces back towards the door.
He wasn't expecting Chase's weight to hit him; one hand wrenched the cane from his grip while a foot kicked the back of his good knee so that he tumbled face down on the floor. Chase dropped onto the small of his back, tossing the cane away down the hall and pressing his weight on House's shoulders. Chase was smaller and lighter, but his leverage advantage was enough to make House hesitate before trying to fight his way up.
"You owe me! It's nothing to do with what you get out of it, it's to do with the wrong you've done. But you can't admit you were wrong, so you're running away. That's what you do. You run away from things you don't like. What happens when you can't? That's what happened to me; I would have run away if I could have, but I got trapped and made a decision from what was in front of my face. Now you can't run away; what are you going to do? Tell me!" Chase was nearly hysterical, yelling his words and gasping for air.
House waited until he was certain Chase had finished, but even then he wasn't sure he'd be heard. He'd known Chase was close to breaking; still he'd underestimated how badly damaged the younger man was by the repeated blows of the past six months. House took a deep breath and accepted his share the blame for that damage. "I'm sorry," he finally said into the floor. It hurt less than he had been expecting it to.
Chase waited, but nothing else was forthcoming. "That's it? No evasions, no qualifications, no excuses? That's it?"
"Can I get up?"
"No!"
"Okay, okay. Just let me roll over, will you?" Chase eased back a little, still suspicious, but House merely rolled onto his back and made no attempt to rise. This time House spoke to Chase's face, and he repeated: "I'm sorry. I should have told you."
Chase's hands were so tightly clenched that House almost expected to hear the small bones breaking. His eyes were squeezed shut to the point that the lids were almost invisible, and his teeth were set into his lower lip, hard enough to bruise or tear the skin. His entire body was trembling with muscular tension, and House saw one tiny glint at the corner of one eye, no more.
"And you're right about something else. Sometimes you just have to make a decision based on what's unavoidably in front of you." House levered himself up and wrapped Chase in both arms, a contact he normally would have shunned but felt compelled to offer in the face of such pain. House wondered if Chase had had a kind word or gesture from anybody during this whole business.
Chase registered the simple human contact first, and pressed into the hug without thinking, feeling only a desperate need for affection in whatever guise it came. When it suddenly dawned on him that it was House holding him, he flinched and pulled back; there was no way House would want to be doing this.
"You want me to let go?" House asked, loosening his hold without releasing Chase completely. There were not going to be any more miscommunications if he could help it. At least not today.
"No," Chase said honestly. "But I figured you're not into comfort, and I'd rather not have you hugging me if you don't want to."
"It takes two to tango," House agreed. "And in general, you're right. Consider this to be an exception." And he pulled Chase closer, the hug easing his own permanent inner tension in a way he hadn't expected.
House would have stopped if Chase had shown any signs of wanting him to; but as long as Chase was happy to be in his lap he was happy to provide a lap for him. They'd already completely muddied the ethical boundaries normally existing between employees with negative results all around. Why stop when things felt good?
Chase was almost afraid to relax in case House decided he didn't need any more comforting. But as he let himself gradually unwind, House kept him close, using his greater height and reach to fold Chase into his own body as much as possible. Chase's head rested on House's shoulder, his arms simply linked behind House's back. House was more active; one hand stroked Chase's hair and the other ran slowly up and down Chase's spine.
It had been much too long since Chase had been the subject of caresses; whether House intended it or not he was responding, comfort giving way to arousal. He knew it was inappropriate, but he wanted more. House always polarized people; you either hated him or found him fascinating, but nobody was indifferent. Chase was squarely in the fascinated group, but had put House on the "out of reach" shelf ages ago.
At least he knew one thing; House hated equivocation. If Chase wanted him, his best bet was to come straight out and make it obvious. He slid one hand up behind House's head, and then pressed his lips into the warm skin only an inch away, just above where the t-shirt stopped.
The hands touching him froze. Chase continued, placing a line of kisses along House's neck, licking and sucking gently, giving it his best shot. He wasn't going to stop out of fear of what House might do; he'd declared his position and would stick to it unless House expressly objected. When no objection came, he placed a last kiss on the corner of House's mouth.
House knew perfectly well what the rules said about sex and subordinates. He also knew what the rules said about informed consent, patient confidentiality, and all those other things that had been made up to make his job more difficult. Chase was coming on to him, not the other way around, and he had no intention of saying "no". They were outside the hospital and out of hours; it was none of the hospital's business.
House only had to move his head a little to catch Chase's ready mouth with his. Chase moaned, in pleasure and relief, and parted his lips so that House could deepen the kiss between them. Chase was still seated across the tops of House's thighs, and he pressed forwards a little so the stirring bulge in his pants was in contact with House's warmth. House smiled and ran his hand down all the way to Chase's ass, pulling him in even closer.
Now Chase could feel the physical reaction in House as well; he pushed his hips down, grinding into the erection he could feel growing under his attentions. Sitting up was going to be awkward shortly, so he pushed back on House's shoulders, waiting until House understood what he was asking and lay back, Chase full-length on top of him. Then, thinking carefully to make sure he got the geometry right, Chase rolled onto his right side, so that they lay face-to-face with House's weight on his good leg.
"Hmm," House hummed approvingly, reaching down between them to feel the solid erection now straining the front of Chase's jeans. He managed the fly and button one-handed, as with a small amount of assistance Chase's prick sprang free into his hand. "Nice. Very nice."
"Nice move. Bet you can't do it again." Chase mumbled, lips still busy around House's face and neck. House snorted at the transparency of the ploy, but loosened his own pants anyway.
Chase nipped gently at a convenient earlobe, and then gasped as House wrapped both bare pricks together in his hand and squeezed. He'd never felt anything like it, the soft/hard combination of skin and swollen flesh, and the rim of another's head rubbing the hypersensitive edge of his own.
Chase couldn't speak as House began stroking for real, but his hand had just room enough to slide into House's jeans and curl around his balls. Chase rolled them in his palm through the thin fabric of the boxer shorts, fingertips rubbing on the skin behind and to each side.
House made a sound that came out as "Gnghkmnhm", which Chase accurately translated as "Stop that or I'm going to come in about two seconds". Chase smiled, and kept going, smile changing to a smirk and House groaned and thrust hard, once, twice, and came.
The smirk would have become a laugh, except that the hand on him was suddenly hot, wet, and slippery where it held him, and Chase was thrusting uncontrollably as he climaxed in turn.
Sometimes I think this is the best bit, Chase thought a bit fuzzily as he just lay there, emptied out and relaxed, with the warmth of another next to him. The silence stretched out for a while, both of them comfortable with it.
"Am I forgiven?"
"Am I?"
House considered the matter for a moment. "How about we wipe the slate clean and start again from this point?"
"Yeah. I could go for that." Chase knew he wasn't going to get any better offers. Starting again sounded like as good an idea as any.
"Speaking of wiping things clean-," House said pointedly, and Chase rolled to his feet.
"I can get you a facewasher," he offered.
"It's not my face that needs washing," House leered back at him.
"Okay, a... a washcloth. I'll get you a washcloth." Chase headed for the bathroom to run hot water on two washcloths and wring them out.
"Bloody Australian."
"At least you've worked out which country I come from," came floating back from the bathroom. "Took you long enough."
House smiled inwardly. It was always more fun when they fought back. He accepted the cloth from Chase and straightened himself up. "You know you're going to have to speak to Wilson again sometime. I imagine he'd probably also go for an agreement to call it square between you." He stopped to see how Chase was taking this idea. "If you want I can set something up, time and place and all that."
"I suppose..." Chase was reluctant to go through another emotional confrontation, but knew it would be easier in the long run if he and Wilson could get along without friction. Then he added frankly, "I don't know if it would be better or worse to have you there."
"Oh, I'll be there. Given just how nicely you kiss and make up, I don't want to miss it when it happens."
Chase looked sharply at him. House's expression was neutral-but-slightly-encouraging, like any good mediator just trying to be helpful, but as Chase watched, House smirked and he swept his hand up to cover a patently fake cough. Chase couldn't help himself; he started laughing.
"I'll withdraw my resignation on one condition," Chase said, watching House's expression darken at the word 'condition'. "That you don't try to help me patch things up with Wilson."
House didn't laugh, but he grinned, and Chase grinned back.
Author: Haldane
Pairing: Chase/House.
Rating: R
Note: Set shortly after Chase returns from his week's suspension in Mistake. For plot purposes I'm ignoring the scene between Chase and Cameron in Hunting. Not my characters. No profit being made, no harm intended.
Prompt: How did Chase deal with finding out that his father died of cancer and that House and Wilson knew about it? Must have happy or at least a happyish ending but can have as much angst wanted until the ending. Chase/House or Chase/Wilson or Chase/House/Wilson.
===============
Release.
"You are aware that your contract here has another four months to run." Dr. Cuddy was cool and formal, almost remote, fully in her Dean persona. "And that breaking your contract short will seriously affect your ability to gain another position."
"Yes. I'll settle for a transfer to another department and work out my time if you insist on it, but I'd rather leave. I can't - I don't want to work in close association with Dr. House any longer."
"In that case, I could always assign you to the clinic for four months." Cuddy said dryly. "Now are you going to tell me what, exactly, has caused this? I mean," she added, lifting one hand to prevent interruptions, "the real reason you want to leave. Specifics. I already have the official version here." One manicured fingernail tapped the letter lying on her desk, next to the manila folder from Personnel. She could have simply signed off on the resignation request, but she didn't particularly want to lose this one. There was more to this situation than had so far been said. If she was going to put up a convincing case for staying, she needed to know which straw had proven to be the one too many.
"It's not the what, it's the why. House has done some really unbelievable things, but they're mostly either to do with a case or at least with making us perform as he thinks we should. Do something stupid, and he picks it up and slaps you in the face with it, that I can live with. But this time... " the voice trailed off into silence.
Cuddy frowned, not at the young doctor struggling for words in front of her, but at the volume of traffic still present in the halls beyond. There wouldn't be any revelations if an interruption occurred now. She got up and closed the internal blinds of her office, and before sitting down again, pressed a button on her phone so that her calls would be transferred to voicemail until further notice.
"Okay. Now or never, Chase. Spill it."
Chase drew one deep breath and the words started, running over each other as if he was afraid that, if he paused, he'd never be able to get going again. "When I look at him, all I can think is that he trailed me around the hospital with bated breath for two months, knowing I was going to fuck up and curious as to how big it would be. If he'd told me, I would have had time to get used to the idea, but it wouldn't have been so interesting that way. If that's how things are done at the high rollers' table, I don't want to play anymore."
The drawn blinds gave them privacy, but also prevented them from seeing into the outer part of the office. Neither of them was aware of House limping through the door from the hallway and pausing to look thoughtfully at the screened glass. He pulled up a chair and slumped down into it, the very picture of a bored man waiting his turn for a busy administrator's attention.
When it seemed his arrival had gone unnoticed, he slipped a stethoscope from his pocket. He placed it in his ears backwards, so it hung behind him, making it effectively invisible to anyone looking in from the hallway. His right hand twirled his cane idly in trademark fashion, while his left reached behind the back of the chair and pressed the chestpiece against the glass.
It's easier to be omniscient if you cheat.
"Are you blaming House for Kayla McGinty's death?" The question was posed completely neutrally, giving no indication of her own opinion.
"No. She was my patient; it was my mistake, my fault. If he hadn't known at all about my dad, it would have fallen out exactly the same. But now I know he could have prevented it. He put the chance to have fun watching me crash and burn ahead of the possible cost of it, and I can't work with him."
Cuddy sighed. It wasn't surprising that Chase would see things this way, especially after a week's suspension with nothing to do but brood over all the what-ifs possible. She wondered if she could change his mind, or if he was locked into his own explanation. She had really hoped that Diagnostics had achieved a stable staff, doctors who could work with House and whom he would tolerate. With the right environment, House's results were astonishing, but if Chase left and Diagnostics had to be rearranged again...
"I don't think you're being completely fair to House. Yes, he plays games, and yes, they get out of hand sometimes. But I honestly don't think that's what happened this time. If it had been anybody but your father, he would probably been able to handle it."
"He would have been able to handle it? It was my dad dying! What does it being my dad have to do with it?"
"House has been engaged in a serious rupture with his father since before you were born. Put "problems" or "issues" and "father" into one sentence, and it's like, oh, putting a ten-foot hedge in front of a horse. I can't speak for him, but as someone who's known him for a long time, my guess would be he intended to tell you. But he put it off, and then he forgot, then he remembered but it wasn't a good time or you weren't there, and he put if off again...
"And then there is your reaction to consider. If you didn't care, then there's no reason to tell you, but if you fell apart right in front of him, he would have had to do something about it, and House doesn't do emotions well. I'm not saying he thought all this through consciously, but subconsciously, delaying in telling you meant he wasn't there when the shit hit the fan. It's partly plain bad luck that you were in the clinic when the call came through. You could just have easily been at home or in the office or anywhere else."
"So you're defending him too." Chase's voice was dead, as if some last hope had been extinguished.
"Of the charge of malicious intent, yes. But if you want to call it cowardice or selfishness, I won't argue with you.
"Look, Chase, you've only been back at work for one day... Would you like to take some leave and think about it a bit longer? Actually," and Cuddy frowned for a moment, then opened Chase's personnel file again, "you didn't put in for any leave at the time. You're automatically entitled to bereavement leave, and I would have thought you needed to go to Sydney. "
"More correctly, I did put in for leave, and then cancelled it." Chase's voice could not have held less expression if he had been discussing the weather.
"Why?'
"You don't know? I assumed you did. It's not like House to keep his little victories quiet." Chase leaned forwards and stared directly into Cuddy's eyes. "I set about arranging for flights and leave and everything, but when I hadn't heard from my stepmother again after two days, I called to get the details. She informed me that she had called me at work the day before, only to be told that I was at home, stoned and hung over from raging all night at a massive party, having such a good time that they hadn't the heart to tear me away from the strippers I was dancing with to get me home at any reasonable hour. Since this was, and I quote, "a senior person in my department", she believed him completely, and informed me that my presence in Sydney was unwelcome, and to make sure of it she refused to tell me a thing about the arrangements for my father's funeral."
Chase broke away from the desk, shifting restlessly to stare out the window at nothing in particular. "So now he's in a billion little ashes scattered somewhere in the bush, and all my family and his friends think I couldn't be stuffed turning up to say goodbye to him. I was twenty minutes late into work that day; I never even knew there had been a call for me."
"She didn't believe you instead of somebody she'd never met?"
Chase shrugged. "She's only met me twice. It's not like she knows me. Given how far away I moved the minute I had the chance, she's hardly going to give me the benefit of the doubt. At the time I put it down to a prank with cosmically bad timing. It looks different now, that House could take a call for me from Sydney and use it for his stupid games, knowing as much as he did."
"I didn't know it was from Sydney." Both heads whipped around and stared at House, standing in the open doorway. "It came to me from the switch, it was just this woman asking for Dr. Robert Chase. She sounded young, uncertain of herself; I thought it was some girl you'd met in a bar who was chasing you through work, since you hadn't given her your home number."
House looked like his usual self to Chase; Cuddy, who knew him better, could see he was uncomfortable with the consequences of his carelessness. His actions had caused more ripples than he had been expecting. With Chase's letter of resignation of the table, the possible total cost here was definitely too high.
"I'm sorry, I thought this was in confidence." Chase opted for utter blandness, giving House no edges to work on. He rose from his chair, and nodded to Cuddy. "I'll come back later. I'm sure Dr. House has something much more important to talk to you about." He was polite to the point of being insulting.
House refused to bite, holding his position in the doorway. He hated being on the defensive, and it made him even more snappish than usual. "Is that true? About your father's funeral?"
"Why don't you call my stepmother back? I'm sure she'd be delighted to hear more negative stories about me, true or just made up. You two could talk for hours." Chase's pain and bitterness was clear in every word.
House scowled, knowing he was holding the weaker hand. "Don't be a complete ass, you know it wasn't meant to be taken seriously. Even you put it down to bad luck."
"And that's supposed to make me feel so much better? Except that would involve you actually caring about how I feel." Chase shook his head.
"I don't," House retorted with brutal honesty. "What I care about is my section running as it should, without your feelings getting in the way. Doctors work better without them."
"Well, that makes it easier. For a moment there, I actually thought you were trying to patch up some of the damage you've done." Chase turned to Cuddy. "I'll work out my four months, wherever I'm put. But the letter stays."
"Fine. I happen to need an intensivist in Diagnostics." Cuddy waited for the explosion, or at least an argument of some sort. She was oddly disturbed when Chase merely nodded and left. She turned to House, who was also frowning.
"Did I just miss something?" she asked.
"I don't know. If you did, I missed it too."
"I know you're only going to respond with some tactless, useless and unreassuring comment, but I'll ask anyway: would you be just the tiniest bit careful around Chase? I don't need a second loose cannon around here."
When House left without making the expected sharp rejoinder, Cuddy felt even more disturbed.
==========================
Chase returned to Diagnostics, doing the tasks he was assigned without comment and keeping his head down. He blocked off all attempts, well-meaning or otherwise, to talk about his father or his suspension. He appeared to be operating on a kind of autopilot, doing his job and then disappearing at the end of the day. He was there on time every morning, with no evidence of hangovers or other forms of self-abuse, but he wasn't himself. In a larger department it might not have mattered so much, but being such a small group, they all felt the strain.
Chase himself didn't know what was different about the day things changed. Just something about the direction he was already moving, combined with the sight of Wilson crossing the corridor in front of him, headed towards his office. Wilson, who hadn't spoken a word to him in the last month. Chase sped up and turned right.
He opened the door to Wilson's office without knocking and walked in. Wilson looked up, smile fading as he saw Chase.
"What, thought I was House?"
"Well, he's usually the only one who doesn't knock. Did... you want to see me about something?"
"No, in fact I don't want to see you at all." Chase knew this was going past the limits of tolerable rudeness, but the festering hurt in his chest insisted on being expressed. "But I thought perhaps we could have a word about doctor-patient confidentiality. You kept my father's cancer secret from me, but had fun gossiping about him with your best friend?"
Wilson stood up, but didn't come around from behind his desk. He hadn't seen Chase like this before, but it wasn't the first time he'd been threatened by someone with too much pain and anger to control. "It wasn't like that. You know House has his ways of finding things out, whether you tell him or not. I didn't tell him; your father did."
"And you can tell me to my face that you never mentioned it between yourselves?" Chase read Wilson's silence accurately, and laughed, short and bitter. "Thought so."
"Chase, it was your father's wishes not to tell you. I-"
Chase interrupted before Wilson got any further. "My father's wishes! Yes, that's a nice excuse to hide behind. Since when has House felt bound by anyone's wishes? Or somehow my father whom you'd never met before is more important than someone you work with? Didn't either of you think about me?" He stopped slightly too late; he hadn't meant to say it like that. "Not at a personal level; I know you don't like me. But as a colleague, you sat on something that was going to impact on me professionally. Did you keep it back to watch me screw up?"
Wilson planted his palms on the desk and leaned forwards. "You were lazy and careless," he said coldly. "This wasn't my doing; you fucked up just fine all by yourself."
Chase never had a conscious recollection of his next move. It was as if he was watching somebody else, as he balled up his right hand and punched Wilson straight in the face. Wilson fell back, one hand pressing his cheekbone, and both men stared at each other in shock. Chase's mouth twisted in a grimace of disgust, at himself or at Wilson, or both, and he left the room without speaking again.
=======================
Chase was hardly surprised when the knock came at his door that evening. He'd been wondering how long it would take House to come after him.
"Took you long enough. Have trouble with the traffic?"
"What the hell gave you the right to take things out on Wilson?" House snapped while he was still in the doorway.
"Well, let's see. You knew, and Wilson knew, and both of you knew I didn't know my father was going to die, and neither of you thought that perhaps I should be told? I don't see how he's any less to blame than you, unless he wanted to tell me and you ordered him not to."
"I - " House broke off. He moved into the hallway and shut the door behind him, while Chase backed up a few paces. House didn't want to be here, didn't want to be having this conversation, but the afternoon's events had forced his hand. Wilson was uneasy enough about his own role to prefer avoiding official attention, but Chase was obviously closer to his emotional edge than they had realized and that had to be dealt with.
Given the outcome the last time Chase had been seriously upset while at the hospital, House had chosen to thrash out the issue after work. Making a mistake was one thing; making the same one again was just stupidity.
"I carry more responsibility than Wilson does. You're in my department, not his." Chase started to speak, but House cut him off. "Cuddy was right - and your existence is terminated the day she finds out I said so - I didn't want to tell you, so I shoved it off and thought maybe I wouldn't have to. And Wilson was bound by doctor/patient confidentiality, even if I wasn't."
"Does that mean I'm actually going to get an apology?"
"If you do, will you retract your resignation?"
"No." Chase folded his arms and shook his head. "If I have to purchase an apology by making concessions, it's worth nothing. I'd never believe you meant it. The letter stays."
"Then there's not much point, is there? If the outcome's the same if I do or I don't, why bother?" House turned around in the front hall and limped two paces back towards the door.
He wasn't expecting Chase's weight to hit him; one hand wrenched the cane from his grip while a foot kicked the back of his good knee so that he tumbled face down on the floor. Chase dropped onto the small of his back, tossing the cane away down the hall and pressing his weight on House's shoulders. Chase was smaller and lighter, but his leverage advantage was enough to make House hesitate before trying to fight his way up.
"You owe me! It's nothing to do with what you get out of it, it's to do with the wrong you've done. But you can't admit you were wrong, so you're running away. That's what you do. You run away from things you don't like. What happens when you can't? That's what happened to me; I would have run away if I could have, but I got trapped and made a decision from what was in front of my face. Now you can't run away; what are you going to do? Tell me!" Chase was nearly hysterical, yelling his words and gasping for air.
House waited until he was certain Chase had finished, but even then he wasn't sure he'd be heard. He'd known Chase was close to breaking; still he'd underestimated how badly damaged the younger man was by the repeated blows of the past six months. House took a deep breath and accepted his share the blame for that damage. "I'm sorry," he finally said into the floor. It hurt less than he had been expecting it to.
Chase waited, but nothing else was forthcoming. "That's it? No evasions, no qualifications, no excuses? That's it?"
"Can I get up?"
"No!"
"Okay, okay. Just let me roll over, will you?" Chase eased back a little, still suspicious, but House merely rolled onto his back and made no attempt to rise. This time House spoke to Chase's face, and he repeated: "I'm sorry. I should have told you."
Chase's hands were so tightly clenched that House almost expected to hear the small bones breaking. His eyes were squeezed shut to the point that the lids were almost invisible, and his teeth were set into his lower lip, hard enough to bruise or tear the skin. His entire body was trembling with muscular tension, and House saw one tiny glint at the corner of one eye, no more.
"And you're right about something else. Sometimes you just have to make a decision based on what's unavoidably in front of you." House levered himself up and wrapped Chase in both arms, a contact he normally would have shunned but felt compelled to offer in the face of such pain. House wondered if Chase had had a kind word or gesture from anybody during this whole business.
Chase registered the simple human contact first, and pressed into the hug without thinking, feeling only a desperate need for affection in whatever guise it came. When it suddenly dawned on him that it was House holding him, he flinched and pulled back; there was no way House would want to be doing this.
"You want me to let go?" House asked, loosening his hold without releasing Chase completely. There were not going to be any more miscommunications if he could help it. At least not today.
"No," Chase said honestly. "But I figured you're not into comfort, and I'd rather not have you hugging me if you don't want to."
"It takes two to tango," House agreed. "And in general, you're right. Consider this to be an exception." And he pulled Chase closer, the hug easing his own permanent inner tension in a way he hadn't expected.
House would have stopped if Chase had shown any signs of wanting him to; but as long as Chase was happy to be in his lap he was happy to provide a lap for him. They'd already completely muddied the ethical boundaries normally existing between employees with negative results all around. Why stop when things felt good?
Chase was almost afraid to relax in case House decided he didn't need any more comforting. But as he let himself gradually unwind, House kept him close, using his greater height and reach to fold Chase into his own body as much as possible. Chase's head rested on House's shoulder, his arms simply linked behind House's back. House was more active; one hand stroked Chase's hair and the other ran slowly up and down Chase's spine.
It had been much too long since Chase had been the subject of caresses; whether House intended it or not he was responding, comfort giving way to arousal. He knew it was inappropriate, but he wanted more. House always polarized people; you either hated him or found him fascinating, but nobody was indifferent. Chase was squarely in the fascinated group, but had put House on the "out of reach" shelf ages ago.
At least he knew one thing; House hated equivocation. If Chase wanted him, his best bet was to come straight out and make it obvious. He slid one hand up behind House's head, and then pressed his lips into the warm skin only an inch away, just above where the t-shirt stopped.
The hands touching him froze. Chase continued, placing a line of kisses along House's neck, licking and sucking gently, giving it his best shot. He wasn't going to stop out of fear of what House might do; he'd declared his position and would stick to it unless House expressly objected. When no objection came, he placed a last kiss on the corner of House's mouth.
House knew perfectly well what the rules said about sex and subordinates. He also knew what the rules said about informed consent, patient confidentiality, and all those other things that had been made up to make his job more difficult. Chase was coming on to him, not the other way around, and he had no intention of saying "no". They were outside the hospital and out of hours; it was none of the hospital's business.
House only had to move his head a little to catch Chase's ready mouth with his. Chase moaned, in pleasure and relief, and parted his lips so that House could deepen the kiss between them. Chase was still seated across the tops of House's thighs, and he pressed forwards a little so the stirring bulge in his pants was in contact with House's warmth. House smiled and ran his hand down all the way to Chase's ass, pulling him in even closer.
Now Chase could feel the physical reaction in House as well; he pushed his hips down, grinding into the erection he could feel growing under his attentions. Sitting up was going to be awkward shortly, so he pushed back on House's shoulders, waiting until House understood what he was asking and lay back, Chase full-length on top of him. Then, thinking carefully to make sure he got the geometry right, Chase rolled onto his right side, so that they lay face-to-face with House's weight on his good leg.
"Hmm," House hummed approvingly, reaching down between them to feel the solid erection now straining the front of Chase's jeans. He managed the fly and button one-handed, as with a small amount of assistance Chase's prick sprang free into his hand. "Nice. Very nice."
"Nice move. Bet you can't do it again." Chase mumbled, lips still busy around House's face and neck. House snorted at the transparency of the ploy, but loosened his own pants anyway.
Chase nipped gently at a convenient earlobe, and then gasped as House wrapped both bare pricks together in his hand and squeezed. He'd never felt anything like it, the soft/hard combination of skin and swollen flesh, and the rim of another's head rubbing the hypersensitive edge of his own.
Chase couldn't speak as House began stroking for real, but his hand had just room enough to slide into House's jeans and curl around his balls. Chase rolled them in his palm through the thin fabric of the boxer shorts, fingertips rubbing on the skin behind and to each side.
House made a sound that came out as "Gnghkmnhm", which Chase accurately translated as "Stop that or I'm going to come in about two seconds". Chase smiled, and kept going, smile changing to a smirk and House groaned and thrust hard, once, twice, and came.
The smirk would have become a laugh, except that the hand on him was suddenly hot, wet, and slippery where it held him, and Chase was thrusting uncontrollably as he climaxed in turn.
Sometimes I think this is the best bit, Chase thought a bit fuzzily as he just lay there, emptied out and relaxed, with the warmth of another next to him. The silence stretched out for a while, both of them comfortable with it.
"Am I forgiven?"
"Am I?"
House considered the matter for a moment. "How about we wipe the slate clean and start again from this point?"
"Yeah. I could go for that." Chase knew he wasn't going to get any better offers. Starting again sounded like as good an idea as any.
"Speaking of wiping things clean-," House said pointedly, and Chase rolled to his feet.
"I can get you a facewasher," he offered.
"It's not my face that needs washing," House leered back at him.
"Okay, a... a washcloth. I'll get you a washcloth." Chase headed for the bathroom to run hot water on two washcloths and wring them out.
"Bloody Australian."
"At least you've worked out which country I come from," came floating back from the bathroom. "Took you long enough."
House smiled inwardly. It was always more fun when they fought back. He accepted the cloth from Chase and straightened himself up. "You know you're going to have to speak to Wilson again sometime. I imagine he'd probably also go for an agreement to call it square between you." He stopped to see how Chase was taking this idea. "If you want I can set something up, time and place and all that."
"I suppose..." Chase was reluctant to go through another emotional confrontation, but knew it would be easier in the long run if he and Wilson could get along without friction. Then he added frankly, "I don't know if it would be better or worse to have you there."
"Oh, I'll be there. Given just how nicely you kiss and make up, I don't want to miss it when it happens."
Chase looked sharply at him. House's expression was neutral-but-slightly-encouraging, like any good mediator just trying to be helpful, but as Chase watched, House smirked and he swept his hand up to cover a patently fake cough. Chase couldn't help himself; he started laughing.
"I'll withdraw my resignation on one condition," Chase said, watching House's expression darken at the word 'condition'. "That you don't try to help me patch things up with Wilson."
House didn't laugh, but he grinned, and Chase grinned back.