It isn't often that House feels any sort of affection. It takes a lot to get him to want another person's presence, but when they earn it, it's well worth the insufferable hours spent. Take Chase, for example. House never truly warmed up to Chase until recently, the wombat somehow slipping into his daily thoughts more and more as the years (and diagnosticians) changed. Despite this, he didn't often think about Chase's work outside of their cases. It was when Chase returned from playing surgeon that he really began to notice.
He sees Chase working longer and longer hours, watching him stumble out of the hospital when House arrives in the mornings or shrugging off his coat as a makeshift pillow to sleep on during his shift changes. He doesn't comment on it. Not yet. He doesn't want to spook the man. (He doesn't want to show he cares.)
He lasts about two more days before he's over with this arrangement, and unfortunately not by choice. Chase walks in, shivering lightly and yawning every couple of minutes. He's completely out of it, his eyes glassy as they lazily roam the room, never landing on a single thing. House can clearly tell that Chase isn't listening to a word he says, his attention somehow captured by everything and nothing at the same time. It takes three tries to get his attention until House has had it. "Chase!"
He snaps, and Chase jolts up in his seat, his eyes widening as they finally focus, if only for a moment. "...Hm? What?" His voice is slurring, and the three of them now display various levels of concern. Cameron stands slowly, her brows furrowed as if she'll scare him by moving too fast. House is openly frowning now, limping forward slightly. And Foreman finally speaks up, his face impassive but his voice tinged with worry. "Chase, are you alright?" Chase promptly responds with a light, dreamy "'m fine.." before his eyes flutter and his head smacks into the table, hard. The three of them move over to him fully now, House giving Cameron and Foreman a look as if to say 'you couldn't have stopped him?'
Foreman just lifts his head and moves to check his pulse with his wrist as Cameron palpates his collarbone. "Come on, Chase... wake up." Chase slowly responds with a low groan, his face scrunching up. Cameron rubs his shoulder in reassurance, Foreman stepping back to give him space. House peers down, giving him a sharp glare. "Wh's... I passed out..?" Chase looks up sluggishly- too sluggishly- and House's frown deepens. "You're not doing this. Not today. Get in my office as soon as you can stand without falling." He pretends to ignore Cameron's shock and Foreman's raised brow as he turns around and holds the door open for the man who, by all accounts, should not be standing up.
Chase just waves vaguely in their direction as he stumbles the few feet and leans heavily on the door handle for a long moment, long enough for House to believe he'd fallen asleep standing, but dutifully falls into a chair in front of House's desk. Gregory House may be a man of great pride, but he suddenly feels like he needs to give Chase a hug and a cookie as he sits down in his worn-down office chair. He dismisses the idea even as a muted sense of dread pools in his gut. "You've not been sleeping." Chase has the audacity to look sheepish a good moment later, after he's finally processed the statement. "..No time." House bristles at that, his eye twiching in annoyance. "You're kidding."
Amother long moment of silence falls over them. House counts to ten, his vision darkening in both frustration and painful concern as Chase tips forward again. He picks up his favorite red ball and lightly throws it at the man, a twitch of a smirk on his face as Chase immediately jolts up again. His brow furrows as his lips purse, clearly itching to retort with an insult or perhaps even bend down and throw the ball back. He does neither. Instead, Chase spouts honest-to-god the most ridiculous rant ever said by a doctor. Ever. Did he mention ever? "...I've been busy. A couple of surgeons needed someone to take their shifts, and head of surgery doesn't even really get that I'm not his subordinate anymore. Cuddy's been swamped, I haven't been able to tell her about fixing it. And of course, I gotta show up here. And do clinic hours. And do *your* clinic hours."
House just blinks. He processes. He blinks again, this time more in surprise than irritation. "I'm going to chalk up your frankly frightening honesty to sleep deprivation- Hey. Oh, come on." He nudges Chase's foot when his long blink is longer than it should be, and Chase once again snaps to attention. "Jesus, I knew you've been working a lot, but this is... how long have you been up? No, scratch that. How long have you been *here*?" Chase's already pale face turns yet another shade of 'I'm too tired for this shit' grey, and House nearly rolls his eyes. "Um. What... what day is it?" He really does roll his eyes. He's sure Chase doesn't notice anyway, his attemtion clearly on actually looking at House and not through him. "It's Tuesday. Here's what we're gonna do: you're either getting on that recliner right the hell now, or I'm going to admit you so you can really get your brain scrambled for the remainder of the week. Vicodin, for starters. I'll slip it in when you're not paying attention."
Chase just gives him a look that could've been a glare if it isn't for how lost his whole expression is. "Don't give me that. You haven't earned it, and I dare say you won't earn it for a while. This is beyond ridiculous. You need to stop being a goddamn pushover before you keel in the middle of work. Again. It's a good thing you weren't with the patient, or I would've had to tell his parents, 'Oh hey, your kid died 'cause my coworker is an idiot and maybe sorta fell asleep before we could give him life-saving treatment. Sorry!'"
Each word is punctuated by exasperated hand gestures. He blames the dumbass wombat in front of him for all the emotion he's had to show already today. Too much emotion for him to deal with without a coffee in his hand and the knowledge that he's made someone miserable. He directs his glare to the door, Cameron's face dissapearing back behind the glass. He can almost hear Foreman's pacing as he switches between going over the case and asking Cameron for the play-by-play. God, these people. House just doesn't know how they've managed to weasel into his cold, dead heart and give him *more* grey hairs. Of course they have. Jackasses. He turns back just as Chase lets out a soft snore, his chin pressed into his chest. House just groans. "I can't leave you alone for one second, I swear."
very abrupt ending, I know. it's a WIP for now, idk how I feel about it yet. comments def appreciated ! I'm trying some new stuff out and I really hope its at least pretty engaging if nothing else. context for seasons and other canon things is non specific because honestly I don't really care and I'm not sure I wanna do the research just to never finish the damn thing. I just figured, what the hell. I'll post it on here and see what happens. Thanks again ! Oh, and please don't copy or post on other sites, I don't own this show, yadda yadda. All the things.
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