peacemaker x reader | adrian chase x black! fem! reader
adrian forgets something at your place, which requires him and chris to make a little pit stop before eliminating a local butterfly. hilarity ensues as chris realizes not only does adrian have a girlfriend... but his girlfriend is a total smoekshow.
cw - fluffy fluff, mentions of sex, protective adrian, lovesick adrian, lovesick reader, mature themes, 18+, profane language, chris and his usual shit (he's kind of a dick)
The night ride was lit only by the sickly orange glow of the dash, a random Mötley Crüe track blasting too loud through the cheap car speakers.
Adrian was humming along, head bobbing slightly out of rhythm as his gloved hands rested casually on the steering wheel.
The car glided smoothly down a darkened road, the faint buzz of crickets filtering in from outside.
Chris sat slouched in the passenger seat, half-listening to the music, brows furrowed in suspicion as Adrian made a sudden right turn.
The streetlights shifted, illuminating a neatly trimmed suburban neighborhood with two-story houses, mailboxes standing in straight lines, and American flags draped proudly on porches.
“Uh... hey,” Chris’s voice cut sharply through the music, obnoxiously loud.
He jabbed a finger toward the windshield.
“Why the fuck are we turning into a goddamn cul-de-sac? We’re supposed to be going after the fucking target, not taking a scenic fucking tour.”
Adrian just hummed louder, cheerful and unbothered.
“Oh, yeah, no, I just gotta grab something real quick," he slowed as they approached a row of identical houses, his voice sing-song and casual. “It's at my girlfriend’s place, then we can totally go do the whole mission-kill-thing.”
Chris blinked once.
Then twice.
His head turned slowly, eyes narrowing, the weight of what Adrian just said finally crashing down.
“…Wait, hold the fuck on,” he sat up straighter in his seat, almost whipping around to face him fully. “Girlfriend? What the fuck did you just say?”
Adrian frowned in confusion, still watching the road, “Uh… that I need to grab something from my girlfriend’s house?”
Chris froze, throwing both hands out like he was halting traffic.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, back the fuck up. You—” he jabbed a finger at Adrian’s chest, voice dripping with disbelief. “—have a girlfriend?”
“Uh, yeah?” Adrian answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve had a girlfriend for, like, ten years. We live together sometimes. Well, not live-live, but I basically live there anyway. You know, toothbrush in the bathroom, drawer of my own, couple pairs of socks I keep around—”
Chris barked out a laugh, sharp and disbelieving, cutting him off.
"Bullshit. You? A girlfriend? No fucking way,” he scoffed, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe the audacity. “You’d have mentioned it, like, a million fucking times.”
“I do mention it,” Adrian protested, eyes widening as his voice pitched up, almost defensive. “I bring her up literally every chance I get. Like, every single time. And the only way you wouldn’t know that is if—”
He gasped dramatically.
“—you don’t listen to me when I talk!”
“Yeah, no, I don’t. Like, ever,” he shrugged, deadpan. “I tune you out constantly, dude. It’s like survival instinct at this point.”
Adrian’s shoulders slumped, the hurt in his voice almost childlike, “Who doesn’t listen to their best friend?"
"You make it impossible, man. Like ninety percent of what you say is random fucking babble about dumb shit I don’t care about,” Chris waved a dismissive hand as the car rolled into a driveway. “Girlfriend, my ass—”
The car came to a halt, engine ticking softly as Adrian shifted it into park.
The house was quiet, porch light glowing warmly against the siding.
Adrian unbuckled with his usual pep, popping the door open.
Chris followed him out, still shaking his head, “Do I even know who this imaginary chick is?”
Adrian puffed his chest proudly, slamming the driver-side door shut.
“Yeah! It’s (y/n). From high school,” he grinned, gesturing vaguely with his hands as they started toward the porch. “Y’know, total babe. Cute glasses. Even cuter braces. You remember.”
Chris stopped mid-step, his eyes going comically wide.
A beat later, laughter burst from his chest, loud and obnoxious, echoing across the quiet street.
He bent slightly at the waist, hands on his knees.
“No fucking way!” he howled, pointing at Adrian. “You’re dating Mush-Mouth (y/n)? With the trash compactor braces and the crazy fucking stutter? Oh my god, that’s fucking priceless.”
The laughter died in his throat.
In an instant, Adrian had lunged forward, shoving Chris hard against the siding of the house.
The clap of impact rattled the paneling.
Chris’s eyes bulged as Adrian’s forearm pressed firm across his chest, the cold muzzle of a pistol shoved up under his chin, aimed at his throat.
Adrian’s voice was no longer sing-song or sweet.
It dropped, low and dark, a rumble of lethal intent.
His brows furrowed, eyes blazing, shadowed in fury.
“Chris,” he said flatly, voice like stone. “You’re my BFF. My ride-or-die. But if you ever call her that again…” his finger twitched on the trigger. “…I’ll make you a stain on this wall, and I won’t even feel bad about it.”
The air went heavy.
Chris froze, hands instinctively raising in surrender, throat bobbing against the barrel.
His jaw tightened, a rare flicker of unease flashing across his face.
He had never seen Adrian like this—so serious, so angry.
The goofy sidekick veneer had slipped completely, and what stared back at him was something terrifyingly absolute.
“…Okay,” Chris muttered, nodding quickly. “Okay, fuck, fine. I won’t. Jesus.”
For a moment longer, Adrian held him there, gun steady, eyes sharp and unflinching.
Then, just as suddenly, the storm broke.
He stepped back, holstering the weapon with a cheery little flourish.
His body language snapped back into casual pep, his voice bright and chipper as though nothing had happened.
“Cool! Glad we cleared that up. C’mon, let’s go inside.”
Adrian skipped the last couple of steps up to the porch, whistling merrily to the tune of the Mötley Crüe song still ringing faintly from the car.
He pressed the doorbell with a happy bounce, shoulders relaxed, a picture of innocence.
Chris stood at the bottom of the steps, rubbing his throat where the muzzle had been, staring up at his friend with wide eyes.
For once in his life... Peacemaker was speechless.
Adrian waited a half-second, then tilted his head, tapping his chin.
“Oh, duh,” he muttered, fishing around in one of the many pouches strapped to his utility belt.
After a moment of rifling, he pulled out a shiny key, holding it up triumphantly.
“Almost forgot I had this!”
Chris’s eyes narrowed.
Adrian ignored him, slipping the key into the lock with careful precision.
The tumblers clicked, and he swung the door open with a little flourish.
He turned back, beckoning with a cheerful wave.
“C’mon, dude. Don’t just stand there looking all constipated. Let’s go!”
Chris lingered on the porch, wary expression plastered across his face as Adrian strolled in like he owned the place, “She didn’t even answer the door, man. Probably means she’s not here.”
“Uh, wrong,” Adrian countered without missing a beat, strolling casually into the living room. “I’ve memorized literally every single detail about her. Like, everything. Her schedule, her daily routine, her habits. Honestly, I usually know where she’s at and what she’s doing before she even does.”
Chris stopped dead in the doorway, blinking slowly.
“…Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath, mentally adding a bullet point to the long list of Reasons Adrian Chase Is a Full-Blown Sociopath.
Note to self: maybe check in on this (y/n) chick every once in a while, just to make sure she wasn’t dead in a freezer somewhere.
Before he could spiral too far, a warm voice floated down the stairs.
“Adrian? That you, baby?”
Both men’s heads snapped toward the sound at once.
Light footsteps padded gently against the wood as you descended, towel-damp curls bouncing softly around your shoulders.
Chris braced himself instinctively, shoulders tight, ready for some hideous Ugly-Betty-adjacent apparition—coke-bottle glasses, headgear, zit cream, the whole fucking shebang.
But then you came into view.
And his jaw nearly unhinged.
You were a goddamn vision.
Skin dewy and luminous, rich brown glowing under the light.
Dark curls framed your face perfectly, your smile radiant, disarmingly warm.
No glasses, no braces, no acne—just beautiful.
Wrapped in a short black silk robe that clung to every perfect curve, the hem teasing at plush thighs, neckline plunging just enough to make Chris’s brain short-circuit.
Hips made to grab.
Breasts that looked criminally good.
You weren’t just hot.
You were sex incarnate.
A goddamn smoke show.
Chris’s brain reeled, appalled at the idea that Adrian fucking Chase got to come home to this every night.
That he got to fuck this.
Regularly.
Meanwhile, you were smiling sweetly as you crossed the room.
“Sorry, honey, I was in the shower,” you said, sliding your arms around Adrian’s neck and pulling him into a tight hug, rising to your tippy-toes.
Adrian melted instantly, arms locking tight around your waist as he lifted you off your feet like you weighed nothing.
“Missed you,” he breathed happily, muffled before crashing his mouth against yours in a deep, heated kiss.
Chris stood rooted to the spot, eyes bulging as the hem of your robe slipped higher from the movement, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of the curve of your lower ass cheek.
His heart practically seized.
Heat surged traitorously below his belt.
The words tumbled out before he could stop them.
“…Mush-Mouth (y/n)?”
You broke from the kiss slightly, blinking in surprise.
Adrian, however, froze like he’d just heard a war crime.
His body stiffened, his head whipping toward Chris.
In a blur, his gun was out again, aimed squarely at Chris’s face.
“What the fuck, dude?!” Adrian barked, his voice spiking with pure fury. “You promised!”
But before he could pull the trigger, your hand slid calmly to his forearm.
“Hun,” your tone was soft but firm, a balm against his fury. “Not necessary.”
Adrian froze mid-motion, chest heaving.
He glanced at you, then at Chris, then back at you again.
Slowly, reluctantly, his shoulders dropped.
With a muttered curse under his breath, he holstered the weapon once more.
His glare shot daggers at Chris, eyes promising that next time, no one would stop him.
Turning back to Chris, you sighed, folding your arms loosely across your chest.
Your voice was cool, even, but not without an edge.
“Yeah. That was me,” your lips curved faintly, like you were daring him to comment further. “I grew out of the stutter, as you can see.”
Chris could only stare, dumbstruck, trying and failing to reconcile the goddess in front of him with the memory of braces and awkward frumpiness from high school.
His mind was a full-blown hurricane of disbelief as he gawked, jaw working uselessly like he was trying to form words but couldn’t quite get his brain to compute.
“How the fuck—” he muttered, half to himself, half to the room.
His eyes cut back to Adrian, then to you again.
“—did you pull this off? You’re telling me you got this and she—”
He gestured wildly at your body, robe clinging, skin perfect.
“—turned into that?”
Adrian didn’t notice Chris’s existential crisis at all.
He was too busy nuzzling into your neck, basking in your affection like a golden retriever.
Chris squinted, still trying to connect the dots, “What about the crazy braces? And the coke-bottle glasses? Like, where the hell did those go?”
You rolled your eyes, cocking a hip with easy confidence, “The fun thing about braces, Chris, is that they come off. And contacts exist.”
Before he could retort, Adrian piped up, muffled into your shoulder, “Honestly, sometimes I miss them. They were cute.”
You turned to him, smiling fondly, “No, baby, they weren’t.”
Still, your voice carried warmth.
Chris blinked, still grasping, “So, wait, like… do you have contacts in right now? Or do you need your prescription refilled or some shit?”
Your brow arched sharply, “What exactly are you trying to imply?”
His gaze flicked over your body, then darted to Adrian, then back to you, then Adrian again—before finally landing squarely on you.
He threw his hands out in exasperation.
“I’m saying you’re gorgeous! Like actually gorgeous. Not in the ‘snowflake, you’re-gorgeous-on-the-inside’ bullshit way. Like, actually-fucking-gorgeous.”
Adrian immediately lit up, grinning like a fool as he slung an arm proudly around your waist and tugged you into his side, “Right!? She’s the hottest woman in the universe!”
You deadpanned, unimpressed, “I don’t take compliments from racists.”
Chris recoiled, “What the—fuck off, I’m not racist!”
Adrian chimed in helpfully, shrugging, “You do refuse to kill your racist dad, though.”
“That’s because he’s my dad, not because I’m, like, some kind of fellow racist,” Chris shot back, offended.
You tilted your head, lips curling with disbelief, “So you’re telling me your dad is, what, the Grand Dragon of a local faction of Nazis, and you don’t resonate with a single one of his beliefs?”
Chris shouted instantly, “NO!”
You scoffed, unconvinced, folding your arms.
“Fuck, man!” Chris groaned, throwing his arms in the air. “You told her I was racist?”
Adrian shrugged innocently, “I only told her your dad was racist.”
“Whatever!” Chris barked, wheeling back toward you. “Seriously, why out of all the fuck-nuts in the world did you pick this one?”
The atmosphere shifted, your irritation softening as you turned your face to Adrian.
A pause hung, tender, as you two locked eyes—your smile curling gently, lovestruck, his gaze utterly devoted.
“Because,” you said softly, “this fuck-nut has always loved me for who I was, not how I looked.”
Your hand brushed his jaw.
“He’s kind... he’s funny... he’s protective. He’s been cute since day one, and…” a sly grin tugged your lips. “…it doesn’t hurt that he’s got mind-blowing dick.”
Adrian’s chest puffed, eyes going glossy with emotion.
“Babe…” his voice cracked as he peppered your cheeks and temple with sweet, fluttering kisses.
Chris’s brows knit, face twisted in confusion, “Wait—really?”
You looked at him plainly, shameless, “Really. I haven’t used a vibrator in years.”
Adrian beamed with boyish pride, “Yeah, man. I'm her vibrator.”
Chris just stared, mouth open, gobsmacked.
Finally, he shook his head, muttering, “Jesus Christ…”
You ignored him, turning your attention back to Adrian, “What was it you needed, baby?”
“Oh, right!” Adrian perked up instantly, snapping his fingers. “I left something in your room.”
And without another word, he darted up the stairs, boots thudding quickly against the wood.
Silence hung between you and Chris.
His eyes stayed locked on you, hungry, predatory, like a lion sizing up a gazelle.
You rolled your eyes.
Another beat.
Then—
“…So, you and Vigilante ever… experiment?” Chris asked, voice low, sly.
“I don’t do threesomes with racists," you cut him off, flatly.
“I’M NOT A—!” Chris shouted, veins bulging.
But before he could finish, Adrian’s footsteps thundered back down the stairs.
“All good!” Adrian announced cheerfully, bounding toward the door. “Got everything. We can go kill the target now.”
Chris shot you a look, brow arched, “You’re cool with this?”
You shrugged, lips quirking sly, “Everybody has their hobbies. And worst-case scenario, I’m a criminal defense attorney.”
Adrian puffed up proudly, “She’s amazing. She’s making partner soon!”
You smirked at Chris, tilting your head condescendingly, “It’s a wonder what studying and actually paying attention in class can do for you in the long run.”
Chris blinked, then looked down at himself in quiet defeat.
You escorted them to the door.
As Chris trudged down the walkway toward the Sebring, Adrian lingered on the porch, turning back to you with a soft smile.
“Bye, babe,” he murmured.
You cupped his masked face tenderly, “Be careful. Remember, the hospital has me on speed dial.”
“I will,” he promised, melting into your touch.
Then your lips curled into a devilish, seductive smirk.
Your hands slid slowly down his face to his chest, nails teasing through his suit, “And if you’re up for it… we could have a little fun later tonight.”
His cheeks pinked, but his eyes darkened, smirk tugging, “Don’t go to sleep.”
“I won’t,” you breathed.
Then his lips crashed into yours, rough and urgent.
He pinned you firmly against the door, bodies flush, heat sparking instantly.
His hands grasped at your waist, your hips, pulling you closer as your robe slipped higher.
Your fingers fisted into his hair, tugging hard as you whimpered softly into his mouth.
The kiss deepened, hungry, wet, teeth clashing slightly.
He groaned low in his chest, pressing harder, devouring you like he couldn’t get enough.
Chris groaned audibly, throwing his hands in the air, “OH MY FUCKING GOD, we have a target to kill!”
Adrian didn’t even look back.
He held one finger out behind him, still lip-locked with you, tongues tangling.
Finally, he pulled away with a flourish, leaving you gasping, lips swollen and wet.
With a lovesick smile, you reached up to fix his glasses, straightening them delicately.
He rewarded you with a tender kiss to your forehead before spinning toward the car.
“Alright, man,” he chirped happily as he jogged down the steps. “Let’s go kill some bad guys.”
Chris just glared, grumbling bitterly under his breath as he yanked open the driver’s side door.
Adrian slipped easily into the passenger side, still humming with joy.
The Sebring’s engine roared to life, and with one last bitter glance back at you on the porch, Chris pulled out of the driveway, tires crunching over the pavement as they drove off into the night.
.
.
.
BONUS !!
The Sebring hummed along the cracked two-lane road, headlights slicing through the dark as pine trees blurred by on either side.
Chris had both hands strangling the steering wheel, his jaw tight, eyes set forward.
Every once in a while, his lips twitched like he wanted to say something, but he’d just grumble under his breath instead, the words lost under the hum of the engine.
Adrian, meanwhile, sat in the passenger seat like a kid who just got a gold star on a spelling test.
His mask was in his lap, but that smile—broad, goofy, almost lovesick—never left his face.
He was still buzzing with the feel of your lips on his, your scent clinging to his suit, your hands dragging down his chest.
His heart was doing little flips.
He looked out the window, then back at Chris, then down at the velvet box in his pocket, and back out the window again.
He couldn’t stop.
His whole body felt light.
“She’s amazing, right?” Adrian finally said, voice breaking the silence.
He turned, smile soft, his whole face lit up.
Chris let out a scoff so sharp it might as well have been a knife.
“She’s a fuckin’ piece of work,” he grumbled, eyes locked on the road, jaw flexing.
Adrian just kept smiling, undeterred.
He tilted his head, the joy in his tone too genuine to be touched.
There was another beat of silence before Chris blurted, “You guys really have… mind-blowing sex?”
His voice cracked a little at the end, like he couldn’t believe he was asking.
“Yup,” Adrian said without hesitation, completely casual. “She’s the best I’ve ever had. Only I've ever had. Being inside her is like—” he let out a dreamy sigh, “heaven on Earth.”
Chris’s grip on the wheel slipped for a second, the Sebring swerving half a foot before he jerked it back, “What the fuck?”
Adrian leaned back, eyes going distant as if replaying a reel only he could see.
“One time, we went at it for five hours straight. No stopping. And I swear—” he leaned forward, hand gesturing animatedly—“right before I came, I think I saw another dimension. Like… the curtain lifted, you know? Beyond space and time.”
Chris’s eyes went wide, “Jesus Christ.”
Adrian just nodded happily, sinking back into the seat with a sigh.
There was a long silence before Chris coughed into his fist.
“So… are you guys, like, open to experimenting?”
Adrian turned his head, brow furrowing behind his glasses.
He'd heard his so-called BFF proposition you back at the house, but let it slide as you immediately shut it down.
He didn't think the asshole would try again.
“You ever ask my girlfriend for a threesome again, I will cut your dick off and feed it to you. Okay?” he threatened, voice sharp and cutting.
The smile stayed.
The threat was very real.
Chris stiffened, “Jesus, alright! Defensive much? Just asking.”
He shifted uncomfortably, then scrambled for a new subject.
“So, uh, what the hell did you even need from her place anyway?”
That grin spread across Adrian’s face again as he reached into his utility belt.
He fished out a small black velvet box and held it up with a flourish.
Chris’s eyes locked on it, his shoulders dropping, “No fucking way..."
“Yes way!” Adrian beamed, flipping the lid open to reveal a diamond that looked like it belonged in a music video.
The thing sparkled like it had its own light source.
“You like it? Been saving since freshman year.”
Chris’s jaw went slack.
“No fucking way!” he repeated, louder this time.
“Uh-huh!” Adrian chirped, holding the box up proudly.
“Wait, wait, wait—” Chris pointed at him like he was calling bullshit. “You’re telling me… you come home every night to a smokin’-hot, sexy-as-fuck lawyer babe who actually likes you, who bangs your brains out on the regular, and you haven’t wifed her up yet?"
He scoffs.
"Dude, high school was thirteen years ago!”
Adrian winced, groaning as he slumped back in his seat, “I know, okay? I know. I wanted to marry her right after graduation, but her parents would’ve freaked out. And I needed a ring. Like… a real ring.”
Chris narrowed his eyes, “How long have you had that thing?”
Adrian’s voice was sheepish, almost boyish.
“...Eight years.”
Chris slammed his hand against the steering wheel, “EIGHT FUCKING YEARS?!”
Adrian groaned again, clutching his head, “I’m waiting for the right moment!”
“There is no right moment, dipshit!” Chris shouted, face red. “Do it soon before somebody else swoops in and steals her!”
Adrian tilted his head, genuinely confused.
Then he chuckled.
“What, like you?”
Chris looked wounded, “It’s entirely possible!”
Adrian shook his head firmly, “Absolutely not. She hates your guts.”
Chris gasped, clutching his chest.
“Wait... really?”
“Uh, yeah,” Adrian said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Chris sat there, lips pressed in a pout, but before he could argue, the Sebring rolled to a slow stop.
Adrian perked up, box still in hand.
“We’re here!” he announced brightly, popping open the passenger door and stepping out with a bounce in his step.
He shut the door behind him, practically humming with joy.
Chris stayed in the car for a second, glaring down at the wheel.
“Un-fucking-believable,” he muttered before finally shoving his own door open.
Neglectful! Batfamily x merfolk! Reader x Dispatch
part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, and Divider credits.
Cw: probably inaccurate oyster biology. Idk might really piss an oyster lover off (I get real mad when people confuse seals for sea lions, so idk felt it was important) also probably inaccurate 24 year old
• You never felt fully safe in Gotham.
• Was it the crime? Sorta, but not exactly.
• Was it Batman and his robins? No, for years you'd admired them. Well, there was one thing that scared you.
• Then he showed up. Who? Signal.
• What scared you about Gotham was the metahuman hate. Why? You were technically a metahuman.
• You were an oyster. You had a shell, but you hid it and wandered around without it.
• Your hair shined like a pearl would, and so do your eyes.
• Since you were so often out of your shell you made a lot of pearls.
• You cried pearls it was quite a strange sight. If it had been a while since you cried you'd have pretty big pearls pop out.
• You got adopted into the Wayne household a long time ago and never really fit into place.
• You're older than Tim by a few years being 24 and all.
• You had actually found out who Bruce was at 16 which let you figure out the rest of the family.
• You stayed in the manor for a while. When you were 16 you said you'd leave Bruce and the rest the day you turned 18.
• You stayed though, why?
• No one cares also, Bruce is a billionaire, why leave when you can leech off him for a bit longer?
• Bruce and the rest of the family never acknowledged you, but that was okay!
• You had a walk-in closet big enough to hide your shell, you had a stash of pearls you could sell when needed, and you had a decent enough phone.
• What you were missing was a hero to look up to.
• A part of you wanted a hero without powers to look up to like you had done to Batman before you found out he was your father.
• So who did 16 year old you turn to? 24 year old mechaman.
• Two years pass and you're still admiring Mechaman, is it the daddy issues? Probably! Either way, you're still there.
• You wanted something other than Gotham, Justice leagues, and heroes near you.
• Your gaze shifted to California. SDN called for you. They had diversity, they didn't mind what Gotham labeled as metahumans, you fit in enough!
• Plus being a hero nerd in Gotham has some advantages! It helped you learn who'd be dispatched where!
• Why not be a hero yourself? You've been a sheltered billionaire's kid for a while now! Your shell? All in all pretty weak! It was strong enough, but still!
• So at 24 after saving up your own money, easy when you live with a billionaire who'll throw money at his problems to make them go away, and a few more pearls you move out and head to California.
• You did not buy the luxury apartment you wanted, why? You were living on your own money. And SDN probably wouldn't pay a new hire enough for that.
• Later that day you turn on the news while unpacking only to hear Mechaman was stepping down. The reporters were being dicks about it too! Okay, maybe you were heavily biased.
• finally it's Friday! Interview day. You head in to find a very wet white boy, and mechaman.
• You of course sit down and introduce yourself, not as a Wayne. You used your old last name. Better not to be tied to Gotham here.
• You chat with both wet boy, Waterboy as he introduced himself, and Mechaman.
• Mechaman helps waterboy with his tie getting extremely close to look at a flame hero walking by. You recognized him as a villain, but clearly he's turning around.
• Mechaman gets called away by Blonde Blazer.
• You stay with Waterboy encouraging him before you're called away for your interview.
• And you got to try out the job! You had show potential! Or they were just short staffed.
• You bumped into a very large man with long black hair. He introduced himself as Royd. He was nice and you both chatted until you both realized you should tell get to work.
• You sit down in the cubicle behind a man who introduces himself as Robert Robertson to his team.
• His voice was familiar to you, but you couldn't quite place it.
• You hear as Robert's team, Z-team, is yelled at by an older man, Chase, you're pretty sure.
• Chase walks over to you and explains to you your team, Y-team.
• You were understaffed. Your team of 8 was actually a team of 6. This wasn't ideal. In fact a lot of them were fast, defensive, and charismatic.
• As the day went by you had a call come up, and it'd be perfect for Sonar of Z-team!
• And Robert was in need of someone who matched your team, seeing as Golem was resting.
• You make the decision before you can think it through. You connect to Robert's call.
"Robert, this is Y-team dispatcher, (Name). Could you swap calls with me? Sonar would be best! And I have someone like Golem!" You say your voice echoing over the headsets of everyone in Z-team.
• This was... Weird. No one really said they needed any member of the Z-team. Certainly not Y-team.
• Robert stayed quiet for a second before responding.
"Yeah, yeah, go ahead and transfer the call. I'll send Sonar over." Robert said his voice tired, yet calm. "Thanks, I'll send Guy over." You said as you immediately transferred the calls.
• You decided if you ever needed help again, you'd ask him.
• You disconnect from the call and continue as usual with Y-team.
• You finally get to your break and head into the break room only to see Robert get punched in the face.
• You are shoved by Invisigal who grumbles a begrudging sorry to you, and likely you alone judging by how hard she punched Robert.
• Sonar asks for Robert's "Twinks" as you watched.
• You had enough money to not be stingy, besides he helped you earlier, so you buy him two twinkies.
• Later you're taken in Blonde Blazer's office and she talks to you and your day.
• You did good! After all you had nearly zero misses, you don't want to talk about the misses, and you were smart enough to ask Robert for help!
• As you leave you set up your desk noticing Waterboy and Robert talking the donut that was shoved into his keyboard.
• You wave at Robert as you chat with Waterboy for a bit.
• You head off before Waterboy and run into Robert right before Phenomaman flies off.
• You both chat before heading your own ways.
• Little did you and Robert know, you caused quite the stir with Z-team.
A/N: might be cringe, idk. I had fun writing this though! If people like it you'll have to wait a while for updates seeing as I only play dispatch on weekends (I'm trying to take the game slow) and I don't write on weekends. This was fun to write though! Batfamily barely mention, but reader just left, give it a minute.
Summary: (Y/n) comes into the clinic with a simple problem, but ends up in a dire health crisis that points to a mistake. When Chase finds out, he loses his temper with someone on the team.
Enjoy.
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Being here wasn't what (Y/n) had in mind when she thought about how she was going to spend her day off. At least she wouldn't have to wait very long or spend all afternoon here; hopefully.
Her head tilted back as a sigh parted from her lips and she looked ahead to the blinds that were partially closed, meaning that she could see a small slither of the clinic on the other side of the glass. It didn't look too busy, at least not as busy as (Y/n) feared it might be, considering Chase said it could rival the emergency room on its good days.
Letting her eyes glance down, she found herself staring down at her hands, the very reason she had to come here.
It took all of her willpower and restraint to stop herself from clawing her nails down her hands. Again. (Y/n) hated to see the flakes of skin beginning to peel off and the little bumps forming on her skin like speedbumps in the road. Her skin was undoubtedly sore to the point that even a brush of cold air from outside made her hands hiss with pain and had her gritting her teeth.
She'd had some kind of reaction to something. Her hands had been itchy and tingling for a day or so, but today they had gotten worse as if a switch had been flicked.
(Y/n) knew she had to come and get some kind of cream or ointment before she ripped and tore her hands to shreds.
This wasn't something she wanted to message Chase about, not when he was at work and he was busy. The clinic would help her just fine and then she could go back home and see Chase sometime tonight when he finished his shift. His shift times always varied depending on what kind of work they were doing and whether or not it was serious enough that they had to pull long hours working in the lab for a patient.
When she realised she was scratching the back of her hands again, (Y/n) chided herself and quickly dropped her hands to clutch the edge of the bed she was sitting on in the assessment room. Her nails started to dig into the foam beneath her and her knuckles strained as she tensed her fingers, begging for the ache and uncontrollable itching to disappear.
Her eyes lifted back to the blinds again and she tried to look out to see if she could recognise any familiar faces, although she didn't know many of the staff here. Chase didn't socialise much with his colleagues outside of work and he was mainly associated with House's team, not the health care assistants and nurses who worked in the rest of the hospital.
Surprise flooded (Y/n)'s chest when she looked towards the door when it clicked open. She had been expecting to wait a while, but she had barely been in here five minutes. She knew what it could be like in this clinic at times.
A gnawing feeling erupted in her chest when she saw who walked in.
Oh dear.
Nerves ignited in (Y/n)'s stomach and her nails dug down into the foam bed she was sitting on until she left crescent moons in her wake. She felt a great desire to drag her nails down the back of her hands until her skin was peeling off in great chunks.
Out of all the doctors or nurses who could have walked in, why did it have to be Cameron?
There weren't many occasions where (Y/n) had the chance to talk to Cameron or bump into her. Chase didn't go out with his work colleagues that often and (Y/n) didn't socialise with them either, she would feel much too out of place around them.
If it had been Foreman or even House who walked through the door, then (Y/n) would have felt a little more at ease. But it had to be Cameron who walked in. It had to be the one person who (Y/n) really didn't want to interact with for fear of how unnerving and awkward this was going to be.
Cameron had tried to kiss Chase at the Christmas party.
Although (Y/n) had been at the Christmas party, she hadn't seen the interaction. She had been confused when Chase found her among the throng of people and said they should head home, but (Y/n) found it rather sweet how bashful Chase had been when he told her what happened once they got home.
(Y/n) trusted him, they were married and she had a lot of faith in Chase and the fact that he told her what happened rather than just keeping it to himself to brood and worry over told (Y/n) that he wasn't lying.
She knew since the party, Chase had been a little unnerved going back to work and having to be around Cameron. He didn't want things to become uncomfortable at work or for either of them to have to think about transferring.
Somehow, they had both managed to be professional so far and had tried to act like nothing was wrong, although Chase was now starting to keep his distance from Cameron a bit more, just to be on the safe side. It was clear that Cameron fancied Chase and her trying to kiss him while knowing he was married just proved that point even further.
Cameron's hand tightened around the door handle and her hip pressed so harshly against the door that it would surely leave bruises later.
Her teeth sank down into her lower lip as she dithered in the doorway for a moment, trying to gather her senses and decide what to do.
It was just her luck that House was making her do some of the hours he owed here in the clinic so he didn't have to do them. She knew it had been a mistake to come down to the clinic when he paged her, but she had gone and done it anyway.
Now here she was, about to be stuck in a room treating Chase's wife; this wasn't a situation Cameron wanted to find herself in.
"Hi," her tone was full of awkwardness as she stepped over the threshold as if she knew she was about to make some kind of big mistake. She closed the door behind her and found a pair of gloves before she moved towards (Y/n). "What can I help you with?"
(Y/n) wordlessly held her hands out in front of her when Cameron came to stand beside her. She didn't dare look up at Cameron and instead kept her eyes deathly focused on her hands.
Part of her felt like climbing down and heading home and just waiting for Chase to get home so he could take a look for her instead. But (Y/n) knew that wasn't going to solve anything. She needed some kind of steroid cream or medication, she needed it today so she didn't tear her hands to shreds and make them any worse than they had turned out to be this afternoon.
This shouldn't take long anyway, Cameron could just assess her and give her a prescription and send her home, then there would be no more awkwardness for either of them to endure.
"When did it start?"
(Y/n) began to tap her foot against the floor, needing to rid some of the nervous energy from her system when Cameron tried to look and observe her hands. But it was as if Cameron thought she was contagious or that touching (Y/n) would fracture some sense of reality.
She was extremely hesitant when she held onto one of (Y/n)'s hands and started to inspect the broken, peeling skin. She lightly prodded and tapped where her hands were beginning to swell and crack and pinched the end of her fingertips, presumably checking for reaction and blood vessels.
"They've been itchy for a few days, but it got worse today." Again, (Y/n) resisted the urge to scratch her hands, but the tension in the air felt almost as bad.
"Looks like you've had an allergic reaction to something. Have you been using anything new? Cream, wash liquid, soap?"
(Y/n) tried to think. She'd never had an allergic reaction to anything before, she had always been rather lucky like that. She hadn't eaten anything different, and they used the same brand of wash liquid and clothes softener at home that they had always used. There was nothing different that she could think of that she had used… except for a new hand cream.
"Um… Rob got me some new hand cream, I've used it a few times though." It didn't seem like the kind of thing that would cause a reaction like this, but it was the only thing that was different.
Since Chase gave her that rose scented hand cream, (Y/n) had been using it after washing up and a lot at night for about four days now. He knew she was always getting dry hands and randomly came home with creams and lotions every now and then. It was a sweet gesture that (Y/n) loved.
Maybe the cream had done this, after all she had used it last night when the itching got worse. The cream didn't make her hands blister or burn or feel tingly straight after using it, (Y/n) wouldn't have thought a reaction would take its time and build up like this.
She caught Cameron nodding out the corner of her eye and heard her hum, but her eyes were still intently focused on (Y/n)'s hands. Making eye contact seemed like it would break some kind of silent rule between them.
"I'll give you an antihistamine, you should wait in here for a few minutes afterwards as it can make you drowsy."
That was all it took? A tablet and this reaction would fade? Hopefully (Y/n) could get some prescription cream too because that tablet might stop the reaction, but she doubted it would help the skin that was already peeling and the raw itch she desperately wanted to scratch away.
When Cameron held out a little paper cup with one circular tablet in the centre, (Y/n) took it with a soft look in her eyes that finally lifted to meet Cameron's diverted gaze.
"Thank you."
As soon as she downed the tablet, Cameron hummed something along the lines of 'okay then' and turned, abruptly and silently leaving the room along with the chart that had been on the side unit.
Was that her job over with then? (Y/n) might have to find someone else, a doctor or a passing nurse before she left to see if they could prescribe her some cream. There was no point in (Y/n) going home or trying to find a pharmacist on her way home to get some cream when it would be much easier for someone here in the clinic to give her a prescription. She needed something to help with this antagonising itch.
When she looked down and realised her nails were dragging along the back of her hands, (Y/n) sighed through gritted teeth and scrunched her hands up in the hem of her shirt instead.
How long was she supposed to sit here and wait? Would she still be alright to drive home? She couldn't exactly leave her car here and take the bus home. It was an allergy tablet, how drowsy would it really make her feel, what was the dosage and strength?
Clearly Cameron had felt as unsettled around (Y/n) as she was around her. She hadn't stuck around to write in the notes here in front of (Y/n) and check whether the tablet was going to work and reduce her symptoms or not. Maybe she would check back in with (Y/n) in a few minutes. Perhaps she would tell (Y/n) in five or ten minutes that she was good to go.
(Y/n) might just leave and go find someone else for a prescription in five minutes. There was no point sitting here forever.
Her eyes glanced towards the window ahead of her and she tried to see through the partially closed blinds, seeing a few figures passing by.
But as she stared ahead of her, (Y/n) found her shoulders tensing and rising high while she started to lean forwards unintentionally.
It felt like there were brackets on either side of her chest that were starting to tighten and press in on her ribs.
In an attempt to ignore the feeling, (Y/n) closed her eyes and bowed her head forward and for a few seconds, she thought it was working. But then the feeling increased. A horrible ache spread through her ribs and her lungs felt like they were inhaling acid that was burning with each breath.
(Y/n) suddenly realised that she wasn't breathing deeply anymore; her breaths were shallow, like there wasn't enough space in her lungs to fit anymore in, but she couldn't exhale any more either. Her lungs were burning but they weren't working at maximum capacity anymore. Her throat was suddenly parched and horribly dry.
Her hand rose to clamp around her throat, fingers pushing and squeezing to try and gage whether her throat was swelling like it seemed to feel, but it wasn't. Her muscles weren't swelling, they were starting to close up.
Spots danced in front of her eyes and she blinked furiously to try and clear her vision as she jumped to her feet that were suddenly numb and tingling.
Her knees quaked and her hand stayed around her throat like she was trying to keep her head from falling off.
(Y/n) stretched her free hand out and shoved the door, using it as leverage to prop herself up when her body felt like it was weighing down and her legs didn't feel strong enough to keep her upright. More spots blurred (Y/n)'s vision and mingled in with the tears beginning to trickle from her eyes and distort her view of the glistening white corridor.
Her head turned from left to right, the action causing her throat to ache as wheezing, ragged sounds scratched past her lips and her hand moved down to pat her chest rather than grip her throat.
"H- he- help." She took a croaky inhale, feeling her skin flush and light up with heat from both panic and exertion and whatever reaction she was now having to what Cameron had given her. (Y/n) had never been allergic to anything before, but now she seemed to be having two allergic reactions in one day.
She wasn't sure she would be able to make it more than a few steps out into the corridor, but thankfully, she didn't have to.
The reception desk was only five feet away from the room she was in and stood there, leaning against the desk looking both bored and perplexed, was Cameron.
At the sound of (Y/n)'s voice, Cameron's head snapped up and her fingers abruptly pulled away from her hair where she had been propping her head up with her elbow resting on the desk. Her face contorted into a frown with worry lines creasing her forehead when she looked in (Y/n)'s direction.
The uncertainty and awkwardness she carried with her earlier faded out like a morning mist when she realised something was wrong and she glided across the corridor until she was standing in front of (Y/n).
(Y/n) couldn't help but close her eyes when she felt Cameron's gloved hands pressing over her chest before they moved to cup her throat. Feeling if her muscles were closing up and what her pulse was like.
"You- you're having an allergic reaction to the antihistamine." Moving her hands to (Y/n)'s shoulders, Cameron carefully yet firmly turned her around and helped guide her back into the room.
She pointed towards the bed but (Y/n) didn't try and sit down, she didn't want to. She shook her head, both hands moving to her chest as she leant back against the wall and closed her eyes. She didn't want to keep seeing black spots blurring her vision or feel the tears welling up in her eyes.
"I'm going to give you a dose of epinephrine to stop it."
There was barely any energy within her to nod to what Cameron was saying, but at least she understood.
She could hear a rustling, the sound of hinges creaking when a drawer opened and then slammed shut. (Y/n)'s arm stiffened and it felt like claws raked down her nerves when a needle punctured into her arm a few inches below her shoulder.
The back of (Y/n)'s head was pressing so harshly against the wall that it felt like she was going to make a dint in the plaster, but she couldn't bring herself to care about that or the headache it was going to cause. Her muscles were as stiff as clay and she bound both arms around her chest, knees quaking to try and keep her stood upright, leaning against the wall.
She tried not to cringe when Cameron's hand found her neck and she forced herself to stay still, letting her feel the sudden, gulping breaths (Y/n) was now able to take.
"It's working."
When Cameron's hands left her skin, (Y/n) forced herself to open her eyes and wait for the stars to stop twinkling before her eyes.
Coming to the hospital was supposed to make her feel better, not worse. If (Y/n) had known her reactions would have been this severe she would have persevered and waited for Chase to come home tonight and get his opinion. But at least this had happened while she was here in a hospital, where help and medications were close at hand.
Pressing her hand against her chest, she tried to slow down her erratic heartbeat and take deep breaths. In through her nose, out through her mouth.
Her lungs were aching like they had been stabbed and pins and needles were flowing through her hands right to the ends of her fingers.
At least her legs didn't feel so shaky or hollow anymore, (Y/n) could hold herself up without needing the wall there for support. She pushed forward so she was standing up straight, but her stomach tensed and pulled in and her chest felt like it was throbbing with every pulse of her heart.
"Should… oh, should my heart feel like this?" Her hand ghosted back across her chest as she grimaced.
The feeling of hearing and sensing her heartbeat was something that (Y/n) didn't particularly like. It made her feel uneasy, but this was different. This feeling wasn't just (Y/n) sensing and taking note of her heartbeat. This was the feeling of her heart thrashing against her ribs like it was trying to impale itself on them. This was her blood pumping furiously throughout her body and thundering in her ears until it was the only thing she could hear, sense and understand.
Her heart had never felt this rapid and strange before. (Y/n) had never sensed her heartbeat like this before. Was this a normal reaction? Should she be feeling so faint and unsteady and have such a rapid heart rate like this?
"It's just adrenaline in response to the reaction. You're fine." Cameron's voice was back to having that curt tone that could cut through the air like a knife.
(Y/n) grimaced as she felt like telling Cameron that this had never happened before. She'd never experienced any kind of reaction or shock like this, how was she supposed to know if it was normal or not? And even if this was meant to feel normal, it certainly wasn't calming or something that (Y/n) could just ignore.
The pounding of her pulse was starting to make her tremble on the spot, and this surely couldn't be normal or all down to adrenaline.
Her muscles stiffened and her stomach clenched when she saw the way Cameron was now looking at her through narrowed, scrutinising eyes.
Just, lie down for a bit and let it wear off. I'll go get your chart."
Cameron seemed to sigh through her words as she pointed towards the bed in the middle of the room before she walked out the still open door. In her rush to stop the allergic reaction, Cameron had left (Y/n)'s chart on the reception desk. She would have to note this down, that she'd reacted to the medication and needed a further injection to stop it.
This would have to go on (Y/n)'s medical file so any other visits to the clinic didn't end the same way; so other doctors knew that she now had a few allergies.
Part of (Y/n) was glad that Cameron had left the room because she wasn't the person (Y/n) would want to be around when she wasn't feeling her best. But the other part of her was screaming because her body now felt horrid.
She didn't want to sit down, not when she felt like this in case she passed out or couldn't get herself back up again. Her legs had gone from feeling hollow to now feeling like two lumps of metal that she could barely keep under her control. Her heart was pounding so furiously in her chest that she was surprised no one could see it trying to break apart through her ribs.
A thumping sound that surprisingly couldn't be attributed to her heart caught her attention and (Y/n) managed to clear her vision enough to look out into the door to her right and into the hall.
A cane. It was House passing by, either just arriving or just about to depart from the clinic.
He was better than no one. House might be just as curt and probably a lot more cynical than Cameron, but at least he might listen when (Y/n) said something didn't feel right. And he was the kind of person that would hand out a prescription no questions asked if (Y/n) calmed down enough to ask for some cream for her hands that suddenly didn't hurt anymore compared to the ache in her chest.
Getting out the doorway was a lot harder than (Y/n) anticipated, considering she was so close to it.
Her legs caved barely one step over the threshold and suddenly, (Y/n) couldn't get her thoughts in order. She couldn't call out for House, she couldn't make a scream or even force a breath of air past her lips. She couldn't move a muscle or try and make a feeble cry out for Chase.
When House turned on his heels he was anticipating a patient falling over, a child pushing their parent or someone tripping up a passing orderly. He was all set to smirk and feel an inward chuckle at something happening so close by, and he was already prepared to carry on walking out of the clinic and head back to his office without lending a hand at all.
His plans were thwarted the moment he saw her laid out on the floor.
Despite the very few, limited times House had met (Y/n), he recognised her straight away. And there was that lingering part of his identity that try as he might, he couldn't shift. That part of him that cared about the patients and wanted to contribute to medicine. There was a patient on the floor and House was the closest person; the doctor in him wouldn't let him back away or stand around idle. He would help until someone else could take over.
His teeth grated together as he tossed his cane down to the floor and pressed his hand to the wall, gripping his thigh with his free hand so he could slump down to his knees on the floor. It made his thigh scream in agony and he had to resist the urge to punch the wall to focus on a different sense of pain.
His hands reached out for (Y/n) and he carefully turned her head so her cheek was no longer pressed against the floor and it was the back of her head that rested on the floor. But when he pressed his fingers into her neck and then shifted so his palm was flat on her chest, he grimaced.
"I need a crash cart over here! She's got no pulse."
She had flatlined. House couldn't feel a heartbeat beneath his fingers and her chest wasn't rising and falling with breaths either. She had crashed.
His jeans scuffed along the floor as he shuffled to the left so he was knelt at the side of (Y/n) rather than behind her head. There wasn't time to be careful as his hands found her arm and hip and he rolled her from her side and onto her back before he yanked at her shirt. He heard a few buttons snapping off, but that wasn't his problem.
Once her chest was exposed to him, House interlaced his fingers and started compressions. At least it was him who had been passing by and not Chase; he would undoubtedly be panicking in this situation and it was better for an outside professional to assist rather than someone too close to the patient.
He waited a fraction of a second after ten compressions, but there was no rise and fall of her chest. His fingers expertly pushed into her chin and tilted her head back while his other hand pinched the bridge of her nose and gave two breaths. Then he was back to compressions again.
That familiar sound of a trolley with a squeaky wheel caught his attention and he turned, not stopping his administrations, to see two nurses skidding across the floor with a crash cart between them. But then House spotted Cameron running over.
Her ponytail was swaying behind her like it was swatting imaginary flies, her complexion was now tainted with a deep blush and her lips were parted in horror as her hands pointed down in (Y/n)'s direction.
House wasn't stupid. He had sent Cameron down here to do his clinic hours for him- part of him had been surprised that she had given in so easily- and he could see (Y/n)'s name on the chart in Cameron's hand that she quickly dropped onto a spare chair next to her.
"House- oh my God, I-"
"Step away." There was a dangerous look in House's eyes that glared daggers into Cameron to make sure she didn't get any closer and try to intervene.
He wouldn't have her getting involved and having a malpractice suit on her hands. She had been the doctor to treat (Y/n) up to now, if something had happened Cameron would be liable.
He uttered "finally," under his breath when the defibrillator was laid out beside him and if this weren't such a dire situation, he might even have rolled his eyes at how long they had taken to assist him. But he didn't have the time for that.
House set to work placing the paddles over (Y/n)'s chest, one beneath her collar bone and the other to the right side of her chest. With a curt nod of his head to the nurse, she charged the machine and the electric charge surged through (Y/n)'s chest. Her back lifted with the shock and her head lolled to the right, but then House saw it.
That subtle rise in her chest that caused him to set down one of the paddles and press his fingers to her neck to feel for a rhythm.
"She's back."
He let the nurse reach across and take the paddles from him to tuck away back into the medical cart and she exchanged it for a pulse clip which she handed to House. Watching as he clipped it onto (Y/n)'s index finger before he sank back on his heels and finally took a proper breath.
"Find a gurney, she needs to be admitted onto a ward for observation." It wasn't quite clear who House was talking to, but at least three different people moved to do as he'd asked.
And he was sure that one of them was running off to find Cuddy, since her office led right off the clinic.
When House lifted his head, his eyes narrowed on Cameron who was stood to one side, both arms cocooned around her chest with one hand raised to her mouth. She was chewing her nail and looked to be holding herself in a tight hug to stop it from being clear that she had started to shake. If House didn't know her, he wouldn't have known that she was on the brink of tears.
"What did you give her?"
***
There was an electric charge in the air this afternoon, Chase could feel it buzzing around him.
He could hear some kind of commotion before he stepped through the doors into the clinic and it made him wary to carry on. There was more hustle and bustle down here than usual; Chase was used to seeing the clinic full but rather silent with patients sat around waiting for appointments.
It wasn't like that today. Very few people were actually sitting down, most of them were hovering near the reception desk where Chase could see a nurse and security trying to create a blockade to keep everyone back.
Oh God, what had House done now?
Chase had been in the middle of running a DNA test in the lab for their latest patient- just as House ordered- when he got a sudden and rather confusing message on his pager from House.
Clinic. Now.
He presumed it was House trying to get him to come down here and work the hours that he owed to the clinic and that thought made Chase want to ignore the pager, but curiosity got the better of him and he found himself making his way down here.
His eyes finally locked on House, stood to one side opposite the reception desk, but his boss looked rather ashen. His lips were pulled into a thin line and he was taking his fingers on his cane like he was getting ready to weaponize it in case of an emergency.
"Dare I ask what you've done? Whatever it is, Cuddy won't let me take over your hours for you."
"That's not why I paged you."
There was something in House's tone that set Chase's nerves on edge. It was almost as if he were remorseful for something, but Chase had no idea what.
"What's going on?"
The colour and complexion in Chase's features drained to an awful shade of charcoal grey when he leaned around House to see what everyone was gathering to see. There was a gurney a few paces behind house where two nurses were fluttering around a patient. And then he realised who that patient was.
"(Y/n)?"
House made no attempt to get in Chase's way when the younger man weaved past him, feet skidding on the floor in his haste to get towards his wife.
He seemed to take (Y/n) by surprise when his hip bashed against the gurney and his hands instantly reached down to cup her face in his palms. Chase brushed his thumbs across her cheekbones, his fingers nudging and scraping against her hair to brush it away from where it was sticking around her ears.
His eyes analysed her, taking in how clammy and warm her skin was in his hands and that dazed look in her eyes that could barely focus on him without rolling towards the back of her head. There was an oxygen mask held in her hand that was resting on her thigh, but (Y/n) was making no move to press it to her lips that were chapped and discoloured on the inside.
"Baby, wh…" Whatever Chase was about to say fizzled out on his tongue when his rabid eyes glanced down.
Her shirt was ripped open. There were marks on her chest; Chase recognised those kind of marks, the ones that would blossom into bruises within the hour. And when Chase looked to his left, a bewilderment flooded his eyes and a nasty snarl curled on his lips.
"What happened? Did- did someone use de-fib on her?" There was a crash cart behind one of the nurses. (Y/n) had marks on her chest. She was breathing shallow and looked like she was about to be sick. Someone had used the defibrillator on his wife. What happened while he had been up in the lab? Why was (Y/n) even here in the first place?
House let out a sigh as he tapped his cane against the floor like he was casting some kind of spell. "She had an allergic reaction, Cameron gave epinephrine and then her heart stopped. We only had to shock her once, she's fully responsive now-"
"Yeah, House she looks perfectly fine now." Chase's snarky voice was dripping with sarcasm before he looked back down to his wife.
He was still cradling her face in his hands but he could feel (Y/n)'s free hand trying to grasp his elbow, presumably to try and gain his attention.
When he looked down, Chase's features went from fury to confusion when he caught sight of her hands. His touch left her face in favour of carefully holding onto her wrists which he raised so he could inspect them. She'd had an allergic reaction to something alright, her hands were torn to ribbons as if she had dunked them in scalding hot water for over a minute.
That had to be why she had come down to the clinic, but that didn't explain why they had all used the defibrillator on her. If she came to the clinic then (Y/n) only suffered a mild allergic reaction, she hadn't taken herself to the emergency room or been brought here by ambulance. What happened since she came here for this situation to escalate?
He looked to his left and suddenly realised Cameron was one of the few doctors hovering around here. She didn't look very settled. Her back was pressed up against the wall and she was biting down on her nail until there was bound to be nothing left. She was anxious and she wouldn't look Chase in the eye. It was usually him avoiding eye contact with her, not the other way around.
"How much epinephrine did you give her?" The accusing tone in Chase's voice made Cameron wince.
Her arms dropped from around her chest, but her hands chose to fiddle at her sides, scrunching and gripping at her lab coat in a vain attempt to keep herself calm.
"Point one, the smallest dose for a reaction."
"Point one? You sure it wasn't one?"
It wasn't like Chase to be this accusing. Usually it was House throwing accusations and remarks around and the rest of the team scrambling to prove themselves to him and show him that they knew what they were doing. And in the beginning, Chase had always stuck up for Cameron when she spoke her mind or made a decision.
But this wasn't about a decision being made, this was about whether or not she had made an error that had put (Y/n) at risk. This kind of reaction didn't just happen out of the blue, especially not when such a small dose of that particular medication had been given like that. Either there was an underlying cause, or Cameron had made a mistake.
She certainly didn't like the dark look in Chase's eyes that were narrowed in on her, or the accusing tone to his voice, because she scoffed.
"Oh please, I know what I'm doing-"
"Well it doesn't look like it. Her heart wouldn't stop from a mild reaction or zero point one of epinephrine." Chase untangled his hands from (Y/n) and stepped closer to Cameron as his heart started to pound in his ears and sent red hot heat enveloping around his body.
Something had happened here for his wife to be in such a state, and Chase didn't like the fact that no one had a definitive answer or a reason. There was always a reason, working with House had taught them all that so they needed to find the explanation here.
Sensing a storm brewing, House stepped forward until he was hovering beside them both like a teacher in the playground. He used his cane to nudge Chase back a few steps before he turned his attention on Cameron.
He pointed towards the assessment room that (Y/n) had come out of after her reaction. "Show me which needle you used."
There were medications clearly labelled and set out in the drawers and cupboards in each room. All Cameron had to do was show them which needle she had picked up and they would know the dosage and whether she had done her job properly or not. Then once they knew, they could figure out their next steps and make sure (Y/n) wouldn't have any other adverse reactions and what was causing them.
It was clear by Cameron's expression that she wasn't impressed about having to explain herself. They worked together, they were some of the best in their field, they had solved countless cases that other doctors couldn't fathom. And now she was having to prove that she had done a simple injection properly and given the right dosage.
And she suspected that if this were any other random patient that had come in off the street and not Chase's wife, she wouldn't have to explain herself. Clearly the team only trusted her when they were treating strangers.
Cameron's lips pursed and her heels thumped against the tiled floor as she stormed into the room and headed towards the drawers on the right hand side. She pulled open the drop drawer and made a big motion of pointing towards the tray held inside.
There were six different sections, all containing pre-filled needles of different medications and dosages and each one had a different sticker label and different coloured cap on the end.
"See? Green." It was clear that Cameron was talking to House rather than to Chase and she stepped aside so House could stand beside her and take a look where she was pointing.
But Chase didn't bother to try and lean over and take a peek. He turned away from the pair of them and looked around the room instead. There was a metal tray resting on the side unit beneath the window to the right of the door, and Chase immediately spotted an empty needle resting on the tray.
He could understand Cameron had been in a rush to get the medication into (Y/n)'s system to stop her reaction, which was why the needle was there for the time being and not already put away in the yellow sharps bin. He couldn't stop himself, Chase reached out for the needle and picked it up, narrowing his eyes as he scrutinised the label.
"You gave her the wrong one."
Such a dark, incredibly violent edge cut along Chase's voice as his hands began to shake and he turned to look over his shoulder at them.
Even after Cameron had tried to kiss him and cosy up to him at the Christmas party, Chase had still been professional towards her. He didn't hold it against her. Of course he had been wary those first few shifts together afterwards, he didn't want her to try and do that again or become resentful towards him or feel uncomfortable and not speak to him.
He had acted like it was nothing, like it didn't bother him and he didn't tell anyone. Chase had been professional and courteous towards Cameron, but this was something he couldn't overlook or forgive. Not this.
"No I didn't." Cameron's voice was a lot weaker than it was a few seconds ago and a round of trembling tore through her system when Chase's furious eyes blazed on her.
"You gave (Y/n) ten times the dosage," he thrust the needle out towards House to examine before his tremoring fingers tore through his hair and started to tug and yank on each strand in his fists. "You could have killed my wife!"
His fist rammed into the wall, earning a violent echo to shudder through the room and tremble in his wake when he stormed out. The longer Chase stayed in there, the more resentful he would grow towards Cameron and then he would end up saying or doing something he truly shouldn't.
Every part of him was shaking and his nails were cutting into his palms from how tightly his hands were clenched into fists at his sides. His jaw was grinding so much that his teeth were chattering and aching like he had chomped down on a block of ice. He didn't know what to do with himself, until his sights set on (Y/n).
She was still laid on the stretcher that hadn't gone anywhere yet, presumably because they were waiting for him to accompany (Y/n) since they knew he was her husband.
There was a fearful look in (Y/n)'s watering eyes that were locked on him and when she feebly shook one hand out in his direction, all of Chase's resolve faded away. He crossed the short distance until he could weave his fingers through hers and cocoon her hand towards his chest.
"S'alright babe, we're gonna get you sorted out." His free hand moved to graze the back of his fingers against her temple and he managed a small smile when (Y/n) tilted her head towards the touch.
He tried to slow down the erratic rise and fall of his chest and let some of the anger fizzle out of his blood, he needed to calm down if he was going to stay with (Y/n) and get her up on a ward and checked over.
When Chase lifted his eyes at the sound of approaching heels, he wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or not at the sight of Cuddy aiming their way. She looked very perplexed, caught between wanting to smile and wanting to look around at the madness happening in her clinic. Clearly she had been informed of some of the situation, but not everything.
"Oh- oh, you were our patient who coded?" There was something soft entwined with Cuddy's disbelief at realising it was (Y/n) who had been the cause of this emergency.
But (Y/n) didn't bother to answer, she wasn't sure she trusted her voice when her throat felt like it had been shred with razors and her chest was aching and throbbing horribly as if she had been whacked with a baseball bat.
She didn't need to answer; not when Chase beat her to it. "You'd better call your insurance and suspend one of your doctors, unless you want another patient going into cardiac arrest."
Venom dripped from Chase's words that were like poison on his tongue that he wanted to be rid of, and he didn't bother to explain any further. Not when he could see House and Cameron appearing in the doorway out the corner of his eye. He didn't want to deal with them any more.
With (Y/n)'s hand clasped against his heart as if he was showing her how frantic his heartbeat was and his other hand now tangled in her hair, Chase leant over her until he could press a longing kiss to her burning temple.
(Y/n) was his main priority right now; he would deal with everything else later.
You lay a panting, sweaty, mess. Chase’ form sits plush against your sex firmly planted in between your legs as he hunches over you. “Y’know I could nut right now just from seeing you like this”. The bulge rubbed sweetly against you he groaned, his skin flushed as he tucked his face into the small of your neck— caging your head in between his arms. The sun had barely risen, only slightly peaking through the blinds, everyone else would be sleeping…
Every spasm, every twitch, god you could feel how fast his heart was beating.
“T-Thank, fuck, thank you…so good for me yeah?” His face contorted into one of obsession and arousal. It was short lived however, his eyebrows knitting together his eyes slammed closed as he whined lowly. “Squeeze me more” You could do nothing but gasp; eyes fluttering shut as your body instinctively obeyed his command.
Oh yes doctor please I think I have a fever from how bad my body wants you to fuck your babies into m—
Chase shakily lifted himself slowly from your body, beads of sweat racing down his chest; your arms, almost as if they were conditioned to do so, hung lazily around his neck. He was such a sight. His hair sticking to his forehead, his lips slight ajar cooing out praises of ‘you feel so good’ and ‘you’re so good to me’ like a broken record. He reached down to watch himself split you apart, pulling out and slowly pushing in to the hilt. So full.
“Fuck, I’m probably gonna cum if we keep on like this y/n…” he circled your clit with the pad of his thumb and smirked when you whined out for him. Staring into your eyes, he knew he had your complete attention.
Your lips were locked in a passionate kiss, the air was thick with anticipation. Your body arched off the bed again, legs locking around his hips firmly as Chase’ skilled fingers continued to tease your sensitive flesh. You moaned into his mouth, and he bit your lip in response.
His breath coming in short gasps. His body was on fire, and all he could think about was you. House was totally gonna have his ass tomorrow for not coming into work today but he didn’t care. He loved these intimate mornings with you.
❛ ROBERT “COCKBLOCK” ROBERTSON ꨄ YOUNG!CHASE / READER. ──────── despite how annoying babysitting robert is, it seemed to have its perks.. the new neighbor definitely being one of them.❛𓂂 ͜ᩘ ̵̼͓̥͒̾͘𑣿 ◞
۫ NOTES. [ young!chase is lowkey ooc, not much you can do with so little screen time but i tried my best | reader is black and depicted as having a fuller / curvy body | chase is 20 while robert is like 10 | robert being a little cockblock | chase attempting to flirt | etc]
۫ MANI’S THOUGHTS. [ silly little thing i wrote, robert being the typical younger brother and just practically ruining shit for chase. sorry, young him is too fine not to write about. ]
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This isn’t how Chase wished to spend his Saturday. He wanted nothing more than to be home in his bed binging something or maybe even out on the street helping Robbie in catching criminals, anyone, even petty thieves. But no, he was stuck here, babysitting.. as usual. Being apart of the Brave Brigade had its perks, but being the youngest member seemed to have more downsides when it came to taking care of a coworker’s kid. Nonetheless it’s a job he’s come to love, given the close bound he’s formed with said child.
Despite his bitching and whining, Robert Robertson was a good kid— one Chase didn’t mind having around.
Until now it seemed.
It was a normal day, the sun was out and instead of comics the pair decided to play a bit of catch in the front yard. They each wore a mitt, throwing the ball back and forth,— coupled with shit talk ( more so on Chase’s end ).
“Woah… where you looking kid?” Chase gave a bright, mocking smile the moment the ball just barely grazed Robert’s mitt, instead shooting right into the grass behind him. He chuckled a bit at the frustrated grumble that escaped the child, watching him turn and practically stomp to the ball.
“I thought we agreed no powers!”
Chase sucked his teeth, “Powers, where? That throw was so light a grandma could have caught it.” The little fury that shined in Robert’s eyes caused Chase’s glee to grow. He watched as the kid steadied, getting into a throwing position; the speedster matching this quickly with his own catching stance.
With all his might Robert tossed the ball, it zooming forward. Chase moved expertly, dashing to the side and extending his gloved hand to grab the ball. “Look at that, when you aren’t crying like a little bitch you’re pretty good at throwing!”
Despite the harsh words Robert smiled all the same, knowing his babysitter was gently teasing him like any young adult would.
“Yeah, well— I’ll get even better than you!”
“Pfft.. you wish…” Chase huffed quickly, gaze maneuvering from the kid instead to the neighboring house the moment the front door opened. He meant to simply glance and return his attention back to Robert, but was quickly enamored by the person walking through the threshold.
She was beautiful, perfect as dramatic as it seemed. Chase couldn’t help but notice the way her melanated skin shined as the sun hit it, how her plump body was covered in a simple flowy dress, fabric wrapping around each curve as she stepped down from her home’s porch. The woman took strides towards the end of her driveway, heading towards the mailbox.
Chase only ever noticed Robert moving until the crunch of grass entered his ears, dispelling the trance this mysterious woman had him under. The young man’s eyes switched to the boy for a second, “Whose that?”
“Huh?..” Robert had waltzed over in concern, wondering why his friend had suddenly went silent. He gave a look of confusion it only easing when he finally noticed her.. you.
“Oh— that’s [Name] our new neighbor, she’s pretty nice, gave me coo—“ The words could barely escape Robert’s throat before he was hacking from the dirt that kicked up the second Chase moved. His eyes squinted, blinking out remnants, gaze soon clearing to settle on Chase who was now approaching you. Robert sucked his teeth, eyes drooping to settle on the discarded baseball.
“Dick..”
Fingers clasped the cold metal latch of the mailbox, lifting it up whilst your free hand reached in, grasping the many pieces of mail tucked in neatly. Lifting the pile out, you closed the mailbox shut, humming as your eyes looked over the items. A few pieces had your name, your mom’s, and mail that seemed to belong to the previous owner of the home. You grumbled a bit to yourself, pushing them to the back of the pile whilst continuing to look through it.
“Hey.”
You jumped a bit at the sudden voice, gaze hurriedly raising from the letters to settle on the sudden intrusion. Your eyebrow rose, taking in the man — probably your age — standing just a few feet away from your mailbox. He was dressed in baggy blue jeans and an oversized button up, dark locs laid perfectly amongst his head with a fresh undercut. Safe to say.. he wasn’t ugly.
You gave your best at a little smile, not to subtly giving him an up-down. “Hey.. I just moved here, you one of my neighbors?”
The man shook his head, “Nah, I just babysit for your neighbor once in a while.” His head tilted back, gesturing to the little boy that stood several feet away from you both, holding a baseball. You gave a little nod of acknowledgment,
“Oh yeah.. You’re Chase aren’t you? Little Robert told me a little about you when I came over with cookies.“
Chase gave a little chuckle, dimples deep as dark eyes focused on your features. “Yeah, he told me how nice this [Name] was— decided to see for myself.” Noting the simper he wore, you couldn’t help but wear your own. Was he hitting on you?
“See for yourself, huh?” You teased just a bit, arms crossing as your mail completely went ignored. Your head tilted a bit, as if looking at him from a different angle. “Did I meet your expectations Mr. Babysitter?”
His smile deepened, eyes shifting to the side for a moment as a soft amused breath escaped him. Chase pushed forward, coming to lean against your mailbox as his gaze settled back to you. “Still on the fence.. nothing a little more talking won’t fix.”
Yeah, he’s definitely hitting on you.
The revelation caused you to giggle a bit, a warmth brewing in your stomach. You were far from excited about the sudden move your mother forced you into, but it seemed to come with some perks.
“So what do you li—“
“Chaseeee!” The sudden prepubescent screech caused Chase’s eyes to screw shut in annoyance, hand crumbling into a slack fist. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit, entertained with the way he seemed to mad at the interruption.
“Think someone’s calling you.”
Chase gives you unamused expression before tossing a quick, “Give me a sec kid!” over his shoulder. This was only met with a grumble on Robert’s part to which the young adult vehemently ignored, focus completely on you.
“Before I was rudely interrupted.. what do you like to do?”
“Mm… bake mostly. Also hair, ya know— boring stuff. What about you; besides babysitting for some little white boy with the weirdest name ever?”
Chase snickered, “Not too much on his name now, it’s a family tradition.” He enjoyed your laughter, swearing his cheeks would rip any moment from how much he was smiling. He rested on his arm, lips parting to speak again, in hopes of getting more laughs out of you. Only such hope was cut short the moment something struck the back of his head. The man jumped forward with a less than attractive grunt, hand flying to the spot in an attempt to soothe the pain. Chase was quick to toss a glare behind him, spotting the shit-eating grin plastered on Robert’s face.
You took a glance between the two, practically sensing what would surely transpire in the next few minutes. Deciding you wanted no parts, you turned on your heel, facing your driveway.
“Seems you have some business to attend to, it was nice meeting you Chase— bye little Robert!” You called a bit little louder so the kid could hear, smiling the moment you noticed him wave. You pressed forward, a little pep in your step as you headed towards your home.
Chase watched you for a moment, completely silent and simply waiting for you to enter your home. The moment you did, shutting the door behind you with a gentle click, the man was quickly spinning on his heel, darting towards Robert.
Robert could only scream as a sudden force scooped him up with ease, soon being maneuvered into a headlock with a knuckle being pushed into his head in the harshest noogie ever. The boy kicked and flailed, uselessly pushing at the other’s arm.
“I surrender! Uncle, uncle!”
“Hell no! You aren’t getting off that easy after being a cockblocking dickhead!”
summary: you and chase have been sworn enemies since he stepped foot in mission creek high. you can't imagine him as anything other than your rival. but what happens when the two of you are forced to work together for the sake of the school?
cw: academic rivals to friends to lovers, an attempt at a slow burn, vulgar language, there aren't many other warnings since it's pretty much sfw, i did have to make up a math teacher cuz there aren't many teachers mentioned in the show lol. part one of idk how many :p
words: 10.7k
a/n: AAAAA part 1 is finally here!!! thank you for all your patience ♡♡ It has been a ROUGH couple of months but I've completed part one! Let me know what y'all think teheh 🤭
"What are you doing up still?"
"Need to study."
"You're a bionic genius. What the hell do you need to study for?"
"I need to study so I can beat her."
Chase turned around in his rolling desk chair, facing his step-brother, who was standing by the door with his fuzzy slippers, warm, soft pijamas on, and a glass of water in his hand. The whole house was dark and silent, the only source of light being Chase's desk lamp shining bright onto the glossy, white pages of his textbook. Pencils and highlighters scattered around the desk, stacks of color-coded flash cards, and loose papers filled up the surrounding space. Chase's eyes looked tired. They were coated with a slight shine, and the corners were starting to look a little red due to all the yawning and the rubbing.
"Who cares? Chase, it's just a test! You should really go to sleep, you look awful."
"Just a test? Oh really, yeah? Just a test, ok. Let's say she does better than me in this one test. Who cares? It's just one test! But then, she does better in the next one, and in the other one after, and then she gets a higher SAT score, gets into a better college, gets a better education, a better job, a better future, you see where I'm going with this?"
At this point, Leo was not so sure whether it was a sleep deprivation related issue or if his brother was going insane.
"What's with all the noise?! What are you guys doing up?! It's one in the morning and it's a school night!" Tasha barged in the conversation, her light sleep disturbed by Chase's slow descent into madness.
"I just wanted a glass of water! It's him you should be worried about."
"Chase! Turn off that light, go down to the lab, and go to sleep!"
"But I- "
"No buts! Get your ass down to the lab, or I swear I'm gonna drag you down there myself."
Chase sighed. He knew that if it were Mr. Davenport, he would have simply waited for him to go back to bed and ignore his vain attempt at being a dad. But with Tasha, he was certain she would have kept her promise. He wasn't going to mess with her. Chase closed his book and turned off the light. Complete darkness now filled up the room.
When Chase first got to Mission Creek High, he was ecstatic. Not because the school itself particularly exceeded his standards of excellence. No. but because given the extremely low bar that had been set by the rest of the underachieving students, his academic performance was going to shine even brighter. Or so he thought. What he hadn't taken into consideration was, as a matter of fact, you.
You, with your impecable academic skills, held the number one spot on the score boards since freshman year. Chase found this out pretty soon since you two had almost every single class together.
In the beginning, you weren't threatened in the slightest by Chase. Actually, it was quite refreshing having an intellectual peer, someone you could relate to. You didn't think of him as competition, but the same thing didn't go for Chase. The first time he noticed you was when the chemistry teacher asked a rather difficult question to the class, and both of you put your hand up. The teacher called you, and the fact you answered correctly made Chase's ears perk up. But the first time he really noticed you was when, in that same class, he answered a question, and you corrected him. From then, it was on for Chase. Every class with you was now a race to who gets more questions right before the bell rang. You won every single time, not even knowing you were playing.
As time went by, you realized Chase had something against you. You picked up on his sarcastic and offensive remarks he made under his breath every time you intervened in class. You noticed how interested he was in your grades, looking over your shoulder every time you got a test back. You started to fuel this competition, but not because you actually saw him as such. As a matter of fact, you never felt particularly threatened by him, not even after seeing his terrific academic performance. You took part in this little game he played because he annoyed you. You found him so annoying, with the sarcasm, the grinning and the snickering, that you accepted this childish competition just to put him in his place. And the satisfaction, oh God, the satisfaction of humbling him was almost aphrodisiac.
It was subtle at first. You didn't give much into it. But every time you did something better than him, he got meaner and pettier, and this only entertained you more. It's an adrenaline rush, similar to that of a game of roulette. Every time the teacher handed back a test or graded an essay or a group project, you felt a pit in your stomach, and you held your breath almost instinctively until you saw that big fat red "A+" scribbled onto the page. Then, you would turn to Chase with a smirk on your face and ask innocently, "How did it go?"
"I got an A," he would say, a proud grin plastered onto his lips.
"A! That's nice! A little bit more, and you could have got 100%. I'd say you're almost there, but you know, almost doesn't count..." You'd say taunting him with your perfect score dangling right in front of his face, wiping that grin right off.
The following morning, the both of you walked into your AP Calculus classroom head held up high. Even if you two felt the tension and the pressure of failure upon your shoulders, there was no way you'd let it show. It wasn't even about getting good grades anymore, Chase could have walked out of there with a D for all it mattered. The important thing was you got a D-. Right now, the goal was only one, and it was doing better than you.
You sat down, pen in hand, and a sheet of paper in front of you. The test itself was fairly easy. You were soaring through the questions, all of your concentration completely channeled towards the quiz. Without even realizing it, you finished the entire test in about 25 minutes. You checked your answers a couple of times before standing up from your seat, walking up to the teacher's desk, and slapping the test onto it, "I'm done."
Your words reverberated in your ears, almost like you spoke into a microphone, and you could hear the sound of your own voice. Except it wasn't your voice, but rather the one of the brown-haired boy standing next to you, with his test placed onto the wooden worktop as well.
"Terrific! Now that I have the both of you here, would you mind staying a few minutes after class? I need to speak with you."
Together, you look at your teacher puzzled before looking at each other. What is it that he could possibly want from both you and Chase at the same time?
You two quietly return to your seats and patiently wait for the bell to ring. After class ended, and everyone had handed in their quizzes, your teacher, Mr. Hill looked at the two of you, and with a light nod, he gave you permission to come closer to his desk.
"I wanted to talk to you about this year's Science Olympics. As both of you know, every year our school takes part in the National Science Olympics tournament, but unfortunately, we never make it past regionals."
You and Chase nodded, sadly acknowledging your school's incredibly low average.
"This year," Mr. Hill continued, "I wanted to change things up and assign the both of you as co-leaders of our school's team."
"Co-leaders?!" Chase suddenly spoke up in disbelief, "Why not one of us? Why both? I don't wanna be co-leader."
"Yeah, why do I have to share the title with him? I thought you wanted us to win this year."
"The best student gets to be leader, but since you have the same exact GPA, me and the other teachers in charge of the program have decided to nominate two leaders."
"This can be right. No, you need to check the GPAs again." You suggested, completely and utterly in denial of the whole situation.
"I don't need to check again. Your GPAs are identical, down to the very last decimal point. I'm sorry but our decision is final. Plus, I think combining the two brightest minds of Mission Creek High is what is gonna finally take us to victory!"
Chase highly disagreed with Mr. Hill's statement, and sadly, you agreed with Chase. There was no way you could ever function together as leaders.
"Now, go home and get some rest. Practice starts tomorrow after school, in the auditorium. See you tomorrow." Mr. Hill said as he stood up from his chair, then he collected his things, put the tests inside his bag, and headed home. The two of you exited the classroom with a look of shock and denial still plastered onto your faces.
"Listen, let's clear a few things, ok? There is no way in hell we're both gonna lead, so it's better for you to step back and let me take the reins before it's too late." Chase looked at you with a smug grin on his lips, the same annoying, jarring grin that ticked you off every time.
You chuckled at his narcissistic attempt to take charge of the situation. You found his efforts to sound somewhat manly, almost adorable.
"Absolutely not. Mr. Hill said we're both leaders, so I am certainly not taking orders from you."
You moved an inch closer to him and lowered the tone of your voice, "We both know I won't. In fact, the only way this shithole of a school can get closer to victory is if I'm here to stem whatever damage you egotistical maniac will do to our team."
"Your insolence disgusts me."
"I'll get over it."
You mocked Chase with the same jarring smirk he once had on his face before being overcome by a mixture of anger and disdain. He mumbled something under his breath as you began to walk past him,
"Bitch."
"Cunt."
You spit back at him loud enough to ensure he heard it. You're surely not one to hide when it comes to insults. Not when it comes to him.
-
"He said co-leader! Are you kidding me?! Are you fucking kidding me right now?! I tried talking him out of it but he said "Your GPAs are identical", bullshit."
Leo headed down to the lab, Chase right behind him, unloading all of his anger and frustration from the conversation with your math teacher you had a few moments prior.
"Don't you guys get basically the same grades in every class?"
"No! For instance, last week, I got an A in World History, and she got an A minus." How could his own brother forget such important detail!
"Yeah, but if I remember correctly, the week before, you got an A minus on an essay, and she got an A. So, if you think about it, your GPAs are evened out."
Chase paused his rant for a second to think about it, puzzled, "Well– I mean yeah, if you put it that way, yeah, you're right. But that's not the point!"
Leo sat down at the big back table in the center of the lab, taking his phone out of his backpack's front pocket, "No, right, the point is, one: you're going insane and two: you're clearly overreacting."
Chase stood right in front of him, his schoolbag still hanging off his shoulders, "I am not overreacting! You don't know how impossible she is to work with. She's gonna ruin everything. This is a major issue, Leo!" Chase stated his rampage once again. Meanwhile, Leo scrolled mindlessly on his phone. He didn't have the energy for this conversation at the moment, but regardless of how he was feeling, he knew there was no way he could have gotten out of it.
"Is it? Or are you afraid she's gonna be a better leader than you?" Leo didn't even bother to take his eyes off the screen.
Chase scoffed, "Don't be ridiculous."
"I'm not. Everybody knows how hard you cling to your title of mission leader. If you think about it, this is no different than a mission, and you feel threatened because you're afraid she's gonna dethrone you."
Chase could deny it for as long as he wanted, but his brother's words hit him right in his weak spot. He did feel threatened. He was indeed afraid. He had already been proven wrong once, when he thought he could be the best student Mission Creek High had ever seen. Becoming aware of the fact he was no longer the only brilliant mind in school terrified him. An overwhelming feeling of trepidation washed over him like the waves of the ocean wash over the white sand of a beach. Every time you proved you weren't intellectually inferior to him, the wave would crash onto him, knocking him down of his ivory tower. As this feeling slowly faded away, much like the water pulls back from shore, he'd gain his confidence back, setting himself up to impossibly high standards again, because if there were someone who could do the impossible, it would definitely be Chase. But then again, the wave would come back to hit him again, as you reached an even higher standard of greatness.
-
It was a quarter to four, and classes had ended just a few minutes prior, but the school was already empty. The only voices echoing through the halls were the ones of the members of the football team heading to the lockeroom for practice, followed by the airy giggles of the cheer team. The sun shone through the big windows, generating a cozy warmth typical of the spring season, just around the corner.
The auditorium was almost empty. The only seats taken were the ones in the first two rows. Every student had taken advantage of the abundance of space and scattered all of their belongings across multiple rows further back. The team was fairly small. It consisted of 5 regular teammates, plus you and Chase as the leaders, for a total of 7 members. Rules allowed up to 8 students per team, including the leader. Unfortunately, one teammate had withdrawn from the competition before it even started. And unfortunately for you, it was the only other girl on the team. That meant you were the sole female presence amongst this hoard of annoying, pretentious, stuck-up, know-it-all nerds. Great.
"Ok! I see you are all here, so we can get started!" Mr. Hill exclaimed with a handclap as he walked towards the front row of seats. "First of all, good afternoon, my darlings. How are you? I hope you're all doing great." He was as energetic as he always was during classes. It seemed like being with his students brought him a wholesome feeling of joy or whimsy, similar to that of a child eager to know more about the world. "I'd like to thank you all for agreeing to take part in this project. During these practice meetings, I'd like for you to work together as if this were the real thing. You're our best students, so I know you won't let me down."
No pressure.
"Now, if you would please come sit by the table you see over here, we can get started with a few practice questions." The teacher pointed at the big white rectangular table placed on the stage of the auditorium, surrounded by seven chairs taken from the cafeteria. Next to it is a big whiteboard with some dry erase markers.
Once you were all gathered, he handed out some test sheets. "Chase, why don't you read the first problem out loud?" Mr. Hill said.
"Determine all real numbers α, such that, for every positive integer n , the integer [α] + [2α] +...+ [nα] is a multiple of n. (Note that z denotes the greatest integer less than or equal to z.)"
"Ok, now, as leaders, you and Y/n must guide your team to the solution. Make sure you guys all work together, alright? Remember: you are not competing against each other, ok?" With that last sentence, your teacher leaned a bit towards you and Chase, sitting facing each other, and gave you a look that said "Do not fuck this up."
However, right off the bat, Chase took over without letting you emit not even a single sound out of your mouth. The same thing went for everybody else on the team. He kept going and going, explaining how he would resolve this problem and, therefore, the correct way to resolve it. It started to look less like a team meeting and more like a lecture. Every time you would try and say something, you got cut off almost immediately. As time went by, things didn't seem to get better. Not one bit. As a matter of fact, it got worse. After the first two problems, Mr. Hill intervened and told Chase to collaborate more with the rest of the team. Chase then apologized, which surprised you, making your lips curl into a satisfied smile. That smile, however, soon disappeared as you realized Chase had no intention to collaborate with you and only referred to his other teammates.
By the fourth problem, you had been cut out completely. Chase had stood up from his seat and started writing each step onto the whiteboard. The other guys focused on writing everything down in their notebooks. You sat there in disbelief. Everything you said seemed to be unheard or ignored by everyone. Maybe that other girl had a point.
Chase had begun reading the following problem, "Three fair dice are rolled. What is the probability that the product of the three outcomes is a prime number? Recall that 1 is not considered to be prime." As you imagined, he once again didn't wait for any input from his co-leader and went on with his lecture,
"Alright, if we consider–"
"Would you just shut up for a second?"
You sat up from your seat. Everyone's eyes pointed right at your face. Chase looked like a deer in headlights, caught off guard by the sudden noise.
"Excuse me?"
"Shut! Up! Shut up!"
"Y/n, are you ok?" a classmate asked in genuine concern as your pent-up frustration rose so much it began impossible to hide it. Your eyes locked onto Chase.
"You have been talking non-stop for the past 50 minutes! It's time you shut up and let me do something."
"You were welcome to join in anytime, Y/n."
"Oh was I? Because I tried. I have been trying to say something since this class started, and all of you pretended I wasn't even here!"
"Maybe if your answers were right, we would have paid attention to you." There it was. That smug grin. That fucking grin it drove you fucking crazy. He had been waiting for you to crack like this for years.
"My answers were right." You fucking cunt, the only words ringing inside your head.
"Yeah? Why don't you solve this one then. The floor's all yours." Chase tossed you the dry erase marker he was holding in his hand. You caught it with one hand.
"I don't need a marker. Unlike you, I can keep my answers short and concise, I don't need to act like a professor."
"Go on then." Now, Chase rested both of his hands on the table, looking at you with a challenging gaze.
"There are 216 ordered triples of dice rolls. The product is prime precisely when two rolls are 1 and the third is a prime number. Since the prime 2, 3, or 5 can appear in any of the three positions, there are 9 such triples, so the probability is 9/216 = 1/24. See? Done. No rambling." Unlike you, you stupid fucking cunt.
"You're right. Maybe you should have thrown a tantrum 30 minutes ago." Chase smiled widely, showcasing his pearly white teeth in a condescending grin.
"You're a fucking cunt."
This time, you said it loud and clear. The other teammates were a bit taken aback by the sudden vulgarity. Not so much by the words used, as they were indeed well suited, but by the audacity to say such profanities in front of a teacher.
"Hey! That's enough!" Mr Hill yelled, "That's it, go home everybody! Class dismissed!" The teacher looked right at you and Chase, your eyes still locked, frozen in the same position. "You two. We've gotta talk."
The other classmates hastily gathered their belongings that were spread across the room and fled the auditorium like there were a fire. You and Chase approached Mr. Hill. He was looking at you from the bottom of the steps that led onto the stage. His eyes filled with disappointment.
"What happened? You guys are my most brilliant students. I thought that bringing you two together would have made a super team! And now? Now you have made me look like a fool."
Your gaze fell on the ground. The cracks of the old hardwood floor were the only thing you could stare at. You've messed up. A bubble of shame started growing inside of you, at the back of your throat.
Chase eyes lowered as well. But for a brief moment, his gaze traveled back up to you. To your ashamed face, hoping to mock you even further with his teasing grin. But as soon as he saw your head tilted towards the ground, with your hair falling down to cast a light shadow onto your cheeks, merely hiding the sheer coat of tears pooling up in your eyes, he couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to kick you down even more. He recognized that shame. That stinging sensation in his throat came out every time he made a stupid, unforgettable mistake. He saw that. He saw it and for a moment felt closer to you.
"I am very disappointed in your action today. But I still believe you have the potential in you to be the greatest team our school has ever seen. I believe in you. That is why I highly, highly advise you to go home and work on this together."
Both of you raised your head back up, finally looking your teacher in the eyes.
"I suggest you spend some time together, let all your anger out, and resolve this outside of the classroom. Work on strategies together. Find a way to make this work. Ok?"
You both nodded without a single word or sarcastic comment this time.
"Great. You can go home now. I'll see you in class."
Both of you walked out of that room in complete silence. As you walked out the back door, Chase looked back at you. He wanted to say something but didn't know what to say. Anything he could say could only be mistaken as a mean remark towards you.
He stayed there. Standing in the middle of the empty auditorium. Just for a few moments. A new softer feeling now changing inside of him, it was no longer hate, but it was too soon for him to understand what it meant.
The warm sun of the spring shone through the windows.
-
A faint buzzing sound disturbed your sleep. You turned around in your bed, facing the small bedside table next to you. The light from your phone's screen scarcely lit up the dark room. That evening, you didn't manage to do much. As soon as you walked out of that school, a wave of tiredness came crashing onto you. The entire walk home, your mind replayed your teacher's word over and over again. You were bombarded with shame and guilt. When you got home, after what felt like a hundred miles, you noticed a deafening silence, which only amplified the echo of your thoughts. The house was empty. Good. The fewer people there are, the less you'll get asked how your day was. You headed straight to your bedroom, changed into your pijamas, and crashed onto the bed.
After your eyes had adjusted to the faint light, you checked your notifications.
An unknown number had messaged you.
Unknown: "Hey Y/n, it's Chase. I wanted to say I'm sorry for what happened today. I took it too far. It was wrong of me to cut you out like that. I think Mr. Hill is right, and if we work together, we could be a really good team. Would you like to go over some strategies together this weekend?"
That's impossible, you thought. Am I still sleeping? Is this real? Is Chase Davenport actually apologizing to me right now?? AND I have written proof of it??
You stared blankly at the text, trying to think about how to respond. Thumbs fidgeting over the little keyboard on the screen. For a second, the idea of it being a prank or some kind of set up crossed your mind. The idea that it wasn't actually him but someone else trying to trick you in some way. But you soon discarded it, it wouldn't be possible. The only people in that room when Mr. Hill scolded you were you and Chase, so no one else could know what he had said about working together. But one question still remained: Why was he so nice all of a sudden? Was it genuine, or was it pity?
You finally typed something.
You: "How did you get my number?"
You hit send, turning the screen off immediately after, not expecting the quick response that followed your text.
Unknown: "That's irrelevant."
You: "No, it's not."
"Are you really Chase Davenport?"
Unknown: "What? Yes, yes, it's me."
"Who else would it be, dumbass?"
Yeah, it's him.
Chase: "Do you wanna study together or not?"
You: "Yeah, that's fine."
Chase: "Alright, if you're not busy, you can come over at my place tomorrow around 3 pm."
You snickered lightly. Amazing how he can be a control freak even when asking someone to hang out.
You: "Sounds good. See you tomorrow."
The conversation ended with the location of Davenport's residence, given he knew you had no idea where he lived. Then, you put your phone aside and placed both of your hands on your face, rubbing your eyes. An annoyed groan left your mouth.
"How the fuck did I get here?"
-
At 3 pm on the dot you found yourself right in front a huge metal gate, right where your GPS told you. The metal fence covered most of the view. You didn't get a good look at where you were until it split right down the middle, opening its gigantic, automated doors, revealing a mansion just as huge. You knew the Davenport's were rich, but you imagined it being more of a suburban quiet luxury type thing, certainly not this very much in-your-face extravaganza. You walked up the driveway and rang the doorbell at the front door. As soon as it opened, you saw Chase standing there. He was kinda awkward, with his typical flanel, a blue long sleeve checkered one with the sleeves rolled up and a dark gray t shirt underneath, and his navy blue jeans.
"Hi." You broke the silence. It felt like time had begun to slow down the moment he opened the door.
"Hey. Thanks for coming."
"Thank you for inviting me."
Chase smiled shyly. You responded with a light chuckle. Silence fell again.
"Can..uhm...can I come in?"
"Oh– yeah! Sure, obviously, sorry.."
You stepped inside, and Chase closed the door behind you. The inside of the house looked as extravagant as the outside. The design was very modern, and the color palette was so bright it was almost blinding.
"Your house is...huge."
Chase laughs lightly, "Yeah, not the first time I've heard that."
"Your living room is like, my whole apartment." You kept looking around the room, completely astonished by the size of it and the amount of expensive decor just laying around, serving no purpose whatsoever. Abstract ornaments exposed on mantels, huge plants in the corners, a sort of bamboo looking plant behind the giant gray couch, guitars hanged on the wall, two tvs, one in front of the couch and another above the chimney next to the glass dining table, and high end furniture that looked like it had been designed by some northern European interior designer.
"Hi! You must be Y/n! Chase told me you were coming." A sweet and cheerful voice snapped you right out of your thoughts. "I'm Tasha, Chase's mom." A nice, young looking woman with coffee colored skin entered the room and stood right in front of you. She offered a handshake, looking at you with a big smile and glossy lips. Even though she was at home, she had a nice outfit on, and her hair looked as good as if she had just left a salon.
"It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Davenport." You shook her hand with a smile on your face.
"Why don't you guys sit down, and I'll make you a snack for your study session!"
"Oh no, that's okay. Me and Y/n are gonna go work in my room." Chase quickly said. "Leo and Adam will be back soon, I'm sure they're gonna want to play some video games, and we don't need distractions."
"Oh, ok. Well if you need anything you know where to find me."
Chase gently tapped on your arm, gesturing you to follow him upstairs. You walk behind him, but you quickly turn around before starting to walk up the wooden stairs.
"It was a very nice offer, though. Thank you, Mrs. Davenport." You smiled
"You're welcome, sweetie." Tasha smiled back.
You head up to Chase's room. His room had a very different vibe from the rest of the house. It was a lot less avant-guard, and it looked like an actual person decorated it. Shelfs filled with comic books, mangas and action figures, posters hung up on the wall above the queen sized bed and a few of them also on the wall above the desk. A huge wardrobe also covered in poster and stickers. Although the best part was probably the little glow-in-the-dark stars glued on the ceiling. Some of them were arranged to mimic real life constellations.
"Nice bedroom." You said as you put your schoolbag down next to the bed.
"Thanks." Chase said as he made room for your stuff on his desk. You kept looking around. You got closer to one of the posters above the bed.
"Is that Alien Gladiators?"
Chase turned around, "Yeah. It's the original movie poster from the first movie." His voice had a now a more joyful tone. He moved closer to you.
"You're such a nerd." You turned your head around to face him.
"Shut up." Chase frowned a little.
"And by the way, that movie was ass."
Chase scoffed, "Nuh huh!"
"Yuh huh! The first movie sucked! It only got a sequel because of the director and his hoard of die-hard fans that jacked up the sales. The storytelling in the second and third one was so much better! And we actually got to see a decent representation of Queen Andromeda's backstory and the battle of Azdhar, not to mention Prince Landor's character arc, which was way more accurate and faithful to the grafic novel! And may I add, none of that would have been possible if they had kept the same director of the first one."
Chase looked at you with both disbelief and amusement.
"And I'm the nerd?"
"Shut up."
"You shut up! Since when do you like Alien Gladiators?!"
"Since I started reading the graphic novel back in 8th grade." You tried to suppress the smug and proud grin on your face. It doesn't happen every day that you get to brag about your nerdiness, but you didn't want Chase to know you were enjoying this a little bit.
Chase looked at you with a grin, but this time, it was different from his usual one. It wasn't mockery, but rather curiosity mixed with enjoyment. "Well, if you're such an expert, among all the movies that had come out so far, including prequels and spin-offs, which one do you think is the best?"
"Mhm.." Your gaze moved up to the ceiling as you thought deeply and carefully about your answer. "I'd say...Alien Gladiators 4: Fallen Empire, but Alien Gladiators 3 is a close second."
Chase smiled. "That's a good answer."
His smile was met with a quite satisfied expression on your face. Not that you cared about what he thought about your opinions, but it was nice nonetheless. "Thank you."
Your friendly conversation was followed by a brief moment of silence. "So..should we start studying?" Chase asked.
"Yeah, we should." The both of you took a seat at the desk on the other side of the room. It was a pretty nice desk, but it was definitely too small of two people, forcing the two of you to sit a little too close. It wasn't uncomfortable. However, you have never been this close to each other before. You didn't even think it was possible without fighting or hurting each other.
You both open your notebooks and start reading the material Mr. Hill had left you. There was complete silence, silence that was soon interrupted again.
"Ok, favorite character from the original Gladiators? Not including spin-offs." You asked eagerly. "Is it Gigabi–"
"Gigabit." Chase said simultaneously.
"I fucking knew it! Of course you like Gigabit! You're such a nerd." "Hey!–"
You laughed together.
"Listen, he is a very well-rounded character, ok!! And let's hear who's your favorite, and don't say Prince Landor 'cause that is such a basic answer."
"It's not Landor! Although I did like him in the graphic novel. Anyway, I'd say my favorite is Lord Zalkon."
"The Zarkanians' king? Seriously?"
"I like morally gray characters."
"Whatever. We should probably start studying for real now." Chase said, picking up his pen.
"You're right. So, by looking at the question, I'd say we could solve the first one individually and then compare our answers. What do you say?"
"I don't know...kinda hard take a Zarkanian seriously..."
"Oh shut up!" You jokingly punched him in the arm while you both laughed. As you looked at him, you realized it was the first time since you met him that his smile didn't bother you in the slightest. It was actually kind of pretty. You noticed his perfect pearly white teeth that he used to put on display in the most annoying grin just to irritate you. But this time, they were adorned with two little dimples at the corners of his lips. His eyes seemed to smile, too. And for the first time, you noticed they were a nice hazel color, with green and brown swirling together. The laughter died down. But you were still staring, momentarily dazed.
Chase's eyebrow furrowed a little bit, confused. "What?"
"Mhm, what?" You snapped out of it.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like you did just now."
"Oh, it's– It's nothing."
Chase chuckled, still confused. "Okay." You turned your head away, looking down at your notebook again, cheeks turning to a faint pink tint. "Let's get back to work."
-
The following class, the team actually did better. Even though you and Chase barely did any work that afternoon, it seemed to have paid off. After roughly 30 more minutes of studying, you and Chase went back to talking about your new shared interest. Turns out, you two aren't so different after all. You watched the same shows, read the same stuff, and even played the same video games. It was kind of a shock for Chase to discover you liked so much of that stuff. Not because you were a girl, it wasn't some kind of stereotype, no, but because at school you had a very different vibe. It wouldn't be unusual for someone to think Chase liked "nerdy things" because you could tell that from a mile away just by looking at him. You, however, were perceived a bit differently by your classmates. That's because school Y/n and real Y/n were indeed two very different people. There was a side of you not many people saw or didn't care enough to see. For some reason, there was more pressure for you to be perfect, to be mature, and reasonable. Not only from your teachers but from your parents too. Not that they would ever tell you directly, but they let you know with subtle words that if you fell anywhere lower than perfect, they would be disappointed. Therefore, it was logical to hide the weirder, more colorful side of you to avoid looking...childish.
After a few weeks of hanging out with Chase, however, you had let that side of you looser. Every other day, you went to his place for a "team's leaders' study session." It would start in fact as a study session, but quickly transform itself into an Alien Gladiators' marathon, or just a yapping session between the two of you, chatting for hours about fandom theories or some other niche common interest. The rest of the Davenports started getting used to your presence. Sometimes, Tasha even invited you to stay over for dinner, but you didn't want to be a bother.
Adam, Bree, and Leo definitely saw right through Chase. They saw how he would giggle at all of your jokes, how he would mess around with you just so he could get a reaction out of you. They heard your little banter, your back and forth of names you would call each other just for teasing. They saw how Chase would pretend to have forgotten his notebook in the locker at school just so the two of you could share and he would have an excuse to be closer to you, pulling the super cliché move of the arm behind the chair. Honestly, it was so obvious and so cheesy they hardly believed you hadn't noticed it yet.
But you hadn't. Really. Anytime that happened (which became quite often after Chase noticed you didn't mind), you were too busy trying to keep your focus on what you were studying and not get distracted by how close he was sitting next to you.
Since you started to get to know him better, it was like your entire perspective shifted. It felt like you had been looking at Chase and everything surrounding him through a pair of lenses, and someone came in and swapped them out. He was still weird and annoying and cocky, yes, but suddenly, it wasn't as much of a bother anymore. What used to drive you insane became a fun little quirk you could poke fun at from time to time, and that's because you knew you too could come off as weird and annoying and cocky sometimes.
One afternoon, you and Chase were studying together at his place. You were in the living room, sitting down at the glass table. Chase, once again, used some lame excuse to share the textbook together. He was right next to you, arm right behind your back to be even closer. Your faces were inches apart, eyes looking down at the pages of your book. Correction: Your eyes were looking down at the page. His were pointed at your lips and how they moved as you tried to solve an equation out loud. He stared at your features: your lips, your eyes, your soft skin, your little strands of hair that fell on your face delicately when you tilted your head down. He wasn't paying attention to a single thing you were saying or what you two were supposed to be studying. It wasn't a problem anyway. With his super intelligence, he could revise all the course material in less than 5 minutes if he wanted to. But you, he couldn't miss an opportunity to study you like that. He was analyzing every little detail of your face like he had to paint an exact portrait of you from memory.
After that, the moment you stepped out of the house, he went down to the lab with a satisfied smirk on his face. He grabbed his backpack that was lying on the floor next to the big black console in the middle of the lab. He took out his notebook and textbook and actually began studying the course material for the next day.
"You ain't that slick, you know that, right?" Bree said, entering the room. Leo walking right beside her. She walked up to the console and leaned onto it. "Why don't you just tell her?"
"Tell her what?" Chase said, eyes still scanning the neatly written pages of his notebook.
"That you have a huge crush on her." Leo said, leaning onto the console as well. Hearing that word "crush," Chase's eyes widened, and he looked at his siblings like they had just said a blasphemy.
"I do not have a crush on her!" He exclaimed, his siblings shared a condescending glance.
"Right... And how come your notebook was nowhere to be found when she was here earlier?" Bree asked sarcastically.
"I forgot I had it."
"Dude, you've been pulling that move for the past three weeks. And what's up with the arm behind the back thing? Where'd you get that? Disney Channel?" Leo joined in.
"Shut up. I don't like her that way. Now leave me alone, I need to revise." His eyes were back onto the page.
"Why would you need to revise if you have just finished studying with Y/n?" Bree asked.
Chase esitated a bit before coming up with an answer. "I got... distracted."
"Right, by her. You got distracted because you were looking at her the entire time." Bree said. "That's not true." Chase scoffed.
"Dude, we saw you." Leo said. "Are you spying on me or something?" Chase closed his notebook shut with one hand as the tone of his voice got louder. "Ok, fine! Yes, I was looking at her! And yes, she is pretty and soft and smells amazing, and her mind is amazing, but I do not have a crush on her!"
Leo raised his hands up, "Whatever you say."
-
At 4 pm on the dot, the whole team sat at the big table on the auditorium's stage, waiting for the class to start. Mr. Hill was running a few minutes late.
Chase sat next to you, the same spot he had sat down the first time. You were casually skimming through the pages of your notebook, looking back at past exercises to revise quickly before being presented with a new list of equations.
"So," Chase said with a softer tone, to avoid grabbing the attention of the other students present. You looked up from your notebook. "Have you seen the new trailer for Alien Gladiators 5 yet?" He was fidgeting with his pen.
"Yeah, I saw it last night. I'm very hyped about it. Honestly, I hope it's as good as the fourth one."
"Me too. It's actually supposed to come out the day we have the regionals."
"Oh shit really?"
"Yeah, April 10th."
"I totally forgot about it, to be honest." You chuckled, "Regionals seemed further away in my head. I got distracted, I guess." Your eyes drifted back onto the scribbled page of your notebook. Chase seemed hesitant for a second, not sure whether or not to let the conversation die.
"Y'know, we could, uh–" Your eyes traveled back to his. "We could go see it... together." You shifted back and leaned against the back rest of the chair. "I mean– if you want. If you don't, it's totally cool. Up to you, you know." He was rambling. He had no idea what he was doing nor what the hell he was saying, and he sure didn't know why it was happening all of a sudden. You smirked.
"Sounds cool. Imma text you later, ok?"
Chase froze. "Yeah- uh, yeah, yeah, sure, ok." What the fuck is happening to me he thought to himself. You chuckled at his awkwardness, which made Chase chuckled as well. He looked at you with dazed eyes. As soon as he opened his mouth to speak again, the door of the auditorium busted open, and Mr. Hill came running in.
"Great news, everyone!" the teacher shouted from across the room. "I have very exciting news!" Mr. Hill came closer to the table you were all sitting at. The entire team looked at him with curiosity in their eyes.
"The team from the other school dropped out!"
"Wait, what?" You said.
"Appearently, there has been a fire at the school which caused so much structural damage that they no longer have the founds necessary to send their team to regionals, and they have been forced to withdraw!"
"How is that great news?!" Chase said quite shocked.
"It's not! I mean, the fire thing, but the great news is we are going straight to nationals! We got declared winners by default, and we are going to Washington DC in two weeks!"
The other members exploded with joyful cheers. Meanwhile, you and Chase looked at each other shocked. The weight of the pressure sinked onto your shoulders.
-
Once at home, you changed into something comfier and crawled into your bed. You unlocked your phone and stared blankly at Chase's chat.
"so...about that alien gladiators?" You type on the screen. You stop to look at it. You want to send it, but an icky sensation washes over you, so you press delete instead. A simple "hey" will do for now.
He quickly types back.
Chase: Hey
You: Are you nervous for nationals?
Chase: A little bit, yeah. It's a lot of pressure.
You: I get it. It's definitely a big deal.
Chase: It's getting exhausting tbh
Chase: Nationals are the only thing Mr. Hill has been talking about for weeks.
Chase: It's kinda hard not getting stressed out when you're constantly reminded that if you fail, it would be your greatest failure yet.
You: EXACTLY !!
You: It's one thing to fail regionals, BUT NATIONALS are you kidding me
You: He doesn't see it, tho. He thinks that by giving us all of this positive reenforcement, we'll work better or something...
You: Someone telling you you're the best all the time sure doesn't give you a chance to fuck things up
Chase: Have you noticed he does it with us only?
Chase: I mean, we are the best
You: Cocky
Chase: It's true.
Chase: The other must feel really bad being compared to us all the time.
You: Is this... empathy??
Chase: [quoting his previous message] On the other hand, they wouldn't be if they weren't morons
You: Ahh nope! He's back!!
Chase: Shut up
Chase: You're the first to complain about them.
You: Whatever ...
Then Chase stopped typing for a few seconds. You thought the conversation died down, so you closed the app to do something else. But a few seconds later, a notification popped up.
Chase: Btw, were you serious about going to see alien gladiators together?
You: Were you?
Chase: Yeah. If I weren't, I wouldn't have asked you.
You: So was I.
Chase: Cool
The text bubble kept disappearing and reappearing for a few seconds. You waited patiently.
Chase: Pick you up at 7?
You were taken aback for a second.
You: Sure, thanks :)
That was the end of your brief and kind of awkward conversation. After that last text, to which you didn't know how to reply in a natural and genuine tone, you quickly closed the app to avoid having to do any kind of unnecessary small talk. The probability of leaving him temporarily on delivered was a better option. For now.
-
Chase didn't think the day would actually come. He thought you would have come up with some lame excuse to bail out of this by now. He didn't think it through. Any of it. He didn't even ask you to hang out. Well, no, he did. But he didn't do it consciously. The thought of it was whirring around in his head when all of a sudden, the words just spilled out of his mouth. Just like that. Much like throwing up. That's how he described it to Bree, sitting on his bed, as he frantically ran in circles across the room, trying to find something decent to wear.
"Would you mind telling me why you are so nervous if you don't even like her?" Bree said with a smug.
"Don't even go there. I know where you're going with this, don't do it. It's not like that." Chase stood in front of the open wardrobe, scanning through his million flannels, which looked all the same to Bree: boring and lame.
She rolled her eyes. "Then what's with all the fidgeting?"
Chase sighed, holding two flanels up, trying to decide which one to wear. "I don't know," he turned to face his sister. "I guess it's cause I want her to think I'm... cool."
"You? You want to be cool." Bree said, both confused and surprised by that affirmation. He nodded.
"I mean, this is the first time we spend time together where we don't want to rip each other's faces off. And I have to admit, as much as I find her annoying, she is also very cool."
"And your idea of cool is dressing as a nerd to go see a nerd movie?" She mocked him
"A cool nerd movie." Chase said, putting one flannel back into the closet.
Bree rolled her eyes, "Whatever, still nerdy."
Chase mocked his sister's tone and jokingly threw the other flannel at her. " 'K. Get out now, I need to change." Bree jumped up the bed and was about to head out the door.
"Chase," he turned around.
"Ditch the flannel. Just go with some dark jeans, converse, and a simple long sleeve black shirt, but keep the sleeves pulled up a bit. It's "cooler"" Bree said before heading out, closing the bedroom door behind her.
He smiled, "Thank you!" he yelled out for her to be able to hear.
-
7 pm sharp. Chase texted you that he was waiting for you outside to pick you up. He had asked Adam to borrow his car to avoid looking like a loser whose brother had to drive around everywhere. Adam gladly agreed because he didn't want to look like the loser driving his little brother around on a Friday night.
You stepped outside, closing the front door behind you, and when you looked up, you instinctively giggled. In front of you, a beige 2008 Toyota Corolla, with a huge dent on the right side of the rear fender, one rim missing in the front wheel, and various scratches on the paint.
You opened the passenger seat's door and got in, still giggling.
"What the hell are you driving?"
"Oh, hello Chase, thanks for picking me up!" Chase said sarcastically. "And before you insult the car that will so kindly take your ass to the movie theater and back, you must know that it's my brother's."
"Yeah, I could tell."
Chase rolled his eyes, his lips fighting a smile.
The drive to the movie theater was quite smooth. You would never admit it to him, but Chase was actually a pretty good driver.
"Can I ask you something?" You asked, head leaning back onto the seat and eyes glued to the straight road in front of you. Chase just replied with a quick hum.
"If your dad is a multi-billioner CEO, why on earth would you drive this car?"
Chase giggled, "What's with you and this poor car?"
"Nothing! It's just that given your living room alone is bigger than an airport and your dad is this filthy rich tech-genius, I would've assumed he had bought his kids a more expensive car... Or at least bother to repair this one."
Chase laughed. "Yeah, my dad is filthy rich, but it's pretty bold of you to assume he would spend any money on us."
You looked at him puzzled. He casted a quick glance at you, "He is... new money. It's just that he didn't grow up with money, so now that he has it, he doesn't want to spend it on things that don't benefit him. It's not about the car itself, it's just how he is, you know? He doesn't waste money on us." Chase tried to give his words the most positive tone possible, but in spite of his efforts, deep inside he didn't even belive himself. There was a brief quiet. Only the sound of the light rain that had started coming down, hitting the glass of the windshield, and the dull, rhythmic beat of the wipers.
"Parents can be asshole sometimes, y'know. No need to make excuses for them." You said, this time looking straight at him, scanning his features in search of a reaction. Though, there wasn't any. Only a very subtle twitch of his lips. He was glad you didn't seem to notice.
-
Once you arrived at the movie theater, you were overwhelmed by the sight of hundreds of fans lined up at the ticket counter, bodies quivering as they wait their turn. The line was so long it extended past the entrace and outside the building. Luckily, Chase had planned ahead and got the tickets online, even before he had asked you to go with him. He knew he was gambling and that there was a chance he had blown 15 bucks on an extra ticket. He called this "cunning premeditation." Bree called him a "blind idiot" because anyone else could see that his anxiety for things to go smoothly was waaay over the line for a friendship, and he clearly had feelings he was in denial about.
Nonetheless, his plan worked, and the two of you got in quite easily. The seats were great, too. You were ecstatic to see this movie, and Chase was too. He hadn't shut up about it for days, and his eyes were glued to the screen as soon as the opening sequence started. However, all of that focused was chucked out the window about 20 minutes into the movie, when during a particular intense scene, the sudden jumpscare of a Zarkanian monster coming out made you jolt so much you instinctively grabbed Chase's hand and squeezed it. You kept holding his hands for a few minutes until your heart rate went down. But from that point on, Chase's focus was gone. He couldn't pay attention to the movie for longer than two minutes, 'cause after that, his gaze moved back to you and every single little reaction that you had. He honestly doesn't remember much about the movie after those 20 minutes. But what he does remember is your serious and concentrated expression during the crucial scenes (which was the same expression you had when focused on a math problem, with one end of the pencil pressed against your lips), the light giggled that escaped your lips during the more lighthearted dialogues, and the excitement in your eyes throughout the last final battle scene. The movie ended, and the lights turned back on. Chase was still staring at you when the room lit up again, and he actually didn't realize he was doing it. You turned to face him, and he felt like he was snapped out of a trance. In a way, he was. He had been so disconnected to reality that his heart jumped a little when you asked him what he thought of the movie. It took him a lot of effort to try and reminisce the bits and pieces of the plot he actually paid attention to. Somehow, he managed to come up with a believable review, quite vague yet solid enough for you to buy it.
In the ride home, you were so hyped up about the ending that you spent almost all of it yapping about different theories you had and how a possible Alien Gladiators 6 could play out. Chase did his best to listen and follow your train of thought, but in reality he was internally trying to understand what the fuck was all of that about: all the staring and the gazing and the heart fluttering and the touches and the anxiety and so on. He came up with two possible solutions: either he was catching feelings for you or he had developed a new form of heart disease. He was really rooting for heart disease. But when it came the moment for you to get out of the car and go home, he kept staring down at your lips, looking at them move as you tell him you had a surprisingly good time and wouldn't mind if he wanted to do it again. He genuinely couldn't explain it, but the only thought running through his head in that instant was how he wished he could crash his lips onto yours and kiss until both of you were out of breath. His mind was running wild, and his heart was beating faster and faster, just on the thought of feeling you touching him all over, laying in the back seat of the car.
That was no medical anomaly.
His imagination was interrupted by the sudden sound of your voice, accompanied by a puzzled look in your eyes.
"Chase, are you ok?"
"Mhm?" His eyes quickly moved back up to meet yours.
"Are you ok? You zoned out."
"Oh, yeah , yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm fine, just a bit tired."
You were still confused and tried not to laugh at his awkwardness, that at this point had been going on for a few days. "Alright, just try not to do that while you're driving, or you'll crash into a wall. If you leave me alone at the Science Olympics with those other morons, I'll kill you."
Chase chuckled, "How are you gonna kill me if I've already died in a car crash?"
"Oh no, you dying in the crash it's the good scenario. Worse case is: you crash, you survive, I go to the Science Olympics alone, we lose, and then I come into the ICU to smother you with a pillow while the nurse's not watching."
Chase laughed, "Okay, I'll be careful then."
"You better be." Then, you took your house jeys and got out of the car. "Drive safely!" You yell as you walk up your driveway, "And I mean it as a threat!" Chase laughed again as he watched you finally open the front door and go inside. He waved goodbye to you one last time before you shut the door.
When he came home, it was a little after 11 p.m. He headed straight down to the lab, where Bree was about to get into her capsule to go to sleep.
"Oh hey Chase, how did it go at the movies?"
"I think I have a crush on Y/n."
-
The day had finally come. It was 6 in the morning, still dark outside, and everybody was gathering in the school parking lot to take the school bus to LAX Airport for your flight to Washington DC. Everybody was tired, cranky, and basically still half asleep. Mr. Hill and the bus driver were playing tetris trying to fit all the bags and suitcases inside the cramped compartment of the little bus the school had rented for this occasion. You had only 45 minutes of bus ride in front of you, to be then followed by a five hours flight. Tasha dropped Chase off at the meeting point. She was still in her pj's, planning to go straight back to bed as soon as she was home. Chase, on the other hand, was the only student who seemed fully awake already and also the only one who bothered to wear real clothes.
"How the hell are you not tired right now?" You said as he came closer to greet you.
"I'm excited!" He said, with a genuine smile plastered across his cheeks.
As soon as all the students arrived at the meeting point, you all got on the bus headed to the airport. Chase sat down next to the window, at to his suprise you sat down next to him. You take out of your pockets a pair of earphones and offer one to him, "Wanna watch Alien Gladiators 1 with me? I have all the movies 1 through 4 download on Netflix." Chase was a little nervous but gladly accepted the offer. Since the last time you two had hung out, he still hadn't processed well his feelings for you. And Leo and Bree were no help in doing so, with their "I told you so" and "Everybody knew it but you" and stuff.
It changed everything. There was no balance anymore. How could everything work as normal if he doesn't have his nemesis anymore? Sure, the balance had already been compromised the moment the two of you started acting like normal people and didn't try to kill each other. And sure, things changed as soon as you became closer. But all of that never bothered Chase because you didn't have any leverage. You two hung out like friends, but he still could have crushed you if he wanted to. He could still flaunt his intellectual superiority. Now, he couldn't flaunt absolutely anything because how could he when he gets flustered at anything that you say to him? How could he be his witty and sarcastic self when all you had to do was touch him, and his brain turned to mush?
He hated that you had this power over him, and you didn't even know about it. You could have him weak in the knees without even realizing it. Like you did at that moment, on the bus to the airport. While Chase was going through all of that in his head, you had slowly dozed off and leaned your head onto his shoulder. When he got out of his flow of consciousness, he flinched lightly as he realized what was weighting on his right shoulder. But this only made you curl up to him more, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.
Chase had never sat so still in his life.
-
After almost 8 hours of traveling, the group finally reached the hotel in Washington DC. You were all exhausted, hungry, and looking forward to a change of clothes. However, you all had to wait a little longer because Mr. Hill had been talking with the lady at the hotel desk for 15 minutes, and you still haven't checked into your rooms.
"Ok guys, listen up," Mr Hill said as soon as he was done at the front desk and headed over to the group. "There has been some miscommunication between the hotel staff and our school, and apparently, we have some trouble regarding the rooms." The whole group exchanged confused looks. "We have one bedroom with 3 twin beds, one with two, and two single bedrooms with a full bed. One's for me, so that means two of you need to share a bed."
Everybody looked at each other kind of awkwardly. All the other guys knew each other somewhat well, but not well enough that they felt comfortable sharing a bed. There was an awkward silence, everybody looking at the floor to avoid eye contact with the teacher. Then suddenly, a voice cracked the silence. You spoke up.
"Chase and I are gonna take the single room."
a/n: thank you so much for reading! see you in part two ;)
tag list: @777fangirl777 @eneywey @ghostinthedepths @diehrdmoviefan @googeecat44
reachin' up for sunlight (just to be ripped out by the stem)
dr. robert chase x fem!reader
summary: Robert Chase and you fell somewhere, somehow, somewhat in love each other at what was the worst time of your lives. Now, a decade later, you've showed up at the one place he didn't think he'd see you, Princeton-Plainsboro, as a patient.
wc: 17k
tw: typical house medical stuff, Chase's family history (yes thats a tw) and some allusion to not a great family life for reader also!
author's note: this is a week late, but in my defense..its 17k words long. also, i'm not a medical doctor or even close to one so if you wanted accurate medical shit, wrong place! wrong person! this has not been beta read so apologizes!
have a request? ask away!
Dr. Chase took a moment to glance as he stepped out of the elevator door, and the next moment to breath in happy to be out of his own place. The long weekend off had done nothing for him, he felt exhausted. His weekend off had finally taken all the excuses he had left and he had pulled out the last box of things that his father had left him.
It had been months (half a year? when did that happen?) at this point since he had learnt of his father’s death. When it first happened, it was like nothing had changed, he got the phone call, he remembers thanking the person for the information and then continuing on with his day. (Given the lawsuit that had found itself into his life, obviously it had bothered him more than he first thought.)
But then the box showed up. It had taken a week, and Chase had already learnt that his father left him no money (although it wasn’t shocking) so when the box showed up, he had been confused. Inside the packing bag, was a fairly decent sized briefcase. For the first week, the briefcase stayed on the dining room table. It’s not like he ate dinner in his apartment anyways. It haunted him often, and it took three days of it sitting there for him to realize it was the same briefcase he remembers his dad coming home from work with before he had left. That clarity was enough for him to take the briefcase and shove it against a nook, out of eye sight. And then came the long weekend half a year later, and what else was he suppose to do? Suddenly he was faced with the fact that five months later, the briefcase was still here and his father wasn’t. So he had picked it up back and opened it.
There wasn’t a lot, the deed to a house his father had owned passed to Chase, some heirlooms he doesn’t recognize that he’s sure his father would be ashamed at the blank memory. The folder in which the deed rested in had been filled with other papers, some obviously were older than most. The already mentioned deed (and the pile of paperwork that comes with that), a pile of photos from before his father left, some mail that he’s sure his father’s lawyers had forwarded, and a bundle of letters, the top one doesn’t have a return address instead just “Robert” written in his fathers illegible writing. Papers that he couldn’t get himself to sort through so instead, he threw them on the table and moved along. The briefcase had ended up making its home at the front of his door, he had stared it down this morning before leaving thinking about easy it would be to slip his own things into it and use it.
The beep of the elevator shakes him from the small turmoil he was suddenly throwing himself into. He forced his feet to start moving himself.
The wooden bench was not meant to be sat on for hours: she had come to that conclusion about 20 minutes into camping in the hallway. That had been about an hour and a half ago according to her watch. Still, the lengthy medical file with her name poking out of the top was enough for her to deal with the numbness of her legs. The idea of wasting time did linger in the back of her head, she let out a small sigh and leaned her head up against the wall behind her, keeping her unfocused gaze on the ceiling.
(Y/N) had found herself thinking about quitting her paralegal job at the law firm she had finally made a home at. Everything was going so well she had finally found herself a position that used her degree, and was in a town that she found the perfect balance of small but still full of things happening. Whatever bad luck she had when she was a teenager had finally been flushed out, or so she thought.
About a week ago, she had fallen sick, quite literally. She had blacked out at her desk and came to by a small tap on her cheek, one of her bosses was crouched down near her obvious concern across her face. (Y/N) had felt embarrassed immediately and tried to sit up at her desk, but couldn’t seem to find her own strength and felt her face shake a little at the energy that was being used. Her struggle must have been obvious, as her boss had sent her home with a referral to a doctor she recommends. She was sent home by the first doctor with a simple answer of “stressed, dehydrated”, “You legal type work too hard, just give yourself the weekend”
So she did. A whole weekend off, not answering her pager, her cellphone or home phone. It was a hard weekend, a reminder of the emptiness she had found herself in for adulthood. She had her job, her own pride, her health (for now), she tried not to think of the loneliness that lingered in the crawl spaces of her life. It would just lead to her dwelling on her teen years spent miles away, across oceans and railroads, with the one person who took in every piece of her and had shed light on the loneliness. No enough.
She finally focused her gaze again and went back to staring at the tiles on the ceiling. She couldn’t think of him, she avoided it all these years and there’s no reason to think of it, of them, now. The ceiling is four by six tiles. She thinks to herself and it immediately brings her back to the ache of her butt against the wooden bench. A ding of the elevator torn her eyes from the ceiling and she went back to staring down the empty office’s glass door.
Dr. Chase felt a few people slip out of the elevator behind him and he finally kicked himself into gear, moving towards the conference room. He was sure no one would be in yet, but he couldn’t stand sitting around anymore, better to hang out in the conference room where Foreman and Cameron might be able to pull him out of his own existential dread. Even if it’ll be through pissing him off, it would be better than this.
Across the conference room, Chase noticed a small figure slightly slumped on the wooden bench. The color of her hair made his gut tighten just for a moment. The way it laid, the exact color, it all felt too close to someone he knew so long ago, someone he never thinks about anymore. It wasn’t on purpose, the way he immediately moved his feet towards the person on the bench.
(Y/N) had heard the footsteps coming closer to her and ended up sitting up a little in her spot and looked up at the doctor who had stopped a little further than she thought he would. Whatever thoughts she was trying to avoid a few minutes ago, suddenly swarmed across her mind. Dr. Chase didn’t even make it all the way over the person before his feet stopped him, it couldn’t be.
There was a moment where they seemed to both size each other up, to debate if they had lost their minds. Chase couldn’t help the way his feet moved, they were use to walking towards her, not running away from her.
“(Y/N)” Chase barely recognized his own voice. (Y/N) on the other hand had that voice burned into her brain. The lilt in the accent, the slight breathlessness laced in her name. It had been at least a decade since she heard him say her name. Still she could pick him out by voice alone.
(Y/N) straightened her back against the wall in her sitting position and opened her mouth to reply. Nothing came out. Instead, the unanswered letters she had sent 10 years ago flash across her mind. She finally closed her mouth and kept her gaze up. He looked mostly the same, older of course, a decade apart will do that to a person. He had let his hair grow out, and despite the shocked look on his face, he still had the same rosy undertone in his cheeks.
Chase took her silence to really look at her. He thinks of lingering teen hands, of giggling in the dark, of the only soft thing he had when everything was falling apart around him. There had been plenty of parties in his teenage years, so many girls, so many things he hid away but (Y/N). (Y/N) had been the one person he never spoke about, he had done his best to ignore the betrayal he felt when she left and she never reached out to him. He had packed it away. His father’s briefcase all packed with his things flashes in his mind.
“What are you doing here?” Chase finally speaks up again, he rolled his shoulders a little and tried to put on a front, tried to pretend he wasn’t aching at the sight of her now. She still mostly looked the same, a little thinner than he thinks is natural for her, slightly hollow in her face in places that shouldn’t look like that. He tore his eyes away and glanced over to the empty conference room, House’s empty office. He ignored the voice telling him something was wrong. He had looked away and she could find her voice again.
“Robert” (Y/N) finally spoke said the only thing that came to mind. She didn’t know how to answer his questions, she wasn’t here to even ask his professional opinion, she had no idea he was even here. She had last seen him so far from here she never imagined he would have came all the way to New Jersey.
Thankfully, the moment died quite quickly. Sadly, it was broken by the voice by House.
“Chase, tell Wilson here..” House didn’t finish his sentence when he noticed Wilson had taken his chance to slip away, not wanting to hear whatever shitty thing House was going to yell across the hall to Chase.
Chase clenched his jaw and kept his eyes trained on House as he limped over to where Chase stood.
“Not now House,” Chase mumbled.
“Dr. House?” (Y/N) tried to confirm if this was the man she was told could help her. House acted like he didn’t hear her and went to say something else to Chase before (Y/N) stood up quickly and held her medical file out towards House.
“My name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and I was referred to you. I work under Stacy Warner and-“ (Y/N) was cut off by a small wave of fatigue. She felt her legs shake a little at the act of standing up so quickly. Chase didn’t think twice when he moved a little closer, let his hand linger around (Y/N)’s arms. He stopped himself before he could actually put his hand on her, there was something scary about the idea of touching her again after all this time. It felt like another lifetime when he had the chance to be able to touch her freely, and her disappearance from his life felt like enough for a sign that she didn’t want him to touch her anymore.
His voice soften when he spoke, “Hey, you should sit back down,” he kept his hands lingering near his elbow as he came closer to her, a little nudge to get her back onto the bench. (Y/N) listens without thinking and falls back onto the wooden bench. Her medical file is still in her hand and slightly held up towards Dr. House. “If you could at least look at it, tell me anything please,” (Y/N) tried to get Dr. House’s attention.
House didn’t seem to be looking at her, or the medical file. Instead he had his gaze trailed on Chase, on the hand that he pulled away and shoved into his coat pocket when he noticed the lack of response from (Y/N). House finally caught Chase’s eye for only a moment before Chase immediately looked away. It was the only response House really needed. It had been a while since something had Chase on edge. House had been wondering if after the lawsuit Chase had caught if he decided to simply shut down, but his actions now seemed to say otherwise.
House barely glanced at (Y/N) before snatching the medical file from her hand. (Y/N) let out a small sigh and leaned her head against the wall again, her eyes closed for a moment in relief. Dr. House grabbed my file, he’s opening it, Stacy had told her this would be the hardest part and she did it. (She can’t help but internally laugh at the fact that the hardest part is Robert Chase standing. right. there. But Stacy couldn’t have known.)
Dr. House barely glanced at the file before swing it towards Chase for him to take it. Chase clenched his jaw but took the file and held it closed.
“You ever spend time in Australia?” Dr. House leans against his cane as he finally stares down (Y/N).
(Y/N) couldn’t help but glance over to Chase who was staring down House. She thought of her time in Australia. She had met Robert by accident, when she was working some fancy event that he was attending as a teenager. He was so obviously a bad idea, but he made her laugh and she could see the insecurity behind whatever fake gusto he was displaying. She remembers how he had almost blown her off when he realized that he wasn’t going to be able to fuck her tonight. She tries not to dwell on the years they spent attached at the hip. She tries not to think of all his secrets she had been holding close to her heart. Sometimes, when she focuses enough, she can remember the first time he had confessed that he thinks(knows) that no one else will ever understand him the way (Y/N) did.
“I lived in Australia for 5 years when I was 16. My mother wanted me away from my father, and apparently across the country wasn’t enough, so she took me to the further place she could think of. It’s been so long I doubt it’s connected, I just barely started getting sick.” (Y/N) answered keeping her gaze away from Chase.
House let out a little “huh” before he opened his mouth to say something else. Chase immediately spoke up to stop him from asking what he knows House will ask, “No.” House glanced over Chase’s shoulder and noticed Cameron and Foreman making their way over to the both of them.
House snatched the medical file, that Chase still hadn’t open, and met Cameron and Foreman half way and pressed the file into Foreman’s hands. Chase took a moment to glance at (Y/N). He thought of how much it hurt when she left, he thinks of her promises that she would write, that being physically separated didn’t mean anything with them. She felt his eyes on her and pulled her eyes from the ceiling, Chase still seemed to have her memorized because he could tell she was going to say something about the situation and he wasn’t sure he could handle it. He immediately turned away and went over to where Cameron was speaking.
“It says here she had a cold about a month ago….”
“She also lived in Australia when she was 15 and now she seems to be 30. Weird right?” House said in an obnoxious tone that had Chase glaring at him already.
Cameron’s attention is pulled from the file as she looks at Chase slightly confused. “You know her?” She asked ignoring the glare Chase is wearing.
“Doesn’t matter,” Foreman said as he quickly walked over to (Y/N). She seemed to be slightly falling asleep against the wall, her head falling a little before she realized and slightly stood up. Foreman grabbed her shoulder a little and shook her awake a little. House watched as Foreman made sure she was aware of where she was, he noticed the way Chase’s jaw clenched at Foreman’s attention and grabbed the file out of Cameron’s hand.
“Get her a room, and come back to me with information.” House made his way back to his office. Cameron glances at Chase for only a second before she made her way over to (Y/N) and helped Foreman out. Chase didn’t move, keeping his eyes on House his jaw clenched, “Well. Go!” House motioned with his cane.
Chase had waited for House to make himself comfortable in his office before he took off. He didn’t even mention to Cameron and Foreman that he wouldn’t be around. He just needs a few moments to himself, the irony of how much he didn’t want to be alone an hour ago wasn’t lost on him. Chase was staring at the inside of his locker, he had walked into the doctor locker room without thinking and opened his locker like he was going to go home. The locker was full of his own items and he tried to take inventory. Instead he lost himself in the memory last time he had spoken to (Y/N) face to face.
They were both 21, he never had a secret with (Y/N) since he first opened up. Often, he remembers feeling like she had came into his life and without any medical school, knew how to perform open heart surgery, knew his insides without any problems. This was the first time he had held a secret from her. He had confirmed his medical school entry date and had been scared to mention it to her. ow, he couldn’t avoid it anymore, he was leaving tomorrow and the guilt at not telling her soon ate him alive. For the last few years it was just them, together, Chase knows he has his sister, and really his mother is still alive, but neither of them seem to see Chase. They see his hands cleaning up their mess, his voice lecturing them about something new. Then there was (Y/N). Every time he imagines not having (Y/N) it feels like those first ten minutes he was locked in his father’s office for the first time. He feels the ache in his hands from pounding on the wooden door, the panic in his chest.
“Bobby,” (Y/N)’s singsongy voice came from behind him.
He had picked her favorite little coffee shop he had shown her. She always claimed she liked all his spots equally, but something about the beach side patio this one had always made her brighten up a little. He likes to think it has to do with the fact that they can easily walk to the little beach cave they use to spend time in. He hoped it was enough to make her not hate him.
He knew he wasn’t just dependent on her, it was mutual. She rarely spoke of her family, of the father and brothers she was pulled away from in the States. When she did speak of her mother it was in the same tone Chase spoke of his own. Distain, slightly laced with the longing want for someone, anyone to care. They both chalked it up to teenage angst as they grew together, not wanting the other to think them broken. It was a precarious situation. Both afraid the other would leave if they were broken, both holding each other together.
(Y/N) was, as always in Chase’s eyes, beautiful. She was a little frazzled, caught being late as she was between class and work.She went to lean down next to his seat and without thinking he pulled himself up a little more, knowing what was coming.
“Thought I told you not to call me that,” Chase mumbled a little as she pressed her lips against his cheek in a swift kiss. When she straighten up again and started towards the seat across from him, Chase stopped her and reached out to grab her hand. She stopped her movement without question and he pressed a small kiss onto the top of her hand before dropping it and letting her settle into her seat.
She hummed a little at his comment, “Would you believe me if I said I forgot?”
Chase laughed a little under his breath and rolled his eyes slightly playful.
(Y/N) took a moment to glance around the coffee shop. When they first really became friends, Chase would insist on meeting up somewhere, not wanting to expose (Y/N) to his mother, and (Y/N) hadn’t questioned it not wanting to answer questions about her own mother. This coffee shop had been in the middle of all the trips and for a while it didn’t mean anything to her. Most of them didn’t matter to her, what mattered was the company with her. What mattered what light blonde hair and rosy cheeks and blue eyes set in that slightly mischievous glare. What mattered when it came to their breakfast dates was how Chase would slip his feet towards her under the table, press his leg against hers just to feel her. What mattered was how easily it was kiss for kiss with them.
Chase pulls out the folder he had put together, he was prepared, had his whole schedule, what halls he’s being put into. He had taught himself to have it all ready.
“I was going to tell you sooner, but..” Chase trails off and keeps his eyes locked on the top of her head as she skimmed throughout all the papers he had pushed across the table. (Y/N) didn’t say anything for a few minutes, as she looked through the papers. Chase kept trying to find an excuse as to why he waited last minute to tell her he was leaving for medical school. It was never a secret this is what he wanted, had never let himself dream about it out loud unless (Y/N) was the one listening. Now, he was felt the guilt of abandoning her for this dream looming in his throat. (Y/N) took a sip of her now cooled down beverage and pushed the papers back into the middle of the table.
“Can I keep this paper? Or should I just write the address down? Can you even get mail in a college hall? ” She said keeping her eyes on the paper. She ignores the abandonment that’s growing in her own gut, tries to figure out what can work with them. She knew this was coming and she wished he had told her sooner, but at least he told her.
“What?”
“You need an address to be able to get mail, as far as I understand the postal service at least.” (Y/N) took a sip from her drink once more and kept her hands on the cup and squeezed it just a little.
Chase couldn’t help but laugh a little at her. He glanced down to the way she was squeezing her take out cup, reading it for the anxious movement it was he put his hand onto the table, his palm facing up. The dread he felt a few minutes away seemed to simply melt away. Of course it was going to be easy, it always is with (Y/N). She would write, he would reply, and they would survive. It would be even easier than it was now, besides the fact that they’d never actually see each other. Okay so maybe not easier, but worth it anyways.
(Y/N) looked at the palm open hand Chase had stretched towards her and immediately dropped her hand into his. He tightened his grip on her hand for just a few seconds before relaxing his grip and keeping his gaze on their clasps hands.
“Just write to my current address, I’ll be back every other weekend to see my sister. It’ll make it easier to come knowing your letters, hand delivered, are waiting” Chase said trailing off a little at his final statement. (Y/N) hummed in reply. They both see it for what it is, an invitation to wait for him every weekend, to just hold on during those weekdays.
Chase squeezed his eyes closed at the memory. It continued without his permission. He remembers the first weekend he came back to visit his sister. It was a weekend his father decided to play his part, he was there, asking questions after question about medical school. More importantly, (Y/N) had written a letter explaining that she had to leave (the details were blurry but Chase knew how much she didn’t like talking about her family) but she would keep writing, and he should write back, she misses his words, really his voice but his words will do for now. Chase had spent that whole weekend rereading the letter, had recited the letter in his mind when his father was ranting about the medical school Chase had picked. Even now, all these years later, he can see her handwriting, her words at the end, in his head. Sorry I’m not actually there, but let’s pretend I am, we’d be sitting in that little grove you’ve hidden away from your sister, with shitty coffee made by whatever maid your father hired this week. Go do that. I’ll find some shitty coffee on Saturday, maybe if we’re lucky we’ll be doing it at the same time. (Hope to ) See you soon.
Sick of the flashbacks, Chase presses his locker door closed and looks around at the empty locker room.
_______
Chase slipped into the chair next to Cameron in the conference office. He put down the tray of coffee and takes his own out from the slot before Cameron and Foreman grabbed theirs.
“Thought I hired you as a doctor, not an intern?” House spoke as he wrote on the white board.
Chase glared at his back for just a moment before using a second to try and stable his voice, “Good thing I didn’t get you a coffee then”
Foreman slid a copy of the medical file he had made towards Chase. Chase’s eyes went to the file, he stared down the name sticking out from the top. (Y/N) (Y/L/N). He grabbed the file and held it closed but moved his gaze to House who had finished his nonsense on the whiteboard. Now that he wasn’t blocking it, Chase could see it was a rough timeline. His grip on the file tightened and he heard Cameron let out a sad sigh.
“At 16, (Y/N) moves to Australia and she leaves when she’s 21,” House took another marker and circles the area between those years, “ Which makes these the Robert years,” House moves around on his cane for a moment mimicking a pace.
“She got sick a week ago, how is this relevant?” Foreman knew it was useless to ask the questions but he couldn’t help it.
“Why would it not be relevant?”House leaned against his cane, “Parasite, STD, spider bite, botched abortion who knows what happened in Australia?”
Chase took his eyes off the whiteboard at House’s words the glare in his eyes back. After a second he finally found the courage and opened up the medical file to pretend he could handle this. His eyes immediately focused on the photo copy of her drivers license photo.
“Can’t you torture Chase on your own time?” Cameron mumbles a little as she opens her own file and seems to focus on something inside of it. “Botulism fits most the symptoms?”
“Botched abortion could have left the little Chase attached to her uterus, growing this whole time.” House ignored Cameron and kept his eyes on Chase. Chase looked up and gave House the most bored look he could muster. He couldn’t get himself to tell House anything.
“It’s been too long for Botulism, but heavy metal poisoning could mimic it depending on the metal?” Foreman stated although he knows only Cameron seems to be paying attention.
“She’s a paralegal who lives in a fairly decent area, where would she be exposed to that much of any heavy metal?” Cameron shut the file and finally looked at House who was staring down Chase still. At this point House typically picks a side and decided something. House gives Cameron a look of confusion, “Sorry” He hisses a little sarcastically “haven’t heard from my whole team, can’t decide just yet.”
Chase didn’t think as he ran his thumb over the little black and white photo. He was listening just barely and realized both the options would give House an excuse to go diving into (Y/N)’s current life. He couldn’t seem to focus on the actual symptoms but when House hissed he looked up and noticed all three pairs of eyes on him.
Cameron’s pity was written across her face and Chase clenched his jaw at how bad it made him feel. Foreman looked away immediately and focused on House instead. “Both can be found with blood testing,” House finally gave up and leaned back in his chair, cane sitting between his legs.
All three doctors took the dismissal for what it was and stood up. House cleared his throat and stared at Chase a little dumbfounded, “Not done with you.” House waved away Cameron and Foreman. Cameron patted Chase’s arm as she passed him and exited, Foreman right behind her. House made his way into his office, Chase behind him.
_____
In the hospital room, (Y/N) sat up in the bed a little at the sight of Dr. Cameron and Dr. Foreman. The last few hours had been hard for her, sitting in the dull hospital bed reliving those few moments with Chase over and over. She had gone from shocked to angry to sad to shocked multiple times and now she’s landed on simply dazed. She saved her lamenting of those years for dark nights in her empty apartment, for dreams that she pretended weren’t memories and now she couldn’t do that. The second she saw him, she had remembered the weeks she’d spent waiting for a reply, she remembers writing letter after letter, and never getting once back. There was a year of her life that she swore she spent more time at her local post office and PO box than her own little shitty apartment. It had taken a little over a year before she wrote her final letter to Chase. She wasn’t sure why he never replied, wasn’t sure what happened, but whatever it was, she wanted the best for him. She had ended this letter different than most, no references for a future, instead a simple goodbye.
“We’re going to need a few samples, blood, urine, the simple stuff” Dr. Cameron smiled at her.
(Y/N) liked Dr. Cameron so far. She had been polite, and managed to make some small talk when she and Dr. Foreman had helped get her settle into the hospital. She spoke kindly to the nurses and despite the awkwardness that came from the fact that everyone seemed to know Chase, Cameron treated (Y/N) as well as she can imagine a doctor could.
“If this is for drugs, I’ve already admitted to smoking weed in the past but its been years, and my file is completely up to date and correct about any medication I have taken,” (Y/N) said as Foreman grabbed some tools close by and motioned for her arm. (Y/N) let him take it and looked away as he took some blood.
Cameron noticed the way (Y/N) seemed a little squeamish at the needle and moved to look at her. “We’re going to look for any sort of toxicity within your blood. You might have been exposed to something that’s causing your condition.”
(Y/N) had a confused look on her face for a moment she went to open her mouth to speak back, try and understand what she possibly been exposed to. Cameron watched as (Y/N) seemed to lose her train of thought and in seconds, (Y/N) started to seize.
_____
“I don’t want to talk about her,” Chase started once House had settled himself into his chair.
“Really? Couldn’t tell,” House moved a little in his chair, “Problem is, you need to do your job, which involves, speaking.” House emphasized at the end of his sentence.
“Just let me run the blood tests, or any of the lab work, I’m sure Cameron would like a break from the lab.”
House took a moment to rest his feet up on his desk and stared Chase down for a moment.
“I didn’t do anything to her, I haven’t seen her in years. She’s sick and I have nothing to do with it.” Chase said. He’s been repeating the same phrase in his head since he first heard Cameron and Foreman debating the diagnosis. She’s sick. She’s sick. She’s sick.
“What are her symptoms?” House asks.
Chase rolled his eyes, knowing full well that House had already memorized the file. When he got no answer, House stood back up and walked towards Chase and snatched the medical file Chase had been gripping this whole time. “Go away, you’re no fun to me.”
House went to his office door and held it open, waiting for Chase to leave. Instead, Cameron filled the doorway, “She seized.” Cameron was obviously out of breath, “She’s been given lorazepam and-“
Chase took the medical file back from House before interrupting Cameron speaking, “Brain stem seizure could be a possibility” he mumbled a little under his breath as he opened the file and ran his thumb across the photo again and glanced at the medical tests already performed by previous doctors. “She’s always had high blood pressure,” Chase kept the file open but looked up to meet House’s gaze. House took a moment and focused his gaze on Chase before turning to Cameron
“Put her on Reteplase,” House started to walk away.
“We should do an MRI first, it might not be a brain stem seizure, Reteplase can-” Chase was cut off before he could finish.
“You know where the patient is, you know where the MRI machine is. Do it yourself.” House looked at Cameron “Give her Reteplase and monitor her”
_____
Chase didn’t pray that often anymore, but he almost went to the hospital chapel when Cameron said he would help him get the MRI before she gave her Reteplase. He tried to ignore the obvious pity Cameron had when she said she’d help him. He’s sure he looked like a kicked puppy when he realized House was going to force him to see (Y/N) no matter what, at least it’s working to his advantage.
Cameron slipped (Y/N) into the MRI room and Chase felt himself sit up straighter in the computer chair as he watched them chit chat with each other. He didn’t think about his actions as he pressed the speaker button to be able to hear them.
“Montgomery’s library is a little bigger than the this towns, but I think the university library tends to be the best for content,” (Y/N) had been speaking in a slightly out of breath tone. Chase wondered about her oxygen stats and leans forward on his seat to really look at her. Cameron’s voice was in the background as she replied to (Y/N)’s comment but Chase wasn’t pay enough attention to make out the words. Still, Chase felt a burst of joy at how easy Cameron connected with patients.
Instead, he noticed the way (Y/N)’s hand shook gently, a slight tremor, another symptom he knew. He noticed the dark red nail color she had on, slightly chipped and obviously done by her own hand since her non dominant hand seemed a little messier than the other. The fact that she had already pulled Cameron into a full conversation effortlessly was also familiar. He remembered how easy it was to just listen to her. When they were young he remembers telling her he hated the silence, he had so much of it. She had always feared over talking, taking too much of the space. He smiled a little at how much stayed the same when he noticed the sheepish look on (Y/N)’s face at the fact Cameron had to stop their conversation to work. Cameron had slipped back into the computer room once she had gotten (Y/N) settled.
There was a moment of silence as Cameron checked the systems. “She’s nice,” Cameron finally broke the silence.
“Didn’t like her because she was nice,” Chase couldn’t help the way his defense seemed to come up. He still felt like he was in the room with House. If he looked over he’s sure he would catch Cameron rolling her eyes. Chase opened his mouth to apologize, maybe even to thank Cameron for her help, but was interrupted by a voice through the speaker.
“Dr. Cameron, I should have probably mentioned that enclosed spaces aren’t exactly my favorite” (Y/N)’s voice held a slightly nervous shake.
Chase clenched his jaw and looked at the machine throughout the window, he felt Cameron’s eyes on the side of his head and he reached his hand out to the speaker button and thought about what to say. His hand fell short once he found his own thoughts and he looked over at Cameron, “Ask her to tell you about the worst movie she’s watched recently,” He said in a slightly whisper, as if (Y/N) could hear through the glass and the machine.
Cameron turned to glare at Chase but the look fell from her face after a moment, he had turn his gaze back to (Y/N) in the machine. His hand was resting near the speaker button, she could tell he wanted to do something, felt the small bouts of desperation that slightly radiated off him. Without thinking, she reached past his hand and pressed the speaker button.
“No worries (Y/N), close your eyes and stay still it’ll go by really quickly” Cameron took her finger off the button.
Cameron watched on the screen as (Y/N) settled and closed her eyes. The tension of the enclosed spaced was written across her face and when she glanced out the window and saw (Y/N)’s hand in a tight fist. Chase’s hand balling itself into a fist stole Cameron’s attention for just a second.
Cameron let herself start looking at the scan and for a few seconds she had focused in enough to forget the situation around her, until she went to point something out to Chase and he seemed to still be staring through the glass focused at the way (Y/N) was relaxing her fist just to clench it again. Cameron had felt like she had learnt everything there was to know about Chase in the years working with him. Even sleeping with him hadn’t really taught her anything about him. She had used that experience as an excuse to write him off completely, an arrogant pretty boy doctor with daddy issues, they were everywhere in this field. Now she was faced with a quick reevaluation of him, had to put him into this new light. His other hand rested against his mouth in that same stubborn way he rested when he was resisting the urge to speak up. She had blown off the obvious connection with Chase and (Y/N) as a teenage year mistake that Chase was too proud to face, but that didn’t explain why he seemed to care that she was uncomfortable in the machine, explain the motion Cameron had caught of his thumb tracing (Y/N)’s picture. In just a few seconds Cameron made her decision and reached out to press the speaker button.
“Hey (Y/N), do you like movies?” Cameron said in a soft voice and watched through the window as (Y/N)’s fist unclenched a little, Chase pulled his hand away from where it rested near the speaker button.
(Y/N) hummed in response obviously doing her best to take the distraction given to her.
“I saw this terrible movie in theaters last week.” Cameron continued trying to search for the last movie trailer she had seen on television to sustain her lie “Worst thing ever, something about calls? Ever heard of it?” She leaned back in her chair once she heard (Y/N)’s voice in a steady stream start to talk about what movie she thinks Cameron was referring to.
She let go of the button and glanced over to Chase. (Y/N)’s voice was gentle in the room and Cameron noticed the way Chase settled back into his seat, and finally started to look at the work on his screen trying to catch anything in the scan. For a few minutes it went on like this, Cameron and Chase exchanging mumbles of “nothing here” at each scan loading, (Y/N)’s voice through the speaking filing the emptiness. There was a moment of lull in which (Y/N) had tampered off, slightly embarrassed at how quickly she had let herself start to ramble.
Without taking a chance to look away from the scans, Chase reached his hand out, pressed the speaker button and, out of an old habit, something that was buried inside him from years ago, spoke out “Where’s the unmute button?”
In the MRI machine (Y/N) felt herself lose her breath at the words. The phrase always lingered in her mind when she needed the boost of confidence even all these years later. She wishes she could remember when the joke had started, the first time Chase had joked about how she stops herself without any warning, how jarring it felt like someone had pressed the mute button on their conversation.The insecurity in her own voice had slowly started to disappear when she realized that Chase really did like hearing her ramble, it took him out of his own mind. He had started asking for the unmute button as a joke whenever he felt the heavy air of silence and eventually it just became a phrase she took as a sign that she was being listened to, that she, herself, was being listened to.
She didn’t know what was happening outside the machine so she assumed that the tension she felt came from hearing the phrase. She let out a small breath and closed her eyes once more before she started speaking again. This was something she could do, she understood her role when she heard “unmute button” even after all this time.
Cameron heard (Y/N)’s breath hitch for just a second before she continued on her rambling. Almost in tune with her, Chase froze until she started rambling again.
Cameron opened her mouth and started to say something, “Chase..” She tried to find the right words.
“It’s been ten years, it really doesn’t matter.” Chase didn’t let her continue. He leaned back into the office chair and let out a small sigh “The brain stem looks completely clean, not a single sign of seizure” He sounded obviously defeated.
Cameron didn’t say anything but instead stared at the scans. She tried to find an obvious sign of anything wrong in the scans they already had. Before she got the chance to speak Chase stood up and rushed out of the computer room.
Cameron pressed the speaker button “Okay (Y/N), we’re all set, I’m going to come help you out.”
——
Chase knew that Cameron could handle (Y/N) and while the idea of them alone made him a little nervous, the idea of having to face (Y/N) was more nerve wracking. Instead, Chase had stopped by and visited Foreman in the lab to check on the samples. Foreman glanced up thinking it was something important. When he noticed it was just Chase he went back to reading the sample slide. Chase took a stool out from under the counter and sat next to Foreman, but kept himself facing the counter. He didn’t know exactly what he was here for, Foreman seemed to have it almost finished and they had rarely hung out and chit chatted for fun.
“Brain stem is clean.” Chase finally spoke, best to land on the one thing they do have in common: the patient. Chase ignored the way his gut tightened at the idea of (Y/N) as a patient. She’s sick. She’s sick. She’s sick.
“The toxicity report came back clean also,” Foreman let out a small sigh as he leaned back and crossed his arms, “Her liver functions seem fine, her blood seems a little high in white blood cells but she just got over a cold a few weeks ago.”
Chase had his hand in his coat pocket, squeezing his fist for a moment as he tried to understand what was happening.
“You’re stupid for letting House get to you this much,” Foreman mumbled a little as he started cleaning up the blood samples he had.
“Like he’s never gotten to you?” Chase felt himself slip back into the amour he had built himself so long ago. Right, this is why he sought out Foreman. He exists as a reminder of the person he had crafted himself into here.
“I hide it better than you,” Foreman mumbled a little before stopping his clean up, “Go home, or go see the girl, but stop mopping around, it’s embarrassing” Foreman shrugged a little as if it would make the statement softer.
“Not that easy,” Chase mumbled as he glanced at the tests that Foreman had ran.
There was a soft click before another voice took over the room, “Actually, it is.” House spoke, “Cameron says she’s stable,” House glanced at the results to the tests that sat on the counter and turned to leave the room. “Keep your pagers on” House yelled from the hallway. It was the closest to a dismissal they have ever gotten from him.
_____
Chase had tried to go home. He sat in the locker room with Cameron and Foreman and they all grabbed their stuff. He mimicked the motions, took off his doctors coat, grabbed his items ,Cameron even offered him a ride home, but he couldn’t do it. Foreman cupped his shoulder for a second before he left and Cameron just mumbled a little, “Get some sleep” when they both finally left. The silence of the locker room was enough to push Chase out the door, but not enough to stop his feet from heading to the third floor where (Y/N)’s room was.
Once he got to the room he realized he didn’t know his plan. It had been so long since he didn’t feel prepared, since he felt ungrounded. His tether had been cut loose for a short time when his father died, but he quickly recovered, shoved the thoughts away and weighted himself down enough that he didn’t think anything would shake him again. He recalled the way (Y/N) had been sitting on that stupid wooden bench this morning, how silly all that tethering had been. How easily he felt himself fall back into her gravity and they haven’t even spoken more than two words to each other. Chase moved away from the closed door and debated his next steps. He didn’t know if she was awake, if she would even want to see him. He glanced around the hallway and after a moment pulled out his wallet from his pocket. He let it fall open and shoved his fingers into one of the extra slots. The wallet was slipped back into his pocket and he slowly folded the worn piece of paper. The creased were slightly discolored from the constant pressure in his wallet but it still read the same words. He didn’t completely unfold the letter, instead just flopped the first crease up, exposing the signature on the letter. Always yours, (Y/N). Chase ran his finger across the name, it was the only thing he let himself keep from the whole situation. He had taken his position at the hospital and made the decision to get rid of all his reminders of (Y/N), it was better, safer. Yet, the letter never left his wallet, he had pulled it out so many times and thought about tossing it, but this was the last thing he had of her. The only thing left that confirmed he didn’t make her up so he kept it. He started to pull the whole letter open when a nurse slipped out of the room.
“Oh, Dr. Chase sorry do you need Ms. (Y/L/N)? She just fell asleep for the night, I thought all the tests were done and she was little shaken up so I gave her something to help her sleep.” The nurse grimaced a little, House’s team wasn’t known for kindness.
“No, it’s fine. Tests are done for tonight,” Dr. Chase folded the letter as he spoke and slipped it into his pocket before nodding a little at the nurse and trying to act like he wasn’t scared as he started towards the door, “Just checking in” He didn’t let the nurse say anything else as he finally stepped into (Y/N)’s room.
The room was the same as every hospital room around it, not exactly dark, but no longer well lit, soft beeps breaking whatever silence there was. Still, Chase tried to look around the room instead of at the girl laying fast asleep in the bed. Chase clenched his jaw when he heard the smallest shuffle from the bed. He finally let his eyes linger on (Y/N). She was fast asleep, fist in a slight curling position near her face. Without thinking Chase let out a small breath of air and felt himself move over to the side of the bed. Chase raises his hand to uncurl (Y/N)’s fist a little but stops short. Throughout the day he had stopped himself the few times he was close to touching her, he thinks of the warmth that barely came off of her when he first saw her stumble a little. Thinks of Cameron’s easy hands helping (Y/N) settle into the MRI machine. (Y/N) shuffles a little more in her sleep and it finally breaks something in Chase, she had always been restless in her sleep. He lets his hand reach past her fist and instead lets his fingers move a few strands that rested on her forehead. The warmth of her skin tingles a little against his fingertips.
“Hi darling,” Chase whispers a little when his hand trails down her hair a little, letting it drop onto the bed when he gets to the end of the strand. He felt a small shake in his knees and pulled his hand away, letting himself plop into the plastic chair that was in every room. He squeezed his hand into a fist and felt a few tears start to appear in his waterline. He leaned his head back a little to stop the tears from completely dropping before finally letting himself completely look her over. Despite the obvious signs of something unhealthy lingering in her features, she mostly looks the same, a little older, but still the face he knew all those years ago. Chase didn’t think as he pulled himself and the chair to be closer to the bed. He leaned forward in the seat and let his hand settle near the end of her hair. He lets the lack of movement from her push him to reach his fingers out and slightly twist the end of her hair. It’s not the touch he wanted, but it was something. He let himself twirl the strands a little before letting his eyes completely rest on her face. Finally, he broke the sound of the machines around him.
“House is a dick, but he’s good. The whole team is really, don’t tell Foreman I said that,” Chase let out a small huff of a laugh before he drops the strand of hair he was toying with. He let his hand rest on her bed, not touching her, but only a small motion would bring his finger against her arm.
“Seems like you like Cameron, she’s good with people, although the movie trick was mine, I’m sure you remember it. I think you’ve talked me through more movies than I’ve actually watched.” Chase’s voice stayed low as he spoke.
It seemed a little ridiculous if he thought of it too hard, talking to someone who wasn’t listening, but still it was (Y/N), he had never learned how not to talk to her. He spent what felt like a few minutes explaining how he ended up on House’s team. It was a superficial telling, wanting to avoid the pieces that still felt tender, his sister, his parents. It didn’t take long for Chase to feel himself fall into the familiar place that was (Y/N)’s side, even if she asleep.
Chase forgets how quickly time passes in a hospital when you aren’t working. How the windows barely give away time and people are always moving so it’s hard to notice when hours past. The only thing that indicated the passing of time was the nurses who slipped into the room every once in a while, in the same rotation they’ve been doing their whole careers.Every nurse took a moment to eye Dr. Chase, trying to understand why he was here, and then proceeded to explain what they were doing like he was just another family member. It wasn’t until a nurse showed up with an extra blanket and tossed it at the end of the bed that Chase accepted his fate. He didn’t give the nurse any indication of a thanks but grabbed the blanket as she was walking out. He closed his eyes and in the dark, he felt the nerve to reach out and rest his hand in her empty one.
_____
Dr. Chase sat slumped in the chair and Cameron tried to bite her tongue at how he tried to switch his clothing to make it look like he’d gone home, but she knew that shirt had been a spare he left in his locker. The spare blanket he had tucked under the chair wasn’t obvious to anyone that hadn’t been in and out of the room, but still couldn’t fool Cameron. His eyes were droopy, but any attention he had left in his half asleep state was completely on (Y/N)’s hand interlaced with his. Cameron stood for a second and debated coming in and bothering him, she had assumed that (Y/N) was awake when she first passed by the door, hearing Chase low whisper and she felt a strange pride in her chest that Chase had finally gotten the nerve to speak to her. The pride was undeserved, apparently as (Y/N) was dead asleep and seemed to have been like that for a while now. When she realized Chase had leaned a little closer to the bed and was bringing (Y/N)’s hand up in his own she quietly tapped on the door to make her presence known. She mentally kicked herself when she realize how quickly Chase had slipped his hand out of (Y/N)’s.
“Hey, just swinging by to check on her, thought she was awake,” Cameron’s pity seeped into her voice no matter how much she tried to fight it. Most the time, the family’s found some sort of comfort in it, the care that this stranger of a doctor had. Chase, was not most people.
“She’s been asleep for a few hours now, a nurse just came in twenty minutes ago and did the bare minimum,” Chase mumbled as he leaned back into his hospital chair. If it had been any other person within the hospital he probably wouldn’t have spoken, but Cameron had helped him with the MRI, risked a verbal berating from House for him, and never once brought up how he had embarrassed himself after a one night stand with her. Cameron put her hands into her doctor pockets and stayed near the doorway.
“Well, you know how House gets about the nurses,” Cameron rolled her eyes a little at how often Dr. House had groaned about the fact that nurses mess up, and how own team’s mistakes are his but he hated having to account for random nurse’s mistakes.
Cameron moved into the room a little more, reaching for the clipboard at the end of (Y/N)’s bed. She took a second to pretend to read the information on the clipboard as if it gave anything new to the case. She glanced back up at Chase when she realized he had the same look she had seen a million times before, the same look she saw once in her own face, when she lost her husband. It felt wrong to see it across Chase’s face, to know this doctor who she found fairly intelligent (at least when he wanted to be), and charming (again, when he wanted to be), was falling into a pit of despair over a women none of his coworkers even knew about, a women who he claims he hasn’t seen in ten years.
“She’s not bad enough for that look yet. We’re going to figure it out.” Cameron tried to make a joke but instead was met with Chase’s subtle glare. She let the joke sit in the air and decided there was nothing else she could do and started towards the door. She had barely reached the handle when she finally heard him speak.
“I think I’ve made it fairly clear it wasn’t great after my dad left ” Chase spoke through gritted teeth. Cameron let her hand linger on the door handle, but she stayed frozen. “She was the only thing I had left to hold onto when I was a teenager”
Cameron turned a little so she could face him but didn’t come closer. It felt a little silly, like trying to approach a lion during a safari trip, or a bunny in the backyard she didn’t want to scare him out of finally saying something. She noticed Chase had leaned his head back against the wall and had his own hands wringing within each other, resting every few moments in a sort of prayer position. She was sure if she looked closer she’d notice his eyes closed.
Cameron realized it was her turn to speak, confirm she wanted to hear this. “She’s not Australian?” Cameron pointed out the only thing that felt safe. It had made no sense they knew each other all that time ago and when she looked at the file there was no relevant information as to why (Y/N) was in Australia, no past doctor seemed to find it important enough to ask and House knew better than to actually think her few years in Australian were important to the case. Chase shook his head against the wall.
“She was in Australia because her family, I can’t….” He kept shaking his head and Cameron understood. That isn’t mine to tell, it’s hers, he was saying.
“She was working at this shitty dinner that was down the block from my neighborhood. I’d always meet my friends there, to avoid them running into my mother. One day she was just there like she had always been around, too young to be working there but she knew someone needed to bring money in, she had problems I hadn’t even thought of but that didn’t matter, doesn’t matter even now. She just….” Chase finally pulled his head forward and kept his gaze on (Y/N)’s sleeping face.
“She made sense, maybe not right away. But I kept showing up and she kept telling me she wasn’t going to sleep with me,” He laughed a little and Cameron realized he wasn’t actually telling her the story, he was just thinking out loud “I kept lying, saying that it didn’t matter to me,” His hand reached out a little as he tucked his fingers under (Y/N)’s resting hand on the bed, “And then one day, it wasn’t a lie. It didn’t matter to me, she just wormed her way into it all. She was the one thing I had that wasn’t ruined by anything, she saw me and nothing else around me.”
“You cared about her,” Cameron whispered a little, trying to remind Chase he had an audience.
“Yeah, something like that.” Chase finally caught Cameron’s gaze and flinched a little at the amount of pity that was seeping out her. “Not that it really mattered. We were kids and I had to go to medical school, just had to leave…” Chase stops and Cameron knows the implication, he needed to leave his parents house. “I told her and she took it well, thought it would be harder. She told me we’d be fine, she’d write and I’d come visit every weekend and we’d survive and once we were both away from our parents, on our own completely, we’d finally figure out whatever it was between us.”
Cameron tilted her head a little trying to make sense of what Chase meant.
“You weren’t together?” She finally just asked.
“I had a reputation, she’s never been native” Chase shrugged a little knowing it was well earned, “And I think she knew we both needed each other more than we needed to be together,” The vulnerability was threatening to rip his chest out, but he couldn’t handle keeping it inside anymore. Cameron wasn’t, would never be, (Y/N) but she was still kind, still understood that Chase wasn’t always a dick. Cameron stayed quiet, waiting for Chase to keep going, he hadn’t gotten to the end, the piece that really mattered to her. After enough silence Cameron finally decided she needed to say something to push Chase into finally explaining why they had gone ten years without speaking.
“I’m sure she’ll forgive you for not coming back,” Cameron whispered in her softest tone.
Chase clenched his jaw and looked away from the gaze he had on Cameron. Shame was a feeling Chase had quickly learnt to hide away. He leant quickly that pity doesn’t get you much and that shame would never do anything useful for him. Now, the insecurity of being left by the one person he cared about was seeping into his gut.
“I came back.” Chase said through gritted teeth, “I went home every weekend for my first year in medical school. She said she would write and the first weekend I went there was a letter so I came back and waited for another letter for a whole year. Whenever there wasn’t one, I would reread the first letter.” Chase shook his head a little before stealing his hand back from under (Y/N)’s hand. He stood up and clear his throat, “It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s been years.” Chase cleared his throat and fidgeted with his tie before he started towards the door.
Cameron felt herself stunned at the sudden shift in tone. She didn’t expect it to be Chase who was left high and dry. For a second it all seems to add up in her head, of course Chase was the one who held on longer, was it not just a few months ago that he was trying to make something out of the one night stand they had? She forgot how soft Chase could be when he wanted to be, forget that underneath the pretty boy doctor facade, he was someone who raised his sister and his mother, someone who spent his childhood praying for something better, for help. Cameron glanced at the girl who laid in the hospital bed and felt a twinge of anger that this girl had hurt Chase.
___
(Y/N) winced a little at the pressure of the needle against her skin as Dr. Foreman mumbled an apologize. She wasn’t exactly sure what happened overnight but the tension in the room had somehow ballooned into something more and even in her state, she felt it. She had learnt at a young age to be able to detect when something was unsaid, that something wasn’t right. After Dr. Foreman pulled the needle and she felt the pressure release from her back, she turned herself over a little to look at Dr. Cameron and Dr. Foreman. She tried to silence the whisper in her head that there was typically one more doctor on the team, tried to ignore the way he seemed to exist on the edges of her whole visit. The visitors chair had been pulled away from the wall when she woke up and she had stared at it for a few minutes, trying to create an apparition of the person she hoped had filled the chair while she was asleep. She noticed the extra blanket across her feet, the one part she always struggles to keep warm. Dr. Foreman had been exactly what she had expected from a doctor, what she has been dealing with for weeks, she had come to rely on him for the real medicine of it all, once she realized Dr. House didn’t seem to interact with patients. Dr. Cameron on the other hand, knew something and cared, (Y/N) wasn’t sure when it happened, but she felt the tension from her the whole day so hard. Foreman and Cameron were speaking to each other and when they started walking away (Y/N) finally spoke up.
“Dr. Cameron?” (Y/N) cringed a little at how dry her voice sounded. Dr Foreman seemed to look at Dr. Cameron for just a moment before he walked away, obviously trying to get some sort of work done. (Y/N) kicked herself a little at the fact that she didn’t plan out what to say. She took a moment to sit up as much as possible in the hospital bed and felt herself shake a little at the energy it took. She noticed the way Dr. Cameron seemed to take in every shake and movement, ever vigilant in the face of her job.
There was silence for a moment before (Y/N) cleared her throat a little and squeezed her eyes shut. For the last two days every test had brought her closer to the idea that this was it, that she had tried every option, that the world had give her this last chance to be able to tie up any loose ends in her life. Robert being at this hospital was a sign enough for her, she had nothing left but to figure this out so when she died she at last had the answers. She had been debating how to do it, focused on every outcome instead of the needles and the blood and the shitty hospital food. She hoped over and over every hour since she last heard his voice during that MRI that she’d get the chance to ask him directly. She even dreamt of him, the first time in years, of his voice, of him, close by.
“(Y/N)?” Dr. Cameron said her name but her eyes were glancing at the machines to try and figure out if something was wrong. (Y/N) shook her head lightly at the questions interlaced in Dr. Cameron’s voice.
“Everything is the same,” (Y/N) swallowed a little and braced herself, “I know I don’t have the right to ask you, but Robert, uh-“ (Y/N) ignored the pressure in her chest at the vulnerability she was going to force out of her. She noticed how quickly Cameron seemed to straighten up at the name.
“(Y/N),” Cameron shook her head a little.
“He has every right to not want to see me,” (Y/N) always knew her relationship with Chase was a stroke of luck anyways, “He knew me for only a few years so long ago, I’m sure it meant nothing but,” (Y/N) stopped herself against and tried not to cringe.
At this Cameron furrowed her brows a little, it didn’t make sense to her. Meant nothing? Cameron thought of the way Chase held onto (Y/N)’s hand when she slipped in, thinks of the way he couldn’t work knowing she was uncomfortable in the MRI machine. Something wasn’t adding up, and Cameron was trying to put it together when (Y/N) kept speaking. Cameron seemed to have forgotten how quickly (Y/N) can tumble into rambling.
“I’ll die, it’s fine,” She paused, “Well not fine of course, but I think it’s time I accept it. And all I want is to understand what happened. I know I don’t deserve it, if he wanted to give me an explanation he would have answered one of my letters but I’m dying now, so maybe…” (Y/N) trailed off when she noticed Cameron’s furrow eyebrows.
“Sorry I thought you guys are friends, or that maybe he mentioned something, which is stupid now that I’m thinking about it,” (Y/N) felt herself slide a little more into the bed to try and escape the situation.
Dr. Cameron shook her head softly and whatever anger she had felt when Chase told the story seemed to leak out of her, “Hey, I get it.” Cameron whispered a little, “I’ll talk to him, but…” She trailed off to figure out the right thing to say. Finally she just let out a huff, “One letter isn’t a good enough excuse to leave someone hanging,” She spoke in her softest voice.
“One letter?” (Y/N) swallowed and pressed her fingers against her eyes to try and subdue the headache. “I wrote over and over and over.”
Cameron glanced at the door and decided she needed to figure this out.
___
“You had no right and you know it,” Dr. Chase was snipping at Cameron.
“She thinks she’s going to die, and she thinks you’ve abandoned her!” Cameron huffed a little.
She wasn’t sure why she always put herself into things that were none of her business, but Chase is her friend, at least she thinks he is. She’s never been good at denying someone’s dying wish, although she’s sure that not many people deal with dying wishes this often. She had sat with (Y/N) for about an hour, learnt about what it meant to be pulled from the people who loved you at such a young age, what it meant to have a parent that saw you as nothing more than a weapon against others. Cameron kept a score each time she heard (Y/N) mention writing another unanswered letter. She had heard the way (Y/N)’s voice seemed to soften a little around Chase’s name.
“She’s not going to die.” Chase clenched his jaw.
“She said she wrote, she mentioned it over and over. Maybe the post office couldn’t deliver? It was the 90s and who knows how Australian post offices even work! You need to talk to her, really, you’re both just missing each other.” Cameron felt herself sparked within the story she had heard from (Y/N). “She’s so afraid, and her mother just”
Cameron was immediately cut off by Chase’s cold voice.
“Don’t try and make me understand her. I know about her mother, I know her, better than I have ever known anyone. You treat her as a patient for a few days and suddenly you think you get it?” Chase felt the anger of the situation he had been pushing away bubble in his chest. “She’s been the voice in my head my whole life, I didn’t exist before she said my name. I’ve seen her everywhere all these years. I thought I had finally lost my mind when she sitting on that bench, and instead it’s something so much worse. Don’t get involved Alison. Don’t speak on things that are bigger than you’ll ever understand.”
Cameron opened her mouth to fight back when Foreman opened the conference room and stuck his head in. “She’s having trouble swallowing, the tremors are getting worse.” He ignored the obvious tension in the room between Chase and Cameron.
“If you really know her, you know she wouldn’t have left the way you think she did. ” Cameron whispered before heading towards the door with Foreman. Chase ignored the comment and instead stared at the door where they were both leaving. Cameron was right, he knew her, knew she wouldn’t have abandoned him with a single letter filled of promises. He knows her.
“Is she having trouble speaking?” Chase grabbed her file off the table and without thinking, pressed his thumb against her photo like before as he read the file, trying to make it fit with what is turning in his mind. Whatever Foreman responded was ignored as Chase pushed his way throughout the conference room and headed to where he assumed House was. He wasn’t sure if Foreman and Cameron were following, but it didn’t matter at this point.
In the clinic Chase pushed into the room the nurse pointed that House was in. He had assumed the clinic patient House was taking care of was fake once he read “Eric Shawn” on the chart.
“It’s her immune system. The tremors, the fatigue, it had to be autoimmune. She had a cold a while ago, but (Y/N)’s always been bad at gauging how much pain she’s feeling. It was most likely a Campylobacter jejuni infection and it started to attack her immune system. She downplays the cold, doesn’t notice the tingling in her limbs and dismisses any of the pain she was feeling, keeps going until it turned into what it is now. Guillain-Barre.” Chase closed the file he had brought within and looked up at House half asleep on the patient’s table.
House glanced behind him to see Cameron and Foreman standing there. He didn’t get up just holding his head up, “Any objections?”
Chase looks at them both, “It’s Guillain-Barre syndrome. A few weeks with immunotherapy, some plasma exchanges and she’ll be well enough to figure out how to survive with an autoimmune disorder.”
“She’ll be in and out of the hospital all the time.” Cameron frowned a little.
House pressed his cane against the floor and stood up from his laying position, “Oh wise one, should we test? Go run another useless test? Or can we treat?” House glared at Chase, letting him know that he didn’t appreciate the MRI test behind his back. Chase stood his ground, didn’t flinch at the glare, she didn’t have a brainstem Reteplase would have caused damage, he regrets nothing. He’s sure Cameron looks guilty enough for the both of them.
“Figure out if you’re doing plasma exchanges or intravenous immunoglobulin, then do it” House pushed Foreman and Cameron out the door and shut it.
“You should have figured that out when she was still sitting on bench.” House mumbled a little once they were alone.
“At least I figured it out,” Chase mumbled a little.
House didn’t say anything as he stared Chase down a little. After a few minutes, he finally shook his head before opening the door again and motioning Chase out ready to go back to his nap.
___
Chase debated his next step. He thought figuring out what was wrong with (Y/N) would have been enough to clear his mind. In some sense it was clearer, more space had been freed up to think about what Cameron had said. The few hours of sleep he had accidentally caught on her hospital bed didn’t seem enough to keep him standing much longer, so once Foreman sent an update about her condition and that were going to start some treatment despite not testing for Guillain-Barre, he took it as a sign to get some sleep. He thought of going through the motions of undressing in the locker room, getting his stuff and really leaving, maybe even swinging by to take create for his diagnosis like they always did, but found the whole ordeal exhausting. Instead, he pulled his coat out of the conference room and headed to his apartment with Cameron’s words repeating in his head.
If you really know her, you know she wouldn’t have left the way you think she did.
If you really know her, you know she wouldn’t have left the way you think she did.
If you really know her, you know she wouldn’t have left the way you think she did.
He spent an hour in his own bed, twenty minutes on his couch and even tried to lay on the floor to try and calm himself down enough to sleep when he finally got to his apartment. If you really know her, you know she wouldn’t have left the way you think she did. He finally stood up completely and scrubbed his face a little at the irritation. His eyes landed on his father’s papers that he had tossed a few days ago, onto the dining table nobody used. He sat himself at the dining table for what felt like the first time since he bought it. If you really know her, you know she wouldn’t have left the way you think she did. If his brain wanted to keep tormenting him, he could do it right back he quickly decided. He grabbed onto the deed of the house and made a mental note to call the lawyer who’s card was paperclipped to it and started to sort through the papers. Anything with sentimental value was tossed away from him, something to handle later. His mind had somewhat silenced, completely focused on what papers would have to go straight to his sister and which he would have to handle himself.
It didn’t take long and Chase let himself puff out his chest a little in relief. The final thing he had in front of him was a stack of letters, on top sat an addressless one, ‘Robert’ in his father’s terrible handwriting. He ran his finger across the name, bumping into the rubber band that held the stack of letters together. He pulled the top one out and went to open the letter when he noticed the next one in the bundle.
The address read his father’s home back with his name, nothing straight. But the top corner, the send address held the name he had been avoiding. Immediately he dropped the letter he was holding and pulled the rubber band off the small bundle of letters. He shuffled them as he looked at each sent address, Auckland. Tokyo. California. Colorado. Iowa. New York. Each addressed to him, at his father’s house. Each from the same person. (Y/N) (Y/L/N). She said she wrote, she mentioned it over and over.
Chase dropped the letters onto the table again and spent what felt like hours, but most likely was only a minute, staring them down. They all had the same worn look, like someone had dropped them into a desk drawer and didn’t pull them out for years. They weren’t dated, he didn’t know if he should open them, (they were his mail he could right?) She said she wrote, she mentioned it over and over.
Chase finally grabbed the one letter he knew he could handle reading; his fathers.
Robert,
There is no way I can make you understand why I kept these from you. You wouldn’t want to hear my answer if I tried. The first month she kept sending them and you kept showing up at the house, slyly checking the mail, looking at your textbooks but never really pulling anything out. I was grateful you had a reason to even come to the house, yet I needed you to understand the importance of your studies. Then the more time that passed, the more you seemed to forget, the easier it was to just ask the maids to tuck the mail away, you seemed to focus on medical school. That’s all I wanted. You had a duty to your studies, to the Chase name, it seems you understand that now and your mother tried to take that from me long ago, I wasn’t going to let the same happen to you. Look at you now, it did you wonders.
Chase turned the piece of paper around, as if he was going to find anything else. As if his father would have put another note on the back a quick “Just kidding!” Or a P.S of any sorts. Chase felt his eyes warm as the tears seemed to build and he dropped the letter back onto the table and pressed his palms together in a prayer motion without thinking as he felt a few tears slip out. It wore him out enough that he found himself falling asleep on the couch, ignoring the dread of letters he knew he had to open.
____
(Y/N) perked up in her chair when Dr. Cameron slipped into her room. The treatment had been working for the last few hours now. It had taken some time to find the right plasma type and get it all set up, but (Y/N) already felt her shakes subside just enough. Dr. Cameron pressed the door shut behind her and dropped a cup of pudding onto (Y/N)’s lap, “Don’t tell the nurses, I had to steal it from someone’s cart,” She smiled a little as (Y/N) nodded.
As she dug into the pudding Dr. Cameron started speaking, “Guillian-Barre syndrome is an autoimmune disorder. We believe it got triggered during your last cold. Dr. Chase,” Dr. Cameron paused just a moment to look at the way (Y/N) tried to not stiff, “mentioned that you’d probably downplayed the cold and any tingling that occurred before the fatigue. It’s easy to miss the signs at first when you’re trying to tough it out. The plasma exchange you’re getting is only to be able to stabilize the immune system again, you’ll have to get checked at least yearly from now on, it can reemerge, but you’ll be able to live your life mostly normal again.”
“So Robert figured it out?” (Y/N) spoke with the spoon in her mouth, at Dr. Cameron’s nod of confirmation (Y/N) pushed the pudding to the side table and nodded back. “And he’s not gonna…” (Y/N) squeezed her eyes shut fighting back the tears at the lack of his presence and opened them again “Thank you. Please make sure the rest of the team gets told I owe them everything. Thank you guys.”
Dr. Cameron reached her hand out and squeezed (Y/N)’s fingers just a little “Give him a little more time,” She whispered before leaving the room.
____
When Chase finally woke up he felt the warm sting of crying to himself last night and groaned a little. He pulled himself off the couch, glanced at the clock that read 4:32am and grimaced a little at the 12 hour nap he had fallen into. He lagged for about an hour, trying avoid the obvious task sitting on his dining table. Finally, he had no choice and had scooped them all up and sat on his couch.
He stared at his old address, written in handwriting he knew once long ago, and finally he gently, as if not to disturb anything, pulled the envelope open. Inside sat a postcard, scribbles across the back.
Hi Robert,
It’s been nearly three weeks since I last saw you. (or heard from you. Write back if you’re not too busy. Please?) I barely explained in my last letter, I’m sorry. Things got worse with my mom. And you were gone, and we both decided that distance doesn’t matter so I hope you aren’t too angry with me. (If you are, that’s fine, just write and tell me you’re angry.) I’m going to stay at this address for about three months, so it should work if you are writing and the stupid post office is losing them.
Anyways, enough of that. I know you noticed the New Zealand postage. New Zealand is amazing Robert, you were so right I do love it. It’s green and warm and wet and everything a Tolkien girl could dream of. I’ve taken to eating like the hobbits, snacks and snack and snacks, since you aren’t around to remind me about real meal times. I’ve met some cool people, no one is you, they’re being nice to me and showing me around. I’m sure you have a lot of homework, lots of studying, so here’s just a list of things I need to tell you about next time we’re face to face. The rowboat, two rainbows!! Aroha and her family, the terrible movie that was on cable the first night I got here, the book I read on the train to go swimming at some random swimming hole.
I wish we could put cameras into our eyes, let you see everything I’m seeing, and force you to stare into a mirror so I could see you, even just for a little. I miss you and no amount of New Zealand can make me forget.
Always yours,
(Y/N).
P.S I know you’re judging me for putting a postcard in an envelope, but I wanted to make sure it got to you in perfect condition, the photo in the front is the town I’m staying, so now you know where to picture me.
Chase felt his heart ache at how easily he could hear her voice in her writing. He let out a small broken laugh when he flipped the postcard and started at the photo. She had drawn an arrow to some random spot in the photo and scribbled two little hearts, in the smallest writing yet she wrote “you’re right here with me!”
He felt more tears come out of his eyes and he quickly wiped it away to avoid them dropping onto the postcard as he run his thumb over the two hearts, feeling the indentation of the pen. Flipping it again, he reread the letter, once, twice, and then a third time, trying to contain the bubble of emotion that sat in his chest. He grabbed the next letter in the pile and noticed she was still in New Zealand when she sent this one. When he noticed it was a full letter, not just a simple postcard, he wiped his tears as clean as he could and started reading the letter. She had decided and wrote upfront to ignore the silence on his end for this letter, instead writing details about her housemates, the swimming she had been doing, the coworker she was sick of waiting tables with, Chase flipped the page and read the other two in a matter of minutes.
The third New Zealand letter explained that she had felt like she overstated her welcome, and maybe it had something to do with the letter she had gotten from her mother, she had a saved enough to go somewhere, and when she looked at plane tickets, it seemed Tokyo was that somewhere. She promised that if he felt like writing her, she would get the letter if he sent it to her New Zealand address as the family she stayed with was happy to forward mail.
The first Tokyo letter was almost the same as the first New Zealand postcard, but Chase could feel the dying hope of hearing back from him. No sly remarks about him writing to this address, nothing about seeing each other soon, but still at the bottom of the letter he read; “Always yours, (Y/N)”. One more Tokyo letter, and it read like an itinerary, “flying back to the states. landing in california, going to find my brother and dad.” an address to where he could write scribbled in a different color, as if she almost didn’t put it. And again, “Always yours, (Y/N)”
It was the first Colorado letter that had Chase contemplating praying for his dad to come back to life just so Chase could kill him. The sloppy letter and smudges were enough to tell that (Y/N) had been emotional when writing. Chase didn’t register any of words instead paying attention to the smudged “R” where a tear had fallen.
Robert.
They were suppose to be here. My dad always loved Colorado and I thought maybe he would have been here. But he’s not, not in the phonebook, not in any directory. I don’t know what to do anymore. I’ve lost it all. Anything. Everything.
The scribbling she had done barely covered the words, but still she started the letter over again.
We were suppose to be fine. You promise you’d write and I know I promised I’d be there so maybe I deserve this. But I miss you and I miss our coffee shops and I miss the green grove at your parents and I miss shitty Australian tea. You swore everything would be fine. If I knew this was going to happen I would have stayed in that fucking house with the monster who thinks she’s my mother. I should have stayed, at least until the weekend, so I could have explained it to you face to face, but I couldn’t she had
More scribbles in the line, these dark and hiding whatever secret her mother had done, whatever the final straw was.
The worst part is, I can’t get myself to stop sending these. I keep convincing myself that you’re just not getting them. If that’s not the case, just write me telling me to fuck off, I can take it.
I miss you so much. Sometimes when I’m in the dark room of my motel, I’ll close my eyes and I’ll find on a movie I’ve seen a million times and I’ll try to imagine you’re laying with me, asking the dumbest questions about the stupid movie just to hear my voice. More and more I’m convincing myself you were never real, something I made up in a time of despair. Other times, I know I could never have dreamed you up. Do you remember when you tried to teach me to surf? If I had tried enough I know I would have been able to get it, but you had your hands wrapped around my ankles as I tried to stable myself on the board and it’s all I could focus on. I had been so nervous and you started rubbing circles against my ankle bone and I lost any chance of learning how to surf. The other day I was in a crowded bar and some dude put his arm around my shoulder and suddenly I wanted to crawl out of my skin. Still, I slept with him, and thought of you the whole time. It’s probably better I never slept with you, I knew from the start you would have me wrapped up, completely incased in you. Imagine if we had actually slept together? I don’t know how much longer I can pretend your letters aren’t getting to me. I don’t know if I can keep holding onto something that’s slipping out of my fingertips.
Next time, I’ll stay. I’ll endure what I have to, as long as it means you.
Always yours,
(Y/N).
Chase didn’t bother opening the last two letters. He had enough. He stood up from the table and scrabbled to grab all the letters. His father’s letter was shoved to the bottom of his coat pocket as he rushed out the door.
____
(Y/N) had slept well that night, finally actually getting the treatment she had been waiting for. She focused on that the whole time she was falling asleep, ignoring the pity she got from Dr. Cameron when she came to check in. Dr. Foreman had made it clear that (Y/N) would be in the hospital for a while as she got better, they wanted to keep an eye on her, make sure everything was going back to normal. So she slept, waking up for breakfast at 8am and eating as much of it as she could stomach. She flipped through another magazine some nurse had slipped her. It was all easy, until she flipped to the travel agency ad and they were boosting about low Australian flights. She tossed the magazine away and let herself slip back into an uneasy sleep.
She was awoken by a small tickle against her scalp. She didn’t open her eyes but crinkled her nose a little at the sensation. Dr. Chase had entered the hospital and didn’t even bother going to find any of his colleagues or boss. Heading straight to the girl he wanted to see. He had stood in the doorway for a little trying to catch his breath, trying not to fall into an endless pit of guilt at his abandonment, he knows she won’t hold it against him. He was a victim as much as she was in this situation. Still he steeled himself to be sent away before he slipped in and let himself fully touch her, his fingers lightly scratching her scalp.
“(Y/N)” The accented voice left a warm feeling all the way to her toes.
“‘M sleeping Robert,” She mumbled a little, still mostly out of it all but pressing into his touch anyways.
“The doctor who solved your case can’t get a minute of your time?” Chase tried to joke but felt the watery tone in his own voice.
At the small crack in his voice, (Y/N) pried her eyes open, he dropped his touch. She didn’t say anything as she looked at Chase, instead just savoring looking at him. He had obvious tears in his eye line. The smallest quiver of his face made her sit up, “Oh you’re here,” She whispered a little and she tried to tame her hair a little and rub the sleep out of her eyes.
“I didn’t think you’d come, I didn’t expect you to come, you’ve done enough. Thank you,” She shoved her hands into the blanket to avoid reaching out, “For saving my life,” She clarified. Chase hummed a little and sniffled to try and hold back a tear. (Y/N) furrowed her brow a little and glanced to see the door to her room was shut before she pulled her hand out from under the blanket and reached out to grab his. She stopped herself before she could grab it and looked up at him. He didn’t bother making eye contact with her, his eyes trained completely on her hand before reaching out and meeting her halfway.
“I didn’t know, I didn’t get them. My father he- He’s dead and still mucking up my life,” Chase breathed out. He dropped her hand for just a minute so he could go around the bed, put himself back into the visitors chair that sat exactly where he had left it. Once he was sat, he reached out again without thought and wrapped up both her hands in his. “I was never angry at you for leaving, never for that.” He held their hands close to his chest as he spoke.
(Y/N) let him speak as she tried to put together exactly what he meant. The sleep was still clouding her brain just a slightest, but having Robert here in front of her, touching her short wired her brain just the slightest. “Honey, I just woke up, you gotta clue me in a little,” She cooed and squeezed his hand a little when he squeezed at her voice.
Chase pulled one of his hands away from holding hers and grabbed the letter his father left for him from his pocket. He pasted it to her and she grabbed it with her empty hand. As she started to read he started to speak, “I’m going to write you back, for each one. I’m going to send you four letters for every one you tried to send me. I had been writing them in my head for years, you’re always the person I’m talking to. Darling, I’m sorry,” He confessed.
(Y/N) slipped her hand out of his completely and sat up as she read and reread the letter that Chase had given her. For a few minutes it was silent as she accepted the fact that it wasn’t Chase that didn’t reply. It wasn’t his fault he never saw her words, she mentally thanks whatever God that Chase never had to read her drunk crying letter from Colorado but feels a little dip of despair at all the postcards he missed out.
“I know it’s not a good enough excuse, I should have looked for you, I knew you’d never break your promise and I just let myself believe you didn’t write.” Chase whispered after the silence went on for too long.
(Y/N)’s eyes widen, “Wait what? Robert?!” She slightly scoffed. Chase cringed a little and (Y/N) knew what to do in this situation. This was something she was still an expert in. Soothing Robert Chase when he tries to shoulder blame that isn’t his was a textbook problem for her.
“Your father kept all the letters from you until he died? And you think that’s not a good enough excuse?” (Y/N) dropped the letter and let it join the useless magazine from this morning.
“Nothing to forgive.” She whispered and let herself be brave by reaching her hand out and wiping the tear that Chase had let out. “Plus you saved my life, kind of have to forgive anything” She joked a little but felt her own tears start to build.
When Chase felt her hand against his cheek he let himself sink into it a little, his cheek resting against her palm for just a few seconds before he grabbed her hand in his again and intertwined your fingers together. “It’s my job, I should have been quicker, but you’ll be fine.” He brings their hands up to his lips and pressed the lightest kiss against her knuckle.
“Has Cameron explained everything to you?” Chase leaned forward in the chair to be close to (Y/N).
“Most of it, but I’d rather hear it from you,” (Y/N) contently sighed at the way Chase kept trying to get closer.
____
Dr. Foreman had been about to slip into (Y/N)’s room when he heard Chase’s laughter leak out from it. He knocked instead of just going in and took a quick moment to observe the way Chase had found himself sitting at the end of the bed, (Y/N) sitting up and obviously in the middle of a story. Chase didn’t move an inch, didn’t even acknowledge Foreman, his eyes trained completely on (Y/N).
“Hi Dr. Foreman! Time for more meds already?” She smiled. Foreman knew that she looked better because she was in fact, getting better, but he’s sure Dr. Cameron would claim it had something to do with the two making up. Dr. Foreman nodded and started to get the machines ready to give (Y/N) more plasma. He had zoned himself into the process so much, he didn’t notice the small whisper of Chase’s voice. When he looked up, he noticed Chase had moved, now resting back on the chair as he whispered to (Y/N). Foreman paid enough attention to hear him explaining what exactly each thing was to (Y/N) but stopped listening once he heard, “It shouldn’t hurt at all, sweetheart.” followed by (Y/N)’s soft confirmation.
Foreman managed to get it all set up and never once did Chase seem to actually pay any attention to him. It wasn’t until (Y/N) had. slipped into a nap because of the meds that Chase finally looked at Foreman.
“She’s doing a lot better. I’ve been waiting her vitals since I’ve been in here,”
“Your diagnosis” Dr. Foreman said, letting Chase know there was no thank you needed.
____
(Y/N) groaned a little at the stretch she had taken. The hospital bed wasn’t the worst to start but by week three she had found herself counting down the time to leave the hospital. She ignored the lingering doubt that she’d lose Robert again and let herself instead enjoy every second she had gotten over the last three weeks. He had started coming in to eat every meal with her. He was there when she went to bed, and unless a case had come up, he had been there when she woke up. It felt easy, it was always suppose to be easy between them, it was others that had complicated things. They had fallen back into the rhyme they once had, only it felt as if something had clicked. (Y/N) didn’t ask about his parents, although eventually he did drop some hints to what was happening. Robert had asked about her father, and brother and was met with an excited (Y/N) pulling out photos from when she finally found them again. It was this moment that made Robert pull out his own wallet keepsake. (Y/N)’s eyes had watered at the letter he had been carrying around for so long and pressed a soft kiss against his cheek when he said “I still owe you letters, I haven’t forgotten”.
Now, she stared at the terrible hospital bed and found herself going to miss it, even just because it gave the perfect excuse for Robert to be closer.
“Ready sweetheart?” Chase spoke from the doorway, “Convinced House I had to see you off,” He hummed a little and grabbed her bags without thinking. (Y/N) looped her arm around Chase’s open one and they set off outside the hospital.
“Did you really think sleeping with me would make it worse?” Chase said as they stood int he elevator.
(Y/N) groaned at his questions. He had been doing this all month, asking questions that had to do with her letters. He never told her if he finished reading them, but one night he had come in, teary eyed and pressed a kiss against her forehead mumbling apologizes that were unnecessary. She had assumed he read that final letter, the one she had poured everything she had felt into before she locked it up.
“Sleeping with you would have probably ended with me trying to swim back to America from Tokyo,” (Y/N) pressed the floor button and rolled her eyes, “So yeah, it would have made it worse,”
“Well, you’re already here so no harm in trying it now right?” Chase smirked a little and braced himself for (Y/N) gentle wack.
“At least take me to dinner first Bobby,” (Y/N) gasped with no malice.
“No,” Chase glared with no real threat at the nickname, “No one here knows me by that, lets not start, brat” He made sure all her bags were in one hand and used his other to pull her in his arm around her shoulder. “I’ll take you to dinner, maybe even a movie if you promise to talk my ear off the whole time,” He mumbled against her hair as they walked out of the hospital. (Y/N) hummed a small confirmation and pressed herself deeper into his arms.
extra authors note: thanks for making it this far! please come let me know if you hate it, love it or even if you want more! i have so many silly little thoughts about these two together <3 come chitchat!
