Fandom: House MD
Pairing: Chase/Stacy (yes, seriously)
Challenge/Prompt: 1sentence, theme set Beta
Rating: PG-13 (mostly naughty language)
Copyright: Title taken from a Kirsty MacColl song. Teh cool, no?
Summary: 50 sentences of Stacy/Chase
Author’s Notes: *snickers* Me and my minority of one who ship Chase/Stacy, because it’s cracky and yummy. Cross off a challenge, love.
There’s no kind of affection between them, and nothing holding them together; Stacy knows that she could walk away any time she likes- but she doesn’t like.
On her wedding day Stacy danced with Mark and promised herself she wouldn’t let her past with Greg force them apart; but now Mark won’t be doing any kind of dancing any time soon and she’s sleeping with one of Greg’s employees just because she can, just to prove a point to both of them that she won’t let Greg hold her down forever.
Both of them have given up wishing for the impossible, sitting there in his office with his headphones on, humming along to The Ramones, because they learnt long ago that to betray him once is to lose him forever, so now they’ll simply settle for what they can get.
House had blue eyes like that years ago, eyes that blue, eyes that weren’t edged with pain or dulled with narcotics, and when Stacy can’t remember quite why she’s with Chase, she looks into those innocent baby blues and just about remembers.
Stacy held Mark’s hand tight, so afraid that he wouldn’t recover, that she would lose her husband and be left alone, but even so, she couldn’t help noticing that Dr Chase really was very pretty.
Chase thinks- no, sorry, he knows- that he is insane for doing this, that what he’s doing is unfair on Mark and is going to get him killed by House; but it’s a nice daydream that he might just get away with it for a few more days.
It’s lonely, out in the wasteland House pushes you into once you’ve stabbed him in the back (or in the leg, as the case may be), cold among the withered trees of dead friendship, and Chase quickly realises that it’s better to run to companionship, no matter how unlikely it is, than to stand there and take it alone.
Whisky and Rum
The night after Stacy sort of helps him win his case, she offers to take him out for a drink; they’re kissing desperately by Chase’s third shot of whisky, but at least they’re not shouting at each other any more.
It seems that Chase is forever destined to be on the side opposite House’s, whatever the battle may be; first he sided with Vogler, and now it’s Stacy that he’s (almost) laid his loyalties down with.
Stacy is fairly sure that her wedding vows entailed something about not cheating on your brand new husband/wife person; but Mark is icy cold and Robert isn’t, and she’s desperate enough to take affection wherever she can lay her hands on it.
Stacy’s lips twist into a smirk as she stands in her office doorway and looks at Chase half-sprawled across her desk, waiting for her; “Wow, Dr Chase,” she drawls, pulling the door shut behind her, “And it’s not even my birthday.”
House finds out because he knows everything; “If you can take on his mommy issues then you have my blessing” he says calmly, and smirks in triumph at the look on Stacy’s face.
No matter what he does, Stacy knows that Chase will never compare to House and it’s almost funny to watch him try and match his boss step for wicked step; and then she thinks that perhaps she shouldn’t judge him so harshly- she is biased, after all.
“You really love playing with fire, don’t you?” Stacy whispers, as Robert presses her harder against the wall of her office, biting down her neck, and he doesn’t reply because it’s true.
Stacy’s breath comes in aching, ragged gasps, tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling, hips moving helplessly, while Robert, on his knees under her desk, swallows a laugh and concentrates on breathing evenly.
Chase is relieved that Stacy feels less than nothing for him; her track record is not fantastic, and he can’t help noticing that Stacy has this tendency to leave the men she loves crippled and broken behind her, and he’s damaged enough as it is.
Chase notices the cross around Stacy’s neck, and she finds out from House about him almost being a priest; they blush when they run into each other in the hospital chapel, but later on they realise that they at least have something in common.
“She’ll always be mine,” House whispers in his ear, and Chase wants to reply I know that, and that isn’t the point but instead he stays in the chair feeling utterly deflated and lifeless, popped by the inevitable truth.
House stands on his balcony, gazing out over the world with Wilson (and probably complaining about his ex while he’s at it), and Chase smirks at their shadows that melt into one; if House is complaining about Stacy to Wilson, the less the rest of them will have to listen.
Chase sometimes thinks that if it weren’t for House’s presence constantly hanging over the two of them they might actually work (it’s a nice enough lie, anyway).
Chase hears a roaring silence in his ears every time Stacy kisses him; although ordinarily this would be quite worrying, he’s actually quite relieved; it’s been a while since his world slowed down enough for him to be able to appreciate the hush.
Stacy has this inability to stay faithful to her husband, and Chase has an inability to say ‘no’- perhaps these could be counted as fatal character flaws, but they both prefer to think of them as quirks.
Perhaps if it was about powerful women with a little too much authority Chase would have picked Cuddy; but Stacy’s sarcasm and dark humour make her more like House than Cuddy could ever manage, and really; who knows just how deep that Stockholm Syndrome goes?
“I wish,” Chase snarls, yet again, “That you would stop fucking taking the way you feel about House out on me”, and Stacy just rolls her eyes because they both know that if it weren’t for her taking her feelings about House out on him, they wouldn’t have any sort of relationship at all.
“Trying to work your way through all the women in House’s life?” Stacy asks sarcastically when she hears that he’s slept with Cameron, “Should I warn Lisa?”; and Chase tells her that she can leave, and she doesn’t.
Chase runs into Stacy on the roof and murmurs “thinking about jumping?”- she blows cigarette smoke into his face as she laughs (although probably more because for a second there she was seriously considering it).
[“I love you,” Chase says, and Stacy laughs herself sick for about half an hour.]
Stacy tells him, once, when she’s slightly drunk, that he kind of reminds her of the blonde guy in that medieval movie with the jousting in it; Chase pretends to be offended at being compared to Heath Ledger, but he’s secretly pleased.
Mark gave her a sapphire when he proposed; a beautiful gold band with a square-cut sapphire in it, pure blue and beautiful; Stacy looks at it for a long time and wonders what the hell she thinks she’s doing.
The only reason Stacy kisses Chase is to piss off House; Chase kisses her back for the exact same reason.
Chase honest-to-God can’t tell the different between House’s smirk, and Stacy’s one; they’re still the same person, however many years and infarctions are shoved between them.
Stacy is trembling in her office after yet another argument with Mark when Chase walks in with a pile of paperwork, takes one look at her, and a moment later is by her side, hugging her and handing her Kleenex, and she knows that he doesn’t care and that he’s faking his concern, and she honestly doesn’t care.
“Oh no,” Wilson says softly when he walks into Stacy’s office to find them kissing, “No, no no- even you couldn’t be this stupid”; and they honestly can’t work out which of them he’s talking to.
House knows Stacy inside out; he knows it when she’s pissy or annoyed or any other multitude of emotions; he’s deeply disturbed, when, three days after Chase’s hearing, she actually comes in singing.
It takes Chase a while to realise that Stacy’s own particular brand of cynicism is as brittle as glass and just as sharp as House’s- like needles sliding under your skin and leaving you breathlessly bleeding- from time to time he wonders exactly who taught who.
There is nothing remotely innocent or clean about sleeping with Stacy; Chase ruefully reflects that that’s probably part of her appeal.
Stacy’s not big on saying what she thinks, and Chase can never be bothered to ask her; for all he knows she hates him, but she’ll never give a big speech on what’s on her mind, so he’ll never find out.
On the first day of his week of suspension, Chase unlocks the door, having been grocery shopping (i.e popcorn and Red Vines), and finds Stacy on his couch semi-naked and waiting for him; he suddenly reflects that maybe this punishment might actually seem more like a holiday.
House and Chase share three letters, the same airspace, an edge of apathy tinged with something entirely different, and a general dislike of labcoats; Chase is a cheap substitute for the real thing and Stacy knows that, but she’s getting to the point where she just doesn’t care any more.
Stacy has a problem being alone: she met another guy within two weeks of leaving Greg, and within a month of leaving him she was shacked up with Mark; it’s no wonder that the moment Mark starts peeling away from her that she leaps towards the first person who looks easy enough to be with her: one Dr Robert Chase.
Chase is never stupid enough to ask exactly where it is their not-quite-but-sort-of-almost relationship is going; they both know and genuinely wish that that actually mattered.
The first time Chase comes into the office reeking like cigarettes, Foreman raises his eyebrows but says nothing; the second time, he has a lipstick smear on his shirt collar, and Foreman coughs pointedly but says nothing; the third time he decides to stop caring, because there really is nothing that can stop Chase once he’s set his mind on something.
Chase doesn’t know Stacy; he can’t read every little expression on her face; he doesn’t know her favourite colour or food or film or that it’s always been her dream to go to Paris or that when she’s frustrated she gets snappy; to begin with Stacy thought that that was a problem, but as time passes she finds herself ever increasingly grateful that Chase isn’t House.
Stacy is entirely too close for comfort, fingers tangling in Chase’s hair as she kisses him deeply; he’s not entirely sure how he got here, but on the other hand, he’s not actually complaining.
“Wow,” Stacy says dryly, regarding Robert aroused and naked in front of her, “You really are a natural blonde.”
Chase accepts the lipstick-stained cigarette from Stacy, leaning beside her on the hospital roof wall; he can see so far across the city from here, and for a moment he realises that Stacy doesn’t just come up here to hide.
Chase, were he a gentleman, would pack Stacy into a cab back home to Mark right now; she’s drunk and sobbing in her office and really, he should do the noble thing- but instead, when she presses her trembling lips against his, he doesn’t even try to stop her.
“Did you honestly think I didn’t know you were sleeping with Stacy?” House asks loudly in the middle of the corridor one day, in front of Cameron, Foreman, Cuddy, Wilson and more patients than Chase wants to think about; he turns an angry glare on his boss, and House just looks completely innocent.
House spends days crowing over getting Stacy to leave the hospital before slumping into a rather strange ritual of self-harm; Chase sighs for a couple of days, shrugs his shoulders, and accidentally-on-purpose fucks Cameron again.
Chase gets a phonecall from Stacy six months after she’s left, basically entailing her sobbing and telling him that she and Mark have gotten divorced; Chase sighs and taps his fingers on his knee and murmurs “What exactly is that you want me to say, Stacy?”