Fandom: House MD
Challenge/Prompt: Have yet to decide.
Summary: She sounds unsettlingly like House. Even when propositioning him, she sounds like House.
Author’s Notes: This was going to be karaokegal’s Christmas present fic, until I realised that a) it is Chase/Stacy, b) it is an experiment in writing styles, and c) it is not that good, and therefore I cannot possibly dedicate it to someone. Therefore, this is just a very strange Chase/Stacy fic. x
Chase thinks, vividly and dizzily: this is not a good idea.
He digs his fingernails into his palms, lightly but just enough to remind him to regain his self-control.
He thinks: but I don’t like you.
And then he thinks: but that doesn’t matter, does it?
Stacy says: are you listening to me?
Chase says: yes.
His tone is sullen and almost like he’s doing Stacy a favour, and he can tell Stacy doesn’t like it.
So he says: I don’t know what you want from me.
And wonders if she can tell that he is lying.
Stacy says, tone tired: don’t play dumb Chase. It doesn’t suit you.
She sounds unsettlingly like House. Even when propositioning him, she sounds like House.
Chase thinks: I should have quit months ago. This hospital is insane.
Chase says: this is not a good idea.
Stacy says nothing. She gives him a look that says it all. She really does have the ‘withering stare’ thing down pat.
Chase says: House will kill me.
Stacy says: House will never know.
Chase thinks: are you entirely stupid? Have you been living under a rock for the last ten years?
He tries to leave, but she is between him and the door.
Chase says: I don’t want to do this.
He thinks: maybe I do.
He thinks: I should have said no to Cameron. I should say ‘no’ now.
He thinks: what is it with me and these women?
Stacy says: I wasn’t under the impression I was giving you a choice.
Chase thinks: admittedly, you and I are going to have sex tonight, understand? is an order that is pretty hard to misinterpret.
But all he says is: why me?
Stacy says: because you are not Greg, you are not Mark, you are not James, and you have much less integrity than Foreman.
Chase mutters: stop it, you’re making me blush.
Stacy just looks at him and Chase reflects that, of course, this is going to be another situation where he will not be required to speak.
He says without even thinking: sorry.
And then reflects that he really is irritatingly weak. No wonder everyone hates him.
Chase says: anything else?
He sounds sulky and bitter and childish. Every inch the miserable kid whose father never loved him that House says he is.
Stacy says: if you turn up in that shirt I will tell House all about this tomorrow.
Chase thinks: who are you to make demands on my clothing?
Chase thinks: she is right, though, this shirt really is vile.
And then he thinks: but isn’t the whole point that I’m not going to be wearing any form of shirt?
Chase says: so what do you want me to wear?
Stacy says: I don’t care. Just as long as it looks nothing like the vile monstrosities of fashion you usually turn up in.
Chase thinks: but I like these shirts.
Then Stacy says: black. I want you in black.
Chase says: fine. Am I excused now?
And then he thinks: did I not learn my lesson with Vogler?
And then: obviously not.
Stacy is just looking at him so he says: is that it then? You helped me fight my legal case, and I’m your bitch for life?
He wishes that he could take the words back again, but he can’t. They’re too bitter and Stacy is smiling in an entirely horrifying way.
She says: yes.
And then she says: any more questions?
Chase thinks that he would like to scream.
He says nothing.
Stacy opens the door.
She says: oh Chase, you’d think that you’d have learned by now.
She says: are you coming in?
Chase thinks: I hope that Mark leaves you. You do not deserve to be happy.
Stacy says: nice shirt.
Chase thinks: … on second thoughts…
Chase thinks: this is ridiculous. I cannot be this easy, no matter what House says.
He says: where is Mark tonight?
Stacy says: physiotherapy support group thing.
Her eyes are darkened with grief.
Stacy tells him: you have an hour and a half. According to Cameron, that won’t be a problem for you.
Chase grits his teeth and considers walking away.
He thinks: since when did you and Cameron talk?
And then: and why about me?
He’s beginning to get a migraine and nothing’s even started yet.
He thinks about beginning to say: I don’t- and then letting Stacy cut him off with a few sharp words and a glare.
He saves time and just steps into her magnolia-painted hallway, letting her door shut behind him.
Stacy’s lips curve into a triumphant smile.
And then Chase hates himself for letting her win.
The next morning, Chase walks into work sweating with panic.
House looks up and says: you’re late.
Chase thinks: I know.
But all he says is: sorry. Hope you started the diagnosis without me.
Foreman looks irritated.
He says: there’s no patient.
Chase thinks: what a surprise.
And goes to make himself some coffee, feeling all their gazes on his back. He turns around.
Chase says: what?
Cameron and Foreman get sheepish expressions and turn away quickly.
House smiles. That’s all he does.
And Chase thinks: shit. He knows.
Chase says: you told him.
Stacy says: I know.
Chase thinks in expletives and imagines hitting her in the face.
Chase starts to say: but why the hell would you do that?
And then he notices that she’s rolling her eyes, a smirk quirking her mouth.
He thinks: you bitch.
Stacy can clearly see it on his face, and laughs in an ugly fashion. Chase resists the urge to slap her [again].
He says: if this is just a way of getting back at House…
Stacy says: oh, shut up Chase. You’re so much more tolerable when you keep your mouth closed. Or at least, otherwise occupied.
Chase stares at her.
He thinks: she’s House. She’s House with breasts. Why has no one noticed?
He thinks: oh God, I’m really in trouble now.
And then he considers: I really, really should have learnt my lesson. I have no excuse.
Stacy says: I’ll see you at the same time tonight.
Chase says: no.
Or he tries to. The word gets lost on the way to his mouth, and comes out: fine.
Stacy’s smirk of victory is physically painful to look at, so instead Chase chooses to focus on his shoes.
He thinks: this is not going to end well. It didn’t even begin well.
Chase says: I hate you.
Stacy says, sarcasm bitter in her tone: oh, I’m crying my fucking heart out.
Chase wishes an infarction down on her, but once again God ignores him. He wishes he could be surprised, but he gave up on religion longer ago than he’ll admit.
All he says, though, is: I’ll see you tonight.
Stacy’s laughter follows him down the hall.