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This Is How They Deal
by Dorian Grey
This is how Chase deals with his sexuality - he doesn't. He thinks that by repressing every sexual urge his body feels, he'll be able to change himself. (He won't.) He tells himself that sleeping with Cameron was a mistake (It wasn't), he won't do it again (He will), and that he liked it. (He didn't.)
This is how House deals with his sexuality - he jokes. He flirts with everyone he wants to in a strange hope that if he does, nobody will care enough to ever bother to find out what he'd really want. He's not even sure if he knows what he wants. (He does, but it's one of those things that he'd rather repress.) He says that he doesn't regret sleeping with Stacy again (Perhaps he really doesn't), and that of course he'd probably do it again. (He wouldn't.)
When he finds himself thinking of House in ways that he promised himself he'd never think of someone again, he goes home and leaves small reminders for himself. They're just small marks above his ankle. (He's not a cutter, he really doesn't have a problem.) Afterward, he leans back on the bathroom floor and laughs, wondering why he's suddenly fifteen again. Wondering why all these things happen to him, and why is it so difficult for him to focus on the good things he has going?
When he finds himself watching Chase for just a bit too long, he gets angry with himself. He sends Chase to run meaningless tests, take care of the patient, do his clinic duty - anything to get Chase away from him. He goes home and plays the piano (Which he does every night regardless), but it's only half-heartedly, the notes slightly discordant, the song a bit off-tempo. He tells himself that it's nothing, he's just tired, he's just desperate. Some nights he'll go out and hire a hooker (always female. Always.), and allow himself to forget whatever he chooses to forget.
Their patients haunt him, and he doesn't bother to deny it. He doesn't sleep much these nights, but then again, when did he ever? When was it that he managed to get a good night's rest last? He supposes it was before his dad left, before his mum started drinking so heavily - because after that he had to be ready for anything. (Couldn't get a job, he already had a 24.7 one.) He wonders what it says about him that he was secretly pleased when his mother passed away. Then again, he wonders what everything (everyone) says about him.
Once a patient is gone, they're out of his mind. (Unless they die, then they're there forever.) He doesn't sleep much these nights, but ever since the infarction, the pain won't even let him consider it. He doesn't really long for his leg back as much as he used to, he just likes to let people know that he does. (There are too many other things driving him to stop and think about the 'what if's.) He doesn't want the responsibilities again, being forced to actually face patients, face his co-workers, and above all, face the fact that the Vicodin isn't really all for his leg anyway. (It's just a legal excuse.)
The last time he touched a drink was five years ago. He'd been at a party, and he was surrounded by people who wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.
The last time he touched a drink was yesterday. He'd been in his apartment, and he was alone, and he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.
He never makes up his mind. Everybody knows it, and he knows they find him distasteful. (He's just a lazy sycophant, why does Dr. House keep him around?) He thinks that if he keeps changing his opinions, nobody can form a solid opinion of him. (Keeps them guessing, that way when he leaves the country, nobody will mind.) He lets them throw about their insults and teases (He's aware that they think he doesn't fit in - he's a rich kid, and he looks it - why would he ever want to become a doctor?), because he doesn't even pay attention to them anyway. He's not self-absorbed, he's too busy trying to figure out what's really going on around him.
He always states his opinions forcefully, making sure that if others want to second guess, they better have a damn good reason why. He's misanthropic, and the rumours about him spread farther each day. (Some people even think that he starts most of them.) He knows he's self-absorbed, but if he doesn't care about himself, who will?
There isn't anywhere he'd rather be (Actually, he can think of a few better places) than in the Diagnostics office, because when there isn't a patient, the pace is very relaxed. Foreman and Cameron are around to remind him that this is, in fact, a hospital, and really, shouldn't he be working? (Maybe House's clinic hours need done?) It's nothing compared to the ICU, and he would pay (with other things than money sometimes) to get out of his shifts there, because no matter what, after his shift ends, he always feels like he's lost. He wonders how long it will take before he holds the same worldview as House.
He watches Chase every chance he gets (but he still hates himself for it), watches as the Australian seems more lost, more out of it with each day. It makes him wonder if he could help Chase, or if he'd just hurt him. (He's not sure which option is better.)
He watches House whenever he thinks he can get away with it, watches him become more of a puzzle, a puzzle that does nothing but leaves more questions in Chase's mind. (More 'what if's, more 'how would he react...'s.)
Everybody's got a breaking point, and House is trying his best to push Chase to it. He wants to see what will happen, wants to sit back and enjoy the chaos he's created. He doesn't see the fun in pushing Cameron or Foreman too far, they're far too eager to repress, to throw themselves into their work. Chase has nowhere to go, no outlets for his anger that House is aware of. He just wants to see the changes, the way Chase looks when he's angry. He thinks it will look a lot better than that misplaced hangdog look Chase likes to wear.
Everybody's got a breaking point, and Chase is about to reach his. He wants to get it over with, he's (fucking) sick of this game they're playing. He takes one step forward, House goes several feet backwards. It never ends, and Chase is ready to just throw a brick wall into the equation. Ready to snap. Ready to just push House against a wall and kiss him. He doesn't give a damn about the consequences anymore, he doesn't have much to lose.
He's surprised when Chase follows him into the clinic room, proceeds to lock the door, and turn around and kiss him. It feels like Chase has been holding back for a long time. He isn't surprised, not really, when he kisses Chase and it doesn't feel as uncomfortable as he thought it would.
He's not surprised when he follows through on his plans, trapping House in a clinic room and proceeding to kiss him. He is surprised when House kisses him back.
They don't know what this makes them, and they don't want to find out. They won't give it a name, won't mention it to anybody else. What goes on behind closed doors will stay behind closed doors. Not even Wilson will know about this.
He doesn't want it to last. (He knows it won't.)
He knows it won't last. (He doesn't want it to.)
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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