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I'm outta love
by Ariel
GENRE: songfic
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of these characters and I don't make any money from this, whatever this is.
NOTES: I usually speak Italian around here, so any mistakes you find you can point them to me and I'll fix them. Thanks.
I believe tenses really got to me this time... sorry.
NOTES 2: I'm outta love is performed by Anastacia, written by Anastacia, S. Watters, L. Biancaniello. Taken from the Epic release NOT THAT KIND.
This fic follows ` The art of falling...'
***
Morning awkwardness. That's its name.
Usually it lasts the necessary time it takes to repeat the bed performance of the night before, the morning after.
Well, THAT morning awkwardness was lasting approximately TWO months.
Fucking great.
Chase really wanted to smack himself, several times a day. He had known a relationship with House would have been, can we say difficult, rough, complicated, damn pick one or better, all of them, but he had been sure it would have been worth the trouble... but he also thought House would soften, even a little bit, even only in private, for him, for them. Well, you would have lost your bet, pretty boy. Even his inner voice sounded ridiculously like House.
Chase sighed again as he dragged himself along the ICU corridor updating patients charts. He was bone tired and lonely... House was the kind of man that needed so much space for his ego that you ended up with nearly no place for yourself.
^ Now baby come on/
don't claim the love you never let me feel/
I should have known/
`cause you brought nothing real/
Come on be a man about it/
You won't die/
I ain't got no more tears to cry/
And I can't take this no more/
You know I gotta let it go/
And you know/
When you start a relationship, you usually have hopes, dreams and expectations. You accept a risk, and know that you'll have to fight when things won't go the way you planned them.
Chase didn't see a reason to fight anymore. He wasn't a pretty doll, one with which you play when you have time and `lust', and that you put away on a shelf when you have better things to do.
^ I'm outta love/
set me free/
and let me out this misery/
Just show me the way to get my life again/
`cause you can't handle me/
I'm outta love/
Can't you see/
Baby that you gotta set me free/
I'm outta love/
Chase ended his shift and tiredly made his way back to Diagnostic Medicine. Corridors and halls were deserted and not even the sight of `their' red fluffy chair lifted his sour mood.
Unfortunately, House was still in his office.
Chase stopped, unsure on what to do, but his need for peace and quiet definitely outweighed House's concept of a romantic evening: fuck n' go.
^ Said how many times/
have I tried to turn this love around?/
But every time/
You just let me down/
So he entered the lounge to grab a couple of files and then go home, alone...
- Look who we've got here... doctor Chase. - House leaned against the doorjamb, smiling evilly at his duckling.
Chase lifted his eyes only a moment from where he was shuffling papers to find what he was looking for, but didn't acknowledge his boss. House frowned.
- So, finally ready to go home? Done your good deeds for today? -
Chase gritted his teeth, but didn't answer. House lowered his voice.
- I was thinking we could try the new bottle of lotion tonight. My apartment in a half hour's ok? Race you there. -
He smirked as he waited for the telltale blush to spread across Robert's cheeks. Only it never came, well not for lust anyway...
- No, thank you. I'll head home, shower and sleep. See you tomorrow. -
Chase's voice dripped venom with each word that exited his mouth. How could he ever be so stupid? He was only the more available plaything around for House.
^ Come on be a man about it/
you'll survive/
true that you can work it out all right/
House's eyes narrowed as he regarded Chase get his files and leave. The room got suddenly very large and very cold. He popped a Vicodin and retired behind the glass walls of his office. As Chase passed along the corridor, their eyes met for a brief moment and House knew he had ruined everything. Again.
^ Tell me, yesterday/
did you know?/
I'd be the one to let you go?/
And you know/
At home, Chase felt drained and empty. He poured himself a shot of whiskey, trying to find a trace of himself in his own house. But everything had Greg's imprinting: "The Blues' Brothers" soundtrack, the bottle of Jack Daniel's he was currently consuming, that damn stuffed Koala Greg bought him just to tease him endlessly, making perfectly clear it was cuddlier and more "snuggleable" than he was.
In a fit of self deprecation, the glass ended in pieces on the floor after a close encounter with the wall, while Jack now decorated several of his books.
Damn you, House. But it was an empty feeling, just to have a bit of company.
Forlornly, he went to the bathroom to take a shower.
^ I'm outta love/
set me free/
and let me out this misery/
Just show me the way to get my life again/
`cause you can't handle me/
I'm outta love/
Can't you see/
Baby that you gotta set me free/
I'm outta love/
***
The bell worked, of that he was sure. It was one hell of a shrill scream that, but Chase did not open his door. So House decided it was time he christened the spare key.
Once inside, the sounds coming from the bathroom and the smell of Robert's soap let him know why he was left outside.
Alone.
He didn't think that it would affect him this much the knowledge that, if he didn't talk to Chase, he wouldn't have anymore fights about: " Who do you like more? Me or that blasted Game Boy?", any of their long talks through the night, or, heaven forbid, no more Chase's magic fingersTM. He shivered. During those massages sessions, Greg always felt like a wild animal being tamed and cared by Robert's will and hands.
But even more, he knew he would miss those quiet evenings that saw him seated at his piano for hours, playing all his favourite songs for Chase. The air around them eerily still, everything dissolving and the only thing real was his boy's soft smile, his left hand on his right thigh, the warm light in his eyes.
Before, not one of those things would have mattered, when on the plate was his freedom to do and say as he pleased, but now he found the price too high, found the brief interlude of peace with Chase too precious to lose.
As the water was closed, House's heart rate picked up and he waited anxiously.
Robert stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his hips, taking another one for his hair. He made his way to the living room, only to stop abruptly a few paces from House. In his living room.
The look Chase gave him scared Greg more than he could comprehend. It was a plea to go away, to leave him alone - House nearly turned around then and there - if he wasn't there to apologize and talk. And that got him a little panicked.
^ Let me get over you/
the way you've gotten over me too/
Seems like my time has come/
And now I'm moving on/
I'll be stronger/
House opened his mouth several times, but words seemed stuck somewhere in his throat. He closed his eyes and hunched his shoulders in defeat, leaning heavily on his cane. This time Chase would not catch him and he knew the fall would be hard.
Chase shook his head and turned to go and find some clothes when he caught a whisper, something so unreal he thought he was hallucinating.
- What did you say? -
House sighed and repeated in a hollow voice: - I'm sorry. -
It wasn't for the words. Robert knew House was capable of saying them, it was the sight of him, so rugged and worn-out, and the tone of his voice, so hopeless.
Chase gave up and crossed the distance between them in order to hug Greg and, he hoped, never let him go.
The sound of the cane as it connected with the floor stilled him. Greg leaned on him with a soft: - Can I? - And Chase shivered and shifted to support him. - Sure. I'll catch you. -
Only one thing remained to be said: - I love you, Robert. - The smile that his boy gave him was enough to know that he was forgiven.
- I love you too, Greg. -
^ I'm outta love/
set me free/
and let me out this misery/
Just show me the way to get my life again/
`cause you can't handle me/
I'm outta love/
Can't you see/
Baby that you gotta set me free/
I'm outta love ^
12/10/2005
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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 Fox Television, 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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