Title: The Virtue of Patience and Sweetness of Revenge (pt. 4 to An Aussie Scorned)
Summary: Chase has retaliated after House's prank. House hasn't gotten revenge yet and Chase is beginning to squirm. Will he be ready if his boss comes up with another scheme?
Author's Note: Ibelieve the fic is drawing to a close. I'm working on one last chapter, and hopefully, I'll beable toget something hammered outsoon. Thank you so much for all the reads and the support. Your comments have been really appreciated. :)
Disclaimer: I don't own House, or the other main characters. I'm also not being paid to write this, but if I was, legally, that would be great. :p
Chase expected retaliation. Not receiving it immediately made him nervous rather than giving him a sense of security. He didn't know what to expect when he walked into work the day after his war of the roses. What the intensivist wasn't prepared for was a lack of any outright response from House. No whoopee cushions on his seat, no re-working of his clinic hours so he'd only get the patients suffering from embarrassing rashes, not even any glib or sarcastic remarks - other than the usual amount of glib and sarcastic remarks that any day entailed.
Perhaps the older man had conceded. It was an unlikely possibility, the Aussie was aware, but maybe he'd grown bored of his game because the talk had quieted already. Chase was privy to the gossip being spread regarding his boss but few, if any people in the hospital would mock the man to his face. Also, nobody - female or male - would be masochistic enough to make a pass at the older man like had happened in his particular case. In fact, the only occurrence that had colored his otherwise unnervingly dull day was the fact that a few of the more forward men in the hospital had continued their attempts at courting the blond in hopes of setting a date and time to meet - outside the routine hospital environment.
The end of his shift arrived, none too quickly. As it was, he was expecting his mischief karma to catch up with him when he was on his way out the hospital doors at the closing moments of the day. To orchestrate a precisely timed repayment for his deeds of yesterday, just as he was feet or even inches from freedom would be completely and utterly... House. He'd once heard Foreman say, "It's not paranoia if somebody's out to get you." Chase's desire to run out of the hospital, zigging and zagging like he was avoiding the blasts of an enemy, would never be argued as mere paranoia by anybody in the PPTH.
His preparedeness was for nothing. He checked out and took quick, tense steps towards the glass doors. Light eyes darted back and forth, and the young man couldn't help wondering if he were stuck in a revamped, modern version of Indiana Jones. And if so, when he could expect the boulder to roll towards him. Chase trudged on, reaching out his hand for the handle. Maybe the there would be extra wax on the floor and he would slip and fall, creating a ruckus, causing a scene, and leading to an overwhelming number of, "Did you hear the one about the doctor getting hurt in the hospital?" jokes. About thirty-seconds of-fresh-air later and he realized that he had made it out unscathed. At the same time that this realization hit, a fresh wave of paranoia hit at the curiosity over whether or not he could finally recieve his comeuppance the next day and be done with it.
One day down, an endless amount of possible waiting to go. It had gotten to the point, even after merely one day, where Chase was begining to consider asking his boss to simply embarrass him now and get it out of his system.
However, his mind was pulled to other matters in a most unwelcome way. He picked up his mail and walked to the clinic, shuffling through the papers and feeling thrilled to finally have something to distract him from his current predicament. An invitation to an upcoming conference, a response to an article he'd written, another invitation and his paycheck. One envelope in particular caught the young doctor's eye. It was a plain envelope with only his name written in unfamiliar handwriting on the front. Opening it up, his jaw dropped slightly, causing him to look much like a fish struggling desperately to breathe outside it's natural watery habitat.
Anybody observing would probably have wondered what could cause a person to go so slack-jawed. In this case, it was a letter. An amorous, forward, and almost poetic letter expressing a well of affection. More surprising than the content was its sender. At the bottom of the page was the signature of the president of the board and an incredibly suggestive drawing. Chase groaned, thinking that House's joke had hit an all-time low when it resulted in the president of the board propositioning him. His day grew worse by the second as the board member in question walked into the clinic and over to the front desk.
"Sir? May I have a word with you?" the Aussie stammered, recieving a curious glance.
"... I suppose. But it'll have to be quick."
A few broken sentences made their way out of his mouth and he was sure that if his face were to burn any brighter than it was at that moment, it would burst into flame. "I'm very flattered, but I have to tell you, I'm not attracted to you. - Actually, it has nothing to do with you, it's men. I'm not attracted to men."
A blank stare and Chase began to pray that he wouldn't be forced to repeat his words. "Excuse me?"
"Your letter, it's very flattering. I just... I'm not gay - "
" - House, what did you do?" Dr. Wilson asked as he observed his friend eyeing Chase from behind a bush in the clinic waiting room. "Why is Chase over there, talking to the president of the board?"
"If you'd shut up and let me concentrate, I'd be able to tell you. They really should make Reading Lips for Dummies; then you wouldn't have to ask me all these idiotic questions because you could figure it out all on your own." House could see the burning in the boy's cheeks from where he was sitting, across the room.
"Let me guess, your brilliant plan was to send him over to ask an embarrassing question, right?" The oncologist rolled his eyes at his friend, wondering if it would be possible for the man to ever find a normal hobby. He quickly dismissed the idea as unrealistic.
"Didn't need to send him. He did it all on his own. And by my calculations, he should be saying something horrifyingly stupid right... about... bingo -"
" - You didn't write the letter? Then who - " It was at this moment that House chose to stand up and move to the young man's side as fast as his cane would allow.
"Dr. Chase, what have I told you about bothering high-end hospital officials?" He gave an overly enthusiastic smile to the board leader and turned to the intensivist, who was doing something between silently seething and wondering why the ground never opened up and swallowed someone when they wanted it to.
"We were just talking about..."
"His orientation," the director interjected gruffly, clearly not wishing to partake in the conversation any further.
The older doctor simply waved away the statement and said, "There are so much more interesting things to talk about. Now signatures are interesting. Dr. Chase, did you know that those really squiggly signatures, like our lovely president of the board here, are usually much easier to forge than the really neat ones?..."