Title:
Last Action… Doctor?! (Part 10 of the
Plotbunny series written especially for Azilver) Summary: Disclaimer: Spoilers:
Author:
Slashydutchie
Rating:
PG-13
Pairing:
House/Chase
Genre:
Humor, Parody, little romance… all
the good stuff.
Last
Action… Doctor?!
It had been an ordinary Christmas day, nothing strange about it. Cuddy had gone banana's at House for something he had or hadn't done, House had amused himself by bouncing his big tennis ball on the heads of his ducklings and Cameron, Foreman and Chase had written each other prescriptions for something against the headache the man had so graciously given them.
The day was perfectly normal… until it all went wrong.
insert ominous music here
A black van drove towards PPTH, slowly making its way through the snow… or rather the sludge that had been snow until many other cars had gone there. It might have been a Mercedes once… maybe a VolksWagen, something German in any case… probably… oh well, it doesn't matter. Now, the emblems had been replaced by one of a stylised bunny and the sides said 'PB Inc'
At the same time, many of the employees were leaving the hospital. All except the diagnosticians wing, they still had a party… (AN: The others were still slightly traumatised by the events of the Halloween party, even though they couldn't quite remember what had happened) It was the standard kind of Christmas party… tinsel, fake snow, Christmas tree… Cameron and Cuddy in beautiful dresses, Foreman in a suit he'd only put on to avoid their disapproving glares… Chase looking splendid in his suit, House grinning at random people both to creep them out and because of what Chase had promised to do if he behaved…
"Well, you're acting like a true Ebenezer Scrooge after the visit of three spirits, House!" Oh damn… dun, dun, dun... DUN! It was Wilson. In a dress. AGAIN. "Nope, just something about a promise, Chase and a broomcloset, Tootsie." At this, Wilson looked ready to burst into tears. "I can't help it! This writer always puts me in a dress! Blame her! She just hates me because I'm useless unless I can be useful to the plot by doing something the writers can't make others do! I have no personality!"
(AN: checks off "humiliate Wilson and cause breakdown" Number 33… make Wilson suffer some more… okay.)
"James… you've always been a good friend… actually, you were lousy at times, but that was because the writers couldn't think of someone else to act in a lousy way… anyway, you've obviously lost it. Nurse!" And that, dears, was the short version of the soon to be famous story of 'How James Wilson ended up in cuddling-therapy with man-eating animals'.
'Twas the Christmas party and
during House
Not a creature was stirring, not even a
mouse
Bunnies, on the other hand were busy taking out security guards and generally taking over the hospital.
(AN: These were a different gang of plotbunnies than Professor von Plotbunny's bunch, thus these guys are NOT Gregory's allies)
"Where's
Wilson?"
"Therapy… of sorts."
"About time."
This was pretty much the conversation going on between Cameron and House (if you leave out all the boring bits about Cameron actually caring) before the latter noticed the light of his life, his sweetheart, his favourite little Christmas present… okay, so he saw Chase entering. Stop glaring, I was just trying to be romantic about it… geez.
"I see you're behaving very well… not even taunting Wilson?" the Australian doctor grinned at his lover before kissing him and adding a bit of tongue. He knew how Gregory liked the way it tended to upset people or at the very least made them uncomfortable. House put on his best innocent face. "No…"
"…I have now, thanks to a helpful author, obtained people to do that," added the evil little voice in his head so many people speculated about. It sounded a bit like Robert Shaw did when he played Red Grant in From Russia With Love, actually.
"Good… in that case I have a very special surprise for you in the broom closet. Meet me there in ten minutes." Another kiss and Robert had gone to put a nice red bow in the right naughty place. Gregory was left doing various internal jigs and victory dances… he had an amazingly flexible mind.
"Everything is ready for your big entrance to the party, Hans," a blonde bunny told its leader. The leader was in no possible way a cute little wabbit.
"Good," the surprisingly big plotbunny replied in a voice that sounded exactly like Alan Rickman. Sometimes, after a few too many musejuices, he'd boast about biting the man with it himself. "Go."
That word was all it took for a bunch of plotbunnies to close off every entrance and exit to the room in which the party was held, biting various people and causing panic in the process. A very sophisticated cough, however, made the crowd quiet down almost immediately. Hans looked down into his little book and began what would have been his big speech, were it not for the following:
"I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses ... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bund of thunderheads as I usually have to teach." He actually finished the entire thing before glaring at the bunny next to him, it was giggling nervously and shuffling its little paws on the floor. "Sorry, boss… I just really like it when you…" At this point, Hans knocked him out with the little book.
"Anyway… we're in charge. We've brought laptops and we will make you… WRITE!" He started laughing like a maniac, but was interrupted by Cuddy.
"Write? What kind of terrorists are you?!" Hans grinned his bunny-teethed little grin. "Who said we were terrorists?"
Through all this, Chase, our hero, was in the broomcupboard, waiting for his lover. After exactly ten minutes, he struck a pose… nothing happened. That was unusual, Gregory was always right on time when it came to sex.
Our hero quickly redressed and sneaked a glance… he caught sight of fur and slammed the door shut again while attempting to steel his nerves. Fur… tiny fluffy tails… PLOTBUNNIES! But… that was okay, wasn't it? The prof wouldn't hurt House. That in mind, our hero sneaked down the corner and carefully peeked into the room.
"DO IT!" The largest bunny barked at Gregory, while others bit him. In front of the cripple was a laptop and his cane was nowhere to be seen. "Fine… 'to Azilver'…"
Oh God… these weren't Von Plotbunnies guys! And they seemed to be targeting House! Making him write dedicated fics and biting him… right in the crotch! Our hero knew he had to take action and the only way to do that was to draw attention to himself. He ran for Cameron's computer, selected each and every text file on the damn thing and started printing.
Right now, her slash obsession was Chase's little Christmas miracle.
After about fifteen minutes our hero knew he couldn't wait any longer. A search of his pockets had turned up a lot of loose change, a rubber band and the lighter he'd recently pulled out of a patient. It was shaped like a horse and he'd been hanging onto it for the 'strangest object of the month'. Remarkably enough, it still worked. All this didn't add up to much, but it was all he had, so it would have to do.
Our hero folded half of the already printed documents and stuffed them into various pockets, using the rubber band to bind together the other papers. In true James Bond style he crept back towards the 'party', where Hans was busy with a rather long monologue. Once he was within smelling distance, our hero set fire to the roll of paper in his hand and was greeted by screams of agony.
"Someone is destroying good slash!"
Our hero grinned and jumped into sight. "Come and get it, furballs!" Intelligent as they might be, plotbunnies couldn't escape their instincts. They began to chase Chase up the stairs, while our hero held up the suspiciously-coloured-flame torch (thank you, recycling) and made his way towards the roof.
He'd made it all this way… and now our hero was in trouble. There was no more roof left and he'd been closed in by the entire army of potbunnies. "It's too late to save these… but I have more…"
Our hero dropped the smouldering remains of the roll of fiction and took the other half out of his pocket while the plotbunnies set their greedy eyes on it. He set fire to those papers as well. "Go and get it!" With that, our magnificent hero threw the burning papers over the edge, giving the bunnies no choice but to jump after it.
And that's how Chase saved Chrismas.
Oh yes, I almost forgot… Gregory was VERY grateful and showed it all night long. After all, the hero always gets the moody cripple.
Merry Christmas.
Reality
"Chase! What are you doing behind Cameron's laptop?!" House was suspicious of this, mainly because the Australian doctor was grinning. "Nothing love! Er.. boss, House… yeah… bye!"
And thus it was a very red Chase who stormed out of the office and a very happy House who read the fic and made plans for the broomcloset.
A/N: I put this one on ff dot net extra fast so IzBella91's Will & Grace bunny army won't come after me. Reviews are still welcome! Don't worry, I've still got some parts of this series in reserve even though I'm not writing it right now, too busy with my latest Gruber/OMC 'Allo, 'Allo bunnies.