dr_robchase | [For Doctor and House; Homeplot] Thread #2

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[For Doctor and House; Homeplot] Thread #2

Fancy dinner at the Parisienne with reservations, proper suits, and complete privacy? Yeah, it was Chase's version of a really good time and he wasn't going to look the gift horse in the mouth, not when he could have this. Even if the food was technically not real, he'd taken a half-day and had gotten to spend it around the diner and with the Doctor.

So when they were sat down to dinner, he was just going to enjoy it, folding the napkin over his lap and smirking a little as he fiddled with the signet ring, pushing it back across the table to the Doctor.

"Because you were an extra-special good boy," he teased dryly, "We can even order dessert."

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"I thought," the Doctor said, accent still Australian, "that you weren't approving of my behaviour." He took the ring and slipped it on, feeling oddly more secure now, then smirked at Chase over the top of the wine list. "Oh, and anything but no fucking Merlot. Though after mango hooch it'll be a pleasure."

Okay, so maybe House had gotten into work a little later than usual that morning. He'd had a late night. A late night that had burned a big hole in his wallet, but he was feeling great today, if not a little hungover. So of course the first thing he'd asked when he'd limped into the conference room was, "Where's Chase?" to which he'd gotten an animated response from Cameron about his "friend".

It wasn't exactly detective work, since Chase had left his cellphone in his office and the last number dialed was the reservations desk at Parisienne. Still, House had to wait a big chunk of the day before they got a patient and he actually had an excuse to interrupt Chase's fun. After all, he couldn't call him; House had his cell phone! Convenient.

House got a few stares as he limped into the fancy place in his jeans and leather jacket, pushing past the host without a word, and then plopping himself down at Chase and his friend's table (after a quick, "You're not using this are you?" at a woman at the table nearby, not waiting for an answer, and then hooking her extra chair with his cane and pulling it over).

"Now see," said House, not even waiting long enough for the shocked expression on Chase's face to dissipate, "I defended you. Foreman said you must be gay because you're 'the pretty one' and Cameron said that even if you were, you wouldn't skip out on work to take your boyfriend to some seedy motel, but I said - I said - that you were definitely the type to spring for a nice restaurant, at least Red Lobster."

Chase was still gaping, long after House had arrived, long after House had sat down, and right into the escargot being served with the waiter asking, "Est-ce qu'il y a plus c'est soir?" And didn't even respond.

"What...are you..." he sputtered, trying to get a gauge on House, searching his face. No, not his House. But he was still staring in horror, tie around his neck choking him more than ever. "House, I..." He stammered. "This is Doctor John Smith," he finally got out. "From Australia. Melbourne."

"Apparemment," the Doctor said back to the waiter, in wry French that wasn't as flawless as it should have been, because he had put Aussie John Smith back on like Chase would put on a sweater vest.

"Doctor House, enchanté," he said, as if he'd never seen the man before in his life, and so very glad he wasn't theirs and not glad that he had to deal with this when he was going to have a very nice dinner with his very nice boyfriend before they had to go back to their very nice island. "I thought Dr Foreman had left for the day," he said, showing none of this.

Dear god, Chase was such a shit liar. He'd have to make enough for the two of them.

"I was more concerned with Dr. Chase leaving for the day. You know, blowing off work without notice when there's a six year old in cardiac arrest, oh..." He looked at his watch. "About right now. C'mon, when did I give you permission to have a social life? You know my rules. If I can't have one, no one else can..."

He glanced at Smith, bringing his hand to his mouth in mock embarrassment. "Oh, I'm sorry, are you charging by the hour?"

Chase let his forehead hit the dinner table, groaning loudly, wishing he could just die and go to playing footsie while dead and a ghost. Or something like that. He lifted his head tiredly. "I haven't seen John in years," he pleaded tiredly. "Years. He wanted some French food and here we are, okay?" The tiredness and the frustration helped the lie along.

"Nah," the Doctor said back to House, "you should know better. We good ones go by a flat rate and then get tips, but I guess it's all a matter of what you can afford." He didn't look overly concerned and took a long sip of his Cab. It wasn't real, nor was the dying six year-old.

"Kid's probably hypoglycemic. Either that, or ate some of Mummy's special pills," he said, then turned to the waiter. "Steak au poivre, à point, et frites."

Okay, so House hadn't liked the guy. Now he really didn't like the guy. He shot him a look and then back at Chase. "I pay mine extra if they don't talk," he said irritably.

Then he looked over Chase's at the plate of escargot and said, "You better not eat those. You know how mollusks give you the runs."

"How would you know?" was his spat response, bitter and childish and unstoppable. He was irritable as well, because this was supposed to have gone well and he damn well wasn't moving. He slouched back into his seat, crossing his arms defiantly.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Right, clearly my being an expensive gay hooker that Rob hired from Melbourne is far more important than the child in fibrillation," he said, and speared a snail off his own plate. "Fantastic operation you run here, good dining. I'm highly impressed by New Jersey so far. Bicker if you like, but if you haven't run a tox screen on the unfortunate patient...talk about en enfant terrible."

He ate another snail.

House hated him more with every word that came out of his mouth. "Can't you shut him up?" House asked Chase, then rolled his eyes at Smith. "Besides, I know you're not a hooker." He nodded down at his hand. "That's Chase's dad's ring. Which means I'm right about the gay thing. Of course, you're wearing it on your right hand, which means you've probably discovered Chase's fear of commitment by now." To Chase, he said with mocking morose, "Or did you bring him here to break it to him about the genital warts?"

Chase had gone quiet by now, sitting back in his chair and thinking that if this was home, why was he missing it. "It's not," he said, getting his voice even, swallowing a lump in his throat. "It's a ring from Melbourne. Just means a certain class," he said quietly, getting up. "Excuse me."

He just needed a walk to the lobby. Just a quick one.

The Doctor, meanwhile, sat there for a moment, considering his options. There was saving face, and there was getting his arse kicked out of the restaurant before dinner, and there was also going after Chase which was what he was definitely going to do either way.

"No, actually, he's lying and you're right," he said, slugged down the nearly full wine glass, then stood up. "But I did always hear you were a brilliant logician." And he threw a right hook that was hard enough to leave a mark but not to break House's nose.

"How we negotiate in Melbourne," he said casually, then pushed in his chair, ignoring the fact that everyone was looking and that the room had gone still. "Go order a tox screen for your patient, Dr House."

And he turned on his heel.

The punch landed so hard that House nearly toppled back in his chair, but ironically it was his cane that saved him, as he managed to jut it out fast enough to catch the ground.

He looked up just in time to see Smith's back. "Yeah, well tell Chase not to bother coming in!" he yelled after him.

Christ. He always knew it was a casualty of hiring a woman, that there were husbands and boyfriends to beat you up, but he never thought he'd have to deal with it with Chase.

He brought his fingertips to his nose and a drop of blood came away. He swiveled his head to look at the woman at the table nearby gaping at him. "What's the matter, never seen a cripple before?" he muttered as he pulled himself to his feet.

Chase had been in the lobby, but he'd seen it and had checked on the Doctor momentarily before going to help House up as well. Well, that had been the plan. He got to the Doctor, remembered it was all in his head before taking a last look at House. "Hey," he said quietly. "Give us a second?"

"Yeah," the Doctor said, looking a little sheepish. "Sorry about that." It might have felt rather good, actually. Cathartic. He headed out into the street.

House had already pushed his way past a manager attempting to "help" him out - "I said I'm going!" - and was about to head out the back door when Chase caught up with him.

Before Chase could say anything, he interrupted irritably, "Before you even consider it, don't even think of calling me a homophobe. I mock both genders equally, and an asshole is an asshole. I don't care if you come in or not, just don't bring your friend."

Chase helped House as much as he could (and as much as House would want, or Chase would think that House would want), before he took a deep breath. It was just telling himself all the stuff he was reciting, but it had to be said. "I'm not coming in," he said evenly. "I miss...well, I miss you, but that doesn't matter. What does? He's my boyfriend," he said, gesturing vaguely. "And I love him, and it's serious. And one day, God willing," he snorted, eyes wide, "that ring will move because I'm not afraid anymore."

He got to the lobby, taking a step back from House. "I don't need you anymore," he said quietly. "I did, for a long time. But not anymore."

"You're quitting?" House blurted, dumbfounded. "Oh... for god's sake. This is fucking ridiculous. You know what, I don't care. Come back or don't. I never thought it would be you who'd go to pieces over some guy."

He didn't wait for any further explanation, just slammed through the door and headed out into the back parking lot. He had no idea what was going on with Chase, and he had no idea what Chase having a boyfriend had to do with him or about Chase's job, but he had enough of the emotional crazy on his staff with Cameron, he couldn't deal with two of them.

Unfortunately, because he probably would have been interested (and that he always wanted to know everything anyway), the Doctor didn't hear any of this. Instead, he was out on the sidewalk, looking along the street and scritching the back of his head a bit. Weird dream, but if it was Chase's and not his, then it was remarkably satisfying.

Chase made his way out to the sidewalk, standing behind the Doctor, hands in his pockets. "So," he said, dragging out the word. "I think I just quit." And there was a better idea. "Hey, you wanna go somewhere? Nicer?"

The Doctor turned and smiled at him, slowly, raising an eyebrow. "Somewhere nicer where...?" he asked, extending his hand and giving his fingers a wiggle, indicating Chase should take it.

Like he was a child in a mall, really. But Chase took it, grinning a little as he got out his keys. "How about my place, with a couple bottles of wine, some pizza, and the dessert I bought over lunch while you were arguing with the waiter about what your meal was."

"That sounds fantastic," the Doctor said, and meant it, swinging Chase's arm with his a bit. "What do you like on pizza anyway?" he asked, thoughtfully. "It's never really come up before."

He was busy unknotting the tie so it would stop choking him as he leaned into the Doctor a little. "Sundried tomatoes, black olives, and a bit of green pepper," he said. "And extra cheese. You?"

It felt good.

Plus? He badly, badly missed pizza. He unlocked the car door, leaning on the roof as he peered at the Doctor. "Earth pizza. Not weird space-pizza."

"Oh, shut up, who do you think I am? When in Rome and all that." The Doctor slid in to the passenger side with his usual careless grace. "Sausage, onion, and enough cheese to make a mess. Relatively light on the sauce if possible. But I'll eat anything."

Chase got in, groaning, giving the Doctor a light shove in the side. "Ew. Onions? How am I still dating you?" He wrinkled his nose. "I mean...onions."

"Love, I've been eating onions since the kitchen crew found them months ago." The Doctor smiled cheekily back at him. "We can get two pizzas. Where's the liquor store?"

He was still giving 'blech' noises and making faces, groaning. "Is that what I taste when I kiss you?" he asked. "Because I think I just vomited a little in my mouth," he deadpanned, driving the few blocks to the liquor store and leaning over to kiss the Doctor, getting his ID. "Wine? Or do you want something harder and less Islandy?"

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[For Doctor and House; Homeplot] Thread #2

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