Topgallant : House : Assorted drabbles

Drabbles (House, M.D.)

This first drabble is for

katina_r, who asked for a House � HP crossover, in which�well. You�ll see. 200 words.

�Patient is exhibiting dilated pupils, shortness of breath, and delusion.�

�Delusion?�

Cameron shrugged. �He was� muttering something about not having his wand.�

�Could be patient is schizophrenic,� suggested Foreman.

�Could be patient is an idiot,� scoffed Chase.

�Could be he needs to cut back on the nightcaps,� House said.

�Patient appears to be larvae,� said Cameron desperately.

�Dr. Cameron, this is no time to insult the patient�s intelligence,� House countered. Foreman rolled his eyes and Chase snickered. Cameron glared at them both.

�Look at his vitals,� she said, thrusting the clipboard into House�s hand. �His pulse rate, breathing rate, and metabolism are down, his temperature is plunging. It�s like he�s� going into hibernation.�

The three of them stared. She pursed her lips.

�If we don�t find out the cause,� she said, �Ron Weasley is going to be comatose within the next hour.�

~~~~

Foreman looked through his microscope and muttered, �I don�t get it. We admit him for tonsillitis and two days later he�s a Kafka novel. Why do the crazy parts always happen after we get them in the hospital?�

His face concealed by his microscope, Chase slid his fingers around his wand and smiled.

(�request was for a drabble in which Chase is actually Draco Malfoy. :) )

Second drabble: for

pen_m, who requested Chase/House/Wilson. 515 words, and sort of, uh, weird? This is where I mention that I've never actually written House-fic before, and it shows rather abysmally.

The third and final time Chase mutters, �You�re not my father,� under his breath, House shoulders his cane and tilts his head.

�If that�s the sort of thing you�re into,� he says, smirking, �I can always pretend.�

During their next round of drinks together, Chase runs this remark past Foreman and Cameron. One winces and the other looks flabbergasted.

�I mean, how else could you take that?� Chase says, spreading his hands and feeling like an altar boy. �There are only one or two ways you could take that, right?�

Foreman leans his head against his palm. �Not even two.�

Cameron turns red, everyone avoids each other�s eyes, and Chase orders a third beer.

Chase barely opens his mouth for two weeks, House says things like, �What�s the matter, son?� and jokes about cornering him in the men�s room, and after nine days Chase realizes he is counting the days since House has worn his favorite blue shirt, because he has noticed.

He�s cornered in the men�s room, but it�s Wilson, not House, and Wilson�s lips quirk as if he can�t decide whether to laugh or roll his eyes at Chase, who still feels like an altar boy when Wilson makes the obvious come-on and then steps in so their white lapels are almost touching. Chase feels his temples throb, and he wonders what kind of mileage you get from screwing the head of the oncology department. He doesn�t know, but he figures House�s reaction when he finds out about it will be all the leverage he needs. He leans in toward the shadows on Wilson�s face.

Wilson doesn�t move. Instead he draws in his breath and says appreciatively, �Greg was right about you. Son of a bitch.�

Chase blinks and stammers something, and Wilson puts his hand against Chase�s chest, right over his heartbeat. He gives Chase a measured, steady look, the kind Chase has seen him give House before, the kind that says that what he�s really thinking in this moment would involve years of therapy and possibly every alcohol brand on the market.

�If you really want it,� Wilson says pointedly, �Just say so.�

Chase says, �I�I�wasn�t�I mean I�� and then: �both of you?� which isn�t what he meant to say, and which comes out sounding shrill and scared.

Wilson smirks, cold and House-like, and leaves. Chase stares after him until Foreman enters and throws him the odd look, and Chase washes his hands for three minutes before getting out of there as fast as he can. He texts in sick and spends the rest of the evening taking Advil and wanking.

When Wilson knocks on his door that night, Chase knows who it will be. He opens it anyway.

�Is this as close as you ever get?� Chase mutters. Wilson smiles a twisted smile and bends him in half over the sofa. Later they drink until they are too tired to fuck and too drunk to be embarrassed about it.

The next day, House wears the blue shirt, and flirts with everyone but him.