Disclaimer: All characters belong to David Shore, et al. No copyright infringement is intended, so please don't sue me. I'm a poor college student who has no money anyway.
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"Dr. Chase!" House shouted across the clinic.
Chase was at the nurse's station reviewing a chart of one of his clinic patients from earlier that day.
He stopped reading and sighed heavily. It had been a long day, and the last thing he wanted right now was his boss dumping a patient on him just because he didn't feel the need for human interaction.
"I'm not on duty, House," he called back even though he knew that House wouldn't care whether or not he was on duty.
"I need a consult," House continued.
"Page Wilson," he tried, hoping that House would prefer heckling the oncologist as opposed to him.
"You're right here and it's kind of urgent," House persisted.
Chase sighed once more and finally looked up at his boss. House was standing in front of the closed door to exam room three. He had a look on his face that everyone in the hospital knew quite well. He was up to something.
"Fine," he muttered to no one in particular, shutting the chart file and tucking it under his arm before he made his way across the clinic to humor House and give him his "consult."
"Excellent," House said as Chase joined him in front of the exam room. "Dr. Chase," House began as he opened the door and stepped inside the room, "meet Patricia Sinclair."
Chase looked up to smile at the patient with all eighty-four of his teeth, only to discover that the teenage girl was on her back with her feet in the gynecological stirrups. He turned his gaze back to House and glared at him; House had deliberately called him in for his own amusement.
House looked back at Chase incredulously and gestured toward the patient.
Chase rolled his eyes and looked back to the patient.
"So, Miss Sinclair, what seems to be the problem," he asked, picking up her as yet untouched file.
Patricia looked up at Chase and groaned before lowering her head back down and closing her eyes.
"I asked for a female doctor," she said irritably.
"So you did," House agreed, "but Dr. Chase here was the closest to a female doctor that I could find."
Both Chase and Patricia turned to glare at him.
"Don't worry," House assured, "he's very discreet. Not even half the hospital knew when he kissed a dying nine-year-old."
"You kissed a nine-year-old?" Patricia shrieked.
"House, she's clearly uncomfortable with this," he said, ignoring her question. "I'll page Dr. Cameron and she can take care of it."
Chase walked over to the door; his hand was on the doorknob when Patricia spoke up again.
"I've never had an orgasm," she blurted out quickly.
Chase resisted the urge to bang his head against the closed door. He didn't even need to look at House to know that he was enjoying this. This was better than General Hospital.
Chase turned back around to look at Patricia and House. House was watching him expectantly and Patricia was looking at him as if he were her last hope.
"Well, Dr. Chase can…" House started.
"House, you finish that sentence and I swear I will make you even more miserable than you already are," Chase snapped.
"Ooh! Is that like a dare?" he mocked.
Chase ignored him as he walked over to Patricia's side and leaned back against the countertop; he figured she'd be much more inclined to keep talking if he was at her side rather than by her feet.
"How old are you?" Chase asked.
"Good call; better make sure that she's legal this time," House quipped.
"House, maybe you should leave," Chase suggested without looking at him.
"Don't have to tell me twice," he said, standing up and leaving the room.
"How old are you?" he asked Patricia again.
"Seventeen," she told him without meeting his eyes.
"How long have you been sexually active?" he asked.
God, why did it always have to be him? Gynecological exams were so much easier to do on the patients who were legal and had a husband.
"About four months," she said. "My boyfriend feels terrible, but it's not him! I keep telling him that everything's great, but I'm just not getting there."
"It's all right. What you're experiencing is normal," he assured her.
This was his job for crying out loud! Why was he having such difficulty with this? This was like giving out sex advice to a girl who could be his sister.
"The next time you're with your boyfriend, you could—um…" he started, shifting uncomfortably. Why weren't there courses in med school to prepare people for this?
"Before you finish that sentence, I should tell you that there's more," she interrupted.
Oh, God. There was more.
"My—my best friend gave me this—this vibrator, and—oh God, this is so embarrassing," she began.
"I can assure you that what you say will never leave this room," he told her.
She looked at him, as if sizing him up, for quite some time before she spoke again.
"So my boyfriend and I were using it this afternoon and, well, it's really kind of small and my boyfriend pushed just a little too far… and he wasn't able to get it back out," she said, her voice becoming softer and more hesitant as she finished her story.
Chase resisted the urge to rub a hand across his face.
"All right," he started. "I'll get a nurse in here and she'll get an ultrasound of your cervix just to make sure that it hasn't gone too far. I will also have Dr. Cameron come down and have her do the removal for you, if that would make you more comfortable."
"I really don't want to say it again," she mumbled.
"I'll make sure that the nurse brings her up to speed," he assured her, finally giving her the smile that he had intended to when he had first walked in the room.
"That'd be great," she said, returning his smile and looking much more relaxed.
Before Chase left the clinic, he put the order in for the ultrasound and told the nurse to inform Cameron of the situation when she arrived.
Right now, though, he needed to think of a way to make House's life that much more miserable. The old whacker deserved it anyway.
