Disclaimer: All these things belong to someone not me. Even beer. (Because I am only twenty.)

587 words

This was inspired by a request from Frizz the Eccentric and a frantic rewatching of a random episode, and heavily influenced by the fact that I scribbled out all the dialogue on a small piece of paper and then proceeded to lose it halfway through actually writing. Some crack may have been involved, if by crack I mean tea and by some I mean a lot.

Loud & Clear

Chase was running the last tests on the most recent blood samples from the patient from the Witherspoon wing when he heard the door open. He looked up.

"Dr. Wilson? I don't need a consult, it definitely isn't cancer…"

"I know." Wilson was giving him a strange, calculating look. "How is the patient with that definitely-not-cancer doing?"

Chase glanced down at the readout from the computer. "He'll be fine. His wife is probably going to leave him, but that's his problem."

"Actually, I was talking about House."

"Oh," Chase said. He shrugged and fiddled with the equipment. "He's House. That's kind of everybody's problem."

"Are Foreman and Cameron still mad at him?"

"Yeah, definitely."

"Are you mad at him?"

"I guess so. Why?"

"Just wondering." Wilson watched idly for a moment as Chase finished up with the samples. "So," he said casually after a moment, "I saw you giving House a hug the other night."

Chase glanced at him sharply. "I thought he was dying at the time."

"You were hugging him and crying," Wilson pointed out.

"No I wasn't."

"Yes, you were."

Apparently Wilson could be just as annoyingly persistent as House when he wanted to be. Chase scowled.

"All right, maybe I was," he said, trying his best to sound as if he wasn't admitting anything. "So?"

Wilson shrugged and said, "I was just wondering." He paused. "How long have you worked for House?"

"About four years, why?"

"Well, I've known him for a lot longer than that." Wilson paused again, probably going for some sort of theatrical effect. "And I just asked him out for pizza and a movie."

Chase's jaw dropped. "You… what? As in, asked out asked him out?"

He tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach, because it really shouldn't have been there in the first place.

Wilson nodded.

"What did he say?"

"Nothing. I thought he would appreciate a dramatic exit rather than being forced to respond right away." Wilson chuckled, flashing a grin the younger doctor's way and making Chase wince inwardly.

But Chase knew the value of appearances, so the wince never quite made it to his face. Instead, he rolled his eyes.

"So now you're waiting for him to get back to you? Good luck with that."

"Thanks," Wilson said promptly. He watched Chase for another moment, and then moved to leave. "It's late. You should probably wait until morning to tell your patient the good news."

Chase was grateful that Cameron had suggested going out to dinner. Even if Foreman had been invited as well. It was an excuse not to think about what Wilson had told him.

So it was an unpleasant surprise when House suddenly slid into the booth next to Cameron and announced, deadpan, "I think it's time I seduced Wilson."

Cameron looked as if she's just swallowed a bug, Foreman looked as if he'd just stepped in something unpleasant, and Chase choked on his beer.

"Why Wilson?" Chase coughed as Cameron patted him helpfully on the back.

"Because," House said simply, and began prodding them for a differential diagnosis on the possibility of Wilson being gay.

Which really wasn't fair, because the only man Chase had ever been able to picture James Wilson with was… well, Robert Chase. But with House as competition and Wilson apparently mistaking crying over the potential loss of a second (if far more obnoxious) father figure for something else, there was no way it would happen.

Chase knew the value of keeping his mouth shut.

Funny story… I once saw a busboy who looked just like Jesse Spencer in a diner in Nevada a few days before New Years. He looked like he needed a hug too.