Disclaimer- I don't own House. Although if I did…
Song is Perfectionist by Landon Pigg
You're wonderful, you're good at everything you do,
Every one is equal,
But not as equal as you.
Chase sighed in frustration as he dropped his keys for the third time. He'd been standing there for at least ten minutes trying to get the key in the damn hole. Although, it was rather difficult to do so with the giant gym bag hanging off his arm. And the heavy paper bags in the other. And the piles of mail that had gone unchecked for the past three or four days. Which were mostly bills. Everyone wanted money these days. Not to mention the way his hands shook, which would be the purpose of Paper Bag Number One and its miraculous contents. And the Chinese take-out that would probably be stuck in the fridge for the next two weeks, because he knew he wouldn't eat it. Usually, he'd eat at least half of it would be one by the time he got back to his apartment, but the smell of the orange chicken was doing nothing more than making him nauseous. Which sucked out loud, because he hadn't eaten in two days. He growled. The keys dropped to the floor.
You're the best,
You're the best,
And every town's got one.
He bent down as far as he could without dropping anything and almost over balanced as his bag fell forward from its position on his back. He sighed again as the keys jingled at his trembling fingertips and dropped back to the floor. This was not working. Why wasn't this working? He just wanted to unlock the door, go inside, get drunk, and pass out on the couch. Why couldn't he just unlock the door? It was the bloody keys. The keys were possessed. They just didn't want to serve their master. They didn't want to behave. They were being stupid. No, wait. The keys were amazing. They were beautiful. They were so close. They- slipped out of his fingers and back to the floor. They seriously hated Robert Chase. He cursed. Then he snorted. Possessed inanimate objects. He was going mad.
Like you.
Of course, he had a legitimate reason. The last 49 hours had not been kind to Dr. Chase. The unusual amount of cases in diagnostics and the emergency pages from the various ICU's in PPTH had taken its toll. Two of their cases had been Lupus, which pissed House off because "it's never Lupus." Not to mention that two had actually been "Nothing's Wrong-atosis". Which, of course, sent House into long sarcastic rages about the psychological issues of today's youth and why "all snot nosed brats should be locked up before they hit the age of five." Which triggered Cameron's compassionate nature towards all of Earth's living things. Which prompted some smart comment or another from Foreman. Which then, in true chain reaction, had everyone looking at Chase for his input. Not that it came, he was too busy trying to stop the trembling. And trying to keep his eyes open. Which, naturally, put all attention on him, well, Cameron's attention at least. And that was annoying. He hated attention he didn't want or earn. But he got it all the time with his so-called 'pretty-boy' looks and daddy's wonderful legacy and reputation.
Just take a trip
Far away,
Where no one really cares about those things.
"Aha!" Chase exclaimed softly as the ring on his keys finally stayed on his fingers. Now all he had to do was get it in the lock and turn it. What in the world made that so hard? Why was everything so damn hard? He always figured that once he was out of Australia, out of the life that screwed him over for so long, that things that might get a little easier. Just a little. But no, his life had to follow him halfway across the world. His old life, his loss of faith, his mother's addiction and his father's reputation. He sighed again, his life was never going to get easier. Not that he wasn't grateful. He'd had it a lot better than most people. He'd had an overworked, barely there father as a child, so what? His mother was an alcoholic who had shitty alcoholic boyfriends who decided they didn't like teenagers, who cared? And yeah, the only time he'd spoken to his father since he was around 16 was when he randomly showed up at PPTH. Just before he died. What did it matter? Life's a bitch, all women are. That was one lesson Chase's father taught him before he left. Sometimes a man just has to listen to his father, no matter how bad said 'father' was at the job.
And expose yourself,
To all the pleasures and pain,
Of this life.
Chase sighed once more, this time in relief, as the key finally went in the lock. Okay, so the keys weren't possessed after all, just stubborn. He turned his arm, trying to keep his balance, as the door opened after almost ten minutes of struggling. He pushed the door open and dropped his bag on the floor, kicking his sneakers off his tired, and probably smelly, feet. He threw his keys on the table beside the door, the stack of mail following shortly after. Chase walked across the room and placed the paper bag on the coffee table with a heavy clink. Walking through the plain white hallway towards his room, he remarked on the amazingly blank appearance of his apartment. It was painted an off-white color, the same color it was when he bought it almost three years ago. There were no personal affects or family photos. Maybe a few scenic paintings from Oz, but nothing that reflected who he was, what his life was like. Maybe that's a good thing. He thought, as he stripped off his shirt and started the shower. It wasn't like his life was anything special. One day of shit after another. One country of pain exchanged for one half a world away. The pictures of his life would probably be all of horror and dark torture. Maybe even some blood and gore.
You can let down your guard tonight.
The water was as hot as it would go, but it still didn't ease the tension in his shoulders or the muscle pain in his lower back. After 49 hours awake and roughly 45 of them spent on his feet, he felt close to the breaking point. Especially with the random thoughts that had been barging into his head for the past two days. Thoughts of his past. Of his father, his mother. Seminary school was making a large appearance. One of the few times his father made contact, even if it was only to tell him that he was making a bad decision. That it was going to ruin his life. Right. Seminary probably made his career. It had been rather amusing afterward, actually. The contact had been short and clipped, the words selectively chosen to hurt. It had worked, too. Robert didn't put up much fight and his father got what he wanted. He made his offer, he would fund for university and all schooling after that if Robert agreed to quit the seminary and go into medicine.
Paranoid perfectionistic people,
They can only put their very,
Very best foot forward.
He told himself that he'd been planning to do it anyway, he wasn't just trying to please his father. And he knew it was a lie. He knew that, although he had been steadily losing faith, he was going to stick with the seminary, if only to prove to his father that he could be his own person. To prove that he could do something he wanted to do without any interference or assistance. That he could say no and mean it. But instead, he took Rowan's offer and made himself more susceptible to outside influence in what was supposed to be his life.
And as a result they're rather easy to detect,
They'll be the only ones hoppin' down the streets of New York,
And every town's got one.
He snorted again, his life. Right, that's why he did everything Rowan Chase had dictated to him and now he was doing everything House told him to. That's why no one thought he could think for himself, why everyone thought him an ass-kisser and an airhead. It was why his colleagues had such little respect for him.
Like you.
But they could think what they liked. He knew the truth about himself…kind of. And the only reason he allowed people their misconceptions was because it was easier then delving into his past and exposing all of the secrets he had kept hidden for so long. It would take years to tear down miles and miles of hardened stone and hardened heart. And he knew it would only hurt him in the long run, and then he would have to spends more time building his fortress back up and to set himself up to avoid more heartache and disappointment.
Just take a trip,
Far away,
Where no one really cares about those things.
But what would life be if you didn't take risks? What would life be without the pain and the ups and downs? Without the love and loss, the friends and enemies, the bulls eyes and the near misses? Chase wasn't quite sure, but he was learning.
And expose yourself,
To the pleasures
and pain.
Chase's head snapped towards the door as the bell rang. Now, who…? He laughed lightly at himself. He really wasn't used to this if it had taken him that long to think of who could be at his door. So much for getting wasted, he thought as he turned off the shower and listened to his visitor open the door and let themselves in. He heard a thump and then another as whoever it was kicked off their shoes and made their way into the kitchen with heavy steps. He reached for a towel and his boxers and smiled slightly. It was good to have someone feel at home in his apartment, even if he never had.
If you're walkin' on the line,
You never know what's on either side,
You might be wrong or might be right.
He dressed slowly, still listening to the actions of his current house guest. So far the other had rooted through the fridge, opened what sounded like either one of his Diet Cokes or a beer, and had started the microwave. Which meant the Chinese food might actually be eaten after all.
You can't pass this up.
He smiled again, thinking of this situation, of this wonderful thing he had going in his life. It was odd, really. He wasn't sure how it had happened, when it had truly started. Maybe the tension that had held between them for so long had had some actual purpose after all, maybe it was more than resentment and a hidden jealousy. But whatever it had been, no matter how uptight and uncomfortable, it had blossomed into an tolerant friendship, and now, now it was something else entirely. Something Chase had been seeking for years. It was understanding, passion, acceptance. It was everything he needed to start tearing down the walls.
You gotta give it a try.
And he was trying so hard to make it work. God, how he hoped it was working.
Just take a trip,
Far away,
Where no one really cares about those things.
Chase was still listening as he placed his towel on the rack and his clothes in the bin. He cleaned up the water on the floor and washed out the tub, placing the soap and shampoo back in their appropriate places. That was another good thing about his relationship with the person currently stretching the speaker system on his television to the limit. They didn't mind Chase's ever-so-carefully hidden OCD. They didn't mind that he woke up at five in the morning because his brain told him to get up and be useful and that he went in to work an hour early because he'd already re-cleaned everything in his apartment. Even if it wasn't quite understood, it was accepted for what it was. He was accepted for who he was.
And expose yourself,
To the pleasures and pain,
Of this life.
He opened the door, and made his way into his bedroom, knowing the person on the couch would be find for five more minutes. Chase's brain was finally settling down and he wanted to enjoy the feeling for a bit. He could think more clearly, without his past haunting him or the past two days catching up with him. He could think without feeling useless and wanting to get up and do something to atone himself. Every doctor lost patients, especially intensivists, but those with obsessive compulsive disorder felt it more so, because they felt as though they should have been able to control it, to make it perfect.
And you can let down your guard.
The man sighed as he listened to his lover leave the bathroom and close the door to his bedroom quietly. He knew would never understand the way Chase's mind worked. What made him think the way he did, or the why his disorder pushed him to do the things he did. He would never understand the need for him to just catch a few minutes alone. He tried so hard to understand the part of his life that made his apartment so cold and plain, and he knew he never would. But he knew he loved him, and that was all that mattered.
Just take a trip,
Far away,
Where no one really cares about those things.
He knew that they're past differences meant nothing to him now, but he also knew that Chase would always hold those differences close to his heart, waiting for him to break it off and break his heart. Chase was just waiting for him to break his heart and leave him, just like his parents did.
And expose yourself to the pleasures and pain.
He hoped that one day Chase would be able to come to him in those quiet moments in his head. He hoped that one day Chase would be able to come to him with anything at all. He knew that the other man was working hard to expose himself to him, and he knew that he was working hard to bring down his walls and let himself be known.
If you're walkin' on the line,
You never know what's on either side,
Might be wrong or might be right.
He knew he was going to stick with it though. He knew he wasn't going to leave Chase, he knew that he would stay with Chase as long as he allowed him. He cared enough about Chase not to use him and through him away like Cameron had. He cared enough about him not to belittle him and screw with his head like House did. He knew enough not to push him around and dictate his life like his father had. And he sure as hell knew enough not to love him one second and beat him the next only to leave him in the end like his mother had.
But you can't pass this up.
Chase sighed one last time, moving from the comfort of his bed and his mind started on him again. He moved slowly towards the door, breathing softly as the man on his couch turned down the television, hearing his approach. He turned his head and smiled as Chase made his way over to the sofa, placing himself beside and the man and turning his head upwards into a soft, lingering kiss.
Robert smiled at Eric. "Hey."
Eric smiled at Robert. "Hey."
You gotta give it a try.