NOTE: Next chapter, the rating of this fic will be changed to M. Please change your filter settings accordingly. :)
Chapter Four
Another month passes, filled with clinic duty and yet more games from House. He starts interviewing almost immediately, another excuse to avoid real cases. Cameron buries herself in backlogged paperwork and answering the mail, though Chase is certain no one would comment if she chose to spend her time on more personal pursuits. But she stubbornly refuses to take advantage of the found time, an exercise in self-loathing.
If he's honest with himself, Chase is half hoping that House will not hire anyone else, will grow bored with the interview game after a while. Maddening as Cameron can be at times, Chase finds himself feeling protective of the current departmental dynamic. He likes working with her, he realizes, if what they have done so far can really be considered work. She is vastly different from him both in terms of morals and personality, worlds away from the cookie-cutter types he surrounds himself with on weekends. And yet he feels a strange sense of camaraderie with her, an enjoyment of her company he cannot deny. For all her naïveté, she is at once brilliant and capable, yet to be jaded by the world of painful truths in which they work. The thought of another new colleague leaves Chase feeling vaguely territorial though he cannot articulate why, not even to himself.
The annual oncology benefit falls on a Friday night, after yet another idle day at work. House has been notably absent, to the point that Chase is not even certain he's come in to the hospital at all. It's a welcome reprieve, in a way: he's growing tired of playing pawn to House's interview schemes, and bored with logic puzzles. Ordinarily, he'd be spending this evening in one of the many bars near campus, surrounding himself with strangers. Still, there's something intriguing about the potential to socialize with colleagues for a night, to see everyone dressed up and allowed to exist outside their usual roles at the hospital.
The atrium has been completely transformed during the course of the day, barely recognizable now filled with elegant tables, hors d'oeuvres, and wine glasses. Chase catches his breath, the adrenaline rush of walking into any type of social situation washing over him. This is where he is most comfortable, confident and engaged in the sense of conquest. He collects short-term relationships like trophies, as though having enough might somehow make up for what his life lacks. True intimacy terrifies him; even close friendship seems like a minefield. But faced with this room full of colleagues in cocktail attire, beautiful not-quite-strangers, all he feels is elation.
"Dr. Chase!" Cuddy's voice stops him dead in his tracks before he can make his way over to the makeshift bar. She is wearing a low-cut red dress which makes this entire encounter feel oddly surreal, out of any kind of context his brain is capable of registering. It takes Chase a moment to realize that House is standing with her, and a third person he doesn't recognize.
"Hi," says Chase lamely, feeling entirely derailed. He's come here paradoxically with the intentions of escaping thoughts of work; now he will have to focus on whatever it is Cuddy deems worth discussing.
"Dr. Chase," says Cuddy, in her best diplomatic tone, "this is Dr. Eric Foreman. He's your new teammate."
"Teammate?" House mocks, clearly eager to have this conversation over and go join the poker tournament. "Careful how you phrase things, Cuddy. This is serious medicine, not a contact sport."
"Nice to meet you," says Chase, reaching to shake Foreman's hand and trying to keep the dismay out of his voice. He is dressed more for a business interview than for a benefit, Chase notices. House must have only just made the hiring decision.
"Cuddy said I couldn't come to the party until I made my final hire. So here he is." House shrugs. "I call him Dr. Affirmative Action. Much easier to remember."
"Charming," says Cuddy dryly, rolling her eyes. "But now that you've got your team together, no more excuses. I expect actual productivity from your department. It's been six months since you supposedly started interviewing."
Chase cringes inwardly, hoping that Foreman either has a high tolerance for ridicule or will resign quickly. Much as he dislikes the idea of Foreman joining the team, he also feels protective of the department's reputation. Though he's used to House offending people left and right, somehow this time matters more.
"I went to Hopkins," says Foreman, breaking the awkward silence. "For undergrad and medical school. Then I went straight into specialty training. Neurology. I briefly considered neurosurgery, but I wanted to do something more creative than same old cut and stitch."
"What he really means is that he was too lazy to do the nine year residency required for neurosurgery," says House. He turns to Foreman without waiting for a response. "And nobody's impressed by your academic victories. Chase's dad is famous and everything. He's grown up immune to egos."
"Oh," says Foreman knowingly. "Your father is the Dr. Chase? Must be a lot to aspire to. He literally rewrote the book on rheumatology."
"I know," Chase deadpans, suddenly even more desperate to get away from this conversation. "I was there." He's come to the other side of the globe to escape his father's shadow, yet the world of medicine is still too small for him to ever truly avoid it. The oversimplification of his parents' life is unbearable, yet the thought of attempting to make anyone understand the truth is a more painful prospect still.
"Can I go play now, Mom?" asks House, looking back and forth between Cuddy and the poker table. "I did all my chores like you told me." For once, Chase is glad of his rudeness, of the diversion from discussing his own background.
"Fine," says Cuddy, clearly exasperated with this conversation. "Go."
The two of them head for the poker table together, sitting down on either side of Wilson, who is already playing. Finding himself alone with Foreman, Chase feels a sense of trepidation again. He wants to spend this evening relaxing, losing himself in alcohol and flirtation, not giving a tour of the hospital or discussing his schooling.
"I think I should be heading out," says Foreman, as though sensing Chase's reluctance. "I'm not exactly dressed for a party. And I was only planning to come for the interview anyway."
"Okay," Chase answers, hoping his response isn't too rapid. "I'll see you on Monday, then."
"Right," says Foreman, already beginning to walk away. "Monday."
Taking a breath and running a hand through his hair, Chase makes his way to the bar, feeling instantly better with a glass in hand. Sipping his drink, he pauses for a moment, surveying the room again and attempting to get his bearings. He's accustomed to seeing the residents at the local bars, and sometimes even the nursing staff. He's well aware that he has a reputation in the hospital, but that does not bother him.
For an instant he does not recognize Cameron as he spots her from across the room. She is wearing a short black dress that leaves little to the imagination, her dark hair falling in loose curls around her shoulders. But it's her expression that surprises him the most; she is completely relaxed, wine glass in hand, laughing with two of the male ER residents.
Chase finds himself drawn to her, making his way across the room before his brain has even registered what his legs are doing. Watching the younger men with her, he feels a gnawing sense of jealousy, though he tells himself that's ridiculous. Up until this moment, he has had absolutely no interest in her beyond a professional relationship. He is certain that she feels nothing toward him besides a vague sense of disdain. She is so entirely serious about her work that he has assumed there was no time or energy left over in her life for anything resembling fun. But now, in this night of blurred guidelines and eclipsed roles, the possibilities seem endless.
"Looking to rob the cradle?" Chase asks, as soon as he's within earshot. He gives the residents a meaningful look, then offers Cameron his best smile.
"What are you doing spending your Friday night at the hospital?" she asks, avoiding his question. "I would've thought you'd be out partying." Her cheeks are flushed, and Chase thinks that this can't be her first glass of wine.
"Why not multitask?" he challenges, stepping forward and subtly shouldering the closer of the two residents out of the way. They look at each other for a moment, then retreat together, seeming to take the hint. "A party's a party, right?"
"Right," says Cameron, taking another sip of wine. She is wearing perfume that makes his head swim. "And you came over here to talk to me so you could preserve the atmosphere of being at work?" There's something just a little bit adversarial in her tone, but not discouraging. She is enjoying this, though she isn't about to make it easy for him.
Chase smiles again, feeling his anticipation grow. "Maybe I came over here just because I wanted to talk to you."
"Right," says Cameron, coyly. "So either you've decided that it's finally worth trying your legendary act on me, or you think I'm an easy target. I'm not sure whether to be flattered or offended."
"On the contrary," says Chase, leaning ever so slightly closer, "Maybe I like a challenge."
"Oh, and you think I'm a challenge?" Cameron finishes her wine and sets the glass on the table, crossing her arms and rocking back on her heels.
For a moment, Chase finds himself fixated on the curves of her legs, the tantalizing way the hem of her skirt falls. He has known all along that she was beautiful in a quiet, unconventional sort of way, but until now she has dressed in a way as to all but conceal her looks. Tonight she seems radiant, alluring, almost an entirely different person. This is a side of herself she does not often allow to be seen.
"I think you like to challenge me," says Chase, at last, taking a long swallow of his drink to ground himself again.
"And here I thought you liked things easy," Cameron retorts, just a hint of suggestiveness in her voice, the upward quirk of her lips.
"Only when it comes to work," Chase teases. "Work easy, play hard. Isn't that how the saying goes?"
Cameron laughs. "Maybe in Australia."
"Well, we definitely play hard in Australia." Were she a complete stranger, he might try to play up his accent, capitalize on the American attraction to exotic foreigners. But in this instance, he has a feeling that would only end in total mockery. "When I was in med school, I used to swim with the great whites. Out on the open water. Great way to get the adrenaline going, really have a good workout after all those hours of studying."
"Nice try." Cameron snorts, clearly not buying the story for even a second. "Was that before or after you boxed the kangaroo and fed your pet koala?"
"Right, you've got it." Chase laughs and shrugs, telling himself the story was worth a try. "What about you? What do you do for fun?"
"I hang around at hospital benefits indulging my coworkers," Cameron answers glibly.
"That sounds awfully dull," says Chase. She is beginning to look a little distracted by the silent auction table, he notices. It's time to move this conversation beyond casual flirtation if he's going to get anywhere. "We could leave. Then you could indulge your coworker somewhere else."
"Somewhere else like your apartment?" asks Cameron, a subtle shift coming over her. She is entirely in control of this encounter, Chase realizes, and has been all along, enjoying the game but with no intention of letting him win. "Nice try. I'll see you on Monday."
Just that quickly, the moment is gone.
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