Title: The Mission
Author: Bellsie
Pairing: Cuddy/Chase
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine
Written For: angelmecool
3 things that must be included in the fic: Chase being charming(or atleast trying to be), Cuddy's nationality (whatever it is, you can make her a Swedish for all I care), Cuddy/Chase kiss in front of at least one person
3 things that cannot be included in the fic: angst, anything higher that a light R, Chase or Cuddy's ex
Author's Notes: How overjoyed I was to get Cuddy/Chase. This was going to be the other pairing I wanted to have written for me. But a warning: I usually do angst. So, without angst I do really pointed sarcasm. I'm sorry. The fluffy bone was not inserted into my body. And this didn't turn out as I plan.
;';
House was on a mission. He was on a Very Important Mission.
You see, he had found an incredibly interesting thing in the newspaper.
Circled several times, in bright red ink, was a personal ad.
Doctor looking to treat a patient. Italian-descent, black hair, blue-gray eyes. Likes barbs and stings, as well as Nip/Tuck and rye bread. Contact for more info.
What was even more fascinating about this whole thing was that the paper that House had picked up belonged to one Dr. Chase. It was easy to tell that it wasn't Foreman's, Cameron's, or Wilson's—there were too many scratch-out marks in the crossword.
"Hm, Hot Doc, eh? Yo, Wilson!" House shouted to his lovely friend (colleague, lover, brother…Pick your poison.)
"What are you now? A gangster?" He said as he pushed the door open. His hair was hanging floppily in his eyes. How utterly adorable.
"Fo' shizzle. Read this."
"I didn't know gangsters read."
"Stereotype much? Just shut up and read it."
Wilson took the newspaper and read the article. Both eyebrows scaled Mount Everest.
"Who circled this? You? You're looking for a 'hot doc?' You have Cameron in the conference room!"
(Oh, Dr. Wilson. You yourself are not too bad a specimen, either.)
"Chase circled that. It's his paper. Look at the crossword puzzle."
Wilson flipped the paper over and glanced at the crossword puzzle.
"Oh, that just makes me sad," he said and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was a champion crossword-puzzler and seeing something as bad as what Chase had done made him very, very upset.
"Yeah, yeah, well who's the hot doc? I get why Chase went all Picasso with the pen—he's into the bondage stuff," House snickered. Wilson blushed. (Because there is nothing off limits when it comes to House and sex. Your mother's a target…Well, never mind. Your mother's a target for hormonal middle school boys.)
"You know, this is gonna sound out there…" Wilson said with a finger on his chin.
"I think I'm thinking the same thing," House replied with a smile.
"Dr. Cuddy!"
(Since, you know, women with boobs are always desperate and looking for something to screw. God, boys, get a room.)
"And where is the venerable Dr. Chase this evening?" Wilson asked with raised eyebrows seeming as if they were scaling Mount Rainier (Wow his eyebrows are getting a workout tonight! They're champion eyebrows. Yes, they are!)
"Where is the venerable Dr. Cuddy?" House countered.
"Well, Chase would be easier to find, since, you know, he's on your team," Wilson encouraged.
"My team doesn't like me. They don't like one another. They're like the outcasts at school who don't want to become more outcast by talking to the other outcasts," House explained.
"Cameron!" Wilson shouted.
Cameron scurried through the glass doors.
"Yeah?"
"Page Chase," House told her.
"Why?"
"I need to know where he's at for dinner," House replied.
"Don't you own a pager?" Cameron asked.
"Yeah, I own a lot of things. But watching you dial Chase's pager is so much more of a turn-on," he smirked.
With a very large sigh (Secretly very flattered, though) she dialed Chase's cell phone.
"I told you pager!" House reprimanded.
"Yeah, and in case he doesn't tell me where he is, maybe I can get a clue from the background noise," she spat back.
Wilson grinned and House nodded his approvingly.
"Chase? It's Cameron. I need a favor."
(Cameron paused for Chase on the other line to respond. Wilson and House waited with bated breath.)
"Yeah, I'm broken down. Where are you?" She asked.
House bit his shirt; Wilson threw a hand over his mouth. God, she was good.
"Oh, Salvatore's? Damn it. That's okay. I'll call a tow truck. Thank you!"
She put the phone down.
"Happy?"
"Very much so. Now, shoo!" House said and made sweeping motions with his hands.
(Aw, she didn't even find out for what House and Wilson were looking!)
"Shall we my friend?" House asked.
"I'm driving," Wilson said.
"Aw, afraid of my superior driving skills? Will they make you feel bad about yourself, Dr. Wilson?" House baby-talked.
"Never, since my chance at arriving alive at my destination is significantly higher than yours."
(Touché.)
i Meanwhile… /i
"Here, Dr. Cuddy, let me get that for you," Dr. Chase said as he started to pull out her chair.
"That's nice of you. I usually just get it. The feminist in me, you know?" She giggled slightly. Chase finished pulling out her chair with a bit of awkwardness coupled with foreign flair.
"Dr. Chase, this is a lovely little place," Dr. Cuddy smiled at her date. Frankly, she had been very surprised when he had responded to the personal ad. Usually she just got psychos.
"Oh, it's Robert. Actually you can call me whatever you like," he said with a smile and took a sip of his water.
Cuddy smiled. "Okay, Robert. Then I'm Lisa."
"Okay, Lisa," he smiled back.
(Aw, lots of smiles!)
"Hey, how much does a polar bear weigh?" Chase asked Cuddy suddenly.
"Oh, I'm not sure," she replied.
"Enough to break the ice!" He said with a laugh. Cuddy politely chuckled and took a sip of her cocktail to cover her discomfort.
"So, um, anyway, Robert, you play any sports?" She asked.
"I do like tennis and soccer and rugby."
"Really? I love tennis. We should play."
"That'd be great. That's one of the reasons why I love Princeton—all the rich people and their country clubs," he smirked.
"Oh, yes, I agree. And isn't it wonderful to be one of those rich people?"
"Well, considering we're just barely entering the atmosphere of riches, I'm not so sure," he replied.
"Oh, I wasn't talking about you," she said and laughed.
Chase colored a bit, but, hey, they both got one crappy joke in during the drinks. Who knows how bad it'll be during appetizers!
They made small talk; Chase grabbed Cuddy's hand once or twice during the appetizers and during dinner, music turned on out of nowhere and a dance floor surfaced in the corner (Things like this do happen. Seriously. Little details aren't necessarily noticed on first appraisal…)
"Shall we dance, Lisa?" Chase asked.
"Yes," Cuddy replied.
They both stood up and moved to the dance floor. Chase took one of Cuddy's hands into his own and slipped an arm around her waist. The music swelled and played on—there was nothing more romantic than Rod Stewart singing the classics.
"You're so pretty," Chase told her.
"And you're very handsome," she murmured.
She let her head find its way to his shoulder and let him guide the dance. Feminist and control-freak, she ceded control to him. He whirled them gently around the dance floor to the music.
"May I kiss you, Lisa?" He asked in a whisper.
"You may," she told her and looked up as he lowered his lips to hers…
i Back to the two stooges… /i
"Oh my God! We were right!" Wilson gasped from behind the cracked men's bathroom door.
(Yeah, and nobody experienced a lot of pain on your stumble to the truth. Props.)
"Oh, this is too good. I've got to invest in a camera," House snickered.
"Oh, dear Lord. Tongue. There's tongue!" Wilson moaned.
"Whoa. This be serious, my dear friend."
"Astute, Dr. House."
"Elementary, my dear Dr. Wilson."
"We need women."
"No kidding."
"Let's go find some!"
(Men.)
So, as Larry and Curly walked off into the sunset searching for their perfect mate, Chase and Cuddy continued to kiss on the dance floor—ever much in love.
The End.