A/N: -shakes head- I can't believe the river of creative juice that has found its way into my head. I haven't written and posted this many fanfics ever, so I'm a little bit in awe of the fact that I'm here with another one so soon. This plot hit me so hard and fast, I kid you not, I fell out of my chair and tripped over a CD case. I was very graceful. It literally came out of nowhere and attacked me until I pulled up a blank sheet and started writing. So here is this completely impromptu fic for you. Enjoy!
Song is Life of a Salesman by Yellowcard
… … … … … …
What's a dad for, dad?
Tell me why I'm here, dad
Whisper in my ear that I'm growing up to be a better man, dad
Everything is fine dad
Proud that you are mine, dad
'Cause I know I'm growing up to be a better man
… … … … … …
Foreman and Chase were sitting quietly at the conference table, both men occupied with their own tasks. The former car thief was leaning back in his chair, eyes focused on the medical journal he held in one hand, a mug of fresh coffee in the other. The blonde sitting across from him was hunched over that day's newspaper. The Aussie's expression was that of unfaltering concentration, a small frown gracing the lips that encircled a badly mauled number two pencil.
Both doctors were startled out of their musings when the glass door banged open and House rapidly limped his way around to the far side of the table where the neurologist sat.
"She's coming!" the diagnostician hissed in warning.
"Who's coming?" Foreman asked, thrown off by his employer's latest antics.
"Must be Cameron," Chase muttered, still scribbling letters into the boxes of his puzzle. "Who else could scare the crap out of him that badly? If it was Cuddy, he'd be gearing up for some sort of sexual harassment."
"Why are you running from Cameron?" The neurologist inquired, brow creased in bemusement.
Before House could give them an answer, or even think to make another escape attempt, the subject of their conversation appeared on the other side of the glass wall, all smiles and lace.
"Oh, God," Chase breathed in horror. "Look at her. She's beaming. What happened?"
Cameron stepped through the door, a bounce in her step and a ray of sunshine following her across the room as she made her way to the coffee machine.
"Good morning!" she chirped brightly.
House eyed her warily and made sure that the white board was between himself and the walking, talking poppy pill. Good Lord, she was breathing positive energy. He was going to suffocate if he didn't find a pocket of narcissistic air to inhale.
The immunologist parked herself next to Foreman with her coffee cup, face alight with unbridled joy. Chase shaded his eyes with his hand as he looked up at her.
"Why are you so happy?" he asked, his voice laced with something akin to fear. He glanced over at House, who he noticed seemed to be having difficulty breathing.
Cameron turned her blinding smile on the blonde.
"You don't know what day it is?"
All three men shook their heads no.
"I don't care if you just opened an adoption home for puppies called 'Hugtastic' - no one should ever be this happy," House growled from behind the white board.
"And why's that, Mr. Grumpy Pants?"
Three stomachs were assaulted with nausea. She was even using pet names.
"Because it's painful," House snapped back.
"What day is it?" Foreman asked, intrigued by the cause of his colleague's bubbly disposition.
"I can't believe you guys! It's Father's Day!"
Chase blinked and frowned, "And this makes you happy because…?"
Cameron looked at the Aussie in such a way that he did a quick check of his zipper.
"Well, aside from it being Father's Day, my dad's coming to visit me and I'm taking him out to dinner. What are you guys doing with your dads?"
Foreman shrugged, "I usually just send him a card and call him."
The immunologist nodded and turned to House.
The diagnostician glared at her, "Oh, I'll get a phone call later today and I'm pretty sure the guy on the other end will want to get together, but I'll tell him I'm waiting for my dad to call and he's using up the line."
Cameron gave him a look of disapproval, but dismissed his comments and turned to Chase, who was shifting in his seat uncomfortably.
"What about you, Chase? Are you going to call your dad in Australia?"
The blonde hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting around the room as if he was looking for a way out. He could see House studying him intently out of the corner of his eye. No one knew that his father had died just a few months ago aside from House, Stacy, and a board of doctors who had suspended him. Finally, he smiled awkwardly at her.
"We never really celebrated stuff like that. I'm sure this year won't be any different."
Cameron looked like she'd been slapped in the face.
"But he's your dad! You should at least--"
The polite deflection in Chase's eyes was gone now and he pinned her with an icy stare, cutting her off.
"Australia's a bit less hung up on holidays than America, Cameron." He went for the "it's a cultural thing" in an effort to throw her off. He smiled as convincingly as he could, the expression painfully false, before gathering up his newspaper.
"I'll be in the ICU. Page me if we get a case," he mumbled, practically sprinting out of the room.
There was a moment of silence among the remaining doctors before Foreman spoke up.
"Man, what is his problem?"
House shook his head and caned his way to the door.
"Must be a British thing."
The two ducklings rolled their eyes and turned their attention to more important tasks.
… … … … … …
Father I will always be
That same boy that stood by the sea
And watched you tower over me
Now I'm older, I want to be the same as you
… … … … … …
By the end of the day, Chase was sufficiently beat. His usual stop in the ICU had turned into a harrowing twelve hours of frenzied activity. He snatched his messenger bag off the coat rack and was shrugging into his jacket when Cameron knocked on the glass from the other side of the wall, smiling and waving an envelope in her hand.
She opened the door and made her way over to him.
"Good - I caught you before you left. Here. This is for your dad. I know this won't reach Australia in time for Father's Day, but I couldn't resist."
She handed Chase the unsealed envelope. The blonde opened it and took out a festive card, the words on the front written in formal cursive: Happy Father's Day. He flipped the cover over and sighed quietly in relief. At least the inside was blank. He resisted the urge to laugh. This was exactly the kind of card he had been sending his dad every year. He blinked several times.
"Chase? Are you all right?" Cameron's concerned voice broke through his thoughts.
He looked up and offered her a lopsided smile.
"Yea-and thanks. I'm sure he'd-he'll like this. I'll send it priority mail."
The immunologist, successfully diverted, beamed at him and left, waving and tossing him a "goodnight" as she walked out of the room.
Chase stood by the table, staring down at the useless card and painful reminder. He couldn't throw it away here. Someone might see it in the trash. Sighing, he stuffed it into his bag, making the extra effort to crumple it as he did so.
He turned the light off and went home, oblivious to the set of blue eyes following his exit from the office on the other side of the conference room.
… … … … … …
What's a dad for, dad?
Taught me how to stand, dad
Took me by the hand and you showed me how to be a bigger man, dad
Listen when you talk, dad
Follow where you walk, dad
And you know that I will always do the best I can
… … … … … …
He'd decided on burning it. He didn't want to think about that pretty, formal card sitting in his trashcan every time he walked by it. So when he'd gotten home, he took out a Zippo and stood over his sink, watching the flames lick up the smooth paper of the envelope, making it curl and blacken before breaking off into pieces and falling into the sink. The charred flakes were swept away by the water, circling the drain two or three times before disappearing.
After there was nothing left but a small, untarnished corner of the envelope, the Intensivist showered, changed into a white t-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms, and dropped unceremoniously into bed. He fell asleep moments later.
… … … … … …
Father, I will always be
That same boy that stood by the sea
And watched you tower over me
Now I'm older, I want to be the same as you
… … … … … …
Chase had only been asleep for an hour, floating contentedly in a warm sea of a dreamless doze when a shrill beeping jolted him awake. He fell out of bed, searching for his pager. He found it in the pocket of his pants. Taking it out, he read the message.
Opn ur front dor.
He stared at it for several seconds, trying to comprehend the simple text-like command. His head snapped up when he heard pounding coming from the front of his apartment. He groaned and stumbled his way to the door, unhooking the chain and throwing the dead bolt. He peeked out the small gap.
"House? What are you doing here?"
The diagnostician leaned on his cane, a plastic grocery bag hanging from his other hand.
"Well, if someone knew how to read text messages, I'd be inside, wouldn't I?" The older man pushed his way into the apartment.
"House, it's…" Chase looked at the clock on his coffee maker. "It's 1:55 am! What could you possibly need that couldn't be said over the phone?"
The Aussie watched his uninvited guest plop down on his well-worn couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table. House looked at him and held up the grocery bag.
"Happy Son's Day!"
The blonde Intensivist blinked, completely at a loss.
"What are you talking about? There's no such--"
"Sure there is. It's comes right after Father's Day."
"No, it doesn't! What is the matter with you?"
The diagnostician made a show of looking surprised.
"It doesn't? My bad. Oh, well. I'm here anyways. Where's the fridge?"
Chase ran both hands over his face in frustration as he followed the older man into the kitchen. He watched as his employer sniffed twice.
"That's odd. Smells like something burned in here. Not much of a cook, are you?"
"Exactly. Will you please leave, now?"
"Nonsense! We have to celebrate Son's Day."
"There is no Son's Day! Go home so I can get some sleep."
"My, you're cranky. Not a morning person?"
Chase threw his hands up in defeat, turning around and stalking back into his living room. He sat down on the sofa, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. House's voice came floating out of the kitchen.
"Got any beer?"
The Aussie bit back a whimper.
"Why must you torment me?"
"Because you make it look like so much fun."
"Sod off, House," the blonde growled irritably.
The diagnostician limped into the room. He sat down next to his youngest duckling and fished into the plastic bag he'd brought with him. He pulled out chips, salsa, and two beers. He shoved one into Chase's hands and opened the chips.
"Eat, drink, be merry."
"Can't I just be asleep?"
"No."
The Intensivist sighed, but popped the top off his beer and took a swig.
"Happy?"
"Delirious."
"Is there an actual reason as to why you're here?" Chase asked, sticking his hand into the bag of chips and stuffing one into his mouth.
"Yep."
"But you're not going to tell me, are you?"
"Nope."
"Right."
"Happy Son's Day!"
"Shut up."
… … … … … …
Father I will always be
That same boy that stood by the sea
And watched you tower over me
Now I'm older, I want to be the same as you
… … … … … …
Chase woke up with a splitting headache. He was sprawled across his couch, a blanket thrown over him. He took in the damage done to his apartment.
Chips were crushed into his carpet and several bottles of beer were strewn about the room. The salsa had fallen off the coffee table and was spattered over the floor. He vaguely remembered a conversation about Texas.
Groaning, he pulled himself up and looked at the clock. He had to be at work in half an hour. He stood, stretching, before heading to the kitchen, popping two aspirins, and making his way to the bathroom to shower. He had crumbs in his hair.
When he arrived at work, he still felt groggy and tired. Foreman raised an eyebrow at the bags under the Aussie's eyes.
"Long night?"
"Yea. Some lunatic broke into my house and forced me to eat junk food."
Cameron stared at him like he had lost his mind and Foreman just shook his head. All three turned when House walked through the door, looking refreshed and chipper. Chase glared at him darkly.
Nothing was said or communicated between the Intensivist and the Diagnostician and the duckling were sent to complete various errands.
As Chase left the conference room, he saw Wilson walking by, nose buried in a patient's file.
"Hello, Dr. Wilson."
The Oncologist looked up and smiled at the Aussie.
"'Morning, Chase."
The blonde was almost to the elevator when Wilson called back to him.
"Oh, Happy Son's Day, by the way!"
Chase's jaw dropped and he narrowed his eyes, looking back into his boss's office and muttering to himself about clever bastards.
When I am a dad, dad
I'm gonna be a good dad
Do the best you could, dad
Always understood, dad
Taught me what was right, dad
Opened up my eyes, dad
Glad to call you my, dad
Thank you for my life, dad
END
… … … … … …
The Lord is waiting to be kind to you. He rises to have compassion on you. The Lord is a God of justice. Blessed are all those who wait for Him. -- Isaiah 30:18