Disclaimer: Don't own.
A/N: HI! All medical facts are crap and don't actually add up to a real disease it's all part of my imagination so please bear with me. I'm a stupid teen that doesn't know any medical facts besides how to treat a headache...
"Do you love her?" The question shocked Chase and almost caused him to swerve off the road. But, as the initial shock wore off he knew perfectly well that he should have expected these words to escape Cameron's lips.
He pondered the best answer to this question that would slightly change the subject of him and his fellow Australian mate but not enough that Cameron would find it suspicious.
"Well, yeah. Don't you love your best friend?" Chase inquired.
"Yeah… but I mean more than that. More than 'just friends,'" She tore her eyes away from the New Jersey scenery to study his sharp features and facile expressions as she asked the question. She was trying to pick up a clue to the answer off his body langue—something she was particularly good at.
Chase, knowing this, tried not no move a inch or flutter an eyelash as he replied, "Did once," almost solemnly, yet not in a way, very Chase-ish.
Cameron got the hint that he didn't want to talk about it. That was fine with her, for now at least, she'll get him to talk to her eventually. After all she was Cameron and he was, of course, Chase. Chase—who really wanted to talk about his past and all the lies and plot twists that went with it. Yet, he couldn't, not with any one but April-May who knew the painful plot twists just as much if not more than he did. Chase was thinking all of this as they pulled up to Jean's Bar. He was pretty sure it had a name but everyone just called it "Jean's Bar" the proper name having been ditched long ago—along with most of the health codes.
"We're here," Chase said with as much cheerfulness as he could muster.
ILoveChaseILoveChaseILoveChaseILoveChaseILoveChaseILoveChaseILoveChase
"We're here," Forman said with as much cheerfulness as he could muster. The thought of him breaking into a co-workers apartment did not sit well with him. Actually, any breaking in did not sit well with him after his arrest. He sighed watching his boss pulling out his gold card and taking way to much pleasure in jimmying the lock.
Both the snobby employer and convict employee gasped as the door to their only wombat friend's door swung open with ease revealing a not too shabby three bedroom apartment. It wasn't the floor to ceiling bookshelf packed with book fighting for space (all of them written in middle to early-modern English House noted) or the huge flat screen TV with surround sound speakers that could knock your socks off; it wasn't the four guitars, two basses, piano, keyboard, or set of drums that left them gapping mouthed open in the doorway. It was the hundreds of framed photographs that took up every inch of free wall space.
There were too many to count. Some abstracted, some of them portraits, a few of Chase shaking hands with extremely prominent members of the medical field. House noticed in these Chase's smile was phony; he looked as if he really didn't want to be where he was; like he wanted to be in one the other photos where he was smiling real and warm: a young teen-age looking Chase laying on a couch with an unrecognizable girl laying on him a guitar splayed over her stomach both their hands on the frets and over the sound hole as if they could both play at the same time, you'd this by their grins they could. Or in one where it was Chase wearing a surf suit as he was walking out of the ocean; his hair wet and being whipped around by the Australian wind.
But, that wasn't the only interesting thing about Chase's apartment as House and Forman soon found out. In his cupboards there must have been at least three dozen jars of vegemite and absolutely no junk food in sight. One of his bedrooms has been converted into a dark room. There were some pictures hanging to dry. They were of him and that same girl that he was on the couch with, in the picture they were at some club only it didn't have quite that same club vibe—besides the huge disco ball in the background. She was grinning into the camera holding up a shot glass, a hand rolled cigarette popping out of her mouth Chase was looking at her—not the camera and smiling an even bigger smile (if that was possible.) He was slightly biting his lip and they both had that sorta-almost-kinda tipsy look to them.
"Wow, I didn't know he was into photography," House said the words slipping accidentally out of his mouth.
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"Wow, I didn't know he was into photography," Cameron said the words accidentally slipping out of her mouth.
She gazed up at the abstract pictures hanging all over the club. (No bar—wait club. She still didn't know every one insisted that it was a bar, but then there was that ridiculously large disco ball…) There must have been a hundred; they were all of different parts of the club/bar and a few people, ("Okay," Cameron decided inwardly, "from now on it's a 'blub,'") parts that would have been normally over looked, but the way Chase had brought them out in his pictures was well… incredible was the only word that popped into Cameron's mind that correctly suited the said incredible photos.
"Yeah, their fabulous aren't they?" replied the bartender, a girl Cameron had forgotten the name of. She was only briefly chatting with her while Chase was going to talk to some other girl named Jean to see if it was okay to get samples, but she still felt a sense of over empowering guilt for forgetting her name in such a small period of time.
"Breathtaking," Cameron agreed. She was about to say something more but just then Chase walked back in trailing an older woman who had the presents of a young devoted fireball. She reminded Cameron of Cuddy.
"So, are you or are not with April-May? Because that was one hot kiss last night," teased the bartender. Chase immediately blushed like a school girl and ran a hand through that gorgeous hair.
"It wasn't that type of kiss, Zoë" He said walking behind the bar to pour himself a drink.
"Hey, you don't work here anymore, no free drinks!" The elder woman said swatting at his hand. He pulled out his wallet and slapped a five dollar bill on the counter. Her harshness didn't seem to faze him in the slightest bit.
"Then what kind of kiss was it," Interrogated the Zoë, "I mean you guys have been dating since middle school when are you finally gonna realize that she's the one and marry the damn girl,"
Chase sighed and took a swig of water wishing it was a slightly stronger clear drink before simply saying, "We're not dating now,"
The girl who had yelled at Chase before turned her attention way from the sticky spot on the counter she was wiping up with her saliva-covered thumb back to Chase, "Take whatever samples you want just don't call the health code people. Got it?" she clarified sternly.
"Got it," Chase replied, "I'm not a squeal, thanks Jean," He bent over and planted a kiss on her cheek, "You're the best,"
"I always was," She sauntered away, again, acting younger than her age. Chase giggle a little and shook his head at the floor while Zoë rolled her eyes and stuck Chase's money in the cash register.
"Come on," Chase motioned to the floor, talking to Cameron, "We should get samples,"