SPN/House - Beginning at the End - PG
Title: Beginning at the End 1/?
Fandom: House/SPN
Pairing: JW/RC
Word Count: 758
Summary: Back to front and topsy-turvey. He swears this was never meant to happen.
Author's Notes: So, deannawol and I are sharing a fandom brain, apparently. I pause for the gasps of shock and disbelief...we were discussing Chase's essential bottom-ness and well, we both picked the same man to pair him off with. So we're doing a write-off. Seven days, one relationship, two different takes.
Note the second: deannawol's story can be read here
Doctor Robert Chase's morning started much like any other. House - freshly back from a week-long sick leave - had vanished behind a mountain of carefully selected case reports. His three 'ducklings' (even Chase was calling them that now) had spent the first three days enjoying their freedom and the remaining four, paranoid about House's likely fury if they bungled any of their cases. Wilson was hovering, not quite admitting to the lingering concern over House's breathing. Foreman was clock-watching; his belated holidays were due to start at twelve and he was keeping well away from their boss until then. Cameron was leafing through a stack of medical journals, looking for new rare ailments in the confident belief that Murphy's Law would send them a case sooner or later.
Which left him the joys of triaging clinic, Chase thought as he started to sort through the files stacked at the lobby. Cuddy had excused House after his spirited petition had led to a coughing fit that had led to what could have been the Guinness World Record for most doctors attending. Well, would have been if they hadn't mostly been betting on his chances. Chase was smiling as he walked into a...very, very full waiting room and he managed not to sigh. He'd probably be here for hours, might as well make the best of it. He stacked the files in order of how much patience he was likely to need to deal with them and was debating between a 'high fever' and an infected piercing when the doors burst in.
Two paramedics with a gurney, another helping a tall young man hobble along behind. "WE NEED SOME HELP HERE!"
Chase was already yanking his stethoscope over his head. The paramedic filled him in; male, late twenties, severe lacerations to the abdomen and upper thigh, gunshot wound to his left arm and he'd lost consciousness on the trip in. No name, no medical history. Chase nodded, barked orders over his shoulder as he ripped open the bloodied T-shirt.
The flash of metal caught his eye and his eyes flicked up and he froze. Cameron's hand jarred against his arm. "Chase? Something wrong?"
"I-he-...no, nothing." Chase's hands moved on auto-pilot; bandaged, stitched and inspected. He knocked Cameron's hand away when she would have cut away the amulet, carefully not catching her eye as he peeled off filthy jeans and tucked sheets around the patient. Within ten minutes, all the machines were hooked up. Blood and antibiotics were running through the IVs and Cameron was organizing the tests.
Chase stared at the pale, slack face and Cameron touched his shoulder. Chase managed to keep the startled jump down to a few inches, instead of going through the ceiling. Cameron’s eyes were going all soft and compassionate and that was bad on oh so many levels. "What's wrong?"
"Uh-hmm? Oh, nothing!” Chase wasn’t very good at lying, but he was fantastic at evasion. Plus, he’d just remembered something pretty important. “Uh, this guy didn't come in alone, did he?"
"There was someone else involved, I think. Trauma two, probably."
"I'll...be right back." Chase looped his stethoscope over his neck and grabbed the file on his way past. He opened the door just as a beaker shattered against the wall beside it. He ducked back; then peered cautiously around the door. "Doctor Harris? Is everything alright?"
The young man who'd come in leaning on the paramedic was either chasing Doctor Harris around the exam table or being chased around the exam table by Doctor Harris. Both men stopped to stare at him in shock. The young man was the first to recover. "Doctor! My b...my friend? How is he?"
Doctor Harris rolled his eyes. "You want to take over?"
"Sure." Chase fidgeted with the chart until the door swung closed behind Harris. The young man loomed up over him and Chase had to fight a flinch. "Please! My-"
Chase dropped the file onto the table and grabbed a wrist, streaked with blood and muck. "Hold on a minute. I need to see to your injuries."
"But my-"
Chase glared up him. "Your brother is alive, Mr Winchester; which is more than I'll be able to say about you if you don't let me see that!"
His patient staggered back, stumbling into an awkward sitting position on the table. "You- what- How did you know?"
Chase looked - still up, and holy cow but the boy was big - at the youngest Winchester and said, with perfect truth. "You have your father's eyes."
Fandom: House/SPN
Pairing: JW/RC
Word Count: 758
Summary: Back to front and topsy-turvey. He swears this was never meant to happen.
Author's Notes: So, deannawol and I are sharing a fandom brain, apparently. I pause for the gasps of shock and disbelief...we were discussing Chase's essential bottom-ness and well, we both picked the same man to pair him off with. So we're doing a write-off. Seven days, one relationship, two different takes.
Note the second: deannawol's story can be read here
Doctor Robert Chase's morning started much like any other. House - freshly back from a week-long sick leave - had vanished behind a mountain of carefully selected case reports. His three 'ducklings' (even Chase was calling them that now) had spent the first three days enjoying their freedom and the remaining four, paranoid about House's likely fury if they bungled any of their cases. Wilson was hovering, not quite admitting to the lingering concern over House's breathing. Foreman was clock-watching; his belated holidays were due to start at twelve and he was keeping well away from their boss until then. Cameron was leafing through a stack of medical journals, looking for new rare ailments in the confident belief that Murphy's Law would send them a case sooner or later.
Which left him the joys of triaging clinic, Chase thought as he started to sort through the files stacked at the lobby. Cuddy had excused House after his spirited petition had led to a coughing fit that had led to what could have been the Guinness World Record for most doctors attending. Well, would have been if they hadn't mostly been betting on his chances. Chase was smiling as he walked into a...very, very full waiting room and he managed not to sigh. He'd probably be here for hours, might as well make the best of it. He stacked the files in order of how much patience he was likely to need to deal with them and was debating between a 'high fever' and an infected piercing when the doors burst in.
Two paramedics with a gurney, another helping a tall young man hobble along behind. "WE NEED SOME HELP HERE!"
Chase was already yanking his stethoscope over his head. The paramedic filled him in; male, late twenties, severe lacerations to the abdomen and upper thigh, gunshot wound to his left arm and he'd lost consciousness on the trip in. No name, no medical history. Chase nodded, barked orders over his shoulder as he ripped open the bloodied T-shirt.
The flash of metal caught his eye and his eyes flicked up and he froze. Cameron's hand jarred against his arm. "Chase? Something wrong?"
"I-he-...no, nothing." Chase's hands moved on auto-pilot; bandaged, stitched and inspected. He knocked Cameron's hand away when she would have cut away the amulet, carefully not catching her eye as he peeled off filthy jeans and tucked sheets around the patient. Within ten minutes, all the machines were hooked up. Blood and antibiotics were running through the IVs and Cameron was organizing the tests.
Chase stared at the pale, slack face and Cameron touched his shoulder. Chase managed to keep the startled jump down to a few inches, instead of going through the ceiling. Cameron’s eyes were going all soft and compassionate and that was bad on oh so many levels. "What's wrong?"
"Uh-hmm? Oh, nothing!” Chase wasn’t very good at lying, but he was fantastic at evasion. Plus, he’d just remembered something pretty important. “Uh, this guy didn't come in alone, did he?"
"There was someone else involved, I think. Trauma two, probably."
"I'll...be right back." Chase looped his stethoscope over his neck and grabbed the file on his way past. He opened the door just as a beaker shattered against the wall beside it. He ducked back; then peered cautiously around the door. "Doctor Harris? Is everything alright?"
The young man who'd come in leaning on the paramedic was either chasing Doctor Harris around the exam table or being chased around the exam table by Doctor Harris. Both men stopped to stare at him in shock. The young man was the first to recover. "Doctor! My b...my friend? How is he?"
Doctor Harris rolled his eyes. "You want to take over?"
"Sure." Chase fidgeted with the chart until the door swung closed behind Harris. The young man loomed up over him and Chase had to fight a flinch. "Please! My-"
Chase dropped the file onto the table and grabbed a wrist, streaked with blood and muck. "Hold on a minute. I need to see to your injuries."
"But my-"
Chase glared up him. "Your brother is alive, Mr Winchester; which is more than I'll be able to say about you if you don't let me see that!"
His patient staggered back, stumbling into an awkward sitting position on the table. "You- what- How did you know?"
Chase looked - still up, and holy cow but the boy was big - at the youngest Winchester and said, with perfect truth. "You have your father's eyes."