Fic: Rumpus (Chase-centric)
Title: Rumpus
Author: kaitmaree77
Rating: PG 13
Fandom: House
Warning: Angst; mention of animal abuse
Summary: Animals are supposed to be good for grief.
Notes: Random angsty-cute drabble. Thanks to enigma731 and spyndisguise .
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Will you keep out all the sadness?
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Animals are supposed to be good for grief, or so Chase has read and been reminded of numerous times in the tragic nature of his career. The elements of loneliness he finds himself exposed to everyday are inevitable unavoidable.
He’d had a dog when he was younger. He was a golden retriever with the softest fur. He had been Chase’s best friend, kept him safe at night, and never minded when Chase cried into his fur as his parents screamed and glass was broken outside his door. He’d been there the day his Dad left, and the evening his Mum died. Hadn’t wanted for anything more than to nestle his head against Chase’s leg and looked up with eyes that said it all.
His name was Oliver, or Ollie for short, and the day he’d died had felt like God’s personal vengeance for Chase’s loyalty to the dog, so he’d sworn to never get an animal ever again. Or love anything or anyone ever again. He kept up the animal promise, but humans continued to shatter his hopes of fulfilment and belonging. Despite trying his hardest to remain a cynic of love, people kept pulling him forth, ripping him open, and ensuring the wounds remained tender. Chase sort of blamed himself.
The animal shelter is five miles out of town, and Chase considers turning back for most of the drive. It’s probably a mistake. After all, isn’t it selfish? Subjecting some poor animal to the pathetic existence of his own life because he’s lonely? Chase shakes the thoughts away, turns into the property, and prepares for whatever lays behind those gates.
It’s harder than he anticipated.
Different from the hospital. Different from the human sphere of tragedy. There are cats, dogs, horses, and he can tell the ones who will be picked first. They have the nicest fur, the cleanest teeth, they’re young. They’re happy. It’s sort of a vicious cycle; no one wants the pup or kitten that’s curled up in the back. The one who’s given up.
Chase pays special attention to those. The attendant doesn’t say anything, but her smile says that she appreciates the gesture. In the end, it’s an eight year old male tabby with patches in his fur that steals Chase’s heart. He’s also deaf, and has a lame leg. He names him Max, a name he’d always had in mind since the stories he’d read as a child. He tries not to let it hurt his heart that the feline curls away at his touch, a sign of abandonment, a sign of mistreatment.
He lets him sleep on the bed. That’s all he really does. Sleep. Eat. But he opens one cautious eye whenever Chase tries to move to get more comfortable, and it makes him laugh. So long he’s lived alone, hadn’t had to adapt to the peeves of anyone else, had free reign of the entire apartment. Freedom had been overrated without anyone to share it with.
After awhile Max starts to warm up to Chase. It’s sweet, in a sad sort of way. The fact they only have each other. The fact Chase actually panics a little when he comes home late one night and can’t find the cat in his usual spot. In the end he’s somehow ended up on top of the bookcase, and is glancing down at the floor, terrified. It feels good when the cat settles himself against Chase that night in gratitude, and the purring lulls him to sleep.
It’s just one cat, but together they’re a pair, and the world is a little less lonely.
Author: kaitmaree77
Rating: PG 13
Fandom: House
Warning: Angst; mention of animal abuse
Summary: Animals are supposed to be good for grief.
Notes: Random angsty-cute drabble. Thanks to enigma731 and spyndisguise .
-
Will you keep out all the sadness?
-
Animals are supposed to be good for grief, or so Chase has read and been reminded of numerous times in the tragic nature of his career. The elements of loneliness he finds himself exposed to everyday are inevitable unavoidable.
He’d had a dog when he was younger. He was a golden retriever with the softest fur. He had been Chase’s best friend, kept him safe at night, and never minded when Chase cried into his fur as his parents screamed and glass was broken outside his door. He’d been there the day his Dad left, and the evening his Mum died. Hadn’t wanted for anything more than to nestle his head against Chase’s leg and looked up with eyes that said it all.
His name was Oliver, or Ollie for short, and the day he’d died had felt like God’s personal vengeance for Chase’s loyalty to the dog, so he’d sworn to never get an animal ever again. Or love anything or anyone ever again. He kept up the animal promise, but humans continued to shatter his hopes of fulfilment and belonging. Despite trying his hardest to remain a cynic of love, people kept pulling him forth, ripping him open, and ensuring the wounds remained tender. Chase sort of blamed himself.
The animal shelter is five miles out of town, and Chase considers turning back for most of the drive. It’s probably a mistake. After all, isn’t it selfish? Subjecting some poor animal to the pathetic existence of his own life because he’s lonely? Chase shakes the thoughts away, turns into the property, and prepares for whatever lays behind those gates.
It’s harder than he anticipated.
Different from the hospital. Different from the human sphere of tragedy. There are cats, dogs, horses, and he can tell the ones who will be picked first. They have the nicest fur, the cleanest teeth, they’re young. They’re happy. It’s sort of a vicious cycle; no one wants the pup or kitten that’s curled up in the back. The one who’s given up.
Chase pays special attention to those. The attendant doesn’t say anything, but her smile says that she appreciates the gesture. In the end, it’s an eight year old male tabby with patches in his fur that steals Chase’s heart. He’s also deaf, and has a lame leg. He names him Max, a name he’d always had in mind since the stories he’d read as a child. He tries not to let it hurt his heart that the feline curls away at his touch, a sign of abandonment, a sign of mistreatment.
He lets him sleep on the bed. That’s all he really does. Sleep. Eat. But he opens one cautious eye whenever Chase tries to move to get more comfortable, and it makes him laugh. So long he’s lived alone, hadn’t had to adapt to the peeves of anyone else, had free reign of the entire apartment. Freedom had been overrated without anyone to share it with.
After awhile Max starts to warm up to Chase. It’s sweet, in a sad sort of way. The fact they only have each other. The fact Chase actually panics a little when he comes home late one night and can’t find the cat in his usual spot. In the end he’s somehow ended up on top of the bookcase, and is glancing down at the floor, terrified. It feels good when the cat settles himself against Chase that night in gratitude, and the purring lulls him to sleep.
It’s just one cat, but together they’re a pair, and the world is a little less lonely.