What's Your Name? Who's Your Daddy? Is He Rich Like Me? (1/?)
Fandom: House
Pairing: (none)
Rating: PG-13-ish
Summary: Chase has an illegitimate long-lost son. Lulz ensue.
House thought he’d seen that kid somewhere. The kid was standing at the end of the hall, floppy blonde hair in his eyes. House squinted, as if that would reveal to him the identity of this familiar child.
They stared at each other for some time, before they both slowly turned in opposite directions and continued on their separate ways.
When House saw the kid a second time, he started to get suspicious. He hated trying to remember someone and being unable to. It was so frustrating that he just wanted to go diagnose someone with lupus so they’d end up dying because no one ever has fucking lupus.
The kid walked up to him.
“Do you know my daddy?”
“Who’s your, uh, daddy?” House instantly felt creepy for saying that to a 12 year old.
“His name is Robert Chase.”
“Dude! No way! Je-rry! Je-rry! Stay right here, I have to go get Wilson!”
House hobbled as fast as he possibly could; faster than if he was running from the child support authorities, as he suspected Chase soon would be.
He burst into the patient’s room.
“Wilson! You need to come with me right now!”
“I’m with a patient, House.” Wilson said, exasperated, as though he’d never experienced such blatant unprofessionalism before.
“It’s okay about the milk!”
“Dude! No way!” Wilson said, throwing down the chart and starting to follow House to the door.
“Wait,” The patient said, adjusting her scarf, “You can’t leave, I’m about to go to chemotherapy!”
“You don’t understand,” Wilson said, “There’s drama afoot.” With that, he dashed off.
-----
House couldn’t help but grin as he walked into the conference room. He and Wilson had already planned the dramatic reveal of Chase’s son.
“Has Wilson been slipping you Prozac again?” Chase asked.
“No. I’m just excited.”
“I’m not gonna ask why.”
“I really think you should.“
“I’m not going to.”
“How many women did you sleep with in Australia?”
“Smooth transition there.”
“Oh, I think you’ll find it relevant.” House turned, before summoning, “Bring the child!”
“I never want to hear you say that again.”
Wilson walked in, leading the kid.
“Oh, cute,” Chase said, cracking a smug grin, “You found a kid who kind of looks like me, trying to pass him off as my son. Not that simple, House, you did that on April Fool’s in 2006.”
“His name’s Dashiell,” House said, “Dashiell, tell daddy your mom’s name.” He winced at having to say ‘Daddy’ again.
“Shirley Bishop.”
Chase’s face fell into a worried frown.
“That proves nothing.” He said, quietly, “Shirley was…”
“A whore,” Dashiell said, nodding, “Back in Melbourne, the running joke was that if I’d been named after my father, I’d be named Rick Joe Jim Bob Dave.”
House snorted.
“But Mom always said that you were my father. She was always sure about it.”
“Why’d she send you here?” Chase asked, kneeling down to Dashiell’s eye level.
“She wanted me to meet you. And her new boyfriend and I don’t really get along. None of her boyfriends have ever liked me.”
“Yeah,” Chase said, glancing away.
A few moments of silence passed.
“How about you go down to the cafeteria and get something to eat?” Chase said, “I’m gonna give Shirley a call.”
“Cool! Do they have pizza?” Dashiell asked, grinning.
“Yes, they do.” Chase said, weakly returning the smile, “House, take him.”
House sighed.
“Okay, but if there’s only one Cosmic brownie left I will not hesitate to beat up your son.”
“I could totally take you.” Dashiell said.
“Wanna bet?” House replied, as they both left the conference room.
-----
“He’s your son,” Shirley rasped, the result of smoking for the majority of her life.
“How can you know that?” Chase said, running his fingers through his hair, “Everyone knows you get around.”
“I have to tell you something, Robert. Have you ever wondered why I only have one son?”
“Shirley, I’m not interested in hearing how many abortions you’ve had.”
“I’ve been on birth control since I was nine. But I stopped taking it when I was with you.”
“What?” Chase said, eyes widening, “Why the fuck would you do that?”
“I honestly thought we’d get married.”
“I wish you’d let me in on that notion! For God’s sake, you even told me that you weren’t in love but you’d fuck me ‘till somebody better came along! And someone better did come along! Peter goddamn Parsons for fuck’s sake!”
Chase heard a mucus-y cough hacked on the other end.
“Only because you were leaving for America,” Shirley finally said, “Don’t you remember?”
“No! I can’t even talk to you, you’re fucking insane.”
“Look, he’s your son. He’s there. Get to know him.”
Chase hung up.
-----
The damn kid had beaten House to the last chocolate pudding. House wanted that pudding.
“Your pudding looks like poop.”
Dashiell grinned and shoved in a spoonful, then stuck out his tongue.
“It looks like poop is on my tongue.”
“Gross!” House replied.
“I’m gonna swallow poop.”
“Stop it!”
Revenge burned through House’s blood.
“I’m telling your dad that you said poop.”
Dashiell scoffed.
“Great threat there. I was raised by my mom. I was the kid who taught everyone else ‘pigfucking cunt’.”
“Where the hell did you go to middle school?”
“The middle school of hard knocks, motherfucker,” Dashiell said before throwing up a gang sign. He laughed, but stopped when he looked over House’s shoulder. House turned, to see Chase walking toward them.
“I’m gonna want to get this tested. Genetically, y’know,” Chase said, shoving his hands into his pockets and not making eye contact, “But, um, you’re here. You can stay with me until we sort this all out.”
Dashiell nodded.
“I’m off the clock now. Let’s go.”
Dashiell dutifully stood and followed Chase. They silently walked out of the cafeteria, Chase with his eyes on the ground and Dashiell with his eyes on Chase. House watched until they were gone, and then grabbed the bowl of remaining pudding. Victory was his.
Pairing: (none)
Rating: PG-13-ish
Summary: Chase has an illegitimate long-lost son. Lulz ensue.
House thought he’d seen that kid somewhere. The kid was standing at the end of the hall, floppy blonde hair in his eyes. House squinted, as if that would reveal to him the identity of this familiar child.
They stared at each other for some time, before they both slowly turned in opposite directions and continued on their separate ways.
When House saw the kid a second time, he started to get suspicious. He hated trying to remember someone and being unable to. It was so frustrating that he just wanted to go diagnose someone with lupus so they’d end up dying because no one ever has fucking lupus.
The kid walked up to him.
“Do you know my daddy?”
“Who’s your, uh, daddy?” House instantly felt creepy for saying that to a 12 year old.
“His name is Robert Chase.”
“Dude! No way! Je-rry! Je-rry! Stay right here, I have to go get Wilson!”
House hobbled as fast as he possibly could; faster than if he was running from the child support authorities, as he suspected Chase soon would be.
He burst into the patient’s room.
“Wilson! You need to come with me right now!”
“I’m with a patient, House.” Wilson said, exasperated, as though he’d never experienced such blatant unprofessionalism before.
“It’s okay about the milk!”
“Dude! No way!” Wilson said, throwing down the chart and starting to follow House to the door.
“Wait,” The patient said, adjusting her scarf, “You can’t leave, I’m about to go to chemotherapy!”
“You don’t understand,” Wilson said, “There’s drama afoot.” With that, he dashed off.
-----
House couldn’t help but grin as he walked into the conference room. He and Wilson had already planned the dramatic reveal of Chase’s son.
“Has Wilson been slipping you Prozac again?” Chase asked.
“No. I’m just excited.”
“I’m not gonna ask why.”
“I really think you should.“
“I’m not going to.”
“How many women did you sleep with in Australia?”
“Smooth transition there.”
“Oh, I think you’ll find it relevant.” House turned, before summoning, “Bring the child!”
“I never want to hear you say that again.”
Wilson walked in, leading the kid.
“Oh, cute,” Chase said, cracking a smug grin, “You found a kid who kind of looks like me, trying to pass him off as my son. Not that simple, House, you did that on April Fool’s in 2006.”
“His name’s Dashiell,” House said, “Dashiell, tell daddy your mom’s name.” He winced at having to say ‘Daddy’ again.
“Shirley Bishop.”
Chase’s face fell into a worried frown.
“That proves nothing.” He said, quietly, “Shirley was…”
“A whore,” Dashiell said, nodding, “Back in Melbourne, the running joke was that if I’d been named after my father, I’d be named Rick Joe Jim Bob Dave.”
House snorted.
“But Mom always said that you were my father. She was always sure about it.”
“Why’d she send you here?” Chase asked, kneeling down to Dashiell’s eye level.
“She wanted me to meet you. And her new boyfriend and I don’t really get along. None of her boyfriends have ever liked me.”
“Yeah,” Chase said, glancing away.
A few moments of silence passed.
“How about you go down to the cafeteria and get something to eat?” Chase said, “I’m gonna give Shirley a call.”
“Cool! Do they have pizza?” Dashiell asked, grinning.
“Yes, they do.” Chase said, weakly returning the smile, “House, take him.”
House sighed.
“Okay, but if there’s only one Cosmic brownie left I will not hesitate to beat up your son.”
“I could totally take you.” Dashiell said.
“Wanna bet?” House replied, as they both left the conference room.
-----
“He’s your son,” Shirley rasped, the result of smoking for the majority of her life.
“How can you know that?” Chase said, running his fingers through his hair, “Everyone knows you get around.”
“I have to tell you something, Robert. Have you ever wondered why I only have one son?”
“Shirley, I’m not interested in hearing how many abortions you’ve had.”
“I’ve been on birth control since I was nine. But I stopped taking it when I was with you.”
“What?” Chase said, eyes widening, “Why the fuck would you do that?”
“I honestly thought we’d get married.”
“I wish you’d let me in on that notion! For God’s sake, you even told me that you weren’t in love but you’d fuck me ‘till somebody better came along! And someone better did come along! Peter goddamn Parsons for fuck’s sake!”
Chase heard a mucus-y cough hacked on the other end.
“Only because you were leaving for America,” Shirley finally said, “Don’t you remember?”
“No! I can’t even talk to you, you’re fucking insane.”
“Look, he’s your son. He’s there. Get to know him.”
Chase hung up.
-----
The damn kid had beaten House to the last chocolate pudding. House wanted that pudding.
“Your pudding looks like poop.”
Dashiell grinned and shoved in a spoonful, then stuck out his tongue.
“It looks like poop is on my tongue.”
“Gross!” House replied.
“I’m gonna swallow poop.”
“Stop it!”
Revenge burned through House’s blood.
“I’m telling your dad that you said poop.”
Dashiell scoffed.
“Great threat there. I was raised by my mom. I was the kid who taught everyone else ‘pigfucking cunt’.”
“Where the hell did you go to middle school?”
“The middle school of hard knocks, motherfucker,” Dashiell said before throwing up a gang sign. He laughed, but stopped when he looked over House’s shoulder. House turned, to see Chase walking toward them.
“I’m gonna want to get this tested. Genetically, y’know,” Chase said, shoving his hands into his pockets and not making eye contact, “But, um, you’re here. You can stay with me until we sort this all out.”
Dashiell nodded.
“I’m off the clock now. Let’s go.”
Dashiell dutifully stood and followed Chase. They silently walked out of the cafeteria, Chase with his eyes on the ground and Dashiell with his eyes on Chase. House watched until they were gone, and then grabbed the bowl of remaining pudding. Victory was his.