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“Come on, come on, come on,” House mutters under his breath as the elevator creeps to the ground floor, so slow he could almost believe it’s been rigged against him.
He jabs the Open Doors button with his cane as soon as it stops and launches himself through the doors. Fast but not fast enough. The first thing he sees is Chase leaping over the last couple of stairs and landing in front of him, both of them ridiculously out of breath. (It’s a good thing Chase is distracted or he’ll start going at him about physio exercises and cardio, as if House would ever refuse that, if only Chase had the right cardio in mind.)
Their eyes meet and for a single, horrifying second House thinks Chase isn’t going to run.
It chills him a little, the idea that Chase will fake a stumble, settle into a normal walk, hell, even purposefully go the wrong way. The idea that maybe he doesn’t see them as equals, not in all ways, not in this way. They aren’t, realistically speaking. House, as something of a self-proclaimed master of realism, knows that. Everybody with a functioning pair of eyes – hell, even just one, can see that but that doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care what everyone else sees or thinks but if Chase—
Then the blond winks at him, blows him a fucking kiss – the little bastard, and books it fast, as if House has a prayer of chasing him down. Well, he sure as hell is going to give it his best shot.
Try as he might, Chase is already transferring the clinic patient Park paged him about (the patient House’s own minion in the clinic today paged him about as well) into his expert care.
“Doctor Chase,” he leans on the wall slightly, trying not to appear as out of breath as he is. “Always the first to… arrive.”
Tone suggestive enough that a nun outside the hospital doors can probably pick up on the insinuation but Chase just smiles at him serenely. Smug little bastard.
“Wake up every day and try to help as many people as possible, that’s what I always say,” Chase – who has never in his life said that and probably hadn’t even thought it until two days ago, says with the kind of humble voice and beatific expression that, if it doesn’t get him the sainthood, is bound to get him into 80% of the nurses’ panties or boxers.
As if House is gonna let that happen.
“Aren’t we all just so lucky to have you.”
Chase signs the patient’s chart and makes sure to brush against House’s shoulder on his way back to Diagnostics – probably about to take the elevator, now that he isn’t racing House like an 11-year-old, whispering for his ears only.
“You sure are.”
The temptation to follow after the blond is inferior to only one thing – the desire to win. House signs in for clinic duty with a resigned sigh. Let’s see Chase get there before him when he’s the one examining the patient.
///
Foreman corners him at the nurses’ station three patients in.
“What are you up to?”
“You know, you ask the guy you got out of jail time that question, it might make people talk.”
“You’re 4 hours over your clinic duty for the week already. I’m holding off on calling the cops but you’ll have to excuse me for being suspicious.”
“Someone very smart once said that we wake up every day and try to help as many people as possible,” House pretends to think for a second. “Or maybe he was just very pretty.”
“House.”
“Just doing my job. You want a full report, you should go talk to your department head.”
“Chase is good at wrangling you,” Foreman states with a hint of smugness that makes House wish he could disprove that on the spot. “But he’s not 4-extra-hours-of-clinic-duty good.”
House pulls a sympathetic face.
“If you think that, you really need to get some. Like good some, like really, really good some.”
Foreman is most definitely weighing debating the ethics of that insinuation or just shutting up and reaping the benefits, when Ramirez comes literally running to House’s rescue.
“Patient just out of abdominal surgery and they found something that most definitely did not belong in there,” he pants out, handing House a file and looking around like he’s undercover. “Doctor Chase and his team are still discussing his latest patient.”
“Who should’ve been my latest patient,” House stresses, leaning towards the shorter man but still snatching the file. “Get Taub and meet me in my office.”
“House!” Foreman crosses his arms.
“Sorry, boss, I was told I was hanging around the clinic too much,” House shouts halfway to the elevators already.
///
By 9pm Chase’s case is wrapped up, House’s guy left for monitoring with Ramirez, and both have seen two more patients each. And yet, Foreman watches them make their way out of the hospital at a leisurely pace, shoulders bumping together until Chase’s hand slips into House’s back pocket for just a second, teasing and then gone, dancing out of reach of the swipe of the other man’s cane. Business as usual and nothing to explain the sudden burst of productivity of the Diagnostics department.
This is more than just having Chase in charge. Paperwork’s being filed regularly and diligently, questionable practices are covered more carefully, and sure, Chase has a bit more of a desire to prove himself, make a name for himself, treat some high profile patients (especially those first few months) but, just as Foreman suspected, he’s very much inherited House’s laid back and yet rather picky approach to selecting patients.
It can’t be the combination of House and Chase either. That’s been in effect for over a year now and, while Foreman’s cautiously pleased and optimistic about how the new arrangement of the department is working out for everyone (specifically the hospital’s renown) and can’t deny that Chase manages to keep House mostly in check on the days he isn’t joining him in his lunacy, he has definitely never managed to get House to deliver clinic hours without complaint, let alone exceed them.
And very much against his will, Foreman knows damn well that House will be “getting some” even if he doesn’t set foot in the clinic at all.
Hence why he finds himself knocking on Wilson’s door.
“Got a minute?”
“Barely,” Wilson says, trying to rearrange the pile of files on his desk before obviously deciding that came out snappier than intended. “Sorry, come in.”
“Thanks. I know you have a lot going on.”
“This is the kind of a lot oncologists don’t complain about.”
Ever since his personal success in the cancer trial, Wilson has been trying to get as many of his eligible patients in the program, or at least in similar programs, or at least on similar regiments. Foreman would bet House is all over it but he makes a note to keep an eye on Wilson, make sure he isn’t overworking himself.
“So. What can I help you with?”
“House and Chase—”
“Ah.”
“Have seen more patients in the last three days than the last three months combined probably.”
“It’s a competition.”
Foreman blinks.
“Excuse me?”
“They…” Wilson sighs and runs a hand down his face. “They have a competition on. Who can diagnose the most patients in a week.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“Not just any patient with any disease, of course,” Wilson waves the mere suggestion away. “I’ve been told there are very strict rules and criteria to avoid someone winning by diagnosing 20 kids with lice but also that some horses are allowed among the zebras.”
Foreman rubs a knuckle over the bridge of his nose.
“This better not be a quantity over quality sort of thing.”
“Well, I’ve also been told that each diagnosis needs to be confirmed by both parties,” Wilson is obviously going for sympathy but the you-shouldn’t-be-surprised-by-this in his voice is much louder. “And look at it this way – at least you’re getting positive results out of this, instead of yet another prank war.”
Foreman shakes his head, before frowning when a thought hits him.
“I just saw them go home. House was desperate enough for cases to be prowling the clinic and doing actual work today, why would he up and leave just because the sun went down?”
“Ah, yes. 9-to-9 business hours, no new cases outside of that window, just monitoring existing ones.”
“Way too sensible for House.”
“Sounds like a Chase rule, doesn’t it? But I think it could’ve gone either way. House has surely made no secret of the fact that he refuses to sleep alone now that he knows “how sweet the alternative is”.”
Wilson shudders a little but Foreman doesn’t buy it. Wilson must be happy for his friend, a year in, his skepticism over the wisdom and longevity of House moving in with Chase, when he should’ve by all means been moving back into a prison cell, has been tempered considerably, but, most of all, he must have been relieved to not have to worry about House on top of worrying about pesky things such as fighting cancer.
Personally, Foreman is surprised Wilson isn’t Chase’s #1 fan yet. Even without the House of it all, the younger doctor was the one to find the experimental trial for Wilson’s cancer. Then again, that might not have been the case without the House of it all. Then again, it might be exactly the House of it all giving Wilson mixed feelings. Guy helps save your life at the price of your best friend’s undivided love and affection? Foreman thinks it’s a pretty good deal but he has always valued his life much more than any friendship he might have had.
“Well, let’s hope it’s a tie. Another week of this nonsense will do wonders for our stats,” he glances back at the pile of folders on Wilson’s desk. “I’ll leave you to it. Don’t overdo it.”
///
“Twelve,” Chase sing-songs shamelessly.
Could one be a sore winner? He really shouldn’t get ahead of himself, House has plenty of time to turn things around but damn, this sure feels good.
“Please, a measly two-case lead. I’ll have you breathing my dust by lunch tomorrow,” House rolls his eyes as he drops on the bed to take off his jeans.
Chase grins, crawling behind the other man until his chest is flush with House’s back, slipping his hands underneath his jeans to help him get rid of them.
“Hmm, that doesn’t sound too bad. I hate to see you go but I love to watch you leave, as the great poet said.”
“I’ve always known you only want me for my body.”
“Have I made a secret of that?”
“It does give a man mixed signals when you engage him in a week-long, intellectual duel of medical prowess.”
“Oh no, I’m merely trying to establish my dominance, ease you into accepting your arm candy status before the annual gala rolls around.”
House’s snort is inelegant and completely involuntary and Chase smiles against his shoulder in triumph. Making House laugh still feels like Pop Rocks on his tongue, like a strike on his first ball. The purest kind of satisfaction.
“Presumptuous of you to think I’m going with you, Doctor Chase. I might be swimming in offers,” House turns his nose up to go with the Victorian lady tone of voice and shakes Chase off a little so he can swing his legs on the bed and settle against the pillows.
“Yeah? You should let your other suitors know I fight dirty,” Chase states as he demonstratively settles his arms on House’s bare chest and his chin on top of them.
There’s a genuine hint of jealousy in his voice which he knows House will find baffling but will also make the very edge of his mouth quirk up again. Exactly why Chase leans into it instead of smoothing over it.
“Oh, I know. If it were up to you, you’d be prowling the streets for people to drag into your lab and diagnose right now.”
“You make me sound like a mad scientist,” Chase gives him an unimpressed look.
“Don’t flatter yourself. A mad doctor at best.”
“Takes one to know one. You were just too lazy to fully commit.”
“More work than I’d like to do in a year and not getting to take you to bed for a week,” House returns his deadpan look tenfold. “Started sounding less like a daring challenge and more like a cruel and unusual punishment that Foreman designed to improve his precious ‘productivity levels’.”
House gives a theatrical shudder at those words before narrowing his eyes at the man half on top of him.
“Lazy arse,” Chase says breezily, lightly sinking his teeth into House’s left peck, but the tease is full of affection and they both know he would’ve been almost as miserable as House if they spend all hours of the day and night at the hospital, missing out on this.
“This generation, no respect for their elders.”
Chase snorts and gives House his best come-hither look.
“Would the daily consolation prize make you feel better?” he asks and watches House’s pride battle his ever present desire for a blowjob.
Chase was quite happy to take the consolation BJ after day 1, when House had a tenuous one-case lead and House seemed equally enthusiastic about losing the lead but gaining the daily prize last night. Two in a row though, Chase can see that chafing at House’s ego and can’t help but feel a little smug about it. He had certain ambitions when taking over Diagnostics but outdiagnosing House could never be one of them. Sue him for reveling in his temporary victory a bit.
“Well, it’s the least I deserve for giving you a chance at winning.”
House seems to have reconciled with any feelings that might keep him from getting his cock sucked, so Chase makes sure to give him a look that says exactly how much the faux magnanimity is not working before getting down to business.
///
“I’ll have you know this is potentially costing me a blowjob, so you better have some great insights into my psyche today,” is House’s opening line as soon as he enters Nolan’s office the following afternoon.
House, surprisingly naively apparently, assumed that the mere mention of his therapy appointment would convince Chase into a temporary halt of their little game. Chase, in all his devious glory, stared him down and said it would cost him his next consolation prize, should he earn one. He’s still torn between pride and outrage over that dastardly move.
“Clearly something you wish to discuss,” Nolan responds, predictably salivating over every little tidbit House shares unprompted.
“Just your standard lovers’ standoff over who can diagnose the most patients in a week. Accompanied by the appropriate consolation prizes and the big trophy at the end, of course.”
“Of course,” the therapist smiles, somehow both placating and taunting. “Keeping an element of playfulness in a relationship is actually very healthy.”
“Good lord, doctor, this is not a game. There are patients’ lives at stake,” House gasps in mock outrage and waits a full minute before determining that he will obviously not get a raise out of the other man that easily. “And, yes, Chase and I have always been the picture of healthy.”
Oh, he can tell Nolan wants to dig into that one. Probably something about them not displaying healthy behaviour separately but approaching it in their relationship. Thankfully, he’s smarter than that or House wouldn’t be here.
“So, what is the “big trophy”?”
House hesitates for a second and then realizes it’s a ridiculous thing to be secretive about.
“Winner gets to pick where we go on vacation.”
///
“And you’re trusting House with that?” Foreman whispers for the sake of everybody else in the cafeteria and for the sake of not revealing that he’s questioning the mental stability of one of his doctors.
Chase rolls his eyes demonstratively but admirably refuses to get dragged into defending his relationship again.
“Hey, I’m in the lead.”
Foreman gives him a pointed look.
“And I don’t mind House winning.”
“Really? You wanna spend two weeks watching lesbian porn on your couch?” Taub finally breaks and joins in before going back to nervously darting his eyes all over the cafeteria. “I still don’t think I should be here.”
Chase barely refrains from rolling his eyes at him as well.
“Would you relax? I told you, we’ve called a timeout. Park and Adams are right there,” he nods to a table behind Foreman and gives Taub a mocking look. “Unless you think that I’ve developed the ability to examine and treat patients telepathically…”
“You’ve certainly developed the ability to trap us all into working twice as hard as ever before,” Taub mutters unhappily.
“Oh, come on, it’s one week. Soon to be followed by two full weeks of no me and no House.”
“Could you take him along too?” Taub hooks his thumb to point at Foreman.
“Don’t blame this on me. I had to learn about it from Wilson.”
“Makes you wonder what else is going on under your nose in your hospital, doesn’t it?” Chase grins at him, teasing just for the sake of it.
To his credit, Foreman doesn’t take the bait, going back on the offensive.
“I’m just surprised you’d wager your first holiday together, given your track record.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You had all those big plans of taking Cameron to Australia…”
“Right. Which is exactly why I’m not doing that again,” Chase turns his focus on his salad, annoyed at feeling in real time as his mood deflates. “No grandiose plans. Maybe Hawaii, if I win, which is still a big IF.”
“Meaning,” Foreman keeps pushing. “You absolutely want a romantic beach holiday and are hoping if you keep it in the US, House might not completely shoot you down.”
Chase lets himself glare.
“Thought you just needed to approve the dates of employees’ holiday, not the purpose and location, and—”
“Fine,” Foreman holds his hands up and finally leans back. “I’ll mind my business.”
For about two hours, Chase thinks, but this time restrains himself.
Not a second later, an ear-splitting whistle makes the whole cafeteria cringe, Foreman glare and Taub jump up and abandon his omelet. House stares at him from the doorway and taps his watch and Chase turns to Foreman with a grin again.
“Let the games resume.”
///
It’s 9:12pm when House finds him still in his office, bent over the latest test results.
“Surely, you should be penalized for working after the buzzer.”
Chase sighs and looks up at House. He must look pretty damn tired for House to almost immediately drop his mock angry expression for a genuinely perturbed one. He’s honestly ashamed of how much he doesn’t want to do this. His pride should not be anywhere close to worth a patient’s health.
“I need a consult.”
House’s brow smooths out and he confidently strides into his old office.
“You know that means this one wouldn’t count—”
“Yes, House, I know.”
///
“This counts as one,” Park says, crossing her arms as she watches from the observation window.
“Like hell,” Ramirez’s voice buzzes through the intercom from the operating room. “That’s two for us and you know it.”
“The baby doesn’t count.”
“The baby absolutely counts! She would’ve been screwed, if we hadn’t diagnosed the mom on time. Plus, you had that whole family suffering from the same allergic reaction.”
Park glares, huffs and storms out and back to the clinic to look for pregnant women.
///
Wilson lifts his head to see House’s upper half hanging into his office and looking around.
“Got anyone you’re not sure actually has cancer?”
“No,” Wilson shoots him down without hesitation.
“Damn.”
“House!” he calls out as his door starts closing, despite his self-preservation skills screaming at him to not get between the bull and the red rag.
House’s head pops back around the doorway.
“What? Kind of on a timetable here.”
“And then what?”
“Then the peasants shall give me my crown and I shall lord it over Chase for the rest of our lives,” House intones with the voice of someone finishing off a wonderful bedtime story.
Wilson’s teeth are aching to address that but he decides to focus on the more immediate concern.
“Where are you taking Chase, if you win?”
“When I win, it’s not going to be much of a vacation, if you know where to find us.”
“House—”
“Wilson, I’m starting to think you’re in cahoots with my prettier half to slow me down and I’m already… should we say handicapped? So.”
And he’s gone before Wilson can get another word in.
///
“Forget it. I’m not working my ass off for another week,” House declares as he crosses his arms on the railing and leans next to Chase, presumably so he also has a perfect view of the front doors, in case someone with a complicated enough decease is brought in during the next – Chase checks the time – 9 minutes.
As if anything they can solve that fast is going to count.
He frowns as he assimilates House’s words.
“What?”
“We’re not ending this in a tie.”
“It’s not a tie.”
House turns to him with semi-genuine outrage.
“Yes, it is, you minx. Whatever you managed to sneak in, I haven’t signed off the diagnosis.”
Chase presses his lips together and glares at the infuriating man he has saddled himself with.
“I didn’t sneak anything in. You’re one ahead.”
“Unless you snuck in my office and erased a mark off my board, I’m pretty sure we’re both at twenty three.”
“No,” Chase says as if he’s talking to a particularly slow child, mostly because he’s annoyed at having to spell out his own defeat. “My team is at twenty three, yours is at twenty four. Mrs O’Neil.”
“Who?”
“The case I consulted you on,” Chase returns his gaze to the front doors.
House is suspiciously quiet for a couple of minutes.
“Thought that one didn’t count for either side,” he drawls eventually.
“You’re the one who diagnosed her.”
Another minute of silence. Chase doesn’t think he’s had House this quiet even when he’s half asleep in front of the Teleshop network.
“Huh,” House knocks his cane against the railing. “Well, I hope you’re not expecting me to be the bigger man here and say something like “Oh, no, sweetie, you did all the work”.”
Chase snorts and shakes his head.
“Didn’t even cross my mind.”
“Good.”
They both watch as the last minute ticks away. As the clock strikes 9, Chase can swear he hears both of their teams sigh in relief somewhere in the hospital. Taub especially.
It’s a bittersweet feeling. For a while there he was riding pretty high on the idea that he might beat House at this and he can be honest enough with himself to admit that his ego is a little bruised from having the victory slip away. And yet. A younger part of him is not so secretly glad to lose, to preserve the mysticism of House a little longer.
“Well, I guess congratulations are in order,” he says with a small smile, turning to his partner to see him already staring back.
“Oh, no, no, no,” House smirks at him. “I want to hear it.”
Chase, unfortunately, immediately knows what he means.
“I did not agree to that part.”
House makes a dismissive noise and waves his protests away, looking at him expectantly, and Chase sighs in resignation.
“You’re the king of Diagnostics. However long my,” Chase looks pointedly at him for this part. “Tyrannical rule may continue, everyone shall know I usurped the throne unjustly.”
House looks so damn pleased, waving his cane like a conductor while Chase talks, that he almost doesn’t mind the humiliation. Almost.
“Hmm,” House pulls a theatrical thinking face. “I remember there being something about you being the head but me being a much more important organ of—”
“I’m not saying that.”
“Fine. But I want a blowjob after my celebratory dinner.”
“What? Those were consolation blowjobs. If anything, I should be getting one of those!”
///
“House, I do not like this.”
“So you have said,” he says distractedly, looking between two equally offensively patterned pairs of shorts.
“If you just tell me where we’re going,” Chase’s plaintive voice seeps under the locked bedroom door. “I’m perfectly capable of packing my own luggage.”
“Fuck it,” House mutters and throws both pairs in Chase’s luggage before raising his voice. “As we have recently confirmed that my intellectual capabilities far exceed yours—”
“It was one case difference!”
“You will excuse me for not trusting you with such an important task.”
Chase is quiet long enough for House to dig out his own favourite shirt of Chase’s, light blue and linen.
“Look, just… please, pack something I’ll be willing to be seen in public in.”
House huffs and makes his way to the door, making sure to slam Chase’s suitcase shut first.
“You do not own nearly enough slutty clothing to be acting like this,” he says scornfully as he opens the door a couple of inches to look at Chase on the other side. “It’s a mystery how I put up with it, honestly.”
“I would not put it past you to fill my luggage with all new, slutty clothing.”
“Damn. I wish I’d thought to budget that in.”
“House—”
“You know, my therapist says trust is really important in a relationship.”
He watches as Chase gives him a long look then sighs, hangs his head, and turns back to the living room. Still a sucker for some good old-fashioned, emotional blackmail.
///
They’ve been at the airport for going on two hours now and House has spent the last half an hour dragging him around shops he has no interest in buying any overprized cologne from and Chase still has no idea where they’re going.
Truth be told, he’s just happy they’re at an airport. Taub’s two weeks of lesbian porn didn’t sound completely implausible to Chase.
Suddenly, House grabs him by the elbow and starts dragging him toward the gates. Chase tries his damnest to recall the announcement right before this complete change of pace but he has heard one too many last calls today.
They’re walking between gates and Chase is scanning the destinations when suddenly a hand is slapped over his eyes.
“Oh, for the love of—”
“Uh-ah! Play along or I’m putting you in couch.”
His mouth clicks shut and a second later he hears the poor boarding agent’s voice.
“Umm, excuse me, sir… Could you remove your hand from your companion?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” and that is House’s most pleasant (and fakest) voice right on queue. “Anniversary surprise, you understand.”
“Oh, well… Mr Chase? Are you… alright?”
Chase tries to keep both his blush and his grimace under control.
“Yes, thank you, I’m perfectly fine.”
“Well then, welcome aboard.”
“Thank you so much,” says House, sugar sweet, and Chase feels him push their passports into his hands.
Thankfully, House removes his hand once they’re actually on board and getting seated in first class. Chase is still assimilating the fact that House really went all out and hoping this isn’t all on his credit cards, when the intercom crackles to life.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking.”
To his right, House curses and starts rummaging in his backpack but he’s too slow.
“I’d like to welcome you on this flight to Byron Bay.”
Chase’s head whips around to see House’s jaw clench as he curses at the headphones in his hands.
“We’re—”
“Yes, yes, we’re going to Australia so you can surf your little heart out and stop whining about how cold and gloomy it is in New Jersey.”
He hasn’t been doing that, Chase thinks, feeling his grin stretch.
“Also, you should know I’ve applied a three-pronged approach here. This is your belated anniversary gift, my winnings of our little contest and,” here House seems to get out of the funk of his ruined plans a bit. “First class seats courtesy of Princeton Plainsboro’s gambling habit.”
Chase thinks his face is probably doing something unhinged by now so he just grabs House by the neck and pulls him into a kiss that definitely goes on for longer than it should in a public place but, hey, what good is being in first class if he can’t snog his boyfriend in peace.
He does pull away eventually, just a little, his forehead still pressed to House’s, their breaths mingling.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me until you find out how much I bitch when I have sand in my ass.”
“Promise to help you clean it out.”
“You better,” House presses in again and then pulls away, smirking at him. “I also expect you to make me a member of the mile high club.”