the_bigshow: Prompt 2.3 "Turn your head and cough"

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the_bigshow Prompts 2.3

1) I. Turn your head and cough



Chase probably shouldn’t have wished so hard he wouldn’t get House at the Clinic. With the way his luck was going lately, any desperate pleas to the Beings above were going to inevitably go the opposite just to make things worse.

And of course they did.

Chase was sitting hunched over on the end of the exam table with his head in his hands when House burst through the door. “If you have Syphilis, I so just won two hundred bucks off Foreman,” he declared, already making a grab some for latex gloves and a swabbing kit.

Chase couldn’t even stifle a moan at the voice. He just lifted his head, resting his elbows on his knees. “I don’t have an STD. What do you get now? A horse that talks?” he muttered. “I need you to just check me over and tell me if anything is wrong with me.”

House blinked, flipping open Chase’s chart to read the presenting symptoms. “Patient not forthcoming. And there Evil Nurse Brenda was thinking you were the nice cooperative one,” he snorted. He studied Chase suspiciously. “Why are you here?”

“Look, just examine me and tell me if there is anything wrong with me. That’s what they pay you for, isn’t it?” Chase snapped.

Now House was really intrigued. “I think you’re just here because you want a free prostate exam. Or perhaps you want the infamous ‘Turn your head and cough’? If you really wanted me to accost you, you just had to ask.” He wriggled his gloved fingers tauntingly with a smirk.

“I want another doctor,” Chase said bluntly, moving to climb off the exam table.

“Why are you here?” House repeated, rolling his chair in front of the door to prevent Chase leaving. “You’re here for a reason. I can’t examine you unless you give me a hint of what I’m looking for.”

Chase gestured slightly with his hand. “I had a… shock thing… in the… thing… back there,” he said evasively, then rubbed his sore head.

“A shock thing?” House snorted sceptically. “Where did you get your medical licence? Off eBay? What’s your screen name? Bonking-4-Britain?”

“Electric shock. I blacked out,” Chase said with gritted teeth, ignoring the British remark completely. He didn’t need this. Not now. Not today. He’d already called his boss and told him he’d had an accident and couldn’t make work tomorrow. He was only here because he had a genuine fright that Rogue’s accidental powers might’ve caused him some damage. He was a doctor; it was a reflexive fear. He’d blacked out and vomited shortly after. Maybe it was a concussion, a haemorrhage? Who knew? It wasn’t going to hurt to get checked and it had given him something to focus on during the drive home other than the fact he’d lost Rogue and how much more that hurt than the physical pain of the drain.

House frowned, still suspicious as to Chase’s presence and odd answers. “How long were you out for?” he asked.

“A few minutes, maybe. I don’t know for sure. I was unconscious, wasn’t I?”

“Were you alone? What did you shock yourself on?” House pressed, pushing the chair closer to finally make a move to examine Chase.

Chase knew he was lying and felt like the victim of a harsh interrogation. Of course, House was asking standard questions. It was just the fact it was House that was grating on Chase’s already frayed emotions. “I was alone,” he lied. “It was… my car. The engine. It was raining, so there was water…” Fuck, House! Just do the examination! he pleaded inwardly.

House knew lying when he heard it. Everybody lies, after all, including innocent little blond-haired, blue-eyed, butter-wouldn’t-melt (yeah right) Chase. “Any symptoms since it happened?”

“Headache, muscle weakness, nausea and vomiting,” Chase reeled off tiredly.

“How many times have you vomited?” House asked, handing Chase a thermometer. If he didn’t know what to do with that he would arrange Chase’s deportation back to Wombat Land himself.

“Twice. I don’t feel too bad now,” Chase admitted, holding up the thermometer. “You expect me to have an infection? It’s unlikely.”

House’s eyes narrowed a little. “It could be very likely if you injured yourself on a greasy engine. Not to mention the fact your hair is less than immaculate, taking on a drowned, then dried, rat look. Which means, you got wet in this lovely East Coast liquid sunshine. You could have pneumonia for all I know. You come here for an examination, and then argue the point with me? Either spill with the truth or get lost.”

“Fine,” Chase bit out as he got off the exam table and threw the thermometer into the sink. He went to the door and stormed out without even bothering to look back at House. He didn’t want the Spanish Inquisition. He didn’t want to be verbally tricked into spilling anything about Rogue to House because all it would do was lead to more and more questions and more and snide, sniggering remarks. There was no way House would understand – or even believe – anything to do with Rogue’s powers, or what she was. All it would do was fuel House’s never-ending reservoir of material to piss Chase off with. If he didn’t feel any better by morning, he’d go to the ER at Princeton General with a bloody fake name.

He walked purposefully across the car park to his Jeep and got in, slamming the door closed behind him. He rested his head down on the steering wheel with a small moan of confusion. Luckily the rain had stopped so he didn’t get drenched all over again leaving the hospital. It wouldn’t surprise him, really, if he ended up with pneumonia. It would top off the week full of shit, and he felt inclined to blame it all on Valentine’s Day. He realised at that moment that he really had no one to go to talk this all out with. Who, but Rogue herself, would understand?

His hand went to his pocket and enclosed around his cell phone. Maybe he could just call her and try to explain? But how could he explain it? He’d been trying to explain it to himself for twelve years and never could find a sound explanation for it. She must think he was a never-ending supply of secrecy… and maybe he was? He just didn’t want to lose her over it.

He shook his head and let go of the phone, it falling back into the depths his pocket. Twice in one week he’d fucked things up. It seemed to be the way all his relationships went. Was it time to cut the losses and just let her realise he was too much hassle than he was worth? This was all assuming she hadn’t reached that conclusion herself the minute he’d fled her apartment… and he just couldn’t blame her if she had.


[Rogue (annamarie_rogue) and House (gotvicodin) are used with Muns’ permission. Follows from THIS RP THREAD and THIS PROMPT RESPONSE]

Muse | Dr Robert Chase
Fandom | House M.D.
Words | 1,156