she's your cocaine. (kohlrimmedeye) wrote in fanfic100,
she's your cocaine.
kohlrimmedeye
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House MD. Chase/Wilson. 001.Beginnings

Title: The Interview
Fandom: House M.D
Characters: Chase, Wilson, House, Cameron and Foreman in passing
Prompt: 001. Beginnings
Word Count: 918
Rating: PG-13 for a coupla bad words
Summary: Wilson/Chase pre-slash. Chase's job interview.
Author's Notes: Well, my first one for this community, although not my first Wilson/Chase. *waves*



Wilson remembers Chase’s interview with perfect and disturbing clarity. This is a little unusual, because he doesn’t remember Cameron’s particularly well (she’d been overly-passionate, and House spent most of the time sizing up her breasts) and he doesn’t remember Foreman’s at all. He’s not even sure Foreman *had* one, but surely House didn’t just pick the first doctor on the list with a criminal record?

Actually, come to think of it, that sounds exactly like the sort of thing House *would* do.
*
Chase’s interview was on a wet day in late April, and House had only scheduled it because Rowan Chase had called him up and mentioned he had a son, and perhaps House could interview him. House had done it more for the entertainment value than anything else (“How big d’ya think the stick up his ass will be?”) and the young blonde Australian *boy* with the raindrops in his hair drying out in the air conditioning wasn’t what either of them had expected. He’d looked about twelve, tie a little wonky like he’d never had to wear one before (although Wilson came to realise later that this was, in fact, Chase all over).

He’d sat down, not looking at all nervous, (but he did keep chewing his lower lip in a fashion that distracted Wilson for almost ten minutes), and talked in a very Australian accent, while his wet hair dried out and became amusingly wavy. Wilson was barely listening and a quick glance at House told him the other man wasn’t really paying attention either.
*
The only thing Chase remembers about his interview was that both Doctor House and Doctor Wilson made a lot of notes. Or at least scribbled industriously on yellow legal pads most of the time.

He’s never quite plucked up the courage to ask them what they wrote.
*
When the door had closed behind Chase, House had leaned back in his chair, cane tapping against his hand as he dry swallowed a Vicodin.]

“No,” he said shortly. “No no no no no.”

“Why not?” Wilson had asked tiredly, watching Chase shrug into a black leather jacket through the glass wall. His hands were trembling just slightly.

House picked up the piece of paper he’d been writing on all interview. It turned out to be all of Chase’s visible faults, carefully listed. They were all there, from- obviously feels pressurised by his father, he’ll always be in his shadow and he’s fucking bitter about it too- right around to Chase’s bloody cuticles and fingernails that had obviously seen better days- shows he chews his nails and fingers. Why do I want a doctor who bites his own hands to shreds? There were plenty of other things too- I don’t trust him. He looks shifty. And too young. What the hell would be the point in hiring a guy who looks like he’s barely in high school yet? Makes us look incompetent. Would probably induce panic in the patients and-

“Since when have you cared what patients thought?” Wilson had interrupted, a little too loud. House turned to look at him. He’d raised an eyebrow a little at Wilson’s slightly flushed face, and then turned back to his list.

And he wears hideous clothes. I couldn’t work with a guy who wore something like that every day. I’d be blind in weeks. Has no one taken him out shopping? Has he never heard of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy??? Or even Queer Eye for the Queer Guy, if he swings that way. The list continued, and Wilson listened impatiently to the faults as they rolled themselves around the room and bounced off the glass. And, also, and most importantly: His dad wants me to do it. Why should I please this guy? His book wasn’t even that good.

“Are you finished yet?” Wilson had asked. House had looked at him.

“You think I should hire him.”

“I do.”

“Let’s see your list then.” House held out his hand. Wilson handed it to him, flushing because he hadn’t made a This-Is-Why-You-Should-Hire-This-Person-House list for any other candidates.

He’s got plenty of insecurities- you’ll love playing on those. There are all those nationality jokes you can make. You can take the piss out of his clothing. You do that to me and I wear pretty reasonable ties-

“Says who?” House had interrupted himself.

“They are *fine*. My wife picks them out.”

“Exactly,” House had muttered, turning back to the list.

His daddy issues will transfer onto you, so he’ll be really easy to manipulate. You know, you like manipulating people. He’s a bundle of nerves and you can destroy him-

“Jesus Jimmy, you’re making me sound like some kind of psycho sadist.”

“You *are*.”

He seems like a good doctor. And even if his dad did make a phonecall, well, maybe you should surprise everyone, do what’s suggested for once. Doesn’t anarchy and not listening to a word anyone says get boring? And he’s pretty. It will be like having a nice potplant in the corner of your office.

House had bitten his lip briefly and then looked at Wilson. He pointedly tore the yellow paper into pieces and even slid one scrap into his mouth. Chewing the defiled list, he’d grinned evilly at his friend and said:

“You want to tell me the *real* reason you wanted me to hire him Jimmy?”
*
Chase was hired a week later, and even now Wilson won’t admit to himself exactly why he fought so hard for him.



x
Tags: house: robert chase/james wilson
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