Happy Birthday to the absolutely lovely aithlyn who is a fellow karaoke addict and showed me a good old time in Salem, Mass. Help her celebrate by having a piece of cake, checking out her fic at dragonsbloodink and enjoying this ficlet she requested, based on THE MOMENT in "The Right Stuff" (SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IT!!!)
The vision was blond like Chase, had Chase’s accent and raised the same emotional discomfort that had led House to fire him in the first place.
He could feel the resentful gazes of the hopefuls, but all he could see was the face he’d been trying to forget.
Chase was right and he knew it, the way he’d been right about that little girl and House had…well that wasn’t his fault.
Besides, Chase had come back, and when he thought House was dying, put his arms around him. He’d stayed there so long, letting his smooth cheek touch House’s face, that House had accused him of crying to make it stop when he really wanted it to go on.
Damn Wilson for being a liar and damn himself for being…whatever made him unable to take his eyes off Chase until forced to do so by the whiny voice of number 39 asking if he was going to hire that guy.
Not a chance, he muttered, giving up hope that he’d been hallucinating.
He could always browbeat Cameron with a glower, but Chase had learned too much to back away so easily.
What the hell was he going to do now?