Agent Fox Mulder (i_want_2) wrote in multi_fiction, @ 2008-06-22 17:14:00 |
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Entry tags: | au, house, rated: teen, slash |
Fic: Yellow Brick Road 1/1 House M.D.
Title: Yellow Brick Road
Author: Lopaka Tanu
Disclaimer: I do not own House MD.
Characters: Chase, Wilson, Cuddy, House.
Words: 2418
Prompt: 23 Out of Time
Fandom: House MD
Pairing: Wilson/Chase
Rating: Adult
Warnings: Language, Violence, Mentions of Character Deaths
Summary: A 'Dear John' letter leads to more for Captain Wilson M.D..
Author's Note: WWII era A.U.
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June 3, 1944 - London, England.
Nursing his third beer of the night, Dr. Wilson wondered just how far he could stretch this one. It was more than certainly watered down within an inch of its life before served to him and thus was next to worthless, but it was also the last one he was allowed given his status. Joining the war effort had seemed like a good idea three years ago, but times like these he seriously questioned his mental stability. Perhaps Dr. Smythe with the 53rd could give him a quick check-up.
Taking a shallow sip of his flavorless drink, he snorted at that idea. Pschologists' opinions were worth their weight in dust as far as the brass were concerned. If he could still stitch a wound without sewing his sleeve in it, he was fit for duty. Then again, with the shortage of medical personnel and the looming, yet rumored invasion, even that wouldn't matter. The Allies were going to need every competent surgeon if the rumors were true.
God, he hated war.
Casting a glance to the stool beside him, Wilson thought on his colleague, Dr. Gregory House. They had never even known of the other's existence until they had been assigned to this pit. The man had been a battle field surgeon, wanting to be where the action was. He had taken a bullet to the thigh. In those days, it would have been a golden bullet, but House had refused to be shipped home. His decision saved his life, but cost him his mobility. Now, not even that would have let him out of the army.
House was probably chasing down yet another of his schemes to bilk the RAAF pilots out of money. Unless there was an actual medical emergency, House was the largest bookie this side of the Atlantic. So far, he had amassed quite a large sum in promissory notes. Wilson had had to tell him he was most likely never going to be able to collect. Admitting he already knew was the one time Wilson had seen the man actually show a real emotion.
Attempting to swallow the contents of his glass, Wilson was surprised to find it empty already. Frowning, he checked the bottom, then the bar to make sure it hadn't sprung a leak. The only thing worse than watered down beer was spilt watered down beer. Unfortunately, he had drank it all without even realizing it. Such was the risk when wallowing in misery.
That thought caused him to look down at the letter sitting next to his glass, the source of his pain. He had been expecting it to come for a long time, Julie never was a patient woman. Still, she had held out longer than he had expected. To make matters worse, that was now fifteen bucks he didn't have he now owed House. The man was worse than a dog with a bone when he knew he could collect.
Not feeling like going back to his bunk, Wilson twisted his bar stool around to survey the crowd. The pub wasn't much bigger than a general's private wash, but still drew a fairly sizeable crowd. There were thousands of extra men in town for what was going down in the next week or so, which explained why he didn't recognize any among their number. If he didn't find a friendly face among them, he would most likely end up tossing all night from boredom.
From the morose expressions, Wilson knew it was a lost cause. Sucking up his disappointment, he slowly spun back to face the bar. He would take his time getting back to the barracks, but that would still only kill fifteen extra minutes. Wilson laid down the three bucks for the outrageously over priced beer flavored water. He was debating picking up the unopened envelope when a shadow crossed his periphery.
Mood picking up at the thought of joshing with House, Wilson turned to face him. "Come to collect already, blood sucker?" So startled was he to encounter a different shade of blue eyes, Wilson nearly fell off his stool. The warm arm that caught and pinned him around his chest, helped settle him back in his stool. "Damn, sorry about that. I thought you were someone else."
Stepping back, the man straightened his RAAF uniform. "Quite all right, I get that a lot." Taking off his blue uniform hat, the blond man scratched at his visibly dark roots. Once the itch had been abated, he took the stool next to Wilson and laid his hat on the bar. "I don't suppose they actually serve alcohol here? Last three pubs had run out earlier in the night."
"Just arrived?" At the other man's nod, Wilson smirked. "One of the hazards of the war. But don't feel bad, you didn't miss much. The water around here has more kick to it." Sticking out his hand, he waited for the man to accept it. "Dr. James Wilson, US Navy."
Returning the smirk, slowly enveloped Wilson's hand in his own. "Interesting coincidence. Dr. Robert Chase, Royal Australian Navy." Casting a glance at the doors as a troop of young men and a couple of local girls came in, Chase's smirk dropped off. "I don't think we're all here for a social visit."
Still focused on their joined hands, Wilson daringly ran his thumb over the back of Chase's hand. "Not you, may be, but I feel up for a little company." And may be there had been more beer in the water than he had thought. Coloring a little, Wilson decided to refocus on the near empty bottles on the bar behind the bartender. Much to his relief, his companion hadn't seemed scared off.
In reality, Chase didn't know what to make of this Dr. Wilson. He felt hesitant to question the other man's action, but didn't really want to let it slide either. Deciding to take the safest course given his interest, he looked up to the bartender. "Any beer left?"
Casting a glance at her customers, the bartender nodded. "Got your ration card?"
Nodding, Chase was already fishing through his pockets for the little scrap of paper. In a testament to his will, it was almost completely whole. Handing it over, he watched her pick up the punch with some trepidation. For some strange reason, he closed his legs when she stamped two holes in the card before handing it back to him.
"How many you want right now, luv?" Her dark brown hair fell over her face as she eyed Chase hungrily. "One," picking up a mug in each hand, she pushed up her breasts with a squeeze of her arms, "or two?"
Shocked by her blatant interest, Chase cast a glance to Wilson. He noticed the man splitting his attention between her breasts and the mugs she held. Sighing, he pocketed the card. "Best make it two."
"Coming up." Smiling broadly, she shook her hips as she walked over to the taps.
To be polite, and make sure she did nothing untoward with the beer, Chase feigned interest. When she settled the mugs down in front of him with a heaving flourish that caused her breasts to nearly bust from her half buttoned top, he needed fake nothing. It had been an impressive maneuver even for his far flung existence. "Thank you." Accepting the mugs, he handed her a large tip along with the payment.
Pocketing the extra down her blouse, she winked at Chase and moved down the bar to deal with her other customers.
"And she strikes again." Chuckling, Wilson sat back on his stool. "If you're not careful, she'll fleece you for every last penny."
"I wouldn't worry about that." Picking up his mug, Chase slid the other one over to Wilson. Having noticed how he watched it, Chase knew it would be most welcomed. Besides, it would keep the other man occupied instead of asking personal questions. "What should we drink to?"
Taking the mug by the handle, Wilson eyed it appreciatively. It was tempting to accept it and just keep his mouth shut. But for some strange reason, he was channeling the spirit of Greg House this night. "How about drinking to sultry beauties? May they be memorable."
"Ordinarily, I would agree." Pushing the hair from his forehead again, Chase studied his drink. As the foam settled, he could clearly see it was mostly for show. When he was certain Wilson was staring at him, Chase glanced up to meet his eyes. The moment their gazes locked, he swallowed. A moment of trepidation caused him to quickly look away. Clearing his throat, he held his mug up towards Wilson's. "To new acquaintances, wherever they may lead."
"Cheers." Clinking his mug to Chase's, Wilson eyed the other man with a glint of triumph. He had the doctor's number now. After swallowing a mouthful of his beer, Wilson leaned in a little. "So, where are you based during your stay here?"
Startled, Chase looked up at Wilson with wide eyes. He took a moment to calm himself when he noticed how close the other was. "I'm not sure. That is, I don't know the name of the place. I can easily find it, though." Taking a sip of his beer, he winced at the lack of flavor. "It doesn't matter, I won't be here long enough to learn it."
Sighing, Wilson nodded. "I know the feeling." Holding a finger to his lips, he looked from side to side in a comical gesture. The action had the desired effect as Chase snorted in to his beer.
Wiping his nose and mouth, Chase scowled at the beer. "That is possibly the worst tasting beer ever."
"Don't let Cuddy hear you say that, she will throw you out on your ass." Despite his agreement with Chase, Wilson took another swallow of his beer. Pleased with their conversation, he continued to watch Chase. "Where do you hail from, Robert Chase?"
"Sydney originally, but I finished my schooling in Boston." The change in topic was very welcome to him. Still, Chase had a distinct impression the other man was sizing him up physically. It made him sit up straighter and tug his bangs in to a semblance of normality.
Catching the action, Wilson reached out automatically to brush the hair back to where it covered Chase's forehead. Distantly aware of the other man having gone very still, Wilson smiled. "If it bothers you that much, you should have it cut."
Cross eyed from watching the other's hand, Chase could only nod in response. The ghost of Wilson's touch on his skin still burned in his memory. Taking a calming breath, he shivered. It had been the most erotic sensation of his life. Suddenly grumpy from how pathetic he was feeling, he fixed his hair again and turned from the other man.
Realizing his mistake, Wilson faced forwards to the bar. When he felt sufficient time had passed, he glanced over at Chase again. The other man was still sulking at his beer. It was obvious whatever was going on between them wasn't going to be initiated by the other man. If he wanted this, he would have to get it himself.
With a grunt, Wilson stood up from his bar stool. He wasn't feeling particularly charitable tonight. He laid a hand on Chase's back and leaned in. "Thanks for the drink. I might see you around."
Chase didn't look up from his drink until he was certain the door had closed behind Wilson. Mentally counting down from thirty, he rushed through the last fifteen numbers before shoving away the mug. Tugging on his hat and jacket in what he hoped was a casual gesture, he strode to the door. The moment he was through it, though, he was frantically searching for Wilson. Catching sight of the now familiar shape, Chase shot down the street to reach him.
Slowing his stride to match Wilson's, Chase put his hands in the pockets of his uniform jacket. It was entirely too hot to wear it, even this late at night, but he needed the security it provided him emotionally. When he reached the other doctor's side, Chase cleared his throat.
Wilson glanced towards Chase, a little surprised to find the other man. Making a decision he hoped he wouldn't regret, he nodded once, slowly before looking down the street again. The message was intently clear between them.
Face coloring, Chase knew he was sporting an ignorant grin, but didn't care. Subconsciously, he shifted a little closer to the older man, putting a little more bounce in his walk. Every other step, he 'accidentally' brushed against Wilson.
Back at the entrance to the bar, a figure with a cane tapped it twice on the ground in thought. Limping, he entered the bar. He quickly surveyed the patrons before settling on the suggestively dressed bartender. With a wide grin, he saddled up to the bar and tapped his fingers. As Cuddy came near, a scowl on her face, he twirled his cane in anticipation.
Reaching in to her top, she pulled out a five pound note. "Do you get a thrill from being an ass?"
"Not as much as I get from staring at yours. Cute skirt, by the way, it almost covers the 'Sailors Only' tattoo." Pocketing the money, he caught sight of something left on the bar. House picked up the white envelope and turned it over. "Seems Jimmy forgot his 'Dear John' letter." Tearing it open, he ignored the disgusted look Cuddy sent his way. He pulled out the letter and scanned it. "Looks like I owe that harpy Staff Sargent Brenda fifteen sterling."
"Let me see that!" Snatching the letter from House, Cuddy scanned the printed lines. "Wait a minute, this isn't a good bye." Frowning, she looked over at the sour pussed doctor. "What have you done this time?"
"Saved two people from making a very big mistake." Tapping his cane a couple times just to annoy her, House turned for the door again. He blocked the rag she threw at him with a quick swipe of his hand. "Sorry, no time to play tonight, I have some blackmail material on two doctors that needs gathering." House may have lost the fifteen he was going to get from Brenda and the fifteen from Wilson, but he would get it back and more. With a nefarious grin, he stepped out in to the muggy London night.
THE END........................