Title: Corollary
Fandom: House
Pairing: Chase/Cameron
Rating: H
Notes: Chase/Cameron is my not-so-secret fluffy het ship of prettiness.  *pets them* I call Cameron "Allison" in this because it's in her head, but Chase and Foreman remain Chase and Foreman, not Robert and Eric. I tried, really I did, but it freaked me out. Chase is SO not a Robert. The boys should switch first names.  Semi-spoilers up through "Mob Rules"; will make more sense if you've seen the pilot, "Control," "Mob Rules," and especially "Occam's Razor." Oh, and "Cursed."  Thanks to Esse for the beta.

Corollary

“You’re never going to get him, you know.”

Allison straightens her back a little more, tosses her hair, continues typing. Dear Mr. Harris... “Who?” and damn her voice for catching.

“You know who.” Chase’s voice is low and as spiky as a disgruntled porcupine, and she knows he’s watching her. It’s a certainty she’s come to rely on, like the Vicodin and the white board and Cuddy storming into the conference room weekly with steam coming out of her ears. When there’s a free moment, when they have a moment alone, when she gets lost in her thoughts and comes out only because her skin is tingling, Chase will always be watching her.

The man has no physical interest in you. Foreman said it and she clings to it like a raft in a turbulent sea. It makes Chase’s gaze a mystery, but one she’s come to expect. To lose it would be like House handing out lollipops in the clinic or a differential diagnosis being right on the first try – to all appearances a check in the plus column, but too startling to be quite comfortable.

“Who said I want to ‘get’ anyone?” she asks, and she squints at the monitor as if it’ll open up and offer her a way out of this conversation. Dear Mr. Harris...

Chase snorts, a sound so wickedly dismissive he had to have learned it from House. “My dad may have gotten me this job, but I’m not entirely stupid, Ally.”

Why bother pretending? He knows her too well, somehow. She’s not sure when that happened. “My interest in Dr. House is purely professional, Dr. Chase.”

“What profession?” Chase mutters, just loud enough for Allison to hear it, but soft enough for her to pretend she didn’t. Which, of course, was probably the point. “You’re just a kid to him,” he says in a normal voice. “He’ll ask you inappropriate questions and stand too close and tease you about how pretty you are, but he won’t date you.”

“Am I hearing the voice of experience?” Allison asks, and is proud at the arch tone in her voice and the noncommittal grumble Chase makes. She’s won this round. But she’s still herself, damn it all, and she can’t help but ask, tentatively, awkwardly – “You think I’m pretty?”

“You think I am?” Chase replies immediately, zing!, and Allison’s glad she’s got her back to him. Glad that she can’t see the waggle of eyebrows that she knows accompanied his question. Glad he can’t see the automatic flush that accompanied hers.

He has a completely professional relationship with you. Ha. If Foreman could see them now. She’s both glad that Foreman can’t see this embarrassing...whatever this is, and wishes desperately that he would walk in. Someone. Anyone.

But not House.

There’s a moment of silence, a scratching of a pencil as Chase fills in another word in the crossword puzzle. She tries to collect herself, tries to get back to her email. Dear Mr. Harris...

“And you can’t fix him.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She can feel Chase giving her a very pointed look. “You want to make House all better and in harmony with the world, but he’s not a puppy. If you rub his belly he’s not going to roll over and wag his tail. He’ll bite you. And we’ve already had one doctor in need of rabies shots.”

She bites her lip. “I believe that’s called belaboring a metaphor, Robert.”

“Maybe, but it’s still true.”

Her snort isn’t nearly as good as his, but he’s had an extra six months to study it, so she doesn’t feel too bad about it. “And you’re offering your clinical opinion. Totally unbiased.”

“Meaning?” For the first time, Chase sounds uncomfortable, and Allison has to work very hard not to turn around.

“Meaning you and House aren’t exactly bosom buddies at the moment.”

“Oh.” Is that a note of relief? “Doesn’t matter. I would’ve said the same thing six months ago, a week ago, tomorrow. He’s a brilliant doctor and a good man. But he’s not for you.” There’s a pause, but no pencil scratching. The quiet voice comes again. “And you’re not for him.”

He respects you as a colleague and a doctor. “Oh? And who am I ‘for’?”

The pause drags on for so long this time Allison’s neck cramps with the effort of not turning and looking. “How do you feel about him? Really?”

And it’s easier to be honest with her eyes fastened on the blinking cursor and her hands ostensibly occupied, though they’re dead weight on the keyboard. “I...don’t know. I respect him, I admire him, I...” She sighs, looks down at her lap. “I’m...fond of him. And,” she flushes, “and I guess I’m attracted to him. But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything, really, I just...”

Her voice breaks. Stupid voice. Stupid Chase. “I wanted to know how he felt,” she says, almost a whisper. “So I would know...if there was anything there. And there wasn’t.”

Chase’s voice is soft, gentle, almost remorseful. “You’re just a kid to him,” he says again. “And he’s not good for anyone except patients.”

Embarrassment makes her sharp, brave. Foolhardy. “And you are?”

And damn, damn, damn, it’s out there now, what this is all about and what neither of them is ready to actually discuss. She hears Chase shift, knows him well enough by now to know by the tone of his voice that he’s lifting his chin, that steady, noble, Great Healer look on his face.

“I’d try to be.”

And yet he can’t look at you without thinking...

She has to finish these emails.

Dear Mr. Harris...

Damn.

“You told me to stay away.” And it had hurt, a coldness entirely unlike House’s – and unlike the Chase she’d come to expect.

He’s quick, apologetic. “Everybody lies. You turned me down.”

Memory like a steel trap, that one. She hesitates only a moment.

“It’s a corollary, remember? Everybody screws up.”

“Everybody, huh?”

House is a crush – she’s always known it – and twenty years her senior besides. But she’s had the real thing before, and it’s not like in books. She’s not sure if she’s ready to charge boldly into the fray again. She’s not sure if she ever will be.

And yet...

“Everybody,” she says, and she doesn’t know why she says it, but Chase’s gaze is warm on her neck, and she’s pretty sure – not entirely, but pretty sure – that she made the right decision.

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