shizuke

Title: Playing House chapter 1 draft
Pairing: House/Chase
Rating: PG
Warning: AU
Summary: Imagine the characters of House as a family.

"Hi, my name is Robbie. I'm in my senior year of high school and my dad is the best cook in the whole world. Sometimes, he even invites Uncle Greg home for dinner. Mom and Dad have no idea but my younger sister, Alison, has a huge crush on Uncle Greg."




X

X

X

The school bell rings, and as if it is the starting bell, chaos ensues. I can hardly hear Mr. Wesley dismiss us amidst the other yells. Party at Olsen's place at eight tonight. Patricia's birthday bash tomorrow afternoon at the mall. Tryouts for the lacrosse team tomorrow morning at nine. Open invitation to watch the game at Danny's place on Sunday.

The weekend begins with the final bell on Friday.

By the time I shove my books into my backpack, Alison is already waiting for me at the door. She's pointedly ignoring the way the other boys in my class are openly leering at her. I make sure to slap a couple of their heads on the way out. "Don't look at my sister that way, you douchebags."

There had been a time when everyone assumed Alison and I were dating because we walk home together every day. The rumour died when Alison's stalkers followed us home and discovered the truth. Dad made Cameron put his number on speed dial ever since.

Mr. Wesley catches me by the arm on the way out and Alison gives me a worried look, thinking that I'm in trouble or something. Judging by the look on Mr. Wesley's face, I might be. I hope this isn't about sleeping in his class because I have problems sleeping at night. I promise.

"Robert, I was hoping you'd be able to explain this," he says, shoving a sheet of paper under my nose. It's our most recent test and I try not to wince at the red-inked grade scribbled at the top.

"Sorry," I mumble under my breath. "I had a hangover that day."

"Make sure this doesn't happen again," he replies and sends me on my way.

Alison throws me a sympathetic look as we walk out of school together. Truth is, I'm more surprised that anything. I didn't think Mr. Wesley would be so bummed out over a measly A minus.

X

It's nicely windy during our slow walk home. Our usual small talk about school and gossip, however, is absent because Alison is tired. She spent the better part of last night studying for her Calc test today, which I have no doubt she aced. Alison never gets anything below an A. It's prerequisite of becoming the family's golden child.

Being the nice big brother that I am, I let her detour us to the TinMan so she can get a decent cup of coffee, not the decaf crap Mom makes us buy because she doesn't like the idea of sprucing us up with caffeine at our age.

Eric is already there, busing tables, helping his dad out as always. I give him a short nod of acknowledgement and before leaving.

X

Speaking of which, Dad is coming home for dinner tonight. So is Mom. They're both doctors at the same hospital, so there are nights when both of them don't come home. I think it makes me appreciate them even more whenever they are home because it's Dad making dinner instead of Alison fumbling with a skillet.

Our house is the one directly at the end of the neighbourhood; double-storeyed, whitewashed, with a small garden bordered by a short brick wall me and Dad installed last year because I hated the white picket fence that preceded it. The Volkswagen is in the garage, meaning Mom and Dad are already home.

We kick off our shoes and put on our house slippers before entering the living room. Weird house rule. Don't ask.

The heavenly smell of cooked meat permeates into the dining room. I toss my backpack onto the couch and proceed towards the origin of the scent. Dad is busy in the kitchen while Mom is nowhere nearby. As it should be. I think Alison inherited her cooking skills from Mom.

"Hey Dad."

Dad waves, his back towards me because he's working the stove. I swerve round towards him and grin. "Beef? What's the special occasion?"

"Uncle Greg is joining us for dinner."

From the corner of my eye, I notice Alison freeze. Our parents have no idea but Alison has a huge crush on Uncle Greg. I find it hilarious that in spite of her circle of admirers at school, Alison had chosen to like our parents' friend from work instead.

Uncle Greg is a doctor at Princeton-Plainsborough too. A diagnostician or something. I'm not curious enough about him or his profession to find out. Alison's the one who wants to follow in our parents' footsteps and become a doctor. I just want to go to Paris and see Jim Morrison's grave.

Dad thinks it funny but Mom has been leaving brochures of Ivy League colleges on my table ever since.

"Doesn't Uncle Greg usually come without telling you? You know how he likes to piss you off," I add unnecessarily. "Whoa, hang on! Are those cookies? You made cookies and steak? What's going on here?"

Dad rolls his eyes. "It's Uncle Greg's birthday. I don't want him spending it alone like he does every year so I lured him here with beef and cookies. That reason good enough for you, Sherlock?"

"Sure Dad," I say with a grin.

Uncle Greg is a misanthrope. Means he doesn't like people very much. Dad is probably Uncle Greg's only friend and even he can't stand him sometimes. But I can sort of see why Dad still sticks by him (and why Alison has this weird crush on him).

Uncle Greg has this cynicism and wit that sends you laughing, as long as it isn't directed to you and you're sharp enough to understand it, that is. He's smart, perceptive, and he has these steel blue eyes that bellows Lie to me - I dare you! whenever he stares at you straight in the eye. I find it oddly funny.

But unlike the rest of the family, I don't make it my business to get to know him. Probably because I had a bad first impression of him. First time I ever saw him, he asked if I was Alison's big sister and if I was legal. A bad joke on all accounts.

I harbored a small dislike for him ever since, but that had somehow evaporated when I found out about Alison's crush. Maybe the dislike had been displaced with amusement. Whatever, I'm not too concerned with the details.

"When will he be here?" Alison asks loudly from the top of the stairs.

"In two hours," Dad yells back. "Dinner will be ready in three!"

X

When I enter my bedroom after my shower, I see Uncle Greg sitting opposite my study desk, cane across his lap and reading my Biology textbook. He's half and hour early. I wonder if he enjoys defying expectations or just pissing Mom and Dad off.

There are a couple of reasons I can think of why Uncle Greg is lounging about in my room. But the most likely seems to be that he had annoyed Dad to his satisfaction and had come into my room to find someone else to bug. He was distracted by the textbook instead.

I clear my throat to announce my presence. He turns around and raises an eyebrow at my state of undress. The only thing on my body are water droplets and a towel around my waist. He nods at me in greeting but otherwise, doesn't make any move to get up and leave.

I sigh exasperatedly. If he isn't going to leave, then I'm not going to attempt decency. I turn my back towards him and slip the towel off my waist to dry my torso and hair. I leave the towel over my head as I pull on some underwear.

Just before I slip on a pair of shorts, I see Uncle Greg staring blatantly at me from the full-length mirror built into the door of my wardrobe. I wiggle my ass cheekily. "Like what you see, Uncle Greg?"

"Tempting a man who hasn't gotten laid in ages with your jailbait body - not one of your smarter moves, Robert," he says, but the smirk lingering in his lips contradict everything.

I roll my eyes and pull up my shorts. "Yea, I know you want me."

It the same sort of taunts I toss around with my mates in the locker room after Phys Ed. Everyone thinks I'm a little bit gay ever since Candice Wilkinson called me 'pretty' when she confessed to me. The fact that I don't pack on muscle as easily as the other guys might have something to do with it. Alison says it's my girly face.

But as long as that taunt is sticking, I'm just going to act a little bit gay to freak everyone out.

We're interrupted by several knocks on my doors and Alison pops in with a platter of Dad's cookies. She looks straight past me at Uncle Greg, like she knew he'd be here and that's the only reason why she's in my room. It probably is. "Uncle Greg, Dad just baked these. Do you want any?" she asks.

And maybe her eyes are a little too bright and her voice too hopeful. I don't want to judge but aren't those dead giveaways that someone likes you?"

"Cookies are for dessert, Alison," Uncle Greg replies. "Smart girl like you should know better."

"But these are - hey!" she exclaims when I swipe a cookie off the platter. "Robbie, you're going to spoil your appetite!"

"So Uncle Greg can have one but not me?" I challenge her teasingly. "I'm family, Allie. You should love me more." I hope she understands that I just want to stop her before she makes a fool out of herself in front of Uncle Greg.

She gives a small indignant huff but leaves without fuss. After she closes the door behind her, I slide Uncle Greg a sideway glance and bite into my cookie. Oh, these are good! Dad's outdone himself.

"You're not the kind of person who would refuse a cookie unless it causes certain death, Uncle Greg. Especially Dad's cookies." I wave my half-eaten one around for emphasis. "You know, don't you?"

Uncle Greg smirks at me slyly. "You're not as dumb as you look."

I shrug carelessly. It's not my fault people pay more attention to Alison. She's got more shiny achievements than me. First place in her class. Captain of the school debate team. Member of our school's elite swim team. Yada, yada, yada.

All I do is get straight As. Sometimes. When I study.

"Yea whatever," I say to Uncle Greg. "Fact is, I have a cookie and you don't."

"Meanie," he replied childishly. I give him a look of incredulity and take another bite from the cookie. "Oh, come on, let me try some. You know your dad isn't going to let me have any until after dinner," he adds. Seriously, this old timer can whine with the best of us.

I was going to deny him and cram the rest of the cookie into my mouth when he pins me with those blue eyes, and it stirs a funny feeling that I can't really place. It feels like nervousness and what? Anticipation? I swallow. "You want the cookie? Fine,"

I push the last chunk against his lips and hold it there. It's meant to be gross because I've bitten into that cookie. Those crumbs have touched my saliva. But he doesn't react the way I expect him to.

He parts his lips, allowing me to push the bit of cookie inside until it's all the way in. I barely retract my fingers before he closes his lips over my fingertips. My fingers brush against his lower lip, smearing some melted chocolate chip over the soft pad and I accidentally graze against his stubble as I bring my hand back.

He's still staring at me. His eyes never have never left me since I leant in closer to push the cookie into his mouth. I stare wordlessly as he chews and slowly swallows; Adam's apple bobbing as he does so. I reach out and run my fingers over his neck, near the Adam's apple, licking my lips.

Okay, maybe this is pushing the 'little bit gay' act a little too far.

"Robbie!" Dad yells from downstairs. "Come down! Dinner's ready! Oh, and drag Uncle Greg with you, will you?"

I laugh and suck what's left of the chocolate chip from my fingers. "You heard Dad, Uncle Greg. Dinnertime," I say shrugging on a thin T-shirt. I don't wait for Uncle Greg to climb down the stairs and I feel a little bit guilty.

Alison has a crush on Uncle Greg, but I think it's kind of obvious that Uncle Greg likes me more.

X

Dinner is awesome. Halfway through steak, I vow aloud to the whole table that one day, I'll be as good a cook as Dad since Alison is pretty much hopeless. Everyone laughs, except Alison, who swats me in the arm and blushes furiously, and Uncle Greg, because it takes a lot more than that to make him laugh.

Actually, going by the way he's looking at me throughout dinner, I think he's a little pissed at me for that little stunt I pulled on him in my bedroom. It probably was a mistake to do that on him. My mates understand that I don't mean anything serious when I hug them, kiss their cheeks/necks or verbally come on to them. It's all in good fun. But maybe Uncle Greg doesn't get it.

Conversation over the dinner table is routine. Dad asks what's going on at school and Alison accidentally let slip that Mr. Wesley wasn't very happy with me today. Mom berates me for five minutes when she finds out that I did the test with a hangover.

In reply, I try to reason with her that it's more important for me to cultivate strong immunity against alcohol than to score for my Biology test. Better to go out into the world not a lightweight than a nerd.

"If you only had that wisdom, House," Dad says to Uncle Greg before knocking back some more beer. That is when I discover that Uncle Greg is a lightweight. His blue-eyed glare intensifies when I guffaw into my fist.

Small talk moves on to what is going on in the hospital. Mom, Dad and Uncle Greg talk more about gossip that their patients because that would just be depressing. Alison tries to join every now and again whenever mention of a patient inevitably slips in.

"Remember Michael Westhouse?" Mom brings up. "He socked you in the face because you lied about the treatment you were giving his wife."

"Hey, he lied to me about never having a threesome with his wife and a hooker so I think I'm entitled to it," Uncle Greg snaps back.

Alison has this horrified look on her face but Uncle Greg looks at me when I snort into my beef. For two reasons, actually. "Michael Westhouse? As in Melissa Westhouse's dad?"

"Maybe," Uncle Greg frowns. "You remember that jerk having a daughter, Wilson?"

"Yea...why?" Dad looks at me suspiciously.

I wave my knife at him to say that it's nothing but Alison beats me to it. "Hang on, isn't Melissa Westhouse that cheerleader who was begging to go out with you?"

"Allie! Give the girl a little dignity! She did not beg," I retort.

"She offered to flash you her boobs, Robbie," Alison deadpans.

Okay, so maybe she did. Doesn't count as begging...does it?

"And you didn't take her up on her offer?" Uncle Greg asks incredulously.

"House!" Mom exclaims.

"Course not. Not my type," I answer truthfully.

"Wilson, have you ever considered that your son might be gay? He turned down a free show," Uncle Greg says. Mom sputters and it's hilarious.

"You know I'm only hot for you, Uncle Greg," I reply huskily, just to see Dad's eyes bug and Alison choke on her lettuce. Seriously, this is too funny. Next thing I know, Mom and Dad are trying to reprimand both me and Uncle Greg at the same time while I'm trying to stop laughing long enough to breathe. Alison is torn between laughing with me and biting her lip, worried that I'm serious.

Okay, tonight's dinner is awesome. I don't feel at all bad for not attending Olsen's party.

X

Before you get the wrong idea, I really am not gay. I have a girlfriend. Her name is Candice Wilkinson. Yup, the girl who called me 'pretty'. She's also the girl who's been on the phone with me for the past hour or so, discussing her birthday party plans for next month.

Candice is cute. She's a year younger and she's a perky cheerleader, which makes me the envy among my mates. But right now, Candice is making me wish I am single again. I've tried three times to hint that I don't want to continue this phone call anymore but -

I hang up. I guess nothing beats the direct approach. I wonder how long she'll talk before she realises that she's speaking to a dial tone. I'll lie about bad phone connections tomorrow.

Eric puts a fresh cup of coffee on my table. "Your girl finally decided to hang up?"

"Nope. Bad phone connection," I say and Eric smirks. He sits down opposite me and rifle through my Physics notes, trying to see which ones he hadn't copied down yet. Eric Foreman is the only guy who cares about his grades in my class. And because I'm second place next to him, we study together sometimes at the TinMan.

I never object because I get free coffee when I'm there.

"Sometimes I don't get you, man," Eric says, not looking up while writing. "You get good grades, you do pretty well in Phys Ed, you've got girls make googly eyes at you at every corner in school - and yet somehow, you manage to pass under the radar undetected."

"Hm?" I ask, only half-paying attention.

"Everyone in school keeps going on about your sister. How she's this overachiever and that her future's brighter than any of us. Yale. Harvard. Etcetera. But then I look at you, and...it's not like you're any less capable." I have to give Eric more credit. He's observant.

I roll my shoulders back relaxedly. "I'll tell you why. It's because Allie's prettier. No I'm serious!" I add when Eric gives me a look of disbelief. "She's pretty so no one really expects her to do well, 'cos beautiful people can get what they want without working hard for it. But Allie does work hard for her achievements, so people admire her for that."

Eric reaches out to pat my shoulder. "Aw, it's okay. I think you're pretty too, Robbie." I slap his hand away mirthfully. Eric can be a jackass. But he's cool. Too bad in school, all everyone sees is a nerd. "Dude!" he suddenly exclaims. "Where did your coffee go?"

I look at the empty cup cluelessly. "Err, my stomach?"

"I didn't even see you drink it! You caffeine-addict! You're going to drink me out of my home," he grumbles. I grin in reply. Hey, I wasn't the one offered an automatic refill. He gets up to bring me another cup. "And don't you Houdini this one."

Somehow amidst my chuckles, I spot this big-looking guy, probably just a couple of years older than me, hiding a knife under his jacket and walking towards the TinMan, towards Eric. Seriously, of all the places to rob, why rob a coffeehouse? Maybe he's lacking a few cells in the brain department, but I don't try to rationalise before getting up to warn Eric.

What happens next is sort of a blur plus chaos. But by the time I realise what's going on, Eric's bending over me with a concerned frown. "Man, we gotta get you to a hospital."

X