Ficlet

Mar. 29th, 2007 11:14 am
musamea: (Default)
[personal profile] musamea
I owed [livejournal.com profile] npkedit a ficlet, and since it was her birthday a couple of days ago...


"I'm not a fan of dentists," Mr. -- Chase checked the patient's chart -- Summers said, by way of introduction.

"So Dr. House has noted." Chase snagged a rolling stool with his ankle and straddled it. He leafed through the rest of the notes in Summers's file and shook his head. He was going to kill House for saddling him with what looked suspiciously like a problem patient. Or "a bottom-feeding, soulless monster who will suck the life out of you," as Foreman would say. Summers had been back three times over a toothache?

"Where is Dr. House today, anyway?" The red-headed woman standing next to Summers had a slight frown on her face. Great, just what he needed. Patients who only trusted in House almighty.

"He has an urgent case right now, so I agreed to take his rounds for the day. I'm Dr. Chase." Well, only half of it was a lie, really. Figuring out the cause of Mr. Elton's hallucinations was urgent... and if by "agreed to take his rounds," Chase had meant "lost a week's worth of consultations in a bet with House"... well, Summers didn't have to know any better.

He looked at his patient, taking in the pressed slacks and button-down shirt, the sunglasses that Summers hadn't taken off, even indoors. Poor little rich boy syndrome, he thought to himself. "That tooth needs to come out, and no matter how many times you come back here and ask for another opinion, the answer's still the same. And no, I can't remove it for you."

"No?"

"I assure you it would be a far less pleasant experience than any dental visit you've ever had."

Summers muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "You'd be surprised."

Chase ignored him. "It won't be a tough procedure if you go in soon, but if you keep putting it off--" then you'll just get what you deserve, he thought darkly. The redhead gave a small snort of laughter, and Chase glanced at her before continuing, "--then it's going to be a lot more painful and costly than it needs to be."

The woman turned to Summers. "See? I told you that." She looked back at Chase and extended a hand. "Hi, I'm Dr. Jean Grey, and my fiance is an idiot who doesn't listen to me."

"Honey, you're a geneticist," Summers said, as Chase reached out and shook her proffered hand.

"A geneticist with a medical degree who is no longer going to give you Advil for this 'toothache that will fix itself,'" she shot back. "Dr. Chase," she gave him a brilliant smile, "we'll take a recommendation for a dentist now, please?"

Chase scribbled down two names on his prescription pad and tore the sheet off. "Here. The front desk can get you the phone numbers."

"Thank you." Dr. Grey took the paper. Summers got off the exam table, shook Chase's hand, and led her out the door, still muttering to himself.

Don't mind him, Chase suddenly heard, as the door was swinging shut behind the two. The voice in his head was rich and warm, like baking cinnamon. He just gets grouchy when he's in pain. Though I must say, Dr. Chase, I do hope your medical diagnoses prove more correct than your judgement of human character. With a laugh, the words faded from his mind.

He looked down at the chart in his hand. "What the--" The emergency contact information listed caught his eye. Jean Grey, M.D.. Jean Grey, Jean Grey... oh. The woman who did the research on mutant genetics. Cameron had gone to one of her talks and come back glassy-eyed with hero worship. Right.

He grinned and opened the door. With luck, they would still be at the front desk, and if he could get Dr. Grey's autograph... well, he was willing to bet Cameron would see it as fair exchange for finishing up House's rounds this week. He smiled to himself. He'd learned a thing or two from House after all.
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