So, here's one from last week - I think - and it's a relatively new pairing I'm playing with Huang/Stabler from L&O: SVU.
Earlier in their relationship just after Elliot’s divorce, George had given him a key to his apartment so he could let himself in if the doctor wasn’t at home or if it was too late to be woken up by the cop’s rather loud door knocking.
One night, Stabler did this very thing and let himself into the now familiar apartment long after his lover had gone to sleep. Elliot froze dead in the doorway and was hit full in the face by nothing but silence. The detective slammed the front door shut and burst in on George, waking him noisily at this God forsaken hour.
“Jesus, Elliot”, the doctor squinted against the light that had just flashed on. Stabler paid him no mind as he stood and barked, “why don’t you have an alarm system?!”
George rolled his eyes, buried his head under the covers and went back to sleep.
(~)
Or there was that time when the two men were cooking together in George’s kitchen. Elliot was trying to teach Huang how to make his “world famous” chili con carne.
George had neglected to stir the mixture while he was in the midst of chopping up some vegetables and, as the spicy smoke began to rise and waft through the kitchen, Stabler whipped around and shouted, “What the hell is wrong with you? How do you not have a smoke alarm?”
George could do no more than look incredulously at the larger man and switch off the stove. He raised an eyebrow and turned on his heel, leaving the detective to clear up and wave away the smoke.
(~)
The day that George and Elliot officially moved in together was the day that George had had enough.
The pair was moving around Stabler’s favourite chair, trying to find a spot for it in the psychiatrist’s living room. There was an active discussion with much pushing and pulling that caused one of the chair’s heavy square legs to go right through one of the windows.
The chair was dropped with a resounding ‘thud’ and Elliot rushed to the window. The cop turned around to face Huang and questioned, “Why don’t you have bars on this?” George could do no more than laugh and point out through the shattered glass, “Elliot, we’re three floors up”.
(~)
The men stepped away from the window, Elliot with his arms crossed angrily and George with his crossed thoughtfully.
“What’s going on here, Detective?” Huang enquired. Elliot shuffled about and appeared not to hear George speak. “Elliot, come on. The security system, the smoke alarm and now the bars on the window thing?”
Stabler bristled for a moment and mentally reminded himself that with George this was not something he could fight. The larger man wrapped his arms comfortably around his partner and looked him in the eyes, “you can’t laugh at me”. Huang raised his eyebrows and smiled softly, allowing Elliot to continue.
“I just…Am so not about to be like this”, Stabler tried to back out. George poked him in the ribs to prompt him to finish speaking. “Fine”, Elliot sighed, “I just worry sometimes that maybe you might not always be safe. I guess I just worry about you sometimes”.
George leaned against Elliot’s chest and smiled, “that’s very sweet, my love”. The slender man pulled back and chuckled, “but you do remember that I was trained by the FBI, right?” Stabler looked away sheepishly, “just looking out for you” The doctor leaned up, kissed the detective and murmured against Elliot’s lips, “my hero”.
housefic today. A House/Chase fic....Strangely gentle - no slash at all. Uncharacteristic of me, I know.Still with the forbidden taste of a club sandwich artfully stolen from the Surgeons’ lounge on his lips, House ambled back to the Diagnostics department where he found one lone duckling.
The door slid closed with a whisper behind him and House stood, cane in hand, his head cocked thoughtfully to one side. Dr. Robert Chase was asleep on the couch.
House had a momentary internal struggle as to whether or not he should wake the young doctor by some cruel, but undoubtedly hilarious, means, but something inside the Diagnostician made him act otherwise. Some might have seen it as an act of kindness which House would have vehemently denied.
He chose instead to limp quietly nearer to Chase, being careful not to cast too strong a shadow so as not to wake him up. Leaning heavily on his cane, House examined the Intensivist; Chase was stretched the length of the couch, his legs crossed at the ankles where his slacks rucked up slightly to reveal a patch of argyle sock. The Australian man’s arms were crossed and his face angled toward House.
By now House was fairly confident that Chase was a heavyish sleeper and took a step closer. House couldn’t believe how young Chase looked – barely more than a boy.
Curiously, cautiously, House stretched out a long finger to glide it over Chase’s cheek. Despite a shadowing of stubble, his skin was quite soft and smooth. He wanted to touch the younger man again, but he wasn’t sure he should – he wasn’t sure he could get away with it – so he settled for looking, for studying.
It was during this studying – looking at Chase’s full, pink lips, the attractive curve of his jaw, his delicate eyelids and lashes, and his narrow, straight nose – that House was interrupted by Cameron and Foreman returning from lunch. House stepped back from the still slumbering doctor.
“What were you doing to him?” Cameron questioned haughtily. “Nothing”, House replied snarkily, “that concerns you”. It was true, after all.
The two fellows headed to the whiteboard to work on a differential and House made steps to get to his desk. He’d have gotten there too, if a soft hand hadn’t grabbed his wrist. House turned back to face Chase, who was now sat upright, one hand running through his hair, the other hand still on House.
The Aussie stood up and whispered to the older doctor, “God, it was so hard to keep my eyes closed”. He released his hold on House’s wrist and joined the others – cheery and refreshed – at the whiteboard, leaving House quietly gob smacked and more than a little impressed.