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foreman_fest2007-09-24 08:11 am
alanwolfmoon.livejournal.com) wrote in foreman_fest2007-09-24 08:11 am
Entry tags:
Hijacked PA system
Title: Hijacked PA system
Pairing: Foreman/Chase
Author:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alanwolfmoon
Summary: written forforeman_fest prompt #40: they go out to a bar and get really drunk.
Disclaimer: MINE! ALL MINE! uh, no, not mine....
Notes: reviews and flames alike are welcome. (they make it look like I'm writing fast)
“You wanna go get drunk?”
Foreman had said no that day, but later, he had decided that it wasn’t the best time for being macho, and had accepted.
“You wanna go where? There’s no bus stops near there!”
Chase laughed.
“I don’t typically trust myself with bus routes when I’m drunk. I called a friend, they’ll pick us up when we’re ready to go.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, you think I wanna end up explaining to House that I didn’t show up for work because I got too drunk to remember the phone number for a cab company and ended up stuck outside a bar all night?”
Foreman snorted, shaking his head.
“Sounds like you’ve thought this all out already.”
Chase grinned.
“There are worse ways to pick up girls.”
“You know...” began Foreman, about three and a half beers into their expedition, “you never answered me when I asked you how you would describe me to someone.”
Chase, well into his fifth beer, looked slightly hazily at Foreman.
“I suppose, other than really, really insecure, for a long time, I would probably start with “he works at the same hospital as me” and if the person was actually interested, not just asking to be talking about something, I would probably continue with “he’s a pretty ok guy, a little moody sometimes, but everybody that has anything to do with House is like that occasionally.” if the person was a girl, and interested, first I would jealously try and dissuade her, then I would tell her “he’s a few inches taller than me, he’s a neurologist, short hair, ok clothes, hard to upset, not so hard to annoy.” other than that, I might say something about how you’re a good doctor, if the person didn’t know that you can stand up to House and be right.”
“Or be wrong. And kill someone.”
“Yes, well, I suppose I would also say “he’s a very depressing person to go drinking with.” we’re here so you can get drunk and forget about that. Not bringing it up every five seconds is a good start.”
Foreman sighed, and downed the rest of his beer, looking for the bartender to order another.
Chase shoved his undrunk tankard over, nursing his partially empty one.
“Thanks. What are you and Cameron doing these days? She doesn’t seem all huffy anymore, but...”
“Well...I decided to tell her, every Tuesday, that I like her. That’s all that’s been going on with me and Cameron.”
“That you like her on just Tuesday?”
“No, jeeze you get drunk fast, I’m just telling her that on Tuesdays.”
“I don’t drink much. Sue me. You’re drunker than I am anyway.”
“Yeah, but I’ve had more beers.”
“So? Two of yours were lights.”
“Fine. We’ll both get drunk fast. Bartender, could we have some...ah, what’d you want?”
“Doesn’t really matter to me.”
“Ok...ah....brandy.”
“You seriously want to get drunk, don’t you?”
“They’ve got some good stuff.”
“And you know that how?”
“My dad and I came here the week after I got the job with house. That’s what he ordered, and I had some. It was good.”
“I thought you never got along with your dad?”
“I didn’t. He mostly wanted to give me a lecture about how I had gotten this opportunity and he had pulled strings to get me it, and how I was going to be disowned if I messed up.”
Foreman snorted, throwing back a shot.
“I always got on pretty well with my parents. Only thing is that I hate visiting them now.”
“Why’s that?”
“My mom....she’s...changed a lot.”
“Changed how? Got old?”
“No. She’s got Alzheimer’s. Only remembers me occasionally.”
“Oh. Sorry. Here.” said Chase, pouring Foreman another shot.
“Ah, you don’t want to get drunk, you want me to get drunk, is that it?”
“No. Well, yes, but only to the extent that it’s the whole reason we’re here.”
“What’s up with that, anyway?” asked Foreman, taking the bottle as Chase slopped the amber liquid a bit over the side of the shot glass.
“What’s up with what?”
“Asking me if I wanted to go get drunk? I thought I’d made it pretty clear that I don’t like you. On about the same level that I don’t like House.”
“So all it’d take is me sticking my name on some oncology patient’s file for you to like me?”
Foreman laughed, spilling the brandy over Chase’s napkin as he filled the small glass in front of the blond.
“See, now we’re both drunk.” said Chase, clumsily snatching the bottle back.
“Yes, but I’m still more....Chase?”
Chase had given up on the use of a shot glass, and had taken a swig right out of the bottle.
“I said I wanted to get drunk too. It’s taking to long. I don’t actually like getting drunk, I like being drunk.”
“You like being drunk?”
“I like occasionally forgetting that Cameron still doesn’t love me, that my dad’s dead, that I work for a misanthropic jerk, that I love....well, you get the idea.”
“Yeah, I do. Gimme.”
Chase handed Foreman the bottle, and the darker of the two took a long, long swig.
“I see. You *really* want to get drunk.”
“I’ve got m-more to forget.”
“Ok, now you are drunk. You’re shlurring. Oh, sho am I.”
“Yesh, you are. I think we might have been drinking a little too fasht.”
“I think you...you’re right.”
“Las-last shhot for the road? Sho to shpeak...whoah...I’m getting dizzy...”
“Sho am I...lemme pour.”
“Here...”
Chase poured the last two shots, but it was obvious that they had drunk a good deal too much in a significantly too short period of time.
“You..you had bet-you had better call that-that friend of...ah...friend of yoursh.” said Foreman, downing his last shot.
“It wash go-good though.” said Chase, indicating the bottle with a floppy gesture of his empty cup.
“Yeah, it wash...call al-already.”
“Ah...yeah...abou’ tha. It wash ei...either Cameron or...or ah...”
“You tol-told *Houshe*!?”
“Ye-yeah, I told House...but I ne-needed to get you...drunk.”
“Why?”
“Sho...sho you woul-wouldn’t punch...my lightsh ou’ when I di-did thish.” said Chase, leaning off his stool and kissing Foreman rather sloppily on the lips.
“You..you din’ tell Houshe tha’ par’?”
“Nah...bu’ I think he mighta guesshed. Whicsh wash be-er thahn Cam noh guesshing.”
“Pe-fect.” said Foreman, leaning over as Chase sat back up.
“Wha’re you doin’?”
“Kishing your li-lighsh ou’.”
“Mmm. I din’ think you’d like i’?”
“You din’ think right then, di’ya?”
“Nah, nah I din’.”
“Well *I* think you’ve both had enough. Especially since we have a case. An *urgent* case.” commented House, reaching between them to grab the bottle out of their reach and taking a small swig himself.
“Wha?” asked Foreman and Chase in unison.
“You heard me. Case. Dying person. Very quickly dying person. Not the best time for the ingestion of any more alcohol. At least by you two.”
“I sai’ wai’ till ten if we din’ call...” whined Chase.
“Yes, you did. Unfortunately, I am both completely at Cuddy’s mercy on this one, *and* not very moral, which I really hope you’ve noticed by now.”
“Wai...you’re say’in tha you din wanna geh us? Tha you were gonna be reas-reasonable?” asked Foreman, incredulously, swaying on his stool.
“You kidding? The janitor has been complaining about lack of entertainment from my department.”
“Scus me.” said Chase.
House hurriedly backed up a step as Chase slid of the stool onto the floor.
“Remind me to not let either of you use the whiteboard.” said House, apparently annoyed, but in reality rather pleased that the months of listening to Wilson recount house’s two male employees pleas for advice (to his credit, these tales could only be teased out of the unfortunate oncologist while Wilson was asleep) had finally resulted in something. Something that would also be *very* funny in the morning. When the two young doctors would probably be wondering why house had ordered KFC for breakfast, and removed all the blinds from the differential room. And possibly brought in a spotlight and loudspeaker. Or hijacked the PA system and pointed the microphone at the speakers. Multiple times. At full volume.
Pairing: Foreman/Chase
Author:
alanwolfmoonSummary: written for
foreman_fest prompt #40: they go out to a bar and get really drunk.Disclaimer: MINE! ALL MINE! uh, no, not mine....
Notes: reviews and flames alike are welcome. (they make it look like I'm writing fast)
“You wanna go get drunk?”
Foreman had said no that day, but later, he had decided that it wasn’t the best time for being macho, and had accepted.
“You wanna go where? There’s no bus stops near there!”
Chase laughed.
“I don’t typically trust myself with bus routes when I’m drunk. I called a friend, they’ll pick us up when we’re ready to go.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, you think I wanna end up explaining to House that I didn’t show up for work because I got too drunk to remember the phone number for a cab company and ended up stuck outside a bar all night?”
Foreman snorted, shaking his head.
“Sounds like you’ve thought this all out already.”
Chase grinned.
“There are worse ways to pick up girls.”
“You know...” began Foreman, about three and a half beers into their expedition, “you never answered me when I asked you how you would describe me to someone.”
Chase, well into his fifth beer, looked slightly hazily at Foreman.
“I suppose, other than really, really insecure, for a long time, I would probably start with “he works at the same hospital as me” and if the person was actually interested, not just asking to be talking about something, I would probably continue with “he’s a pretty ok guy, a little moody sometimes, but everybody that has anything to do with House is like that occasionally.” if the person was a girl, and interested, first I would jealously try and dissuade her, then I would tell her “he’s a few inches taller than me, he’s a neurologist, short hair, ok clothes, hard to upset, not so hard to annoy.” other than that, I might say something about how you’re a good doctor, if the person didn’t know that you can stand up to House and be right.”
“Or be wrong. And kill someone.”
“Yes, well, I suppose I would also say “he’s a very depressing person to go drinking with.” we’re here so you can get drunk and forget about that. Not bringing it up every five seconds is a good start.”
Foreman sighed, and downed the rest of his beer, looking for the bartender to order another.
Chase shoved his undrunk tankard over, nursing his partially empty one.
“Thanks. What are you and Cameron doing these days? She doesn’t seem all huffy anymore, but...”
“Well...I decided to tell her, every Tuesday, that I like her. That’s all that’s been going on with me and Cameron.”
“That you like her on just Tuesday?”
“No, jeeze you get drunk fast, I’m just telling her that on Tuesdays.”
“I don’t drink much. Sue me. You’re drunker than I am anyway.”
“Yeah, but I’ve had more beers.”
“So? Two of yours were lights.”
“Fine. We’ll both get drunk fast. Bartender, could we have some...ah, what’d you want?”
“Doesn’t really matter to me.”
“Ok...ah....brandy.”
“You seriously want to get drunk, don’t you?”
“They’ve got some good stuff.”
“And you know that how?”
“My dad and I came here the week after I got the job with house. That’s what he ordered, and I had some. It was good.”
“I thought you never got along with your dad?”
“I didn’t. He mostly wanted to give me a lecture about how I had gotten this opportunity and he had pulled strings to get me it, and how I was going to be disowned if I messed up.”
Foreman snorted, throwing back a shot.
“I always got on pretty well with my parents. Only thing is that I hate visiting them now.”
“Why’s that?”
“My mom....she’s...changed a lot.”
“Changed how? Got old?”
“No. She’s got Alzheimer’s. Only remembers me occasionally.”
“Oh. Sorry. Here.” said Chase, pouring Foreman another shot.
“Ah, you don’t want to get drunk, you want me to get drunk, is that it?”
“No. Well, yes, but only to the extent that it’s the whole reason we’re here.”
“What’s up with that, anyway?” asked Foreman, taking the bottle as Chase slopped the amber liquid a bit over the side of the shot glass.
“What’s up with what?”
“Asking me if I wanted to go get drunk? I thought I’d made it pretty clear that I don’t like you. On about the same level that I don’t like House.”
“So all it’d take is me sticking my name on some oncology patient’s file for you to like me?”
Foreman laughed, spilling the brandy over Chase’s napkin as he filled the small glass in front of the blond.
“See, now we’re both drunk.” said Chase, clumsily snatching the bottle back.
“Yes, but I’m still more....Chase?”
Chase had given up on the use of a shot glass, and had taken a swig right out of the bottle.
“I said I wanted to get drunk too. It’s taking to long. I don’t actually like getting drunk, I like being drunk.”
“You like being drunk?”
“I like occasionally forgetting that Cameron still doesn’t love me, that my dad’s dead, that I work for a misanthropic jerk, that I love....well, you get the idea.”
“Yeah, I do. Gimme.”
Chase handed Foreman the bottle, and the darker of the two took a long, long swig.
“I see. You *really* want to get drunk.”
“I’ve got m-more to forget.”
“Ok, now you are drunk. You’re shlurring. Oh, sho am I.”
“Yesh, you are. I think we might have been drinking a little too fasht.”
“I think you...you’re right.”
“Las-last shhot for the road? Sho to shpeak...whoah...I’m getting dizzy...”
“Sho am I...lemme pour.”
“Here...”
Chase poured the last two shots, but it was obvious that they had drunk a good deal too much in a significantly too short period of time.
“You..you had bet-you had better call that-that friend of...ah...friend of yoursh.” said Foreman, downing his last shot.
“It wash go-good though.” said Chase, indicating the bottle with a floppy gesture of his empty cup.
“Yeah, it wash...call al-already.”
“Ah...yeah...abou’ tha. It wash ei...either Cameron or...or ah...”
“You tol-told *Houshe*!?”
“Ye-yeah, I told House...but I ne-needed to get you...drunk.”
“Why?”
“Sho...sho you woul-wouldn’t punch...my lightsh ou’ when I di-did thish.” said Chase, leaning off his stool and kissing Foreman rather sloppily on the lips.
“You..you din’ tell Houshe tha’ par’?”
“Nah...bu’ I think he mighta guesshed. Whicsh wash be-er thahn Cam noh guesshing.”
“Pe-fect.” said Foreman, leaning over as Chase sat back up.
“Wha’re you doin’?”
“Kishing your li-lighsh ou’.”
“Mmm. I din’ think you’d like i’?”
“You din’ think right then, di’ya?”
“Nah, nah I din’.”
“Well *I* think you’ve both had enough. Especially since we have a case. An *urgent* case.” commented House, reaching between them to grab the bottle out of their reach and taking a small swig himself.
“Wha?” asked Foreman and Chase in unison.
“You heard me. Case. Dying person. Very quickly dying person. Not the best time for the ingestion of any more alcohol. At least by you two.”
“I sai’ wai’ till ten if we din’ call...” whined Chase.
“Yes, you did. Unfortunately, I am both completely at Cuddy’s mercy on this one, *and* not very moral, which I really hope you’ve noticed by now.”
“Wai...you’re say’in tha you din wanna geh us? Tha you were gonna be reas-reasonable?” asked Foreman, incredulously, swaying on his stool.
“You kidding? The janitor has been complaining about lack of entertainment from my department.”
“Scus me.” said Chase.
House hurriedly backed up a step as Chase slid of the stool onto the floor.
“Remind me to not let either of you use the whiteboard.” said House, apparently annoyed, but in reality rather pleased that the months of listening to Wilson recount house’s two male employees pleas for advice (to his credit, these tales could only be teased out of the unfortunate oncologist while Wilson was asleep) had finally resulted in something. Something that would also be *very* funny in the morning. When the two young doctors would probably be wondering why house had ordered KFC for breakfast, and removed all the blinds from the differential room. And possibly brought in a spotlight and loudspeaker. Or hijacked the PA system and pointed the microphone at the speakers. Multiple times. At full volume.