Work Text:
"Do you really have any idea what it's like to live with something like this?"
"Let's grab a coffee."
"You know, when I said 'let's grab a coffee' I didn't mean 'let's go out so that you can guilt me into taking up that offer on having sex with you because I'm too miserable with my impending death to do it myself'."
"Oh, come on, I thought you thought better of me than that." Chase grins subtly in his own childish way, his voice hinting obvious sarcasm as he turns the steering wheel, pulling the car into a tight parking space.
"How the hell are we supposed to get out?" Remy scoffs incredulously, the doors only barely opening as they climbed out and shuffled through the small gap between the crowded cars.
"They're the only Aussie restaurant in town."
"Great. I was being sarcastic, in case you hadn't guessed." Remy retorts as they part from the car and head for the entrance, needing to weave through the full parking lot.
They enter the restaurant: an awkward pair who somehow both match each others energies while still being polar opposites.
The door is kept open by a large wooden board with the days specials written on it for customers to see.
"It's on me for today. Okay? No taking advantage of me in the future though." Chase jokes giving a sideways glace to see if his underlying seriousness came across.
"Yeah no, get it," Remy failed to find this funny because she knew that there was no future for her, but she managed to carry a convincing tone of amusement like she always did before adding, "when its time, House volunteered to euthanize me," with a false-satirical, joking tone that she hoped hid the seriousness well. It did.
An audible sign emanates through the half empty place above the quiet chatter of the regulars - Chase being one of them.
It's definitely nothing too fancy but it's the best his paycheck allows. He's a creature of habit; another trait that Remy had recognize him pick up from House.
"Good afternoon, my name is Steven. What can I get for you?" A young waiter who looks to be in his teens drawls out unenthusiastically, tapping at his notepad with a half-broken blue pen.
"Just, uh... a coffee, the strongest you've got, with some milk and two spoons of sugar." Remy hears the clicking of Chase's cellphone buttons and decides to order for him, even if she doesn't know what he likes, she can gather a rough idea from their time spent together in the workplace. "He'll have the same except virtually no milk and barely any sugar."
The young boy grumbles expletives under his breath before walking past tables and disappearing into the kitchen where the smell of dishes waft through the cracks of the door.
They sit in silence. When their coffee eventually arrives Chase sips gingerly at the hot liquid, opening and closing his mouth ever-so-slightly as though he was debating what to say before turning to look at the busy evening traffic.
"You asked me if I had any idea what it's like living with something like that?" The foam cup indents around his tight grip, he takes another sip.
"You're bisexual, right?" He asks, gaze chasing the movement of her smoky eyeliner as she blinks.
"What? Are you saying that you're bisexual and my Huntingtons can even compare to that because-"
"I'm not bisexual. Just... just listen." Chase whispered guiltily. The word 'bisexual' comes out like a slur on his naturally pink tinted lips.
"When I was... younger." He pauses, pulling a steel chain out from under his shirt and pulling it up over his head, holding the cross and looking down at it before tossing it into the bin.
Remy is now interested, even looking slightly worried but not making any sudden moves in fear of breaking the moment.
"My mom was an absent alcoholic. My dad was an overly religious, bitter man who beat me into submission. My little sister... we don't talk." Tears weren't leaving his eyes because fuck, no they couldn't. Not now.
"Chase?" Remy leans forward, offering her slender hand on the table if comfort is needed at any time.
He looks at the crimson, plastic rubbish bin where he threw the religious necklace with a heavy heart, the cross sticing out of the side as though taunting him.
With a heavy breath Chase looks away from the bin, shutting his eyes and squeezing them forcefully to will himself not to cry but the images of the so called 'loving' god flash through his eyes. The verses, the bloody man nailed for him - for everyone - just for him to be like this. Sin. He places his hand on the table for Remy to hold.
"Are you crying?" Remy asks softly, comfortingly stroking his hand, her ring a cold, grounding metal against his skin.
When his eyes open he's crying, really crying. A lump in his throat itches out of guilt.
"I'm transsexual." Fully breaking down now, a few people glance over as Remy hastily gets up from the worn, creaky wooden seat, knocking her empty cup of coffee over in the process. She holds Chase, arms tightening with her fingers gripping at his jacket.
"It's okay. It's okay. Shhh." She whispers against his head, her voice gentle but her grip not.
"Let's get out of here, okay?" She breaks the short hug to motion her head to the the waitor and beckon him over, giving him cash without bothering to count how much she overpaid. Probably a lot, judging from the way his empty, blue eyes light up and his profuse thankful praise as the two walk out.
Remy gets into the driver's side this time, the car is quiet save for the sound of the cement creating friction against the rubber wheels.
"My house is..." Chase starts but they drive past before he can rattle off any directions, eventually ending up at Remy's home.
"Let's talk." She says, sitting down on the blood-stained couch from the Darrien endeavor - a previous friend from her time in jail.
Although hesitant, Chase sits down on the couch beside her, all too aware of every inch of skin and the way his bones bend and arch in the way of a man.
"House would fire me."
"Stop thinking about everyone else for one second."
"It's too late for me. I'd rather let it kill me."
"What did they do to you?"
"This is stupid." Chase attempts to stand up but Remy pulls him sharply back down onto the dusty couch, sending specks of dust swirling up into the air.
A smirk breaks the tension before Remy says a quick, "Wait here" and with no further explanation runs off to her bathroom. She throws makeup into her bag and grabs a pink embroidered dress with white thread flowers that she had been saving for a special occasion. It was the last thing her brother had bought for her before his assisted death.
Chase stays seated on the old couch, anxiously watching the doorway.
"Sin, sin, sin, sin, sin." He murmurs, now wondering if perhaps she would be more appropriate or even allowed on a natural level. Everything was supposed to be linear: Diseases had tells. Diseases had cures or they didn't.
This (bold and italics) didn't. No Bible, no praying, no relationship and no dedication to his work could fix (bold and italics) this. His mind races as he tries to calm himself down, trying to get his mind back in order and think over what was happening rather than the shame and fear he harbored.
"Take off that awful jacket." Remy orders as she walks back into the room, bag and dress in hand.
Chase grins at the tone, complying and throwing the jacket off willingly with a nod when she saw the makeup and a suspiciously pink clump of fabric.
"Close your eyes." She complies easily, closing her eyes for Remy. She almost sneezes at the feeling of strange liquids and powders being dabbed lightly on her face, and just when she thinks it's over there's more strange patting at her eyelids. Its quiet between them, showing that Remy is focused on her work. The makeup is precise and yet lightly coloured to match Chase's complexion. Before she can speak Remy applies the setting spray.
"You can open your eyes now." Remy says, hastily grabbing Chase's phone off the counter before she can grab it to use the camera to see the state of her face.
Remy leaves the room in a wordless understanding of her needing privacy and Chase unbuckles her belt, her hands shaking. When the button is undone and the zipper fully down the pants fall to her ankles, and for the first time in a long time, as she unbutton her shirt, she's not completely focused on her body and what it all meant, but rather on being careful not to smudge the makeup. Chase may know nothing about makeup but she sure as hell can gather that generally touching a full face of makeup isn't a good idea.
With a bit of struggle she manages to get the sundress over her head, then shoulders, then hips. The fabric is high quality light pink silk, soft and comfortable against her skin.
Remy walks in with a faint smile, watching Chase spin in circles while laughing like a girl who had just recieved her first dress. It was out of character for Chase, both of them knew that.
Remy goes back to her room, returning a moment later to Chase standing awkwardly in the middle of the lounge with a undeniably pleased grin. As Remy stuffs the empty breast area of the sundress, Chase watches the other woman's hands and says despondently, "I shouldn't have cut my hair."
"Come on." Remy says excitedly, grabbing Chase's hand and guiding her through to her room.
"Get on the bed."
"Woah, what?" Chase coughs, earning herself a slap on the back of her head for being dirty minded.
The pair decide on an old pair of white sandles that Remy had never worn after they were gifted to her by her ex girlfriend.
A newly installed mirror reflects the light from the light bulb on the ceiling fan and as Chase walks closer her reflected image becomes clearer and clearer. Her face hurts from all the smiling but that doesn't stop the joy from filling her whole, her ribcage feeling near ready to burst.
"You can stay with me while you figure this out, but you'll have to sleep on the couch with the blood stain."
"Do think I could be a woman?" Chase asks softly, her eyes glued to herself in awe.
"You already are. Would you like me to use another name?"
"Roberta is alright. I like it." She says shyly, running her hands over the tiny white flowers, still trying to adjust to her newfound freedom that seemed to overpower the religious guilt she'd carried on her shoulders for so much of her life.
"If House says anything to you I'll kick him in the nuts."