FicWad

Title: Forgive and Forget
Author: seldra
Fandom: House M.D.
Pairings: House/Chase with mentions of Chase/Cameron
Rating: PG-13 or R-ish (there's sex, but it's not explicit)
Disclaimer: House is property of David Shore, not me, and I make no money for this odd little story.
Warnings: SPOILERS for the season 3 finale!



Chase lay back in the tangled sheets, trying to catch his breath - trying to /remember/how to breathe. His heart was racing. The sheen of sweat on his skin was beginning to chill him in the night air, without the contact of House's body. Yet he resisted the urge to turn his neck and look at the older man, and instead stared resolutely at the ceiling of House's apartment. It was an ordinary ceiling. He could make out a thin spidery crack, shaped almost like arabbit if you stared up at it through the shadows for long enough.

Alright, calm down, you're going to have to move at /some point/, he told himself. He just couldn't shake the feeling that if he did look at House, he'd grumble angrily and tell him to get out. Chase doubted he'd want to talk about -

The flick of a lighter interrupted his thoughts and he gave in and turned his head. House was smoking. "You're thinking too much," he said. "God, I can see the gears turning in your head. Either get up and leave or go to sleep, but don't lie there all night intellectualizing what we did."

What we did.

"I didn't-"

"Stay or go, make up your mind about it," House muttered, "but if you are planning on staying, you could make yourself useful and get over here, seeing as how your enthusiastic thrashing earlier dislodged all the sheets."

A moment passed. Chase could feel the heat burning against his face, it seemed too unreal, to be lying in House's bed with...House.

"Oh, he blushes, how cute," House said sarcastically, "now get over here."

The boss, as always. But then, wasn't that what Chase found so attractive? He frowned, mooring himself against House's shoulder and realized he didn't know. It was different, feeling all hard angles instead of Cameron's pliant skin, and the rough, scratchy texture of House's hair. Different, different... he rubbed alittle against House's chest, experimentally, and when the only response was adisinterested grunt, and not being shoved away, he settled. It was almost electrifying, the coarse hair, the rough skin...not at all like Cameron, his sleepy muddled thoughts repeated.

His mouth still tasted faintly of alcohol and the smell of House's cigarette smoke hung loosely in the air around them. Gradually, he began to feel heavy and drowsy enough to fall asleep and his mind rolled lazily over the previous evening, when he had acted on the advice he had given to Cameron, three years ago, before her date with House -

" You want him, you've gotta take him. Jump him."






Chase had been finishing his sixth - or was it seventh? - beer when House appeared. House, who was officially the last person he wanted to see. He sauntered over to the bar, or came as close to it as a man limping with a cane could, and said in a loud enough voice to be sure everyone in the bar heard him"Get me a beer - and one for my boyfriend here. Yes, I /know /he's pretty but back off - he's mine."

He groaned inwardly. Did House really have to add insult to injury - as though /firing/Chase hadn't been enough - he actually had to seek him outside the hospital and humiliate him publicly too?

"I didn't know you came to this place, Robbie - I'll have to come here more often so I can continue to make your life miserable."

Chase was too emotionally exhausted to return the barb, he didn't even bother to glance at the man now sitting on the barstool next to him. Though - he did take the offered drink. It sounded strange to hear House call him by his first name, but he decided he could live with it, since he wasn't likely to see the man again. Wasn't likely to see any of them. He still hadn't decided what he was going to do. Move back to Australia?He spent the next few minutes thinking about that and ignoring House.

As the minutes dragged on it became more and more apparent that, after the initial taunting, House was willing to sit there and drink with him in silence. He didn't know what to make of that, or of many things, really. Everything inside him was conflicting - anger at the man who had fired him completely arbitrarily after punching him for saving a patient's life, getting angry at him when he had tried to save his and spending more than three years making his personal dislike for Chase painfully obvious - but still he felt a great respect for this man. Still, he liked him.

And maybe that was the problem, he hadn't protested overmuch when House had fired him. He still valued House's opinion higher than his own. Which had to mean that he didn't think very highly of himself, didn't it? Chase frowned. Fuck it, he decided,/ I'm too drunk to be thinking about this./

Drunk, worn out, and still hurting from Cameron's rejection. And the ultimate rejection - being fired from the one job he loved - the job where he felt - he felt - he didn't know what he felt.

He had another drink and began feeling light headed, dizzy, buzzing. He didn't drink much. House had begun to say something again, but he couldn't hang on to the words long enough to understand them. House had a nice voice, though, he decided, when it wasn't being hurtful or sarcastic. And then he thought - what the hell - you're drunk, you're never going to see this man again - and the look on his face - wouldn't it be worth it for the look on his face?Chase realized that he was quite drunk, and his thoughts after that disintegrated entirely. He felt only the burning of alcohol in his throat and his heart thudding in his ears.

Sort of aware that he was staring at House - now quite intently - he realized dimly that House was beginning to take notice and that his expression was alittle confused. Confusion was a rare emotion to see flickering across House's face, and Chase felt a strange moment of pride for being responsible for it this time.

"Chase?" he heard, as though from a distance, "didn't your mommy ever teach you it's not polite to stare?"

He felt his ears begin burning - not because of what House had said, he barely heard that - because of what he was about to do. His hands clenched and unclenched around his last drink. And then he launched himself at the older man.

Everything after that was a bit dark and blurred around the edges. He felt the roughness of House's jaw, scratching him, the wetness and taste of alcohol inside his mouth, and the warmth of his jacket beneath Chase's fingers.

What was it House had said that time? "Don't start anything you can't finish."

He wasn't. He pressed his tongue farther into House's mouth. He dug his fingers into his arms and held him there. Then House's hands, on his shoulders, pushed him back with surprising gentleness.

"No, not /here/, idiot," breathed against his ear. House's breath made his skin tickle.

He swallowed the groan that was building in his throat. '/No, not here'/meant...meant yes, somewhere else, didn't it? He grabbed House's wrist in aclumsy, bruising grip, but House didn't pull away. He pulled House close to him, felt the warmth of his breath.






They somehow managed to get back to House's apartment, though afterwards Chase could never remember the details, except that the street lights seemed incredibly bright and he had a difficult time walking in a straight line, especially with House groping his ass and sticking his tongue down his throat.

By the time they got to the apartment Chase couldn't wait any longer, he grabbed House's shoulders, hauling him into a fierce kiss. Their tongues shoved against one another, their embrace was a struggle, both trying to dominate the other. And he'd never felt so turned on in his life; the heat coursed through every muscle and vein, contact with House was electrifying. Unable to take his hands off him, Chase was vaguely aware that they slammed into the wall, that House leaned heavily against him, his hands tugging at his hair painfully.

Then House drew back, pinned him against the wall with his cane, and somehow it was the sexiest thing anyone had ever done to him. He felt his face flushed, his breath coming in gasps, and House began to kiss him again - without the frantic need - with surprising gentleness.

Chase lost himself in the kisses, at some point the cane clattered to the floor and House leaned against him for support as they fumbled with the door into the bedroom, and that was alright too, because he was realizing that he liked the weight of House pressed against him.

He wanted more. They fell onto the bed and House's hands crawled up under his shirt, the touch electrocuting his bare skin and sending shivers up his back. Afew moments of writhing and struggling had them divested of most of their clothing. House's jacket fell to the floor with a loud thud, Chase was trying to undo House's belt, the sensation of the buckle and clasps, so cold against his warm skin was somehow incredibly arousing. He bit House's lips, nipping his chin, licking...he wasn't even sure anymore. House pushed him flat on his back and tore the belt off himself, growling against his throat, pulling his hair.

But Chase felt the hunger roaring through him now, as well, and it wasn't enough to be dominated by House. He wanted /him/, too, after all. They rolled against the mattress, somehow Chase got House underneath him, pinned him there with carnal passion he'd never felt before, even with Cameron. He held onto House so tightly he knew he was leaving bruises, but he didn't care. He kissed him and bit him wildly. There was fire and sparks he felt - and that was all that mattered.






And so afterwards, the morning. Chase woke up again. The sun was coming through the windows and he could feel every inch of his skin in a way he hadn't before. House was already sitting up on the edge of the bed, partially dressed. He looked over his shoulder at Chase, and treated him to one of his rare half-smiles, a faint twitch of his mouth with darkened eyes.

He knew he was supposed to say something, only he had no idea what. "Now what?"

House sighed deeply. His eyebrows rose and his eyes were distant, but troubled."Now... Now I forgive you for all the bruises I'm going to have for the rest of the week," he smirked. "Would never have thought you had it in you, Robbie."
Chase waited. He smiled faintly at House's expression, but he knew there was something more to be said here, and he already felt himself sinking.

"...And you forget," House shrugged. "Forget me, forget this and get on with your life."

He almost asked what sort of life he was supposed to have without House and PPTH, but that would be too desperate, too clingy, too petulant, so he didn't. He didn't say anything. He shook his head, dressed and left, without another word to House, without a backward glance.





END