she's your cocaine. (kohlrimmedeye) wrote in house_chase,
she's your cocaine.

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Part 1/4 of an untitled thing

Title: Wishing it was
Pairing: House/Chase
Rating: NC-17 (?) i dunno, there's swearing and sexual references
Disclaimer: Not mine, sadly, or i'd be watching them fight over me now. in mud. naked.
Summary: I kinda thought, "What would have happened if House caught Chase looking for those pills in 'Control' (1x14)?"
Notes: Um... don't hurt me, I bruise very easily. But comments will make me happy...

I always feel safe when things are bad
So I cannot let you come near
It seems that I thrive on the dark side of things
I always feel alive when the death bell rings
Now you come and you bring out the tears in me
Pain never makes me cry
But happiness does
It's so strange to watch your life walk by
Wishing it was

(Santana, Wishing it was)

"So what did he say?" asks Chase, trying not to sound as desperate and anxious as he feels.
"He says he wants you worried." Allison replies. She pauses, her face crumples helplessly. "And he said- he said..."
Chase doesn't have time for her pathetic emotions right now.
"I'm sure whatever it was, he didn't mean it." he mutters, adding, "You know what he's like."
And he walks out without bothering to thank her for talking to House for him.
House wants him worried. Ok. That's ok. It's a perfectly natural thing for employers to want their employees to be worried. And House is, fine, a bit of a sadist. He wants to toy with them for his own amusement. Fine.
Chase really, really hopes that House has no idea of the power he has over him. House could ask him to do anything, and Chase would do it without hesitation. He knows it's sick, this fascination he has with the older man. He hates it. If anyone but House treated him like this, Chase would leave. As it is, he just can't go.
When Chase drifts off while House is suggesting reams of cures for diseases their dying patient probably doesn't have, he prays that House can't guess that Chase is imagining the two of them together, House pinning him against the whiteboard, pen smudges sliding down the back of Chase's pristine coat, House hissing in his ear, their bodies pressed desperately together. He thanks whoever invented baggy labcoats.
He is so fucking worried that one day House will realise how Chase feels about him. He's fairly certain that so far, he's kept it hidden. He knows that House will be mercilessly cruel with Chase's emotions, and the young Australian is obsessed, not stupid.
Chase sits in the empty office, toying with one of House's yo-yos, mind a mile off in a daydream where House forcibly fucks him against the wall of his office, Chase's bare back sliding stickily against the glass, keeping them both upright as the rest of the hospital watch them.
He had a dream like that once. It was humiliating and yet oddly satisfying (he feels like that around House a lot). He'd woken up harder than he had been in a while and had been unable to look at House all day.
He reaches a decision.
It has got to be around here somewhere, Chase reasons, hunting through the drawers. House is lying, and he needs to know why. Chase knows what doing this will mean, what selling out House will mean. But he needs this job and he doesn't want to leave. He knows that House does it deliberately; keeps Chase slightly off-balance constantly so that he can manipulate him easily, but since he has no idea whether House will fire him or not, he's going to have to do this.
His fingers close around a small bottle of pills in her purse.
“Have you thought about this?” A voice at his elbow asks. Chase almost jumps out of his skin. Obviously, he was so caught up in trying to betray his boss that he neglected to notice said boss creeping up behind him. Well, as much creeping as you can manage with a stick. Chase’s brain is screaming shrilly, both from the close physical contact with House and the fact House can obviously see what he was planning to do- what he is probably still planning to do, if his nerve holds.
He tries to come up with some lame excuse (“Oh, did you know, I’m bulimic too? Yeah, I’m desperate enough to steal the pills from a woman having a heart operation, I just need to vomit so much!”) but nothing comes into his head. He opens his mouth uncertainly, and suddenly House’s mouth is glued to his and they’re kissing. It’s not really a nice kiss, as House is obviously not bothering to invest any emotion in it, and Chase is really too shocked to get into it, so it’s mostly House’s tongue brushing his and there’s too much stubble and his hands are shaking so damn hard and then House pulls back. He looks at Chase, as the Australian tries to get his eyes to focus and his heart to slow down.
“Just think about what you will lose if you rat me out.” He says quietly, and then walks over to the door. While his back is turned, Chase has the sense to shove the pill bottle into the pocket of his lab coat. Just in case. At the door, House turns.
“Come on then puppy. Heel!” He says, and gives a mocking whistle. And then he walks out. Chase seethes that House can just do this, treat him like a dog for fuck’s sake, and know that Chase will still follow.
As he begins to count in his head to delay the inevitable time when he’ll rush out into the corridor to catch House up, Chase contemplates what he said. Just think about what you will lose if you rat me out. House can’t mean his job, because this is an act that will help him keep it. And there was the kiss, and the look in House’s eyes…
Shit, thinks Chase, he knows.

yes, there are three more parts to this

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