Disclaimer: Not mine, sadly, or i'd be watching them fight over me now. in mud. naked.
Summary: Follows up from the last one. House feels very betrayed and isn't afraid to let Chase know it.
Notes: I'm not sure about this part, if only because they seem a bit out of character. But I've always thought Chase had a nasty side that he keeps in a box and only lets out when he's miserable, and maybe House took
They don’t use words because they have no need for them. House’s mouth is warm and wet on his, one knee shoved between his thighs, denim rubbing bare, sweating skin. Chase lets out a long, keening moan as House runs his fingernails across his chest, hard enough to cut, to mark, to brand Chase as his. It’s good, it’s perfect, and he arches his back, lips helplessly forming the word “Greg” although it never gets said.
We hit the bottom
I thought it was my fault
And in a way I guess it was
The alarm clock wakes Chase up. He’s angry enough at it to want to throw it across the room. He takes a deep breath in, and looks down. His chest is indeed marked with scratches, scabbed over in his sleep. They come from a man whose name Chase doesn’t even know, who he dragged home last night from a bar because he couldn’t face sitting around at home knowing what he’d done. The same man is still asleep, the early morning sunlight spilling over his face and highlighting strands of hair. He’s pretty and Chase would probably appreciate this more if he wasn’t so bloody obsessed with House.
Chase eases his way out of the bed, manages to have a shower and get dressed, all the while feeling unbelievable nerves in his stomach. Today he has to face House after what he’s done. He wonders if House will tell Foreman and Cameron. He can picture the look on Cameron’s face, the “You hurt House so you hurt me” look as she resolutely avoids even glancing at him. Foreman will shrug with a “It’s not my problem” kind of look, and then act pretty normally. Chase has no friends there and he idly wonders whether he should update his CV and get the hell out of there as soon as he can.
The man, the stranger, in his bed wakes up.
“Last night was amazing.” He says, with a smile. Chase has the uncharacteristic and unnerving need to hurt like he hurts.
“Yeah, well, I have to go to work now.” He says tightly. “So I’ll just head off.”
“When can I see you again?” The guy asks.
“I don’t really think that’ll be necessary.” He shrugs. “I didn’t really think we had anything in common.” Chase smirks at the hurt look on the man’s face. “I trust you can find your own way out?”
I’m just now finding out
What it was all about
House ignores Chase all morning and acts like nothing’s happened. Chase can’t really bring himself to bring it up; although he knows better than to think that House will let it go this easy. Sure enough, in the early afternoon, House pages him for a consult in the clinic. House never pages Chase for consults. He doesn’t need consults unless it’s for someone like Wilson. Chase briefly wonders whether he should just run for it and cut his losses. In the end, in the space of a few seconds that feel like fucking hours, he realises he has no choice and starts to make his way downstairs.
Back when I
When I was still in love
House meets him at the door, pulls him inside, shuts and locks the door and then pushes Chase up against it in a kiss. Chase is slightly less confused than he was yesterday, but only just. House’s hands are running over the lab coat, before he slides it off Chase’s shoulders and lets it fall to the ground. His shirt follows a few moments later. He wonders what House will make of the scratches across his chest, and tries not to think about it. House continues to run his hands over Chase, sliding down to his thighs, and Chase lets out a sound that it embarrassingly like a moan into House’s mouth.
Abruptly, House stops. He steps back and looks at Chase with raw hostility in his eyes.
“Where are they?!” he demands. Chase is about to say he has no idea what House is talking about when the older man uses his cane to knock Chase’s legs out from under him and the Australian sprawls on the floor. It takes him a moment to realise that House wasn’t feeling him up, but looking for something. He feels small and stupid, his mouth swollen and wet, chest rising and falling way too fast.
“Where are what?” he asks feebly, deciding for a moment that he won’t get up. The floor is cold against his bare back and he can’t help it, he’s slightly frightened.
“The hundreds of thousands of dollars that Vogler must have offered you in return for you telling tales on me.” House says in a singsong voice, before adding in mock surprise, “What, he didn’t give you anything? But surely you must have got something in return for selling me out?”
“Don’t.” Chase mutters.
“Don’t what? You betrayed me, for fuck’s sake. Or did that escape your notice? I wasn’t going to fire you. You know that. I just needed you to know that the mistake you made might have cost someone’s life. You were lucky. In someone else’s case we could have missed a blood clot and they would have died. I just wanted to teach you a lesson. Remind you of a few things. You don’t know me at all.”
“I had no choice.” Chase lies quickly. “What you were doing was lying to the-”
House cuts him off. “I was saving the life of a woman who didn’t want to die. Tell me what’s wrong with that.”
Chase sighs, moves to get up so that he can talk to House face to face, not from this uncomfortable position on the floor. House hits him in the chest with his cane, sending him down again, and then places it in the centre of Chase’s ribcage, holding him down.
“Don’t get up. I haven’t finished yet.” He says coldly, and Chase feels his body fill with ice. “You’re not fired. As you’ve gathered, you never were. I couldn’t fire you now, even I wanted to. You’ve got Vogler’s protection, and that’s as good as if God himself came down and kissed you on the forehead. But I’m just warning you. If you fuck up again, that’s it. You’re out. No excuses. No more chances. I trusted you once and I never make the same mistake twice.”
He eats a Vicodin one-handed. Chase shudders and is stunned as House whacks him in the ribs with his cane, the stick hurting and bruising almost instantly. Chase wonders whether this counts as harassment, whether there’s a clause in his contract that means he can sue. He’s sure he didn’t sign up to get whacked about by his crippled boss’s walking stick for God’s sake. And yet the power is intoxicating, and House is standing over him, with murder in his eyes but it’s still pretty damn sexy and Chase can’t help it. His body reacts. He looks at the ceiling and resolutely does not look down.
“You’re getting off on this?” House asks, disbelief and disgust in his voice. Chase closes his eyes and feels tears of humiliation and frustration build up behind the lids. There is nothing he can say. He lies there for a moment or two, breathing hard, keeping his eyes shut tight, and hears House begin to make his way to the door.
“Oh, and Chase?” House adds. Chase opens his eyes and sits up slightly. House is stood with his hand on the door handle.
“Yes?” he asks.
“Get over me.” House says, his voice cold and nasty. The door slams behind him.
Chase lies on the floor for a long time, breathing hard, trying not to cry. His side is burning and he feels so humiliated, so crushed. So sick.
Eventually he gets up and puts his shirt on, buttoning it slowly over the bruise on his ribs that he will probably stroke in the shower for the next week, all the while hating himself. He shrugs his way back into the crumpled white lab coat and then shuts his eyes for a minute, silently praying for strength although he knows that he doesn’t deserve it.
And I opened my eyes
And walked out the door
And the clouds came tumbling down
And it’s bye-bye, goodbye
Chase doesn’t look at House all afternoon. He lets Cameron manipulate him with those stupid, obvious techniques, because he feels he should be nicer to her. Before, he just viewed her as a silly little woman mooning over House all the time. Now, he knows that they are both on the same side, and besides, it feels like his penance. Foreman, he treats the same as always. There’s no other option. Except that normally, he and Foreman fight to be the ‘golden boy’, the one with the best ideas. Now he doesn’t bother. He’s lost all his shine in House’s eyes and somehow it just seems to be a better idea to keep his head down.
If you wrote me off I’d understand it
Because Chase hasn’t been looking at House all afternoon, he doesn’t notice that House’s eyes keep darting back to him, or that House seems overly short-tempered. Chase leaves the moment five o’clock comes. He doesn’t see House alone in his office, angrily kicking at the desk and howling with frustration.
Part three needs loads of work so I don't know when i'll post it. Oh well. Feedback always appreciated.