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There were five things in this world that Gregory House considered necessary for his day-to-day happiness. Music was one, the practice of medicine another. Modern technology with its little gadgets usually occupied the next slot, though his work pager was, of course, another matter altogether.
Alcohol was indubitably in the list and, after the unfortunate little turn of events about a decade ago, his little white pills. Sometimes he wondered if he should have indeed classified the two together, but taxonomy was usually the last thing on his mind by the time the need for either arose.
But the one thing he knew he could never live without was his cynicism, his distrust of humanity itself. It was a lesson that began at age five, when his doting parents lied about the death of Babs, their family dog, and ended at age 26, when he accepted the word of a patient over his own instincts and almost lost her. If love or fear of one's own death couldn't keep someone from lying, then nothing could.
Which is probably why he was sitting alone in his home, downing his second glass of Scotch for the night, instead of taking Cameron up on her offer. He liked her, a lot -- enough so that he would have overlooked her little savior complex, if not for her inability to acknowledge it or even recognize it. He accepted, even understood, the human need to lie to others; what he couldn't forgive was humanity's need to lie to itself.
Briefly he wondered if he should just forgo the glass and go straight for the bottle, but then figured that civilized behavior had its own rewards. He had just refilled his glass with his second-best Scotch when someone knocked on the door. Glancing at the clock hanging on the dining room wall, he noted that only fifteen minutes had passed since Cameron's little late night visit. Maybe she decided to come back to apologize or-- No, she had more brains than to intrude upon him again tonight. And the hospital would of course page him first.
He almost ignored the annoying raps, but they turned into pounding, and he knew for a fact that his neighbors wouldn't hesitate to call the cops. Nonetheless, he took a small gulp of the Scotch before dragging himself to the door. Yanking it open, he discovered Chase's fist inches away from his face and slammed the door shut. He would have laughed at the panic flashing across Chase's face if the whole incident wasn't so ridiculous.
The pounding began anew, however, this time interspersed with shouts of "Dr. House, please!"
Reluctant to deal with the police on top of everything else tonight, he waited only moments before opening the door again. He gave Chase his patented disdainful glare and his 'victim' had the good graces to blush and look down, but whatever shame and guilt Chase felt obviously couldn't keep him away from Gregory's door.
When he made no move to let Chase in, the young man spent the first few seconds deciding if he wanted his hands inside or outside his trouser pockets and the next seven flipping strands of his floppy hair behind his right ear, looking at everywhere but his superior. Gregory narrowed his eyes and decided to give Chase ten more seconds. One, two, three, four, five, six--
Chase snapped. "For God's sake, Dr. House, would you please just let me in?"
Having made his point, Gregory turned sharply around and limped back to the armchair in as much of a stride as he could, leaving Chase to close the door. Slamming the door in Chase's face again would probably be more satisfying, but a bit too childish, even for him. And after standing for so long, his leg definitely needed another break.
He half-flopped into the brown monstrosity that was his armchair and stretched his legs out on the ottoman. In a near sprawl, he waited until Chase had settled onto the sofa before taking another sip of his drink, pointedly not offering anything to his unwelcome guest.
"Say your piece and get out," he spat. As repartee went, it lacked his usual flair, but the hour was late and he was too exhausted and too raw after Cameron's little speech.
Staring at somewhere around Gregory's knees, Chase cleared his throat and opened his mouth, an "I--" escaping, but closed it again and stood up when he, no doubt, finally realized how far from the armchair the sofa was.
Gregory snorted.
His glance darting between the piano bench and the wooden chair at the desk, Chase eventually went for the piano bench, which would place him at a higher eye level than Gregory. Smart boy. Knowing that Chase was staring, Gregory studied and swirled the amber liquid in his glass instead, taking the occasional sip.
Apparently rather impatient tonight, Chase only waited until Gregory's third sip. "I'm really sorry that I--"
"Already? You were so much more fun when you were annoyed. At least you had some personality then." Hm, it seemed he wasn't too tired after all.
His too-red mouth twisting into a thin line, Chase met Gregory's eyes and straightened his back. "I'm sorry that Cameron got hurt in the process, but I will not and do not apologize for trying to keep a job that I lo--" Abruptly stopping, Chase winced and dropped his gaze once more.
Gregory's response was nearly automatic. "Keep talking, Chase; you just might prove that you have a spine after all."
"Fine." His eyes strangely cold in a face so full of anger, Chase stood up once more and took the few steps to the ottoman. From Gregory's current vantage point, Chase's usually shorter height was...not unimpressive. His gaze holding tight on Gregory's, Chase stepped in right between the armchair and the ottoman and began forcing the ottoman away with the flat of his shoe, obviously daring Gregory to stop him.
Gregory simply took his feet off the footrest and returned them to the floor, waiting for Chase to acknowledge the futility in trying to out-provoke him. As Gregory's gaze remained steady, however, Chase's expression turned from anger into a sort of slight frown.
"I went for the job because I wanted to work for one of the best diagnosticians in the world." His hand on one of the armrests, Chase slowly sank down into a half-kneeling, half-squatting position that had him looking up at Gregory, who took a sharp breath at the cheap but effective move. "I stayed because I was learning more in a month than a whole year at med school. And I took the abuse because I thought you couldn't help it, with your leg--"
"So you became Volger's little errand boy because you needed to stay and take care of the cripple? Well, that's definitely a new one." People's pity about his leg was so familiar by now that instead of twisting his guts like it once had, it only stung like an annoying but unavoidable paper cut, but he couldn't let Chase know that now, could he?
Chase winced, but only placed his hand on Gregory's good knee and added, "*Thought*, Dr. House."
The touch was light but startling, especially when combined with Chase's pose, and the heat from Chase's palm was seeping far too easily through Gregory's jeans and onto his skin. It was an intimacy he hadn't granted. The whole night was an intimacy he hadn't granted. "I'm not your priest, Chase. So unless you're planning to blow me, I suggest you get up and seek absolution somewhere else."
He smirked when Chase's face achieved the sort of full blush only such fair skin could, but satisfaction turned into surprise when Chase's rising to his feet became a series of elegant movements that ended with his leaning over Gregory. His hands just touching Gregory's arms on the armrests, Chase pressed in until their faces were mere inches apart.
Without a trace of expression, Chase asked, "And if I am?"
With Chase's gaze pinning him, Gregory's mind latched first onto James and then Stacy, then to the difference between the people one loved and the people one fucked. "Then stop being a cock-tease and actually do something about it."
Despite his posturing, Chase kept their kiss light until Gregory opened his mouth and kissed Chase back. All hesitancy quickly gone, Chase crawled onto the armchair and straddled Gregory's lap. The stab of pain was immediate and Gregory unceremoniously shoved Chase off.
The young man stumbled back, all hurt and confusion. "Don't you dare--"
"Not here," he sighed.
Calmer, Chase answered with a nod and, his hand inside his trouser pockets, stood silently by as Gregory downed his drink, grabbed his cane in a particularly tight grip, and stood up. He almost faltered, but glared Chase's hand away when the young man moved immediately to help him. As a conciliatory gesture, he nodded toward the bedroom and let Chase go ahead of him to open the door.
Watching Chase's ass, he silently thanked the non-existent God that he was only half-hard, strange as the thought was for anyone male. Limp, cane, and erection were a combination that could do a man grievous harm.
Instead of going straight into the room, however, Chase turned back around to look at Gregory and gestured at the still brightly-lit living room. "What about--?"
Gregory arched an eyebrow. "The lights are all on timer, but you can go shut them off if they bother you that much." Sweeping past Chase and into his bedroom, he stopped just inside the room when he felt Chase's hand on his forearm. The kiss was short and quick, especially when Chase broke it off to go back out and save some energy. Exasperated by Chase's absurd moral code, Gregory blinked at the dark room, went to his four-poster king-sized bed, and sat down.
Still wondering if years of alcohol consumption had indeed killed all his brain cells, he had just taken his shoes and T-shirt off and was unbuttoning his jeans when Chase slipped back inside. The only light Gregory had turned on was the bedside lamp and its soft light threw Chase's features into sharp relief. Chase had always been comely, but desire had polished his usually grey eyes into a breathtaking steel blue and his prettiness into a solemn beauty.
Leaning back on his hands, Gregory watched as Chase came to him in a slow but easy gait, until he was standing right between Gregory's legs. Wordless, Chase took off his tie and shirt with quick, efficient movements and began on his trousers.
His mouth dry, Gregory reached out to grip Chase's hands and murmured, "Let me."
Even after Gregory released them, Chase's hands stayed in the air for another moment before dropping. The weight of Chase's gaze heavy on his face, Gregory unbuttoned and unzipped Chase with thankfully steady hands. Ah-ha, boxer briefs, just as he had thought, though he hadn't expected them to be black, a color that complimented Chase's skin-tone rather well.
His touch light but caressing, he slipped the briefs down Chase's hips and watched Chase's hands clench into fists so tightly held that Gregory's own hands ached in sympathy. He drew out Chase's erection, its uncut head already wet with pre-come, and gave Chase's organ a few experimental strokes, earning himself a gasp from the young man.
He bent down his head and, taking a deep breath of Chase's strong, musky scent, licked the already swollen head of Chase's dick. It tasted bitter and salty, with a certain note that reminded Gregory of how his little team, like all doctors in his acquaintance, gulped down coffee like water.
Finally he abandoned all pretense of foreplay and simply took Chase's cock into his mouth. Its pulsing shape stretched his mouth full and he had to pull back before he choked. God, he couldn't even remember the last time he gave a blowjob, though the last one he received was at most a few months back. Wrapping his hand around the base of Chase's erection, he proceeded to reacquaint himself with the praise-worthy art of fellatio.
Soon enough, he took his hand off Chase's cock and slid his grip across to Chase's hip, jolting Chase's hands into falling on his shoulders. His jaws beginning to tire and his own cock hard to the point of pain, Gregory unzipped his jeans with his unoccupied hand and freed his own erection from his boxers. As he began to jerk himself off slowly, he took Chase's organ further and further in until he felt its tip at the back of his throat, Chase's grip impossibly tight on his shoulders. Breathing heavily through his nose, he tested his rediscovered cocksucking skills by swallowing deeply for several times.
Chase's response was instantaneous. "Oh, God!" Chase shouted and, staying upright only by Gregory's swift and tight grip on his thighs, came in long spurts into Gregory's mouth.
The taste of come vile as always, Gregory tried to swallow all of it, but some still spilled over. Staring longingly at the box of Kleenex on the far-away nightstand, he released Chase's still somewhat hard dick and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his nose wrinkling a little.
The seemingly unconscious Chase still draped over him, Gregory fell face-up onto the bed, dragging young man down with him. He poked at the boneless heap still on top of him and Chase rolled off, landing on the bed with a soft thud, and stretched out beside him into a sprawl. His cock still achingly hard, Gregory forced himself to sit back up, made quick work of the rest of his clothes, and moved up the bed until he was reclining against the headboard.
Silently he watched as Chase slipped out of his trousers and briefs, revealing a smooth expanse of skin flawless and without tan-lines. Chase crouched over Gregory's lap without further ado and oh-so-slowly sucked Gregory's erection into the wet heat of his mouth.
His fists closing around handfuls of bed sheets, Gregory bit back a moan and forced his disobedient hands open again. He slipped his hands into the fine, soft strands of Chase's hair instead, keeping his touch light and easy. Then Chase deep-throated him, making his whole attempt at not choking Chase futile, and his hands tightened into a grip on their own volition.
Feeling how easily Chase was adjusting, Gregory thrust harder and harder until he was fucking Chase's quite talented mouth almost brutally, hitting the back of Chase's throat each time. The threads of pleasure wound tighter and tighter until he was thrown into the abyss, his eyes squeezed shut and his back arched. Chase, apparently much more used to giving blowjobs, swallowed every drop and licked him clean.
Still breathless, Gregory collapsed back onto the bed and lay motionless for moments, overwhelmed by exhaustion. Eventually he groped blindly for the bedcovers and, having found them, pulled them up to his chest. Drifting off, he was listening to Chase's attempts at cleaning up when sleep finally came.
~~finis~~