Disclaimer: Don't own.

A/N: I'm a total HouseChase shipper, but I also like the idea of House and Chase having a father/son relationship (this was written when I was in my slashy mood.) I might do a different story where the father/son relationship is played out if you guys would care to read it so let me know what you think of that idea and this story!

When Chase (and the rest of the team) found out about House's lie they were shocked. Faking brain cancer to get high… it was completely ridiculous… even for House. The team left House's apartment pissed off (Forman) flabbergasted (Cameron) and depressed (Chase). All Chase really wanted to do was curl up in bed with Cameron (even though cuddling really wasn't part of the deal) and sleep for the next billion years. He didn't want to see or deal with House again. He had been so rattled when Cameron told him and

Forman about the cancer; Chase also most completely lost it right there. He didn't though, because boys don't cry. Especially, they don't cry over dieing egotistical manipulative miserable pricks that punch people for no reason. So, Chase took a deep breath, bit the inside of his cheek, counted to ten, and went to inform House of the recent developments in the case.

That was hours ago, Patrick was going to be fine (for the most part) and Forman invited everyone out to dinner. Chase sat away from Forman and Cameron in the booth so they couldn't see the remains of the tears that had brimmed his eyes when he found out that House had been faking. (He didn't cry then either just took a deep breath, bit the inside of his cheek, counted to ten, and accepted Forman's offer). He, also, didn't really feel like being around other people, but he didn't want to be alone either. So, he took large gulps of red wine when no one was looking and refreshed his glass often. He was slightly tipsy when House limped into the restaurant looking extremely apologetic.

After a few awkward hello's and another swig of wine Chase scooted over and let House take the seat next to him. The rest of the evening was enveloped in strange silences and prolonged pauses between casual chitchat. All the team really wanted to do was scream and yell at their boss.

The diner lasted a painstaking thirty minutes before they all headed for the door. Cameron and Forman left with no difficulty. Chase… not so much. His car wouldn't start. Chase was parked near the exit and as House was leaving he noticed his soul blond fellow trying, without success, to start his car. Frustrated Chase slammed his head on his steering wheel and tried to think of what to do next. This was a very bad day.

After about two minutes of deep breathing, biting, and counting there was a sharp thud on his driver side window. Looking up he saw House's face staring down at him.

"Come on," House said, "I'll drive you home."

Chase got silently out of his car and into House's.

Fastening his seatbelt he mumbled, "Thanks," more out of habit and doing the right thing than actually being thankful.

"No problem," House said cheerfully.

When they were about ten miles (both directions) from any other sign of human life House pulled the car over and turned to a growingly anxious Chase.

"Why do you like me?" House asked (well, more demanded that anything.)

"What do you mean?" Chase asked his voice breaking. His breath, bite, and count method was failing him. He was past anxious and had moved on to completely and totally freaking the crap out.

(Here's a little secret: Chase is bisexual, that's why he left the seminary. Since then he has been very comfortable in his skin…and his crush on House; but with all the political debate and homophobes in America these days he decided against coming out to his co-workers. Only a few close friends and his father knew/knows. And the only reason his father knew was because he caught Chase and one of his boyfriends in bed one day when he was checking up on Chase in med school to make sure he was staying on top of his school work. His mother had died before Chase had come to this realization and comfort in his sexuality.)

"You wouldn't have hugged me if you didn't like me, and I want to know why you like me," House reasoned.

"You mean like, why I like you, like you?" God, Chase thought to himself, I sound like I'm fourteen.

"No, I mean why you—wait, you like me, like me?" House tilted his head to the side and cocked and eyebrow staring at Chase humorously.

"No," Chase said looking down feeling House boring holes into the back of his head. He became entirely too aware of just how short of a distance there was between House's knee and his own, "I just didn't understand the question,"

"You're a horrible liar," House commented, Chase's face flushed, and he sighed. He was so tired of this lie. House was right he was a horrid liar, probably some subconscious lingering thought from his catholic school boy/seminary days where it was drilled into his head that lying was wrong and an awful sin.

After contemplating a comment for a few moments Chase settled on, "So…?"

House closed the gap between their knees and then some, House's knee was overlapping Chase's. He did it so that Chase would know it wasn't an accident, "I want to know why."

Chase rubbed his eye barley believing what was going on as he searched for a suitable answer, but he came up short… he had no idea why he liked House, he just did. He had no idea why he liked guys and girls, he just did. He had no idea why he generally leaned toward girls except for a selected few guys, he just did. He had no idea how there could be a supreme being named God that created everything on earth and not on earth, he just did believe in God. He never really analyzed why he liked or disliked things he just did and that was enough for him. He was entirely too accepting and forgiving he decided as he felt his anger and depression slip away from him as House's knee inched further and further up his thigh waiting for an answer. "I don't know why, I just do," Chase finally said looking House right in the eye.

House nodded and leaned closer and closer to Chase slipping his hand around Chase's neck pulling Chase's pretty mouth to House's. Chase let out a little moan feeling House's warm soft mouth take hold of his. The kiss started out slow, but gradually filled with passion until there wasn't one cell in House's mouth or one pour on his chest that Chase hadn't thoroughly explored.

House broke the kiss and pulled down his shirt from where it had been bunched up around his arm pits (Chase was just about to relive House of it.) They both took deep breaths and House pulled himself up from where he was laying on Chase and brought his face to about three centimeters away from Chase's and whispered, "Wanna go back to my place?"

They finished at the same time and lay in bed for a few moments gasping for air. Once Chase had retuned a decent amount of air to his lungs and was convinced he wasn't going to have a heart attack, he rolled out of bed and started to dress.

"Where are you going?" House mumbled, half asleep.

"Home," Chase replied, assuming this was just a one night stand sort of a deal at the least or a Cameron-type thing at most. Both of those situations involved Chase going home after to an empty and cold bed.

"You don't have a car," House reminded him. Chase sighed.

Crap.

"I'll just call a cab, it's no problem. You should sleep; it might be a rough day for you tomorrow," Chase suggested, being polite and thoughtful even though his heart was shattering a little more with every stitch of fabric he allowed back on his body.

"Why waste money on a cab? I'll drive you to work in the morning," House was getting agitated, he wanted Chase to stay, in fact, he wanted Chase to slip into bed with him and never leave.

"You…want me to stay?" Chase squeaked hopefully.

House shrugged, "Yeah. Get in." He was being demanding, rude, and entirely to mean for a guy that really, really wanted something from the person he was being demanding, rude, and mean to. It made Chase smile. He stripped back down to his boxers, and socks (he never felts comfortable sleeping naked next to some one, and his feet always seemed to grow cold during the night.)

He laid his head on House's chest and tangled his legs in House's. He placed his hand on House's thigh (the one with the really nasty scar) and delicately ran his fingers up and down it tracing the jagged line.

Chase felt himself getting the urge to cry again as House's arms tightened around his torso and House's breathing became regular as he fell to sleep. This time Chase let his breaths remain shallow; he clenched his jaw together, and pushed numbers out of his mind. The tears fell freely down his cheeks and created a pool on House's chest. He had no idea why he was crying, he just was, and he liked the feeling of letting things out… finally. Chase was glad House was sleeping; he hated people getting all weeping and emotional around him.

But that was an issue they could deal with later.