Juvenile? – Yes. No, scratch that, – definitely yes. But add some holiday spirit and alcohol, and a Truce-or-Dare game could be so much fun. Slashy.

Happens somewhere during the first part of the first season, before all the melodrama started.

Warning: mentions of slash. And attempts at humor.

The idea is clichéd, but taking in the fact that the author and a bunch of crazy friends were recently playing it – the plot bunny was born.

Happy New year to you all! Hope this little silly one-shot can make you smile and lift your mood a bit.

Disclaimer: Why does Dark Ithil writes these stories if it gives no profit? Rhetorical question.

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Bitchiness of Fate

Fate was a bitch. That wasn't a question for a very long time, at least as far as Dr. Chase was concerned. To receive the same kind of question in such a short time span, only this once it was far, far worse.

'So you really don't think House is hot?'

Yep, definitely a bitch, and with a terrible sense of humor. Also the one, who never bothers to answer the question 'Why me?'

To be fair, Chase was at least partly to blame himself this time. New Year, the holiday spirit was nicely floating in the air since Christmas, and with added joy of solving a particularly tricky case of a disease – 'So the poor mortal could enjoy yet another year' as House had put it – all of it made the ducklings accept New Year's party invitation. And later, when only the Head Nurse Brenda Previn, Dr. Cuddy's secretary and a few more young doctors remained, they had a brilliant idea, probably the product of consumed alcohol circulating in bloodstream, to play the Truce or Dare game. So it was by Chase's consent he was in this mess right now.

Finally, the intensivist managed:

'House is my boss, for Heaven's sake! He could be the hottest person on Earth for all it matters, – he'd still be a sarcastic, evil, cruel, sadistic pain in the ass, and my boss.'

'So,' a female Dr. What-was-her-name? asked with a giggle, 'you admit he's hot?'

Why me?

'Fine, House is hot. Now can we move on with the game?' And hopefully the next victim would be more embarrassed so they'd drop his subject... Who was he kidding?

After several more rounds, and drinks, Forman was dared to sing a sweet love song to Cameron. Should it be mentioned he looked really, really annoyed? And a bit drunk. And Allison Cameron categorically refused to mess with patients in any way, so she was dared to call her landlord – an old lady of rather conservative views – and ask her if it was fine to arrange an orgy in the flat, if that would be breaking any laws, and perhaps she, the landlord, wanted to participate. That was rather funny to watch – poor doctor was very embarrassed, but nevertheless completed the dare, though added that she would probably be forced out of the flat as soon as the holidays were over. The game went on. Cuddy's secretary admitted that yes, she sometimes eavesdropped on her boss, no, the things she heard weren't very interesting, and, yes, she wished Cuddy had more fun in her working hours.

It was Chase's turn again, and he, with cold dread chilling his insides, chose dare, vaguely wishing for a pencil or something to chew.

'I dare you to kiss House, a real kiss' the Head Nurse said with an evil glint in her eyes.

Chase was very, very pale and stammered denials: 'No… No way, he's my boss… It'd be a death of me…'

Suddenly, Cameron spoke: 'C'mon, remember him telling almost everyone is bisexual, although some people' – some ignorant idiots, was the exact phrase House had used – 'might never realize it. He won't kill you if you kiss him.'

'Neh, I doubt as he told it, the House Almighty was placing himself on the level with other mortals,' was Forman's most reassuring comment.

Chase tried to loosen the rope tightening around his neck once again, but was interrupted by Allison: 'Do it, or I might accidently spill out you consider him hot.'

Wow, he never knew she could look that evil.

The Head Nurse added, 'You can bribe him, do whatever you want, just have a real kiss.'

'We'll know if you're lying,' the Evil Cameron pointed out. 'No doubt he won't have any problems in sharing some details on this subject if asked.'

OK, so Fate personally hates him, big deal. And, as Chase was on his way, he contemplated similarities between glass offices and scaffolds, or maybe guillotines, it was difficult to say what House'd prefer – to strangle him or to cut his head off?

Against all his hopes his boss was inside, sitting in his chair, absently playing with the cane.

Chase slowly approached, and when fixed with intense stare, he clearly understood that No, alcohol does not give a burst of courage, damn it!

The young doctor's presence was questioned with a grunting sound. The Australian fidgeted a bit, took a steadying breath, and asked in what he hoped was a dignifying and not pitifully desperate voice: 'Please, don't freak out!' and quickly ducked his head to press his lips against House's.

The blood was so heavily pounding in his ears that only after several seconds and stepping back – nearly falling – did Chase comprehend that he hadn't provoked any reaction from House, nothing at all, except for a long intense gaze. So intense, that the Australian began to uncontrollably babble something about the party and the game.

Then House smirked and checked him out.

'You look as though you expect me to cut your head off.'

So the guillotine it was.

'Well, you once told you kick and bite.'

'True, but by simply pressing your lips to mine is not enough to produce the kicking and biting me – you're not Foreman. Well, you're not Angelina Jolie either, but…' he shrugged.

And just when Chase stopped being afraid of having a cardiac arrest any second now, his boss's eyes narrowed and lips curled in a way, that nullified all the calming down progress.

'Playing a grown-up game, aren't we? Makes me so proud… So, what exactly was your dare?'

Chase never managed to develop a working immunity to the stare, so he said, 'To have a real kiss with you.'

'Too bad, you failed.'

'What? But…'

House only looked more devilish, 'That was a pitiful attempt, not even close to a real kiss.'

Not that he was wrong, but it took all of Chase's courage to do that "pitiful attempt", he felt dejected. That didn't stop his boss to ask further:

'Now, who came up with such a marvelous idea? To sacrifice an innocent baby kangaroo to a big bad doctor? The Evil Witch Cuddy might have done that, if not for the fact that she was trying to brainwash me – again – five minutes ago, and she's too grown up for such games. Not Wilson Wonder Boy either – he's too well behaved.' He looked really curious and suddenly Chase knew he had a tactical advantage.

'I'm not telling you,' he said firmly with an unexpected increase of courage.

House pouted, then changed his expression to a mischievous one:

'I'll be sure to tell whoever asks me that your attempt was a failure, and they'd unleash their wrath along with the blackmail material they've got on you.'

What? How did he… Damn him!

'I'm still not telling,' Chase concreted his resolve, consequences to hell.

'I have a mad idea I at the same time cannot believe in,' the diagnostician scrutinized him, judging his reactions. 'Was it Cameron?'

The Australian only lifted a nothing-clarifying eyebrow.

House sighed, looked down with a frown.

Then, suddenly one of his hands shoot up, grabbed Chase's yellow tie and yanked him down, crashing their lips together, giving him a kiss. A kiss that made your heart race, your toes curl, a kiss that made you forget your name and everything around you. This time when Chase straightened back, he had to grab a table for support and had a difficulty focusing his eyes.

'Well, who was it?' was questioned almost gently.

'The Head Nurse Previn,' Chase managed when he was able to talk. 'It was her idea.'

'Good boy. Now go back there, and don't forget to remember all their reactions, when you tell them what had happened here, in detail,' House looked smug.

Well, damn it all, mused Chase – he would sure get tons of teasing, inappropriate, embarrassing comments from House in the next several weeks, hell, maybe even months. But at least he could torment the news-awaiting bunch of conspirators; maybe House would even make him describe their reactions in presence of Cameron and Foreman... and the Head Nurse.

And, Chase licked his lips, maybe Fate wasn't such a bitch after all.

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Funny detail as post-scriptum. My mother, seeing me all bend over and curled near computer, gave a comment:

'The author with such hunched back could write only something like "Brokeback Mountain."

It was a taunting comment meant to make me straighten my back, little did she know =3

Happy New Year!