Title: Punishment
Pairing: House/Chase (H/Ch)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 648
Summary: If Wilson was there, he'd spurt some nonsense about House subconsciously punishing himself.
fic- Punishment
by OMG I found Waldo
House sat alone in the dark with a beer can in one hand and his cane in the other. The hooker bought for tonight was sent away not long after Chase left, or rather stormed out. He had waited a while before sending her away - he wanted Chase to think that she had stayed. He wanted Chase to think they were 'doing the dirty' right now. Or should he say 'shagging' instead? Chase is British, right?
Australian, a Chase-sounding voice inside his head corrects him.
Near enough, he thought to himself with a roll of his eyes. He refused to get into an arguement with his subconscious - no matter how much said subconscious sounded like Chase. He toyed with the thought of Chase being like the angel on his shoulder.
Foreman could be the devil on the other shoulder, he decided. Cameron was too goody-goody to ever be the devil (and she'd probably enjoy sitting on his shoulder far too much). Foreman had a criminal record - it was an easy choice to make between the two.
The apartment was too empty and too big without Chase there, House noticed. It wasn't that he missed Chase, just that the apartment was too big for one person. Maybe he could buy a puppy to take up some of the space. Or a potted plant - that way there'd be no pee and poop to clean up.
House gulped back the remaining beer from the can and then crushed it in his grip. He wasn't sure why he'd hired the hooker tonight - he was... well, not happy, but not unhappy either, with Chase and their relationship was... Well, it wasn't completely unbearable.
If Wilson was there he'd spout some nonesense about House subconsciously punishing himself.
An image of Wilson - superman pose, and all - appeared before his eyes. House blamed the alcohol: "You want to be miserable, that's the real reason why you hurt Chase like that. Why won't you let yourself be happy for once, House? You're punishing yourself for not curing the patient in time, I understand that, but you love him and he loves you. What's the problem?"
House snorted. His subconscious acted out Wilson amazingly well. "What is the problem?" House repeated to himself, tapping his cane on the floor in thought. Did he love Chase? His subconscious seemed to think so.
He thought back to Chase's face when he'd walked in on House in bed - their bed, the bed they shared each night and in which they made love - with a prostitute. He had looked so... lost? His bottom lip had trembled, his eyes had watered and then he had shouted, accent thickening with rage.
"What the bloody hell, Greg?" Chase had screamed, angry tears gathering in the corners of his eyes as he tried his best to ignore the hooker. The Aussie brandished his phone, "Come home now - I've got a surprise for you?" He read the text out loud as the first tear slid down his cheek. "Is this some sort of sick joke?"
House was surprised to feel a pang in his chest at this particular memory. Thinking about Chase upset hurt his heart - interesting. Was that love?
After Chase had shed his first tear they began to stream down his face. "I can't believe you'd do this to me, to yourself..." He'd hiccuped before turning and leaving, near-blind because of the tears in his eyes.
House frowned, feeling the ache in his chest once again. He stared down at the floor sadly, guilty and self-pitying all of a sudden. Maybe subconscious Wilson had a point... Maybe he had been trying to punish himself.
Maybe he DID love Chase.
He had two options; He could call Chase and try to sort things out with him or he could get another beer and spend the night drowning in his sorrows.
House got up from the sofa and walked to the fridge.