A/N: This one takes place a few weeks after Wilson's return… Hope you enjoy! :)

"I'm coming back, because you're right. – That strange, annoying trip we just took was the most fun I've had since Amber died…" (Wilson; Ep. 5.4 "Birthmarks")

Fun

House's message had been cryptic. – At best.

When Chase had finished his last surgery for the day, his cell phone had announced three missed calls and one message from his ex-boss on voice mail. If he had gotten all the metaphors right, House wanted him to come to a bowling center in town and meet him outside.

Which was rather strange. If he remembered correctly, it was House's and Wilson's weekly bowling night, but why would House be calling him then? He had bowled with the other man once before, but that had been more as a substitute for Wilson than anything else, and since Wilson's recent return, he had not spent any more time with House outside the hospital.

. . . . . . .

When he arrived at the club, Chase immediately spotted his ex-boss. On a bench close to the center's entrance. A young man who looked like some sort of bike courier was standing close to him, hovering, fidgeting, but not talking to House or making any other sort of contact.

"Hey." Chase casually approached the two, inconspicuously regarding his former boss. "What's up?"

Before House even had a chance to reply, the courier quickly spoke up, apparently relieved by Chase's arrival.

"It was an accident, man… I really didn't see him at all. I don't usually speed you know? And I never, ever ride on the sidewalk; usually…"

Chase nodded somewhat impatiently and was just about to ask him to come to the point, when they were rudely interrupted by House himself.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah... We all get it. You're a saint, but apparently blind. – Stop with the guilt trip already and go home to your Mom."

The young man frowned at that. "I don't – "

"Girlfriend. Boyfriend. – Whatever…"

Chase now shook his head, somewhat confused by the strange exchange. And still not quite getting what had actually happened. – He was spared the dilemma of trying to get it out of House.

"I crashed into him." The courier guiltily nodded towards his bike. "He fell…" Then, gesturing towards House's right side: "I think he injured his leg."

Before Chase could even reply anything, House already rolled his eyes. "And I think you're a moron. – I'm not injured… I'm crippled! – This," he lifted his cane slightly for demonstration, "is the standard equipment…"

The younger man eyed him impassively. "You couldn't get up. You were up before." Then, to Chase: "I told him I'd wait with him until someone came to pick him up. Just wanted to make sure… you know… that there were no further incidents."

House interrupted with another eye-roll: "Whatever." Then he threw Chase a very brief glance. "In order to avoid any further incidents," he echoed the bike courier mockingly, "why don't you bring your car over here."

It was parked not 20 yards away, which made Chase frown slightly in mild concern. "Yeah," he finally replied slowly, eyeing the other man dubiously. "Why don't I just do that…"

. . . . . . .

By the time he had parked directly in front of the other man, House had gotten to his feet, but stood hunched. When he made no move to get into the car, Chase hesitantly approached him frowning slightly again. "You okay?" He tried to keep his tone casual, knowing from long years of experience how much House hated it, when people reacted any more than absolutely necessary to his disability and all related difficulties.

House replied with a very small nod, refusing to meet Chase's assessing gaze. "Yeah, just… Don't think I can walk on the leg right now." He sounded almost embarrassed by the admission.

Chase's frown deepened.

Walking over to House's right side, he then just nodded slightly, indicating for him to switch the cane to his left hand. "Let me give you a hand then…" Calm; pragmatical.

Pulling House's right arm across his shoulders, Chase supported most of the other man's weight for the few steps they had to take to get him into the passenger seat of the car.

Once House seemed to have found a more or less comfortable position, Chase wordlessly started the car.

After only a minute or two, he noticed House starting to tensely rub his bad leg. He was a little worried about the pallor of the other man's face, and his unusually labored breathing.

Keeping his eyes on the road, he finally calmly inquired: "Sure you don't need an X-ray?"

In his peripheral vision, he saw House jerk his head slightly in a nondescript gesture. "It's just a bruise."

Chase slowly nodded. – Then: "Where's Wilson?"

House just shrugged weakly, both hands still gingerly holding his thigh. "How should I know? Do I look like his mother?!"

But Chase wasn't deterred that easily. "Isn't tonight your bowling night?"

"Yeah, well… Looks like that wouldn't be the best idea for me right now, don't ya think?!" House's tone was slowly but surely becoming more acid...

Chase calmly clarified: "I meant: Why didn't you call Wilson? He was probably already on his way."

This time, House turned his head towards the passenger door window, completely averting his face like that. "Told him bowling was off. Didn't tell him what happened…"

Chase frowned heavily at that. – He went over House's words for a moment, but then just shook his head, honestly puzzled. "Why not?"

House didn't reply anything, instead going back to carefully rubbing the side of his leg.

They passed the rest of the way to House's apartment in silence.

. . . . . . .

Pulling the car into a parking space directly in front of the building, Chase shut off the engine and slowly got out of the car. He watched House very carefully lift his bad leg with both hands, while slowly turning his upper body. He brought the second leg out as well, but hesitated then.

Wordlessly holding out his arm for the other man, Chase allowed him to pull himself to his feet by holding onto the car door with one hand, and his arm with the other. As soon as he appeared to be standing more or less under his own power, Chase handed him his cane, ready to additionally support him on his right side again.

The short way into the house seemed to stretch out for miles. By the time they had finally reached the door to his apartment, House was bathed in sweat, visibly trembling and breathing heavily again. He also seemed to grow paler by the minute.

When they had made it approximately halfway to the couch, Chase suddenly felt House tense up even more.

"Dammit… Think I'm gonna – " With those words, House suddenly went completely slack against him.

"Shit!" Chase hadn't anticipated this, and so could do nothing more than to cushion House's fall by letting him slide to the floor in a more or less controlled manner.

"House!" He immediately started patting his cheek, trying to rouse him.

When that didn't seem to be getting him anywhere, he quickly pulled the piano bench towards them, using it to elevate House's left leg. Hesitating briefly, he finally grabbed a large couch cushion to more carefully elevate the right one as well.

"House, come on…" Once again kneeling down next to the other man, Chase automatically reached out to take his pulse, while gently patting his cheek again with his free hand.

House's eyes slowly started to flutter open.

"Yeah, that's it… You're okay." He slowly removed his hand from the other man's face. "Blood pressure just bottomed out there for a minute…"

House looked momentarily confused, but when he turned his head slightly to focus on Chase's face, his expression seemed to slowly relax again.

Deciding to give the other man a moment, Chase went into the bathroom, drenched a small towel in cool water and then waited a moment before returning to the living room.

In the meantime, House had sat up and moved slightly to lean back against one of the walls.

Chase handed him the towel. "Better…?"

Just a nod. But House accepted the towel and immediately held it against his forehead.

Not quite sure what to do next, Chase hesitantly sat down on the bench he had moved just a minute ago.

House eyed him somewhat impatiently. "I'm fine now. You can go." He tiredly closed his eyes. "Thanks for the ride…"

Chase nodded slowly, but made no move to get up and leave, instead leaning forward a little, keeping his gaze on the floor between his feet.

After a minute of silence, he quietly asked without looking up again: "Why wouldn't you call Wilson, when he intended to meet you anyway?"

House seemed almost angry by the question. "He intended to bowl with me; not play nurse for me…"

Chase slowly shook his head. "I don't understand… I thought you guys were okay again! – You don't think he'd want to know when you – "

"I think," House interrupted him harshly, "that we had plans tonight for an activity I was pretty sure at some point I wouldn't be able to participate in. So I canceled. End of story." He very carefully moved his leg slightly with both hands, apparently trying to find a more comfortable position.

Chase snorted at that. "So… Now you've gone from being best friends for more than a decade to… what. Guys sharing a couple of drinks and a few rounds of bowling a week? – You can't honestly think he's just in this for the fun of it, House…"

"Yes, I can." Not the slightest hesitation. Not the tiniest bit of doubt in his voice.

Chase threw him a dubious glance. "And that is because…?"

"He told me."

Silence.

"What… do you mean?" Chase carefully questioned the other man, somehow sensing that this was dangerous territory.

House now looked up at him, something between a bitter smile and a strangely pained expression on his face, but he replied in a surprisingly light tone: "Apparently; I'm more fun than sitting alone in an empty apartment, mourning your dead girlfriend…" Even though he was aiming for sarcastic, he sounded more hurt than anything else.

Before Chase could even come up with something to say, House already continued, obviously intent on clarifying this. "That's the reason he came back! Said so himself… – Apparently, even though I so constantly spread misery, I'm also…" he shrugged slightly, but the movement seemed forced "…fun."

Slowly shaking his head, Chase eyed the other man uncertainly. "House…"

"Could be a lot worse though…" House continued with another small shrug, voice tinged with bitterness. "He could still hate my guts for killing his girlfriend." Slowly closing his eyes again, he continued in a resigned tone: "At least he knows what he's still getting out of our – whatever he calls it these days…"

Grimacing slightly at the other man's somber words, Chase just shook his head again. "This is ridiculous, House… Since when do you of all people listen so much to what someone says?" He continued more insistently, trying to make eye-contact again. "You can't actually believe that he just expects 'fun' from you. – No matter what he said: You're his friend. He cares about you. He missed you! – That's why he came back…"

House didn't reply anything for a long moment, refusing to meet the other man's intent gaze. Keeping his eyes fixed on the floor, he finally just shrugged again, his voice so quiet that Chase could hardly hear him. "I didn't understand why he left, and I don't understand why he came back. – All I have to go on is what he says…"

Then he suddenly looked up at the younger man. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

The abrupt change in subject was so unexpected, that it took Chase a moment to react.

Quickly organizing a large bowl from the kitchen, he handed it over to House, who immediately started to retch; he didn't bring anything up.

After a minute or two, the acute bout of nausea seemed to have passed. – Leaning his head back against the wall, House tiredly closed his eyes again, one hand once more lightly holding his thigh.

Chase eyed him worriedly. "Did the bike hit your leg, or did you fall on it…"

House kept his eyes closed, voice tense. "Bike."

Nodding slowly, Chase hesitated a moment. – Then: "Maybe we should take a look, House. Make sure you didn't break anything..."

Instead of replying, House suddenly just reached for the bowl again, his face losing even more of its color.

Chase's concern went up another notch when he then tried to move his leg slightly, but abruptly stopped again, suppressing a low moan of pain.

Slowly shaking his head, Chase pushed himself to his feet again. "Okay, House; you need to help me out a little here… What do you need? – Ice? Pain meds? – An ambulance?"

That last proposition made House abruptly open his eyes again. He threw Chase a very brief glance, before shaking his head slightly. "No, just… I just need to lie down for a while."

Okay. He could work with that. – Chase nodded. "Couch or bed."

. . . . . . .

The next few minutes passed in a haze of pain for House and in quite a bit of eggshell walking for Chase.

Once House was settled relatively comfortably on his bed, Chase had coaxed him into taking some ibuprofen and had helped him to carefully elevate his injured leg on a couple of big bed pillows. Then he had organized a bag of frozen peas from House's kitchen, so he could ice the injury. Finally, he had placed House's cell phone, Vicodin and a glass of water onto the nightstand, making sure everything was well within the other man's reach.

"So…" Chase regarded his ex-boss critically again, before turning towards the bedroom door. "Give me a call tomorrow and let me know if you need a ride in or… anything else, okay?" He nodded towards the other man's cell phone.

House rolled his eyes at that. "Why don't you go and set up a Life Alert button for me while you're at it… I might fall out of bed and die in my own pathetic-ness!"

Chase smiled slightly at that. "Whatever, House… – Just call me, or I'll have to break down your door."

Then he briefly averted his gaze, before somewhat hesitantly making eye-contact again. "And regarding that thing with Wilson…" He saw House's expression close off, but continued anyway. "I mean... He realized he missed having fun with you at your Dad's funeral, to which he forced you; drugged! – Somehow I get the impression that his definition of 'fun' and yours vastly differ…" Throwing the other man a very small smile, he then just nodded slightly. "Goodnight, House. I'll see you tomorrow…"

. . . . . . .

When he heard his apartment door open and then close again a minute later, House finally nodded, pensively. "Yeah…"

A small smile suddenly tugged at his lips. "Guess I'm looking forward to that brand-new door, then…"

Thank you for reading! :)