A/N: My deepest apologies for being incredibly slow at updates. With school and work, and my muse being on strike, it's been difficult to find time to write.

Disclaimer: Not mine and never will be mine.

Surprise tinted House's eyes as Chase babbled on. "And, so, I was just wondering… you know. What kind of Wilson would I be if I didn't get kicked out of my house and have to move in with you? Not move in with you. Just crash here for a bit."

A nervous laugh bubbled up and then fell flat. Seconds seem to tick by, while Chase increasingly hated himself more and more. Who was he kidding? He was an idiot for thinking that House would do anything more than slam the door in his face. This always happened, for one second he would actually believe that his boss could actually be nice, and then it all comes crashing down on him.

He shifted uncomfortably as House stared him down. "You want to stay here?"

"Um, yeah."

Chase tried to edge his way into the apartment, but found an arm blocking his path. "Why the hell would you want to do that?"

He shrugged. "I dunno."

House tapped his chin. "This has some interesting possibilities."

"So- am I in?"

His question was answered by the door being swung open, a hand gesturing him in. The apartment was exactly as he had left it. He felt like such an intruder, but endlessly intrigued as to what he might learn by staying here. Not that House would just randomly spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets to him, but Chase was wondering how he would act outside of work. A yelp sounded as he felt a cane poke him in the back. "Ow! What'd you do that for?"

"Get a move on, start cleaning already." House grinned and settled onto the couch.

"I am not going to clean your apartment." Chase folded his arms, his defiance coming across as more of a pout.

"But Chaaaaase…" House whined, "Who else will clean it?"

"No way, House. If you don't want me here, that's fine. But I'm not going to-"

He was interrupted by House though. "You have to earn your keep."

"I can't just help pay the rent?"

"Now what would be the fun in that?"

Resigned, Chase grabbed a few beer bottles on the floor, sauntering into the kitchen with narrowed eyes. This was not going like he had planned.

An hour later Chase collapsed on the couch, jostling the cushions so as to wake a dozing House on the opposite side. He glared at the man who was just opening his eyes. Gesturing to the surrounding room, now spotless, he said, "Satisfied? Or would you like me to shine your shoes also? Scrub the floor with a toothbrush perhaps?"

House grunted, disoriented. "Nah. S'all good. Now go to sleep."

Chase rolled his eyes. "You're in my bed, House."

He peeked an eye open and Chase raised an eyebrow, amused. "Too tired to move; you get the floor."

Exasperated, Chase just shrugged and headed down the hallway to House's bedroom, not bothering to turn back to see the man's expression. Well, he didn't do all that damn cleaning just to sleep on the floor!

He started to feel nervous though, once he entered the room. It was so… House. It was his personal space, something that he would never let Chase see in a million years. He felt guilty, and sneaky, and couldn't help but smirk. He so did have a backbone! Take that, House!

The room was very dark, with only a patch of moonlight shining in through the window. The room was surprisingly bare, not holding any of those hidden secrets that Chase was looking for. He ran a hand along the smooth comforter, suddenly feeling exhausted. Not believing what he was doing, he sat on the end of the bed. Then, tentatively, laid his head on the pillow and cuddled up in the sheets and blankets.

He felt very, very strange doing what he was doing, but, well, he felt stubborn today. He felt like… not being quite himself. And if sleeping in his boss' bed went against the norm then he would do it. Logic not quite reaching Housian standards, but still.

His heart was racing and, with the foreign smell surrounding him, he was too uncomfortable to get to sleep. House was so going to kick him out for doing this. But, for some reason, he didn't fear House as much as he used to. At the beginning of his fellowship he would be at his boss' beck and call, putting up with the name-calling and the abuse. He would do whatever House wanted because he was scared of him, would agree with him because he didn't want to be fired. Recently, though, it had been different. He followed through with what House wanted him to do because it saved lives. He agreed with House because he knew that the man was right 99 percent of the time. And for that 1 percent he actually was able to stand up to him.

The bedsprings creaked as he tossed and turned restlessly. He jumped as he heard the tap of House's cane on the wood floors. "Chase, what are you doing?"

Grogginess was apparent in the man's voice, and Chase's eyes sought out the clock, finding it to be far past midnight. Chase could think of many jokes and sarcastic quips that the man could make right now to torture him, but House looked completely serious. Probably just tired. Surely would make fun of him for this tomorrow.

Chase groaned and rolled off the bed, shivering as his bare feet touched the icy floor. He attempted to smooth out his hair, which was sticking up in every direction. He brushed past House and stumbled toward the living room, attempting not to trip in the dark. "Night, House."

He yelped as he knocked over House's guitar, cringing at the ensuing noise. House sighed loudly from the other room. "Goodnight, Dr. Chase."

The next morning, Chase woke up to an annoying rap at the door. Rubbing at his eyes, he made his way to the door, wondering who it could be. He paused mid-yawn when he saw the incredulity on the man's face waiting in the hallway. "Uh, Dr. Wilson. I…"

Wilson seemed to be fighting between being endlessly amused by this or worried. With House it was always better to be worried, as he always had something up his sleeve. Chase took a step back and let the other doctor in. Wilson managed to sound perfectly polite and extremely unnerved at the same time. "So, you're living here now?"

Chase nodded his head, face heating up at the realization that he was greeting a department head in sweatpants and the reek of morning breath. He tried not to breathe too much as he said, "Yeah, it's just temporary. I should be outta here in a day or two, if House doesn't kick me out before then, anyway."

Wilson looked genuinely concerned. "I don't think this is such a good idea, Chase. House doesn't adjust well to new situations. And living with him isn't easy, I should know."

"Well, it's nothing like that. I'm not living with him living with him. I'm just… erm…"

Why did everyone seem to complicate things? This didn't have to turn into a big House drama, Chase thought. Wilson was so overdramatic…

House's gruff voice interrupted his thoughts. "Hey, sorry to interrupt your heart-to-heart, but I was wondering if one of you could make me breakfast. I'm positively starving."

Wilson and Chase glanced at each other.

A/N: Sorry for the lack of action this chapter, but thought I should update what little I had before people completely forgot this story. Please review! And I promise I won't abandon this, it'll just take awhile between updates.