A/N: Well here we go more Chase House. Hope you like the direction and there will be more to come. To anyone who's reading In Tatters sorry I was robbed of my computer in the move I only just got it back. I'm still working though. Should be up soon. Oh and their still not mine. Neither are the quotes.

Bed-Head

The devil having nothing else to do,

Went off to tempt My Lady Poltagrue.

My Lady, tempted by a private whim,

To his extreme annoyance, tempted him.

Hilaire Bellor

"House!" Chase exclaims at some intolerable hour of the morning… House frowns, rubs his eyes and curses not having taken pills last night. For having slept on the couch with the little blonde travesty beside him.

"Not now honey its too early." He half-almost-snaps and struggles to sit up. House peers at the living room clock through the murk of early morning. 5.15… Oh, god House doesn't even think it should be legal to have a five o'clock in the am… unless one hasn't actually slept yet. He forces himself up onto the armrest and looking over at Chase almost makes it all worth it…

"What?" Chase bites as House starts to snicker.

"Nothing…" House smirks as he pulls himself up at amble into the kitchen desperately in need of serious medication.

Chase looks over into the glass on the coffee table, even in the dark…its still really obvious.

"That's attractive." Chase puffs, leaning head on hands, then vainly trying to smooth hair that looks like it belongs on a troll doll.

"Well that's the price you pay for a good tumble in the sheets…" House says from in the kitchen and Chase's elbows side off his legs as he jerks in surprise. It falls forward and winds up sprawled on the floor barely missing the wood and glass table.

"Damn it House…" Chase groans pulling himself back up to sit more securely on the chair.

"Is it my fault you're a clutz…"Chase looks up and finds House watching him from the doorway.

"I wouldn't have fallen if you hadn't… Did we?…" It's a horrible unsettling thought and Chase's stomach knots instantly. House's eyebrow hitches and he disappears back into the kitchen. Chase frowns and thinks, scours his mind for what happened last night…

"Thank god…" He breathes after realising that if anything did happen it was only in house's head and in which case although still creep he doesn't care.

Chase stumbles up and start to pick frantically for his clothes… They're no where in sight…

"What are you doing…?" House asks insidiously…

"I'm…" Chase voice cuts off as he realises that the neat folded pile by the couch is his… He snatches up his pants and tugs them on quickly, stumbling and hopping madly and wincing when he hears a snicker from the kitchen doorway.

"Should have figured you'd have to be original with everything…" House smirked, the Vicodin setting in with a nice little tingle. There was something to be said by abstaining for a while… Though not much mind you.

"What?" Chase chokes trying vainly to remember which way his shirt should go.

"Stripping is usually done by taking clothes off, a touch more slower too…" House lulled.

"Not that I mind the show…" He dug, because Jesus he deserves to tease at least.

"This is not for your enjoyment…" Chase bites a touch harder than he probably should because its his own fault his here.

"I never pictured you as the love'em and leave'em type." House observes coolly as Chase starts to drop to bits. Was expecting it because last night he was still numb with shock.

"Fucking stupid…" Chase struggles further with the piece of fabric, throwing a tantrum like a child when he succeeds in only getting one arm half on. The fact that the top itself, which House had seriously been considering putting threw a paper shredder, is twisted around itself a half a dozen times probably doesn't help. Chase drops down onto the couch and gives a few hysterical sobs. Then just as inexplicably wipes his nose, stands back up, takes a breath and some how manages to straighten his shirt. Pulling it on and buttoning it over all that scar tissue…

"I've gotta go." Chase breathes as he finishes pulling on shoes…

"Doors open." House offered and Chase bolted.

Drowning

Imagine that you are creating a fabric of human destiny with the object of making men happy in the end, giving them peace and rest at last, but that it was essential and inevitable to torture to death only one tiny creature… and to found that edifice on its unavenged tears, would you consent to be the architect on those conditions?

Fedor Dostoevsky

Chase hadn't mentioned it and House sure as hell didn't want to. The other never asked for any time off either, which House heard was because an aunt was handling the funeral arrangements. Chase wasn't even attending… His choice… It wasn't House's business. He wasn't Chase's mother… and he didn't make little cooing hushing noises. He didn't pick his ducklings up when they toppled over and scraped their knees. Rather scoffed at them for hurrying in the first place… House didn't do comfort…

Chase concluded after the first half an hour that House liked the sound of his own voice. He stood at the back, both Cameron and Foreman in front. Cuddy had been ordered to instate a new procedure book and have every staff member briefed on it. Foreman and he both had the theory that it was because of House largely not sticking to procedure. Stupid them though the PTB's actually thought this would help.

House was supposed to run through the 30-page sleeping pill overview with them and then they were supposed to study the longer copy in their own time. House though had taken 9t upon himself to not only read through the much longer copy but had also taken to demonstrating and preforming show and tell with various parts. The duckling where all sure it had something to do with the fact that he was due in the clinic.

So far House had managed to turn an hour tops talk into a five-hour spiel filled with charts, graphs and patients. This was how they found themselves in the nursery amongst screaming infants. The one kid in the corner pitching a particularly nasty fit over being given his very first bath… I'm right there with you. Chase thought eyeing the small tub of water from across the room. A flare of clamminess ran across his shoulders and he shifted uncomfortably. Chase looked back at House and tired to focus on the words pouring from his mouth. All he could hear was the nurse.

"Come on, come on Bobby its okay…" Chase fought to swallow, heat flared across his skin in sickening prickly washes. Cold sweat broke out across his forehead and his stomach rolled.

"Come on baby its okay." Sound flickered in and out, or at least what House was saying did. Good thing it wasn't so important after all. Trickles off sweat ran down his back as Chase fought the feeling of water creeping up his legs, his chest, his lungs…

"Chase!" House slammed a book on the table and he could breath again. His knees were water though and his stomach lurched.

"Excuse me." Chase said calmly and then stumbled out of the maternity ward. The stairwell was right across the hall. It was a hospital, there was bathroom everywhere, but Chase found it imperative to almost trip down three flights to get to one.

This was how he found himself bent over a toilet. It wasn't one of those times when you rush and almost puke over the floor, that sudden violent acid wash. Rather this found Chase waiting for it, standing, hands resting against the cool cystine. He wanted to throw up if it would stop the rolling in his stomach, if it would stop the sickly heat in his face. He knew it would. But unfortunately it was one of those times where you dry heave forever first. Until your throat hurts and your head throbs. Where that acerbic burn is welcome because it dulls the dry scratching at the back of your throat.

"Well I can cross off yet another thing on my to do list…" House breathed from outside the open door. Chase hadn't even thought to close it, the bathroom empty when he first entered.

"Bugger off House," He coughed and spluttered.

"What can I help it if I find you tossing your cookies incredibly amusing." House lathered. Chase spat one last time then flushed the toilet.

He straightened up, head giving a violent protest.

"Plus even being a doctor, outside of corpses I've never seen a person turn that colour before." House pricked and wondered what he was even doing. Thought the ashen-green, kind of translucent colour was pretty interesting.

"Just leave it alone House." Chase rasps as he leans over the sink and rinses his mouth.

Under The Mistletoe

For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;

Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.

William Shakespeare

"It was very motherly… you know?" House pricks and Chase tenses, feel his stomach knot and realises that he should have been expecting this, because house can't leave anything alone. His like a child ripping legs of an ant. Completely apathetic to the pain they're causing.

"Is that what she called you?" House cuts, scrapes off layers of skin and Chase to his credit ignores him. Looks up at the strings of Christmas decorations that have invaded even the showers.

"Did she call you Bobby…" He's leaned against the lockers, against Chase's locker and the other realises that short of psychically moving him Chase won't House shift before he's ready.

"What are you on now?" Chase snaps and tries not to because that just encourages him..

"Drugs, yourself?" House smirks and Chase rolls his eyes tries to down play how much the others already under his skin.

"House I'm tried can we do the whole verbal sparring thing another time." Chase says rubbing his eyes because lately he feels like too little butter scraped over too much toast. Feels washed out, empty.

"Well then lets just get straight to it then Chase." House offers and Chase doesn't really get it.

"Get to what?" The showers are empty, there perpetually empty and Chase can remember a time when he almost had sex with House right here. Well maybe not almost because he'd been willing but House had… and Chase doesn't even want to go there right now.

"The policies talk." House said clicking his tongue.

"It wasn't anything." Chase offers waspishly.

"Well I know that I often vomit when the hospital brings in new procedures."

"I'm not you." Chase informs as though House would ever even begin to think that.

"You don't wanna share that fine I have my own theories." House breathes.

"Do I even get a choice in hearing them?" Chase says hand on hip and House ignores it completely.

"I think she use to call you Bobby."

"Who?"

"The only 'she' that has ever mattered to you." House bits because he won't spiel it out for Chase just because the little duckling decided to fake ignorance.

"House you really need a hobby." Chase suggests blinking tired eyes.

"Though most people don't puke at the thought of their mothers." House continues on the way Chase is so use to him doing. Normalcy though doesn't stop the tight feeling in his stomach from twisting further.

"At least not the ones who like their mothers." House mumbles absently but deliberately.

"Which make me think you may not have the warmest, fuzziest feelings for her."

"Keep digging House." Chase puffs.

"Did she hurt you?" He pokes slowly, watching Chase stiffen slightly and wonders if it's from indignation or if he's actually on to something.

"House go harass someone else." Chase half orders, stepping closer to the other maybe in the hopes that House will shift off his locker.

"But I like playing with you." Chase sighs at the lewd tones inflecting House's voice.

"I've always wondered how this happened." House teased slipping finger quickly inside of Chase's collar and running fingers over the scars there. Chase shrugged him off angrily.

"It happen exactly how I said it did!" He snarls and House wonders if its because he's hit a nerve or just because he's reminding Chase of another time he was weak, falling apart.

It's like dancing on razorblades. Chase is all sweet sugary crumby sharpness, like frosted glass. Little chips that House nicks his fingers on as he tries to fit them back into place. As he tries to dig them apart.

"Maybe it was late night visits instead to…" The slap is quick and hard and it echoes around the tile room.

House shoves Chase up against the lockers, pins him there and wonders dully if Chase was struggling could he keep him there. Not that it matters because despite the earlier outburst he isn't.

"Owww." House frowns, numb little hot tingles creeping across his jaw and then he has no idea where to go from there. Because he's gone some place that he probably shouldn't have, has said things that he can't take back. Because the cruel not so little sarcastic part of him wants to push until Chase give way again, another part wants something else, argues that it make sense since he has Chase pinned to a locker…

"Chase do you believe what they say about mistletoe?" House questions, noting the piece hanging above them for the first time. Wonders if it was an involuntary effort on his part to put them there.

Chase's eyes flicker up and catch the piece of green and House can feel his heartbeat kick up a notch. Watches the pulse flutter in his throat. His eyes close with a shaky little breath.

"Chase…" House whispers teasingly, breathing against the others neck, felting heat trickling off of the other. Watching heat creeping up into his cheeks.

"Open your eyes…" He sighs almost and moves to the other ear.

"Because I am not, going to kiss you." House almost promises, with a sarcastic little lilt that make heat wash up into Chase's face and he feels stupid for even closing his eyes in the first place. Did he honesty think House meant to kiss him…

"What happened?" House prompts and Chase scoffs, of course, why not! House had already humiliated him in every other way.

"I killed her!" Chase spat like poison.

"Is that what you wanna hear?" He snapped.

"Is it true?" House doesn't even miss a beat.

"Yes…" The cracking voice and sat lilt of his mouth tell House that its true. But House better than anyone knows how many different ways you can feel responsible for something that isn't your fault. Chase jerks away from him.

"And thankyou so much for knowing just where to rub the salt!" Chase spits and House realises that he's leaving. Pulls him back by the collar of yet another atrocious shirt, because he's no where near finished with the other.

Somewhere though in the span of those few seconds House realises that words are just entirely cheap and wrong at this point and breaks his own rule, for Chase no less…