-Ch 16-

House groaned, stretching as he woke up, seriously regretting falling asleep sitting up on the couch after Wilson had gone home. He blindly popped a Vicodin, more from muscle memory than conscious thought, then opened his eyes and blinked down at the blanket covering him. He didn't remember a blanket earlier, and he was still awake when Wilson left.

He looked down when he saw a flash of blond and rolled his eyes when he realized Chase was asleep, sitting on the floor, curled up against the couch, with a pillow clutched to his stomach. The corner of the blanket was tucked around him.

He reached down and gave Chase a sharp poke in the shoulder.

Chase groaned. "Robert Chase. 27. New Jersey. George B-." He paused and his eyes blinked open, "What do you want?" He asked House suspicisiously.

House let out a snort of amusement. "What the hell are you doing out of bed!"

Chase yawned, waking up. He blushed. "Uh well I came out to get a drink...and you were asleep and looked cold so..."

"We'll ignore for the moment the fact that you're supposed to be staying in bed, why didn't you just grab a blanket out of the closet then go back to bed?"

"I don't have another blanket. Normally if I have company they're in bed with me." Chase admitted, looking embarrassed.

House rolled his eyes. "Alright so we've covered that, now onto why you're out of bed in the first place? Hello what are you not getting about being shoved back into bed every five minutes?"

"I've been in bed for days. I'm sick of bed. And I needed to change positions anyway." Chase said shifting while he spoke, curling in more towards the pillow he held.

"I thought good Catholics were only allowed to use one?"

"Yes and we also have to lay back and think of England." He answered sarcastically.

"Ah ha! Knew you were British!"

"But luckily for me I'm not a good Catholic. Would I be marrying you if I was?" Chase asked in amusement choosing to ignore the British comment.

House grinned at Chase's comment. "Still shouldn't be out of bed, even if you needed to move. You still have a gaping chest wound you know."

"It's in the side of my abdomen, and it's not gaping! It's healing fine!"

"I'm your doctor and if I say it's gaping it's gaping!"

Chase rolled his eyes.

House started to absentmindedly run his fingers though Chase's hair.

Chase sighed lightly and leaned against the couch. "You know uh...I've been meaning to thank you. This...was bad. Even worse then when I had the concussion. I've been...well insane. And it would have been worse if you weren't there. Although on the other hand it was your fault I was in the hospital, and you told Dr. Gray to take any steps necessary to finish the exam, so I ended up drugged and operated on."

"I didn't think he'd actually listen to me."

"Which is why I'm not murdering you violently in your sleep."

"Thanks so much."

"You're welcome. But other then that I suppose you did help me..."

"Wow Chase stop. You're making me blush with your wild gushing." House snorted.

Chase glanced up. "Well don't try to deny it. I seem to remember you sitting on this very couch in this very living room telling me I had an appointment and wasn't getting out of it. And what happened then? It's a bit fuzzy due to the horror and trauma and drugs."

"You threw a glass of wine in my face and threatened me with your high heels"

"Liar."

"I thought you didn't remember?"

Chase tried to turn to look at House but gasped as his stitches pulled. House yanked his hair and he obediently settled back down.

"I'm sorry about what I said- about your leg."

"What's the first rule of living in New Jersey?"

"Aim for the balls?" Chase repeated the rule House had made him learn when he first started working in the city. If you were being attacked, always go for the balls. That lesson had come in handy once or twice, in the scrungier bars, though he wasn't about to tell House that.

"Nice to see my lesson sunk in. You were being forced into something you didn't want to do so you metaphorically kicked me in the crotch. Good for you. Try it again though and I'll metaphorically shove my cane up your ass." He threatened, grinning, as he wrapped a strand of blond hair around his fingers.

Chase smiled and relaxed back against the sofa, dozing off as a companionable silence filled the room.

Suddenly though, he began to snicker.

"What?" the older doctor asked accusingly.

"House, you're petting me." Chase informed him sleepily.

House rolled his eyes and flipped the blanket over Chase's head, pinning it down as Chase tried to squirm away.

House waited until the blanket-covered bundle got still and lifted one corner, peeking in at his disheveled intensivist.

Chase stared back at him, his hair falling into his eyes and a slight smile on his lips. His blue eyes were bright, even with the dark circles that framed them.

House blinked, and both sets of eyes went wide.

"Guh!" House dropped the blanket back over his intensivist and sat back quickly.

'This isn't happening…this isn't happening…this isn't happening' He chanted to himself, closing his eyes. That funny little feeling in the pit of his stomach had absolutely nothing to do with the young blond sitting at his feet. 'This isn't happening' He repeated.

He reached out blindly and lifted the blanket again gingerly, peeking out of one eye.

It was happening. House sighed in defeat and mentally face palmed himself. His body however was busy taking it's own initiative, ignoring it's owner's higher reasoning.

House leaned forward, bending down as Chase stretched up, their lips meeting. The kiss was surprisingly gentle, leaving House more than slightly bewildered. He didn't do "gentle".

The kiss lasted until Chase gasped, his side finally deciding it had had enough of that position. He fell, conveniently, right into House. His head landing on the older doctor's shoulder. He felt no real compulsion to move. Houses hands immediately went to his hips, keeping him steady as Chase kneeled between his legs.

"So…" House was the first to break the silence, talking over Chase's head, staring absently at the blank TV. "I'm starving. You want pancakes?"

Chase pulled back and flopped carefully down on the floor. "That sounds good. The Waffle Hut delivers."

"Pancake delivery? At 4 am?"

Chase shrugged. "And they have chocolate ones. The menus on the fridge."

House used Chase to push himself up, heading for the kitchen.

"You, back in bed or on the couch. I'll take care of din-din."

Chase obediently climbed onto the couch and wrapped himself up in his blanket. House came back with the menu and cordless phone, which he used to swat Chase's legs. The blonde obediently lifted his legs long enough for House to slide under them, before lowering them back on to House's lap. House yanked on the covers, rearranging them till they were both covered.

"The bypass breakfast?" House asked incredulously, reading off the tattered flyer. "With 3 sides of meat, 4 eggs any way you like, and our signature pancakes swimming in a lake of butter, You'll actually be able to hear your arteries slam shut." He wrinkled his nose. "Delightful."

Chase snickered, wiggling down into the overstuffed couch. "It's actually pretty good once you drain off the grease."

"I can't believe you eat this crap."

"You can always get the healthy version." Chase argued.

"How can they possibly make something called the "bypass breakfast" healthy?"

"Tofurky sausage links." The intensivist grinned at House's disgusted expression, and closed his eyes, drifting off as twin images of house kissing him, and a deliciously greasy breakfast danced behind his eyelids.

He purred happily, and heard House snicker.