-Ch 18-

Chase winced as the alarm clock blared in his ear. He flung out one arm and slapped the snooze button, before stretching carefully, keeping his eyes closed.

He grinned as his stitches twinged only slightly, and reached over to poke House into wakefulness. Over the past weeks he had become used to the other man sharing his bed. After the first night House had refused to sleep on the couch any more, and Chase had refused to nurse a constant migraine because of House's couch-induced crankiness. It hadn't been so bad really, as long as House kept his cold feet to himself.

Chase frowned and opened one eye as his elbow met empty mattress. He squelched the tiny voice quietly panicking in his head, and listened intently. Soon he began to hear the rattle of pans and the occasional sleepy curse coming from the kitchen.

He smiled and relaxed back into the warm bed, reaching down to scratch carefully around the itching sutures. He lifted the covers to see if the redness had started to fade any and blinked as his finger sparkled at him.

Chase pulled his hand out from under the covers and held it the window, looking at the large cubic zirconia that perched gaudily on his ring finger.

He groaned and flung his arm over his face covering his eyes.

"Ow!" The large rock hit him in the eye.

He growled, but a smile however, managed to peek out.

"House!" He called out, "I had so better be getting pancakes for this!"

House knocked the door open with his hip and smirked as he carried in the tray full of food and orange juice. "Would I deny my bride her pancakes?"

Chase snorted in amusement and sat up, shoving his pillows into a more comfortable back support. "I haven't even said yes yet, and you're the one doing the housewife thing."

"Gee, Sexist much? Gender roles were so 1950. Besides, You're obviously. the little woman. Look at that girlish figure, and shiny, shiny hair. And the yoga. Oh lord the yoga!" House insisted as he put the tray on the bed over Chase's lap. Chase snickered as he recognized Waffle Hut's signiture walnut waffles.

"Are you laughing at you're breakfast? I spent hours slaving over the waffle iron for that."

"I don't even have a waffle iron." Chase mumbled around a sausage link.

"Oops." House said innocently, while reaching out to snag a strip of bacon.

Chase scowled and slapped at his hand. "Didn't you cook your own food?"

House stretched out on the bed, propping up on one elbow and continued to snitch food. "So…?" He drawled.

Chase chewed thoughtfully. He grinned and swallowed the mouthful of waffle.

"This isn't a real diamond." He reminded House.

"Ingrate."