'Chase?' House called. He had set Chase down on his couch hours before with a nod towards the cable and the fridge, but it was occurring to him that he hadn't exactly told him to stay there.
'Yeah?' But then Chase was used to obeying the implicit instructions House gave. He was in the kitchen, padding around sock-less.
'Barefoot and in the kitchen? If you're pregnant, you may be beyond even my considerable expertise.'
He blushed, 'I was getting something to eat. Do you want anything?'
'You cooked me dinner?'
The incredulity in his voice forced Chase into defensiveness. 'I cooked for me. There's enough for you if you want. If you don't.. .'
'Why would I turn down free food?'
Chase brought him a plate of pasta, setting it carefully on the table. They ate in near silence, only breaking it to pass the salt.
When they had finished, Chase carried the plates to the sink to wash. House wondered whether James had been entirely wrong in his warnings. He had been repeating them all day, so clearly he thought they were warranted. But Chase was a grown man, however stupidly childlike he looked wandering around barefoot and bruised.
'Here,' he growled, tossing Chase a set of keys when the washing up was finished. 'All sorted. The nasty man won't be able to get in now.'
He was met with a hesitant look. 'Thanks for sorting it out. I should probably go then...'
Not sure whether he was relenting to the almost-plea, or succumbing to his own need to make sure that Chase was spending the night somewhere safe, he answered, 'It's ten o'clock - I'm not driving you home tonight. I have a perfectly good couch you can sleep on.'
Chase nodded, a hint of gratefulness flickering in his eyes.
House woke to the soft hum of the television in the living room. It took a few moments for the events of the previous day to filter through his brain, so he could recall that Chase was here, and thus there was no need to go after cable-loving burglars with his cane.
He limped out to explain to Chase exactly why waking your boss up at three a.m. was a bad idea.
Chase was already looking at the doorway when House appeared in it. 'Sorry,' he murmured.
'The question is – will "sorry" turn back time so I don't get woken up by house-guests in the middle of the night, irreparably damaging my sleep-patterns?' he responded contemplatively.
Still wrapped in the blanket, Chase got up and turned the television off. 'Sorry,' he repeated.
'Tell that to the sleep-patterns,' he said mournfully. 'Go make yourself hot milk or whatever it is that good British children drink to make themselves sleepy. I have to work tomorrow – no time to sit here reading you bedtime stories.'
Chase scoffed quietly at that, but walked to the kitchen. 'Want anything?'
'Sleep. No clinic hours and no patients tomorrow.' He pondered, 'And a hooker named Sally.'
A slight smile. 'From the kitchen.'
'Sally isn't in the kitchen in some kind of French maid ensemble, is she?'
Chase shook his head, although it wasn't clear whether it was an answer to the question or a response to House's French maid fantasy being called Sally.
When Chase came back he settled into the couch with a sigh, inhaling the steam emanating from the mug.
'You can go,' he offered to House.
'As it is my house, I'm aware of that, yes. Where did you get cocoa from?'
'Kitchen?'
He shook his head. 'Now, Robert, only bad boys lie.'
'I went to the shop while you were at work. I forgot to bring shaving cream.'
'And so naturally you stocked up on cocoa power.'
'You didn't tell me not to leave.'
'I'm not asking why you left, I'm asking why you left to buy cocoa powder.'
'I didn't leave to buy cocoa powder. I just saw it while I was there and picked it up. I don't know why I'm explaining this – it's my money and...'
'No marshmallows?'
He blushed, admitting, 'I forgot.'
'So you remember cocoa, but marshmallows are beyond you?'
'Why are you...?'
House interrupted him, 'When was the last time you slept?'
'Last night?'
'Well that's a lie, because you spent last night in a closet!'
'The night before, then,' he responded, shrugging.
'For a whole night.'
'What are you...?'
'The doors are locked, Chase. The bogey-men are all outside. Lie down and go to sleep.'
Chase just blinked at him.
House sighed, and poked the television back on with the end of his cane. He reached for the remote and channel-hopped to a badly dubbed kung-fu movie. Daring Chase to comment, he made no move to go back to his room.
Chase just pulled the blankets tighter around himself, and settled down, sipping from the hot cocoa periodically.
Inching close enough to snag the mug as it was dropped was tricky, but House managed it. He shoved Chase lightly so he fell, still asleep, onto the end of the sofa. When House went back to bed, ten minutes later, he left the lamp on.
FIN