Hey, new chappie again! How you like this one, I really put quite some effort into it. I've been writing it since this morning! Um, yep, so I still don't own House or the characters, and if you don't like MaleXMale, don't read this. Although, what the hell are you doing here if you don't like it??

Once again, huge thanks to everyone who reviewed and/or put this in their favorites. I love you!

Chapter Five

Shoebox

My shoe box
Shoe box of lies
Shoe box
Shoe box of lies

Did somebody tell you
This is how it's supposed to be?
Or did you just find it
And you don't want any more from me?

----

Ten AM came and went. It wasn't until ten thirty four exactly on Chase's watch that there were clunky steps followed by a knock on the door. It opened immediately, revealing a surprised House. Chase smiled slightly as he resisted the urge to laugh – House didn't know he'd been waiting for nearly an hour by the door, eyes glued to his watch. He'd been a little worried that his boss wouldn't show up. He didn't know what he would've done if that had been the case.

"Well, you're certainly ready I see…" House stated, uncomfortable. Chase nodded, looking at him; he was wearing a dark blue chemise, topped with a brown tweed coat and light grey jeans. Chase looked very different with his black jeans, Guns N' Roses t-shirt and leather jacket. "So… what do you want to do?" Chase asked, hinting for House to come in as they were still in the doorway. House hesitated, then cleared his throat; "There's this nice café a few blocks away where I like to eat, do you want to…?" He left his question unfinished but Chase smiled. "Sure!"

So Chase followed the cripple outside where his motorcycle was parked, stopping when he saw it, making House grin devilishly; "I was right in guessing you've never rode a motorbike before then? I thought it'd be fun for you to try." Chase didn't reply but nodded, watching House climb on it with much expertise and lock his cane onto the side with some straps. As he sat behind House, he was handed a helmet. He didn't take it; "No… it's yours House, you're driving!" The latter shook his head and pushed it into his hands, "I wouldn't want you to die because of me. Besides, you're younger." Guessing he had no choice, even though he knew House was only demanding he put on the helmet for the sake of gallantry, Chase put it on and placed his hands on House's hips lightly. However, as the bike came to life and sprang forwards with surprising speed, the Australian found he had to tighten his grip a lot if he didn't want to fall off.

Being on a motorcycle with House was scary at first as they turned sharp corners and winded between cars, sometimes stopping at red lights only to burst forth with life and speed afterwards, but he felt safe holding onto House's warm body. He could sense the passion with which his boss drove the bike; the same way as a knight on a horse, or a violinist playing a melody with rigueur and splendor. One could imagine House felt as though he were flying rather then driving as he guided them quickly, swiftly through the streets.

They slowed down at last and came to a stop in front of a small café Chase had never seen before. As he was looking at it, he was lifted off the bike by force when House stood up, having not let go of his waist. House made a smirk of amusement at his employee as he stumbled clumsily off the bike and detached his helmet, handing it back to its owner. Neither spoke until they were seated in the café.

"Did you enjoy the ride?" House asked after they had both ordered their food. "Yeah, it was… special. I had never done that before." House nodded, absent-mindedly playing around with the salt bottle. They were silent again until their food arrived, and when it did, they spoke awkwardly about various uninteresting things such as the weather and work. It seemed as if it was much harder for them to have a casual conversation when they were this away of what was customary for them; this being them in lab coats (in Chase's case) and surrounded by other doctors. But now they were in a little coffee shop, expecting each other to act as if they were friends.

House interrupted Chase's current rambling about them all being caffeine addicts; "Cameron," he said loudly, to cover the Australian's voice, "likes me." Chase stopped talking, "I'm sorry, what?"

"She told me why she's been acting so weird this week – she feels as though everyone hates her. When I assured her that, in fact, everyone likes her, she asked me… If I like her." House told him, barely concealing his smirk. "What did you tell her?" Chase asked, astonished.

"I said no." House told him simply. "She looked hurt afterwards, so I supposed I hadn't given her the answer she had wanted." Chase stared; "That's why she was so miserable! She was looking so nervous all the time. Oh, she must feel so unwanted –"

"I just don't want her too close to me. Her or… anyone." House said, playing with the salt again and looking anywhere but at Chase, who spoke quietly; "yet… here you are with me."

House glanced at him with incredible softness in his eyes instead of his usual harsh look. "I… you're different."

"How so?" Chase pressed on, making House sigh – he couldn't evade his employee any longer.

"You're intriguing, Chase. Listen… Five years ago, I made myself a promise never to embark on a relationship with anyone again." House paused to take a drink of his water and went on when he saw Chase's rapt face. He was put of by the Australian's interest in his story, but continued nonetheless; "I lived with a woman called Stacy for five years before I had my leg accident. My infraction destroyed my relationship with her. You see, the doctors misdiagnosed me, which caused my quadriceps muscle to die… I nearly died myself – I was in cardiac arrest for a whole minute. Afterwards, I demanded a chemically induced coma to get through the pain, only to wake up and find out that I had lost use of my leg because of Stacy's decision as my medical proxy to not amputate my leg but just remove the dead muscle. I just couldn't forgive her. I… pushed her away and we ended it."

Chase blinked as House trailed off: "It pained me so much that I decided to… never let anyone come close." His employee sighed; "You don't want anyone to love you because you don't want to disappoint them? Or you don't want to get hurt again?" Chase understood by House's nod that he was spot on. He gazed at his boss with compassion, gulped, and placed his hand over the older man's, squeezing slightly. He felt the hand underneath his shudder, as if House feared this simple contact, but it quickly dissipated as their eyes met.

"I'm not disappointed by you. And I don't want to hurt you." Chase said, the fluttering sensation in his stomach worsening by the second. He ignored it, tired of letting himself being walked on by his emotions. House's eyes widened as he understood what chase's words meant. Chase hastily stammered; "We don't have to rush this! Just… take your time, House; I don't want to force you into doing something you don't want to do." He lifted his hand off of House's but House grabbed it before he could take it back, placing his own on top of Chase's: "I'll think about it… today. But, thanks."

"Um, okay. Sure." Silence fell once more, as House let go of his employee's hand. What had he been thinking… sharing that story with Chase? It was too soon wasn't it? Or maybe not… if this went on, he would have had to tell him someday… They had finished lunch, paid at the counter and left the café. House put his hands in his pockets and looked at Chase, who was glancing at his watch.

"So, I was thinking we could see a movie. Wasn't it you who suggested it?" House said out of nowhere causing Chase to look at him, startled. He'd obviously thought it was over. But apparently, it wasn't, House reflected, having not really planned anything special. He suddenly felt a little cheap. Which was strange – he hated paying for things and doing stuff with people. Chase nodded; "Yeah! Um… I did. So what movie?" House shrugged. He never went to the cinema: how should he know what movies there were to see…? "We'll choose when we get there I guess." He said.

----

It turned out there weren't many interesting movies to see, in House's opinion, as they looked around at the posters. Or maybe it's just because I'm a grumpy jerk who generally just doesn't like anything, he thought, smirking at himself.

So he let Chase decide. He probably didn't think anything looked good because it took him awhile, but he finally chose The Pink Panther 2. House didn't really want to see that movie, in fact he didn't feel like going to see any movie, but complied – he'd been the one to invite after all.

The movie was a much more fun experience than House had anticipated: they fought over the popcorn, breaking into muffled coughs as they tried not to laugh too loud, and they made abusive remarks at the movie, commenting on its absurdness and the stupidity of the characters. It had been a long time since House had enjoyed himself like this with someone other than Wilson. He kept thinking that anyone watching them would think they were acting like immature children, but he didn't care. He himself acted immature on a regular basis anyway.

The movie was over suddenly, and they had not watched much of it at all. They walked out, both of them feeling much more confident all of a sudden. Chase grabbed House's hand suddenly and gestured towards a nearby park. House stopped in his tracks on the way to his motorcycle, but nodded shortly and let himself be led by Chase; he had no idea what they could have done anyway. He felt Chase's hand squeeze his delicately, but it really felt different than a woman's hand. It was also very hesitant, probably because Chase was nervous.

Chase tried to ignore the fluttery feeling that had reappeared in his gut as they walked silently through the park. It was a strange feeling to hold House's hand, it kept unhinging because of his limp, but it was okay, Chase adjusted quickly. He enjoyed every moment of it as he grasped the hand and felt it squeeze back softly. His heart rose every time this happened but it was soon over as they got to a bench and sat down.

House practically slumped down on it, clutching his thigh slightly. It may have looked normal to anyone else, but Chase recognized that look – House was in pain. He probably wasn't used to walking so much. The Aussie looked down at his hands which he placed on his knees, twiddling his thumbs as he heard House pop a vicodin and breathe a heavy sigh of relief.

"That movie was awful," House said, a glint of humor slipping over his words. "Yeah," Chase agreed, "But it was nice to spend time with you." He added thoughtfully. House didn't respond, massaging his thigh. They spent a few minutes like this in peace, plainly enjoying each other's company. A man passed in the park with his ice cream stand which gave Chase something to say; "Do you want ice cream? It's on me…" Chase inquired. House nodded, "Yeah okay. Pistachio please." Chase went to the stand and got pistachio for House and strawberry for himself. The cripple thanked him with a nod of the head and began to eat his ice cream wordlessly until…

"You didn't ask why I was late this morning." He stated. Chase swallowed and turned to his boss, frowning. "No, why should I have asked? People are late sometimes, it happens to anybody." House agreed by nodding again, but went on. "Wilson came over."

"Why?" Chase asked, guessing he had nothing else to say seeing as House stopped there. "He wanted to ask about you. How I feel. Of course, when I told him I was spending the day with you, he was surprised." Chase frowned; "Why was he surprised? If he thinks you like me?"

"Well that's just it, he doesn't think I like you," House told his employee, who looked confused, "He thinks I'm using you remember?"

"Oh, right."

"Yeah, well… Wilson being Wilson, he started being all hysteric telling me what I should wear and how to act and bla bla bla. So, that's it I guess, just something for you to look forward to tomorrow. Don't expect him to leave you alone with this, he's going to peck you like a woodpecker until you tell him exactly everything I said and did." House explained to him, not bothering to conceal his amusement. Chase took a few licks of his ice cream before speaking; "Why are you telling me this? To discourage me? I'm not going to back off. I still want to be with you." He said strait-forwardly. House looked at him speechlessly.

"That wasn't my intention. I was only… warning you. You'd better have something good to tell Wilson, or he won't leave you alone." House rephrased, overlooking Chase's comment and getting up, having finished his ice cream. "Coming?" He asked the Australian, who hastily put all that was left of his dessert into his mouth and standing up too. House turned and left, not waiting for him. Chase sighed and hurried after him, grasping his hand again. From the corner of his eye, he saw House smile as they walked back to his motorbike.

----

They went to House's apartment instead of Chase's for supper. House got off the bike and stored it away in the garage after Chase had gotten off too, this time a little more gracefully.

They had made progress today, Chase thought. The last time they had gone out, for supper after work at the Indian restaurant, they had talked mostly about work. But today they had been much more open; House had even revealed something pretty secret about himself. They slumped onto the couch when they came in, after removing their coats and shoes. Chase's decision was made as soon as he sat, turning to House: "My dad left when I was fifteen." He stated, House nodded, "yeah I know. And your mother died five years afterwards didn't she?" Chase gulped. "That's right… So he left me alone to take care of her and her alcohol problems. That's why I don't drink any. I drank a sip of that beer you gave me the other night but… I hate it. I really hate it. When I had to take care of her, I had nearly no time for myself. I wanted to do other things like go out, study and stuff, but I felt guilty whenever I left. That's why I hate my father."

House nodded; "I'm… sorry for you. It must've been hard." Chase mumbled incoherently before saying, "You're not sorry for me. You're just saying that."

"Maybe I am." House told him lazily.

"Sorry or just saying that?" Chase asked. House seemed to think for a moment. "Both." He said, before getting up and shouting from the kitchen; "I'm making spaghetti." Chase didn't answer, wondering what the hell that could mean. He was both sorry but he was also not sorry? It took a few seconds for him to realize House was probably messing around with him, and he went to join him in the kitchen.

"What about your parents? Do you see them much?" Chase asked, seating himself at the table, facing House, who stopped what he was doing to look up at Chase, then resumed his stirring of the pasta. "Haven't I told you enough about me today?"

"No. I mean, please… you always have to know everything about everyone, yet you cover yourself in such mystery, it's just disquieting, enthralling even –"

"Ooh, do I hear a poet speaking?"

"House." Chase said, with a plain 'shut up' look.

"Aw, you're no fun…" House told him quietly. After a few moments, he looked back at Chase; "Both my parents are still alive. I love my mother. I hate my father. What else is there to know?"

"Why do you hate your father?" Chase asked, sounding curious. House sighed, "He's… he's got an insane moral compass." He claimed, "if you see what I mean. And… he abused me." House finally said, showing no emotion whatsoever. Chase watched him closely, not knowing what he could say, and not wanting to ask more questions: he didn't want House to feel too uncomfortable. So he watched his boss prepare supper in silence.

The plates were set on the table and House sat down with a small grunt. He winced as he took a vicodin. "How many of those do you take per day?" Chase suddenly asked, though he knew House would probably either ignore him or reply evasively. "Enough to not be considered high." Was the answer. There you go.

"Right. Is that what you're so mad about all the time? Your leg?" Chase asked, deciding to push the conversation further. "No. I was always like this. Ask Cuddy. I'm just an old pissed off bastard."

"You're not… okay, you can be a bastard. But, as I once told you, you're an interesting person House." Chase told him, "Mmm, your spaghetti sauce is really –"

"Would interesting here mean you being interested in me?" House asked. Chase frowned slightly, "Yeah, that would be the… significance of interesting…" He said, unsure of what House really meant. He suddenly realized House had finished his whole plate and was waiting on Chase. "Or if you prefer, I'm attracted to you." The Australian finally decided on saying, earning him another blank look from House. "Do you want to sleep here again?" The older man asked, getting up and limping on one leg to the dishwasher with his plate in his hands. "Yeah… okay." Chase said, "But stop avoiding me dammit!" He shouted, abruptly coming to the decision that he was tired of this. Tired of House avoiding him and his questions. He got up and went to clear his plate too. He wanted answers! The older man watched him clean his plate and shut the dishwasher, leaning onto the counter behind his back with both hands.

Chase went back to the living-room and sat on the couch, frustrated. He heard House walk over; clunk clunk, and sit down next to him. There was a pause filled with nothing but the sound of their breathing, until; "When you'll stop saying everything you want to tell me in derisive words, I'll start answering you." House told him seriously. Chase looked around at him with wide eyes, that fluttering sensation in the pit of his abdomen was back.

"Nervous?" House asked, "Maybe it's the sauce, it was pretty spicy."

"I love you." Chase heard the words before his brain could understand that they had come from his mouth. He heard House make a sound that sounded like a tiny gasp of surprise, but Chase silenced him by kissing him roughly. House kissed back immediately, their bodies responding to the other's in every way possible as they grasped at each other's clothes, hair and face, desperately fighting over positions. House stood up, making Chase stagger as he rushed to follow him in his ascent. The cripple backed away slowly on one leg and Chase followed, careful to not step on his toes or make him fall.

Short of breath, they separated. House wiped his mouth on his sleeve, staring at Chase with frivolity: "That's clear enough for me." He said, smiling. Chase positively beamed, suddenly feeling much more confident. All the stress had gone away now, replaced by a wonderful feeling of control. House walked into his room and removed his keys and wallet from his pocket, turning back to Chase, who had followed him. The Australian put his wallet next to House's and stared back, not in the least intimidated now.

"Another round?" House invited, placidly moving forwards. Chase was much rougher; this was the effect of several days of stress and anxiety wearing off at last.

House sat on the bed so he wouldn't hit his knees as Chase brought their lips together again. A beautiful feeling of content took hold of House as he lay back and let Chase climb on top of him. "Just… let – yourself – feel–" Chase sighed between kisses, feeling that House was tense.

House moaned slowly in response to Chase's movement, which Chase took for a yes seeing how House's body immediately relaxed.

----

House gave one last sigh and lay down as Chase snuggled into the back of his neck beneath the covers and smiled, kissing House's shoulder softly. He put his arms tight around his boss's naked chest and underneath his arms, and fell asleep.