"So, what made him have an orgasm out of the blue? What got him off?"
Chase's cheeks were red just from being in the same room with Gregory House, and it didn't help that the other man looked him right in the eye when he said that. Conversations about orgasms were always awkward, even if you were a doctor, and it was especially awkward since hearing House talk about the subject was starting to make Chase feel heated. His little crush was quickly becoming a big one; it was getting worse with each passing day. He stared, slightly open mouthed, at the older man as he spoke, his expression blank but with clear fascination showing in his eyes. Maybe it was because everything House did was so entertaining; the way he moved, the way he spoke, how incredibly dramatic and intense he could be...
A sudden smack to the table brought him back to the moment, "Hello, anybody there?"
Chase shook himself further out of it, House's tone making it clear to the blond that he was agitated, "I-I... I agree with Foreman," he spluttered, "something's attacking the pleasure center in his brain."
"Or triggering it," House interjected, making Chase feel dumb; he wasn't thinking straight after all. House walked back around the table, heading for the white board, when he suddenly crashed into the counter, grunting and doubling over, holding onto the edge to support himself. To anyone else it would have looked like he just tripped, but Chase knew it was related to him collapsing the week before; it made him want to jump from his seat and go to him, but he didn't dare, he knew House wouldn't want that kind of attention drawn to him. So he waited, feeling on edge, as the diagnostician calmly straightened himself out and pretended like nothing happened. If Chase couldn't keep his eyes off of the man before he definitely couldn't now, he waited restlessly for House to dismiss them so he could have the chance to check on him.
When that time came he stood with the others, moving to leave but moving slowly so he could discreetly stay behind. He stopped at the door and turned back around to face House, a hand to his mouth, his fingertips playing absently with his bottom lip, feeling timid. The older doctor's back was to him as he continued writing on the white board but Chase was having trouble finding his voice in order to call his attention. As if House could feel there was still someone in the room he slowly turned around, a confused look on his face as to why the blond was still there. Chase moved his hand slightly away from his mouth, his expression one that showed he felt he'd been caught.
House's eyes glanced around briefly before landing on him again, "Yes? What is it? I mean, I know my ass looks good in these pants, but not that good."
Chase's eyes widened, just barely, and he flushed, once again caught off guard by how blatant the other man was. Taking a deep breath he moved forward towards the table, looking at it and tapping his fingers on it nervously. After a moment he looked up at House from under his bangs and spoke softly, "It's getting worse, isn't it? Your leg."
That wasn't a fun question; it was something he wanted to keep denying, even to himself. He stared at the younger man for a few seconds before turning around, returning to his problem, "Why do you ask? It couldn't be because of that little stumble back there, could it? I tripped, it happens."
Hearing House talk like nothing happened and that he was fine and dandy irritated Chase and he suddenly felt a bit bolder. Stepping around to look at the diagnostician from the side he moved closer and spoke with a more confident tone, "Look, you don't have to pretend with me, I know you're in pain, I understand. It doesn't make me think you're weak if that's what you're worried about." The more the Australian spoke the more it frustrated House. He began to write a bit more frantically, pressing the marker hard against the board, every muscle in his body tensing. Chase softened once again when he noticed how irate he had made him, feeling awful about it, and, without thinking, he reached out and grabbed hold of the older man's hand to stop him. They both froze, House taking in the fact that Chase was holding his hand in his, and Chase letting it sink in, in his mind, that he had actually taken hold of it. It was beyond awkward, it was painfully tense, but neither could move. Their eyes met, both hardly breathing, both riddled with shock. Neither knew what to do or say, they were silently expecting the other to lead, but Chase knew that this was his doing so he had to be the one to speak. He finally let his arm relax, his grip loosening, and, swallowing, he struggled to say what was on his mind, "Just... let me help you." He let his gaze wander down to the other man's leg before it flicked back up, "I can't imagine how hard it is to live in a house alone, dealing with that..."
House's brows were tightly knitted together, never had he been so confused, never had he been so shocked, and never had he been so unsure of how to handle a situation. Slowly pulling his hand from the grip, shaking slightly, he looked away and stumbled back a little, "I..." He quickly racked his brain, what was he trying to say? 'I could use some help'? Is that it? How pathetic. The pause went on for a while before he decided on saying, "Be at my place by seven."