Disclaimer: Don't own really, really unforetunately. Damn I could have a lot of fun otherwise. Anyway if you feel inclinded to sue don't bother.

Rating: R Maybe I'm new at this.


The Puritan hated bear-baiting, not because it gave pain to the bear, but because it gave pleasure to the spectators.

Thomas Babington Macaulay, History Of England, 1849

House in his own defence had for once just been sitting in his office minding his own business, he's the one accosted this time, which really just re-enforces the belief that one should never mind there own business.

"He's dying isn't he?" The little Aussie demands pushing into House's office. The blinds are closed to the outer building; which usually keeps most sensible people away and even the really game ones knock, Chase has done neither.

"Well actually, I heard the treatment's taking quite well... Unless Cameron's lying to me again... Damn her." House pricks dutifully. He'd never be accused of missing a chance to irk one of his ducklings, especially the Aussie, he was such good fun, so volatile and unpredictable. Eric and Cameron had such clearly defined buttons, House could almost write a how to guide on provoking reactions. But Chase... Shifts and moves right in front of his eyes turning from mush to stone and back to mush all in one sitting. So fascinating, he was too amusing for his own good.

"My father you self-important bastard." Chase cries and House can see the tears threatening to fall as the blonde stalks closer.

"So he told me." House says simply. Wonders how Chase found out, obviously not from dear dad because then he wouldn't be here. Wonders about the suckiness that is life, because if Chase Sr. hadn't turned up then his son would still be numbed to him. Would still have himself convinced that he didn't care.

"And you didn't tell me!" Chase chokes.

"It wasn't my business." House pushes, making the cracks wider, finding this sadistic pleasure in pulling his ducklings apart doesn't dissipate when they start to break down. In fact it increases... Or is that just Chase alone...

Chase hits him... not properly mind you, which would still by warranted, but rather pummels his chest almost pathetically, weakly. House shoves him back none the less, sitting perched on the edge of the desk.

"You bastard... You don't care..." At first House thinks that he's being accused, has a snarky comment all lined up and then damn, realises its just a statement of fact.

"You push until we have nothing left to give... Until we break down... You don't give a damn about anyone of us... Why the hell didn't you tell me... Why couldn't you hurt me just one time more..." He sobs, the tears so long held back, frankly House thinks its been about 15 years staring to fall.

"Oh believe me I desperately wanted to be the bearer of bad news, wanted to watch your face crumble when you first realised that you didn't hate your father... But it just wasn't in the cards..." House is being even worse than usual now, if Cameron was here right now she'd probably slap he across the face... But she's not here...

"I do hate him..." Its desperate and weak and in the end its good that Cameron isn't here, because pretty soon Chase is going to have dozens of relatives telling him how sorry they are for his loss and what a great man they thought his father was... This would offer Chase about as much comfort as his father ever did... fitting really. It's not even close to what he needs.

"I hate you and I hate him..." Chase can barely get it out now and House has the sadistic urge to laugh because he's finally shattered one of is duckling almost beyond repair without even having meant too.

House pulls Chase closer, the Aussie struggling at first with the grip on his shoulders, then just going with it because he's tired and aching. House pulls the other around the desk and drops down into the chair, that huge leather chair, which he wasn't sure why he decided on at first, its huge and sitting back in it properly his feet almost don't touch the floor. It's almost impractical considering how huge it is. But when House buries himself against the back and pulls the barely protesting Chase down into his lap he thinks that maybe it was just for this.

The Aussie curls up in his lap in a way that House wouldn't have thought possible for someone his size.

"How can he die on me..." Chase mumbles dejectedly.

"I'm sure its not something he planned." House says gently. Sarcasm is usually the only service he offers with the occasional medical diagnosis thrown in. But there's no use in stomping on broken shards. Kicking someone while there down is just pathetic and having the little Aussie hurting like this is starting to wear a hole right where House swears his heart isn't.

Chase stays still and quiet for a second, the room dead silence, just heavy dead breathing. Then something else falls open and chase starts to sob. Its gut wrenching, sounds painful even to House who has the franchise on pain... House refuses, flat-out refuses to make little cooing or shushing noises, even though Chase is now bawling almost hysterically into his chest he will not sink that low. Cute cuddly noises are for fawning mothers. House pets his hair instead, stroking and tugging the strands delicately. Twisting the lengths of gold about his finger. Occasionally more for his own amusement then Chases comfort. A fact that will be buried with him. He rolls a thumb slowly over the small soft spot behind Chase's ear.

The other stops every few minutes breathing labouredly, trying vainly to pull himself together, House watches the face topple back into tears every time. His other hand almost of its own accord soothes gently up and down the shaking back. Circling up and down, patting occasionally, though House tries his best to stop it.

House has no idea of the time that passes, he hadn't known what time it was when they first sat down and he doesn't know what time it is now. He does know though that it's gone from being after midday to being late afternoon. Chase sniffles and sobs quietly against his chest now panting shakily. His throat sounds raw and his face is caked with dried salt. His eyelid feel like sandpaper and his mouth feels stuffed with cotton wool. He gives a mournful little whimper as House's finger goes back to stroking that spot behind his ear. His head is resting against House's shoulder now and he pants hotly against the others ear. House shifts a little uncomfortably. It has nothing to do with sitting like this for god only know how long.

Chase pulled back from house a little resting his forehead against the others chest, just below his shoulder.

"Your shirts all wet." Chase observed numbly, he made the mistake of looking up at the other.

"And you have very feminie, kissable lips. Especially when they're all swollen and red like this." Chase looks up at him a little startled.

"Oh sorry I just though we were having a state the obvious competition." House smirks.

"It just looks better because its the only thing on me not covered in snot." Chase mumbles ruefully. He feels numb, washed out, like he has nothing left to give.

"I'd still kiss you, snot included." Chase is pretty sure the other isn't hitting on him. Well he is, just not the way normal people do. Chase can't be sure but he's almost certain that House enjoys shocking and terrorising people more then he does sex... Chase of course has no basis for comparison...

"You lick other peoples vomit..." Chase rubs his head against the other shirt, his cheeks feel hot and itchy from the drying tears. His hands are clenched around huge chunks of House's shirt as though he's afraid the other will disappear on him.

"Only one." House defends.

"Do you really think I have a kissable mouth?" Chase asks, tells himself he's not really interested.

"No." Tells himself he's not disappointed.

"I just wanted to see if I could stop you from thinking about your father for five minutes." Chase breathes out through his mouth. He feels empty still, numb, a little stupid because he's just spent hours crying on House's shoulder.

"Thanks..." Chase breaths.

"For what?" House asks.

"Letting me spill my guts." Chase states simply.

"You could have done that on anyone." House states as Chase pulls himself up, then adds for good measure...

"Actually you probably would have gotten sex off of Allison, Wilson too maybe... The quiet ones are always a worry..." Chase has a look of surprise that is just priceless.

"Foreman though he's a little weird about human contact, so maybe just a blow-job in that case." Chase blushes like a schoolgirl.

"Your terrible." He observes and House smirks.

"But in the most wonderful way." He defends himself. Chase smiles slightly and leaves closing the door on a slightly soggy, somewhat amused Doctor House.