It would be a mistake to say House hadn't suspected something. Just because he'd been surprised by what the something happened to be didn't mean he hadn't been aware of it, in fact, he'd been on the trail of this particular something for quite a while, but found it an especially squirmy something, hard to get a focus on, let alone his finger.

This Something's trail had been slow in showing itself, greeting him every morning over entire weeks with such feeble, tentative signs, he could've easily written them off. A neurosurgeon forgetting the name of the patient, but still settling into smug sort of confidence House hadn't seen him don since his initial interview --even after being corrected. An intensivist that jerked at his name, and started using a crosswords as a means of avoiding eye contact rather than entertainment; he'd been working on the same puzzle for the past two weeks. It could've been anything, nothing, his imagination. But he was House, and House would never write off such a promising Something, even one with signs as weak as these.

The most promising aspect of Something being, of course, that it was affecting both of them, and what would affect Foreman -- parents, family, girlfriends, friends, a life -- Chase quite stringently lacked. So either the two had found a common thread that even House was unaware of, or the two had simultaneously stumbled upon completely separate, yet equally distracting personal issues.

Of course, that possibility vanished with the dramatic, and still simultaneous, increase of signs. Foreman doing a poor job of hiding a rumpled shirt under a suit, Chase's ruffled hair and Foreman's mismatched socks, rushing in at the very last second with minuet patches of morning beard.

Very Interesting Somethings are the only kind that disrupt morning rituals, but that didn't make his conundrum any easier: figuring out Something that would affect the both of them, and although he hadn't worked out all the details -- Foreman as cool and reserved as ever when pressed and Chase acting surprisingly cool and reserved -- he could practically taste it.

The answer was surprisingly obvious, but he'd never suspected it. Well. Seriously, anyway. In joke it was the first thing that came to mind, but seriously -- seriously, Foreman was straight.

House had been around, through and under the block too many times for Something to come as too much of a shock, but couldn't bring himself to do anything more than stand and stare. Not that he was particularly eager to give them any privacy. They were in his office, after all.

He looked on with the same sort of dissatisfied, cheated air as someone who'd just seen a suspense movie with the twist ending that involved extraterrestrials. It wasn't fair, it came out of nowhere, there was no way anyone could've guessed that! Foreman was straight.

Still, there it was: Foreman and Chase, on the office floor, the former on his knees and the latter on all fours, ass in the air, both rocking forward with the same, rhythmic movement.

Chase was doing his best to smother moans and gasps and other, no doubt very entertaining, sex noises by biting down on a clenched fist. Foreman must've been just as curious about what these other noises were, because he reached down and planted Chase's wrists on the ground on either side of the blonde head with firm, sure hands.

"Everyone in this hospital is going to hear how much you want this," he informed Chase in a deep, rough voice that House would've supposed he would sound like during sex, if he ever supposed things like that, and made Chase shut his eyes tight while an obvious shudder traveled down his spine.

It wasn't a particularly wise goal, House reflected, and Foreman probably only said it because he knew full well no one would be camping out on this floor at this ungodly hour, or have any reason to visit either of the two floors beneath them for another six.

Chase was silent for two more thrusts, biting his lip, then Foreman must've hit something right because a stream of nonsensical words broke free, "God, fuck, you're -- fuh, please!"

That and a handful of moans and whimpers seemed enough to satisfy Foreman, who straightened again, moving his hips and the bits wedged in Chase in a way that made the blonde's eyes glaze over, fingers flex and back arch, before thrusting back desperately.

Foreman was saying something, but it was impossible to make out at this distance but Chase seemed to like it, panting heavier and heavier, and Foreman's steady murmur growing louder, until House heard it, clear as day:

"You'd like that, if I told House, made you suck him off while I fucked you?"

Chase obviously liked the idea, moaning and rocking back against Foreman as best he could, but Foreman hadn't loosened his grip and Chase's hips stayed where he held them, leaving the other able to do little more than spread his thighs a little more and moan with each thrust. Which he did. The little more part being a strange mix of whimper and gasp.

House had thought he'd been having sex, but realized he'd been very sadly mistaken. Sex was the providence of young people. It didn't just look hotter, and while it was just as indecent and dirty, there was a lack of fumbling and ungainliness that House hadn't realized was present in his own -- and any of his partners -- sex. Even if the surety was misplaced, Foreman moved like there was no one who could do what he was doing better, with confidence, and Chase responded with a passion he hadn't seen in years.

"Wanna -- too much, I have to -- I'm --"

Foreman moved a hand from Chase's hip, where the skin was shocking white from pressure, quickly turning red, and would no doubt be a lovely shade of blue by morning. Foreman's forearm began to rock in time with their motion, somewhere in the general area of Chase's crotch.

He said something, directly into Chase's ear, and the blonde arched his back, letting out a howl of pleasure, spilling all over the -- not the carpet, they'd been thoughtful enough to lay down a lab coat.

Four, five more thrusts and Foreman stiffened, coming hard into Chase and thin thighs finally failed under the assault, wobbling and the two fell in a tangle of sweaty, well-satisfied limbs.

It took them about two minutes to recover fully, one more to sit up, and begin cleaning themselves. Surprisingly, it took a whole four minutes for Foreman to glance up, and freeze at who stood on the other side of the glass.

House waved cheerily.