Title: Need You
Rating: R/NC-17
Characters/Pairings: House/Chase
Genre: Smut. With a little bit of romance/friendship.
Word Count: 700-ish
Summary: Two stories intertwine; one is taken from the scene in "Don't Ever Change" when Chase talks to the team, and the other? Well, I guess you'll have to read it to find out.
Disclaimer: I don't own "House M.D." or any of the characters in this fic. Bet you didn't see that one coming.

A/N:
Not beta'd; all mistakes are mine.
No idea where this plot bunny came from; it's the first time I've written House/Chase, it's also the first time I've written rated slash (to my memory).

Normal text is taken from the scene in "Don't Ever Change".
Text in italics is the other story.


He states the facts. You mock him. He attempts a joke and makes a run for it.

It's almost like the old days.

But this is the first time you've seen Chase in weeks, and there's no way you're going to let him go that easily. You don't want him gone, not yet.

"We need you."

"I need you."

He admits with a whisper, his voice laden with desperation and silent sorrow.

You found him on your doorstep twenty minutes ago; crying, beer in his hand and fresh cuts marked down his arm. You watched him watch the night in silence; you didn't ask what had happened, why he was here, why he came to you…

He looked at you. You let him in. A few bandages and beers later, you finally asked why he was standing in the middle of your main room.

Three words. But they seem to tell you everything.

"Nice work, Chase." You mock once more, simply because it's far too much fun not to. In your defence, he does actually deserve it this time. Sort of.

He looks almost bored but you know he's enjoying the banter as much as you (and maybe even missed it).

"Why do you need me?"

"Saying, 'nice work, Chase' when you're not here is pointless." You reply, watching as a small smile pulls at his lips.

You watch him start to leave; you don't want him gone, not yet.

He kisses you.

You're surprised, but the alcohol poisons your bloodstream and numbs your mind and somehow keeps you from complaining. You don't kiss back. At least, not until he's straddling you on the couch and you're running your hands through his soft hair and he's stripping off your shirt and scraping at your chest desperate for contact. Then you kiss back a little.

"Always knew you were a pansy."

"Shut up."

And you do. It's far too late to make sardonic comments, and anything you say he's just likely to throw back at you. You both know how it's going to end, you both know the probable consequences, but neither of you stop. You don't have time to ponder why.

He clumsily strips off his clothes, tears still dripping down his face, as he kneels down in front of you and unzips your pants with shaking hands.

You've got enough blackmail material for years.

You smirk before pulling him up towards you on the couch. You raise an eyebrow. He looks sheepish. You decide to make it easier for him and roughly pull him back down to your lap, "Call me picky, but with the state you're in, I doubt your blowjobs will do much good", you whisper harshly in his ear. You kiss him because you don't want to hear his response.

Chase comes back, like you knew he would. He stands in the doorway with a certain smugness about him, an idea forming in his mind.

"You want more time?"

He's on top. It annoys you, but your exasperation is soon forgotten as he rubs against you and your brain momentarily stops working. It feels good. And that's the only thought you are capable of comprehending as you rise up to meet him.

Drunken grinding with his far-too-young Australian male employee. He feels his ego take the largest bashing of its life.

You bite back a groan as his hand grasps the base of your penis unexpectedly, pumping you as he continues to rub against you. He rubs his finger gently over your tip and you rapidly stop caring about your ego as you return the favour for him. He's moaning above you (in almost girl-like frequencies) and before long the grinding between you becomes increasingly frantic as you both approach your climax.

"Oh God." He screams between the moaning, a hand tugging at your hair and lips moving hastily against your neck.

"House will do just fine." You manage to mock, before groaning and joining him in your bittersweet release.

"And, by God, I of course, mean you."

You smirk.

"Told you we needed you."


I'm unlikely to write more on this as I pretty much suck at multi-chapter fics, but comments and concrit are ALWAYS welcome. :-) Thanks for reading!