Warnings: Sex. Also spoilers for the beginning of Season Four.

Author's Note: Written for gethouselaid over at LJ. The NC17 version of this can be found there, linked in my profile. Seriously, guys, I had to cut more than a thousand words to be able to post this here. Go read it on LJ. This is based on the interview in which Katie Jacobs said that we're "finding out what Chase is like as a department head." While I suspect that that piece of information was inaccurate, it made for a fun fic scenario, and so I decided to run with it.

All Over You

The office is empty, though it's been three weeks since she helped Chase bring back the two boxes of clutter he'd emptied out of his locker. The desk drawers aren't even full, the filing cabinet like a monster with five gaping metallic mouths. It's cold in the room, and the walls seem too close together to be a real office. For one brief moment in which Cameron is absolutely certain that House's cynicism has rubbed off on her, she wonders they've given Chase some sort of refurbished closet to work out of.

Word trickles down fast in the hospital; now that she's working with a larger staff, she hears even more gossip than before. They don't even try to hide it from her anymore, having apparently learned that their new boss is lenient and occasionally even circumspectly interested. And so instead of going home to wait for Chase's extra long shift to end, she's stationed herself here, in his office.

She's waited in chairs before, but never this one or behind this desk. The chair itself is nice, at least, leather and swivel-backed, controlled by an array of levers and springs. Cameron leans back, not quite to the tipping point, but far enough to balance her feet on the edge of the desk, let her new blonde hair spill over the back. Pink scrubs and white tennis shoes are hardly her definition of alluring, but clothes have never been what mattered to Chase, and the knowledge that she is the one who has what he needs is enough to infuse her ungainly pose with confidence.

The door swings open so far that it hits the adjacent wall, the bang echoing and hollow in the nearly empty room. Chase freezes as he catches sight of her in his chair, just managing to catch the door in time before the force of its rebound collides with his shoulder.

"You're still here?" he asks, stepping inside and looking around like he's lost something he can't quite place. "It's almost midnight."

"I heard you had a bad day," she says, a little more than sympathy in her voice.

"Great." Chase throws up his hands, the left one colliding with the corner of his desk on its way back down. He turns the motion into a frustrated punch, but not fast enough to keep Cameron from seeing the shocked flicker of pain in his eyes. "Glad to know the entire bloody hospital gets a share in my business."

"Chase—" Cameron takes her feet down and leans forward in the chair a little. She's expected him to be upset, but not this visibly angry, and she can't help wondering what it means.

"House come and see you?" he asks abruptly, and suddenly it all makes sense.

Cameron nods once, silently. "I know he didn't know we were back."

"Weird, isn't it?" he asks, pausing to scrub a hand over his eyes and sniff harshly. "I can diagnose his patient in ten seconds, but can't stop mine from bleeding out on the table during a simple appendectomy."

"Maybe you're just meant for diagnostics instead of surgery," says Cameron, before realizing the implications of that statement. She wishes she could take it back the second the words are out of her mouth.

"Fantastic." Chase exhales a harsh puff of air. "Too bad House apparently doesn't think so." He turns away from her and goes to lean with his forehead against the glass of the single window, palms flat to either side of his face like he's a prisoner desperately trying to escape. "He didn't even come to see me. I had to go and find him myself."

Cameron gets up and takes a careful few steps toward him, not sure whether she ought to try and touch him. There's a rigorously controlled violence just beneath the surface of all his movements, the gentle precision she's become accustomed to utterly gone. "He probably thinks you're angry at him," says Cameron quietly. She isn't sure why she's still making excuses for House, because really none of them make sense to her anymore.

"I am angry at him!" Chase turns abruptly, eyes momentarily ablaze with bitterness in the low light. He takes a long breath and lets it out carefully, visibly trying to calm himself, but not entirely succeeding. "Sorry. I shouldn't be taking this out on you."

Cameron raises an eyebrow and takes another step toward him, the indecision of before banished by his outburst. This is what she knows; this is what she's come here to do. "Why not?" She lets her voice drop low in her throat, to that place that's more breath than sound, her meaning obvious in its cadence. "I can take it."

Chase gapes at her for a moment, the anger turning into formless intensity behind the carefully arranged façade of his face. Cameron thinks that if his hands weren't pressed tightly to his sides, they'd be shaking.

"Here?" he chokes out at last. "Now?"

Cameron shrugs slowly, hoping the suggestiveness of the gesture isn't lost beneath the pastel sleeves of her scrub shirt. "It's been a while, hasn't it? Since we had sex at work? I always wondered what it would be like fucking a department head in his office." She emphasizes the words of his title, watching the minute jump in his shoulders as she does.

"House is—" The words sound like the beginning of a retort, but they lose power instantly, and Chase breaks off to look at the floor.

"Not you," Cameron finishes intently. "And you know I never slept with him."

"But you wanted to." Chase swallows hard. "Fuck him. In his office."

Cameron shrugs again, not even bothering with a denial. "But I didn't. And now I'm in your office, not his. And I want you to fuck me." She takes one more step forward, closing the distance between them and leaning up to barely brush a kiss over his lips.

Chase reacts instantly, flinching at first, his entire body stiffening like the anger and need he's shackled so tightly all week long are suddenly fighting to get to the surface through his pores. And then he is all forward motion, his hands coming up to cup the sides of her face as he kisses her messily. His lips taste faintly of salt, and she wonders for a second whether he's been crying. He takes two quick steps forward, their legs momentarily tangling as she struggles to adjust. Finally, Cameron manages to extract her ankle from behind his and walk backwards until she hits the edge of the desk.

"Get the door," she whispers huskily in Chase's ear, and he groans as he pulls away to turn the lock, back so quickly he almost stumbles. Cameron brushes his coat from his shoulders, draping it over the filing cabinet to her right and watching goose bumps erupt on his arms from the sudden exposure to the cool air. He doesn't give her the chance to reach for the hem of his shirt, instead taking another step toward her and running his hands hungrily up her sides. Cameron lifts her arms, letting him pull her scrub shirt and turtleneck over her head in one quick motion so that it almost gets stuck on her ears. Her hair comes loose from its ponytail in the process, spilling over her bare shoulders, and Chase curls his fingers into it, pulling her head up to kiss her again.

"He came to see you," Chase whispers harshly, snaking his arms around her to clumsily pull at her bra. It takes him several tries to undo the familiar clasp, the mess of emotions he's tried so hard to keep hidden showing themselves in his fumbling movements. "Sought you out."

"It was my patient, originally," Cameron counters, shrugging her shoulders to send the bra tumbling to the floor between them. One strap manages to wrap around her ankle, and she shakes her foot in little kicks to send it flying free. More excuses, only this time she thinks they're for Chase's benefit, because she doesn't know why House has chosen even now to slight him.

"And my operating room." His fingers go for the drawstring on her pants, yanking at the careful bow and then the snaps until he can shove pants and underwear down her hips in one rough motion. Cameron steps out of her shoes and then out of the mess of pink fabric, but she doesn't take the time to lean down and pull off her socks. "He had his bloody team in my operating room and he didn't even know it!"

"You're right," says Cameron at last, deciding there's no way she can even attempt to rationalize anything anymore. She gets her hands down between them as she speaks, struggling until she's gotten his pants and boxers off and then running the flat of her palm low across his stomach. "You're right, he still came to see me and he still doesn't care about you, and there's nothing either of us can do about it."

There's an assortment of accumulated junk on the desk, pencils and pens and a photocopy of some patient's chart. Reaching behind her, Chase sweeps a reckless hand across it, sending everything clattering to the floor. Cameron barely has time to breathe before his hands are on her waist again, lifting her up to sit on the edge. His fingers on her thighs are surprisingly gentle as he spreads her legs. He bites his lip and makes a soft noise of desperation as he slips slowly back inside her. When he doesn't start to move immediately, Cameron digs her nails into his arms and hooks an ankle around the small of his back, trying to give herself traction.

Finally he starts to move, slowly at first, but speeding up after only a few seconds. His rhythm becomes jerky and uneven, this last measure of control crumbling as he looks into her eyes, ragged breaths sounding suspiciously like hiccupping sobs in the absence of tears. Cameron runs her hands up his sides and then through his hair, feeling the tension in his forehead as she brushes her fingers over his skin. Chase reaches between them to clumsily stroke her clit again, his hand visibly shaking.

Cameron's breath picks up again quickly, the build quickly warming its way through her to pool between her legs. She leans forward to catch a nipple in her teeth, and Chase cries out, speeding up even more. His fingers become harder, more demanding, and she can see in his eyes how desperately he's trying to hold everything together. Lifting herself almost off the edge of the desk, Cameron holds herself up against his shoulders and wraps one leg around his waist, increasing the friction. Chase quickly moves his free hand to support her, and drops his head onto her shoulder. Cameron cries out softly as the graze of his teeth against her neck finally sends her over the edge.

Chase comes not even a second later with a shout muffled into her neck, and wraps his arms around her for support, shaking hard. Cameron hugs back, pulling him closer and running a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck. It takes a long time for his breathing to even out, and his eyes are red-rimmed when he finally looks up at her again.

"Let me take you home," Cameron murmurs softly, and he nods as he steps away at last.