Title: Next Time

Pairing: House/Chase

Rating: T

Warning: Implied slash – nothing graphic

Disclaimer: All publicly known characters and names belong to their respective affiliates.

I make no money in writing this.

A/N: This is my first House fic – let me know what you think. I like feedback of any kind – except flames, those are used to roast marshmallows for my s'mores.

This is just a one shot, but if you guys like it, I may write a few more related fics. I dunno.

Next Time

The first time House stepped foot into Chase's apartment, he wasn't exactly looking around and admiring the view. He was much more interested in the younger man in front of him who was intent on removing his shirt before the door was even closed. Needless to say, he didn't get a good look at where he was going and was surprised when he made it to the bed without killing himself.

The first time House had a chance to look around wasn't exactly a good time to take note of anything. He was more focused on how his duckling seemed quite content on rendering him into a great puddle of goo. House had to appreciate the Wombat's oral fixation now – it really had it's bonuses. However, when his head was thrown back, a strangled moan escaping through his slightly parted lips, he caught sight of a sliding glass door. For a moment House wondered where exactly the door went to and, more importantly, why there was such a door in someone's bedroom in the first place.

When House finally got a real chance to look around without any blonde Australian to draw his attention away, he took note of the apartment – or at least the bedroom. He couldn't see much because it had gotten darker some time while House's brain had shut down to all but one function and then the hour or so he had been asleep. It was unnaturally clean which either meant that Chase also had Obsessive Compulsive Disorder to tag onto the growing list of problems the young doctor had, or he was never here. House put the newest piece of the 'Wombat puzzle' under the latter; because Chase was an intensive, it was likely he wasn't in his apartment to turn it into a home.

After taking in the too clean bedroom, he noticed the door again. This time the door was slightly ajar and on the other side was Chase. House would've, if anyone was around to hear him, made a comment about how Chase being outside in naught but his boxers. Wait, those are mine, House thought after getting a good look at the only article of clothing Chase was wearing.

House got out of bed with a grimace. "Harder, House," he muttered, mocking what Chase had said before as he rubbed what was left of his mutilated thigh. He managed to find his jeans in the semi-darkness of the room and slid them on, limped over to the door and paused, watching as Chase exhaled a lungful of smoke. It made him stop and then that nagging feeling in the back of his head kicked in and told him, in no uncertain terms, that he wanted a cigarette.

He opened the door, leaned against Chase's balcony next to the aforementioned blonde. After Chase lowered the cigarette from his lips, House stretched his hand out and stole the cigarette.

He inhaled deeply and gagged, staring down at the offending cigarette as if it had done him a personal misdeed. "Menthol?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. He hadn't pinned Chase for a smoker, let alone smoking menthols.

Chase turned his head and blew the smoke out his nose. "Yeah?" he answered, his accent more pronounced than usual.

House shrugged and handed the cigarette back to Chase. "I didn't know you smoked, Robbie. And if you did, it would be some kind of poncy British shit." House had to pat himself on the back when he saw the scowl make it's way onto Chase's handsome face.

Chase sighed deeply and shook his head. "Must we get into this right now? I'm Australian," he corrected, resting his chin on his hand after he took another hit off his cigarette.

"If you're going to have a post-coital cigarette, it should at least be a good one," House said as if what he said was obvious to the rest of the world. "Red's work wonders for this sort of situation."

"You missed my actual 'post-coital' cigarette. You fell asleep," Chase said with a smile and straightened up before walking to the ashtray on the table next to House. The smile on his face made House a little nervous, not that he'd admit that to anyone else. "Go back to sleep. I'll be there in a bit."

House nodded, and walked back into the bedroom, favoring his good leg as much as he could until he was able to get to his vicodin on the bedside table. He dry swallowed two before he took his jeans off and crawled back into bed.

House woke up the next morning to an alarm clock going off by his head. He blinked a few times and glared at the offending alarm clock. It was almost nine. Chase let me sleep in?

He slowly got out of bed and shook his head to get rid of the sleepy feeling that was threatening to overtake him again. He then noticed a plastic shopping bag on the table next to his vicodin. He cocked his head to the side and opened it. Inside was a pack of cigarettes with a note on top in Chase's handwriting. House smiled and got dressed, stealing one of Chase's less obnoxious shirts before he walked down the hallway to the elevator and out to his motorcycle.

Next time smoke these and don't steal mine. See you at work.

- Chase