Note: Well here's the next part. I hope you all enjoy and please review. They're always appreciated.

Part 11

For once in all the time Chase had been going out with Cameron, the younger man was glad she had decided to stay at her own apartment that night. There were times he was glad being with her, then other times he'd feel restless. She was beautiful, sweet and smart, and he was the one that had wanted the relationship, but he wanted more. Wanted her to want the relationship as much as him and initiate. He was not blind to the fact she was still stuck on House. Chase wanted more that she wasn't willing to give. There were times she still wanted her husband back, and he didn't blame her, but she hadn't even given him a part of her apartment or her heart. Her clothes were in one of his spare dressers; it was unspoken that he wasn't fully welcomed in her space.

The whole other issue was Cameron still held a torch for House of course. She rarely admitted it and he was glad she didn't for it made him feel like less of a man and slightly jealous. What was it about the older, gruff, addicted man that drew people in? Wilson, Cameron and yes- even him. Chase would never admit it aloud, but he often thought about his boss, especially lately after House's accident when he realized he actually cared for the man.

After seeing him act affectionate to Wilson, his interest was piqued. Just who was Gregory House? Was he the man presented at work or under the façade was there more lurking beneath his enigmatic ways? Running a hand through his blonde hair, Chase stood up from the couch and headed into the kitchen for a beer.

Didn't drink much, but when stressed he'd limit it to one beer. The clock read 3 am on the stove. It didn't really matter since there was no work tomorrow for him. He went back to the couch and tiredly fell on the cushion, beer in hand, taking sips and listlessly staring off into space.

Branches whipped against the windowpane, the gentle rhythmic tick of the clock sounding in the room. Chase didn't have the TV on, actually could do without it. The sound of a motorcycle speeding outside made him wonder who would be crazy enough to speed through private residential streets at night. His mind drifted back to House and he felt lonely and frustrated. Why on earth was he thinking about House? House didn't like him, but Foreman claimed he was House's favorite duckling.

Well, if he was, House sure did a hell of a good act covering it up. Sometimes Chase felt he was treated the worst and walked on because he didn't stand up for himself. Well, next time he was with House, he'd find out if he were his favorite duckling and just why House called him wombat, a degrading endearment, but an endearment just the same. Then for the millionth time, Chase wondered why he respected House so much, and yes, he did like him.

Not because House was likeable, but because he was House and something about his gruff older boss drew him against his will. Causing him to grudgingly admire and respect the diagnostician. A sudden knock sounded one the door, more like pounding. Sighing Chase got to his feet and set down his nearly full beer bottle on the table and headed to the door. Opening the door, none other then Gregory House stood there and Chase's jaw dropped open as House made his way in.

"Uh… House, what are you doing here at three in the morning?"

Chase was mystified and a little flustered. House, at his place. The man he had been thinking about for the last part of the early morning showed up as if he could read his mind, unsettling. He shut the door and turned back to see House's eyes roving across his living room, observing the place. Limping forward, the older man stood close to Chase and breathed deeply, shooting him a pointed stare.

"You've been drinking."

Chase rolled his eyes. "I'm allowed to drink, you know. Why are you here?"

House didn't answer; he merely went over to one of his cabinets and opened it, beginning to rummage through it. "To find out what you're hiding."

Crossing his arms, Chase wasn't alarmed. This was House. After years of working for the man, he was used to him. What on earth would he be hiding?

"Why do you think I'm hiding something?"

"Because you are. You've been flirting with me yet you're dating Cameron. So that either makes Cameron a man, which I know isn't true because good God haven't you seen her boobs, man? So it means you're either gay and want my cane or you want something else from me and are planning something devious with your little cunning, wombat mind."

"Well," Chase said with a slight laugh, heading for the kitchen. "While you're trying to figure it out, do you want a beer?"

Bringing another can of beer back to the living room, Chase noticed House had already sat down on his couch and the TV was turned on. He was making himself at home. Really, Chase didn't mind, but knew he should feign annoyance. House did walk over him often because he didn't put his foot down and it was his place after all. Surprisingly, he actually realized he didn't want to be alone and House's company as odd and forceful as he had barged in was welcomed. Handing House a beer, he sat down beside him.

"So," Chase lightly asked. "Trouble at home with Wilson?"

House's eyes didn't waver from the TV. "Have you ever heard of pretty wombat's sticking their noses in other people's business?"

"What-" Chase began, but paused. "Wait, you just called me pretty."

House rolled his eyes. "Well duh, you do have adorable hair and wear short shorts."

Chase frowned, not sure if House was serious or not. Sizing the man beside him, he wondered how on earth House was actually in his place? He was dying to know if House and Wilson were together, but knew if he asked he wouldn't get a straight answer. Actually he was curious as to how House viewed him.

"Who is your favorite?" Chase demanded, taking a sip of his beer. "Cameron, Foreman or me?"

House grunted. "No, I'm the boss here and don't need to answer your questions. Why did you flirt with me, wombat?"

"You're not the boss. This is my house."

"You're so going to lose this argument," House said with an exaggerated feminine voice. "Remember, I'm God and you're a devout Catholic boy."

"Lapsed Catholic," Chase corrected. "And you're not God, if you were then we'd be screwed."

Then the most amazing thing happened, House laughed. "God, Chase, you're too much. You're scared of me, and then you're not. You're straight then gay. Make up your mind."

"I'm not gay!"

"Could have fooled me. The hair speaks volumes. True you don't have fashion sense for a gay guy, but hell either does some women. Then there's the whole bit about flirting with me. Did you ever give one of the men down under a blow job, know those Brit's love that in those all boy schools."

"Australian, House. And no, I have never given a boy or man for that matter a blow job."

House rose to his feet. "What a pity. I'll see you at work. I'm out."

Then he was limping towards the door. Chase was surprised he didn't want the morning to end. Bereft, he stood to his feet and watched House heading for the door. He didn't want House to go. This amazed him because he'd rather House be here with him than his own girlfriend.

"House," he began.

The man turned towards him with a raise of his brows, waiting for him to speak.

"You're welcome to come… to my place when you want to… hang out-if you want to ever hang out."

Where had that come from? Feeling like a fool and a blundering idiot, Chase nearly kicked himself. House didn't want to spend time with him. What was he thinking? House merely nodded and this surprised Chase, no cruel comeback came that he expected.

"Will do. I'll have my people call your people."

Then House was gone and Chase shook his head, a smile settling on his lips.