Ah... finally... part 3/4... still no title...
Title: Unlovable
Pairing: House/Chase, onesided!House/Cameron
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine, sadly, or i'd be watching them fight over me now. in mud. naked. While Wilson feeds me cookies liquorice. And the song used isn't mine either.
Summary: cynical jaded faithless disappointed dissolusioned used... Chase goes off the rails.
Notes: I think I must have been in a very bad mood when I wrote this. Oh well. It's a bit crude in places but I was practising writing with a word limit.
I'm failing my exams at the moment so all feedback is appreciated.
Part One... Part Two...
Cynical jaded faithless disappointed disillusioned used
If I could take back all my sweat my tears my sex my joy I would
Chase leans against the cold wall of the shower and jerks himself off, trying not to think. It fails as usual, and as the hot water runs through his hair, he can't help thinking about the man who has everything that Chase holds dear in his hands, and doesn't even realise.
The bruise he left on Chase's ribs is almost gone; just a few greeny-yellow patches left to show it was ever there at all. The first few days after he got it, Chase used to send House smoky looks from under his eyelashes, saying You've marked me and I can feel it under my clothes and we're both thinking about it every second of every day.
He stopped after a while. House treated him with such indifference that it physically hurt.
He comes and strokes the faded bruise and wonders if he can get House to hit him again.
My time my love my effort passion dedication
In a case of mistaken identity I gave these things to you
Work is hell. Chase can no longer cope with it. House is playing him like he plays his gameboy. But House knows all the rules, and Chase knows none of them. He tries to cheat, and ends up losing. Every time. He's sick of it, but he can never work up the nerve to confront House about it. Besides, he's had the conversation a thousand times in his head and no matter what he says he still winds up the loser.
Chase wonders why he still comes in. House doesn't listen to his opinions and scarcely lets him near the patients. He barely looks at Chase. Chase questions what he ever saw in this man, except that his feelings haven't changed. He is exhausted from not screaming. He wants to get close to House, whether to fuck him or kill him he has no idea. He's not sure he cares.
I sound angry bitter sad INFATUATED it's the truth
He doesn't know what House sounds like when he's aroused but his imagination gives it a go anyway. House is making incredible noises into his shoulder and Chase can feel the cold, clear glass rubbing against his back with loud squeaks as House thrusts into him over and over. In the back of his head he wonders how the hell they're going to get semen off the glass walls of the office. House draws back, smiling at him in a way that isn't entirely nice before he says:
"Chase, got any idea what she has? Of course you don't; you weren't listening. Cameron?"
As Cameron pipes up obediently with obscure illnesses, Chase scowls and pulls his lab coat a little more over the straining bulge in his jeans. He almost wants House to see; wants him to know what he does to him. But House never spares him a glance.
Denial anger bargaining depression just a few stages of acceptance
That it's really over
House is drinking more and sleeping less. He doesn't want to feel like this, but watching Chase mope is getting painful for him and he barely even dreams anymore because the young Australian just stands there, crying pathetically at him, or lies on the floor and lets House hit him.
House thinks back to that time and feels physically sick. He can't believe that he hit Chase with his cane and that Chase let him. Or that Chase got a fucking hard-on because of it. How disturbed is he anyway? Normal people don’t do that! They don't get aroused from their boss hitting them with a stick! They just don't.
House knows that he is partially in the wrong but doesn't care. He is drowning here. So he throws another thinly veiled insult at Chase and twists Cameron around his finger and pretends that he has no conscience at all.
It's just so complicated I'm stupid for believing in you
"You have to stop doing this to him." Wilson says one day, when he and House are walking down the corridor.
"Who? What?" House feigns innocence. It's the only way.
"Chase. You're torturing him. And why? Because you scared him in the first place." Wilson is the voice of reason and House both hates and loves him for it.
"Chase doesn't need you to fight his battles for him." House points out with more acid than he intended. Wilson gives him a searching look that makes House feel uncomfortable. He's glad he lead-lined his emotions.
Chase walks past, rather like a kicked puppy, his eyes lingering on House for just a second too long. House pops a Vicodin and viciously glares at the Australian. Chase looks away and blushes miserably.
Wilson doesn’t understand what just happened but he gives House a pointed look anyway. House sullenly pretends not to see.
You make me feel like my father never loved me
You make me feel like the act of love is empty
Chase wonders if this is what madness is. This constant bubbling under his skin, the desperation, the obsession, which is now so far gone that it can't be healthy. All he can think of is House, wanting him and hating him at the same time. The bruise has faded from his ribs now. He misses it. House has been cold to him for so long that Chase needs that mark as a reminder that he can get a rise out of his boss, that he can make House feel emotion.
Hatred is a passion of a sort, anyway.
Chase doesn't want to fall apart like this. It's sickening and frightening and he knows he used to be a good doctor. Now he just watches the clock, waiting for the time when he can get away from House, so he can go home and dream about being close to him again.
Am I unlovable? Is my skin untouchable?
Do I remind you of a part of you that you don't like?
Chase loses it eventually, goes to House's office, and screams, "What do you want from me?" at him. House looks at him levelly, calmly, lets him shout and then says:
"What do you want from me?" Chase is thrown off balance, and House continues: "I know that Foreman just wants me to teach him things he thinks are 'worth knowing' and then he will go off to better things. Cameron... well we both know what she wants. But what do you want?"
Chase can hear his reply in his head, the string of incoherent sounds of need that somehow won't form proper sentences. He wonders why there is no better word for 'need'; it sounds so... needy. He thinks about his answer and knows then that he will never, ever say any of those things to House.
"I don't want anything from you." he snaps.
"Liar." House says, and smiles.
I had your back I held you up I told you you were good enough
It was never reciprocated you kept affection and yourself apart
Cameron is practically drooling with every word that House says and he can’t help wondering how Foreman can work in this office in which every other person seems to be so mad with lust he expects the glass to steam up any second. Chase won’t look at him. Ever since the conversation they had two days ago, Chase has avoided him. House can’t work out if this new development is better or worse.
He feels cruel, stringing these two along as he tries to work out what to do about them. Cameron is annoying him but he pities her. Chase is too complicated to think about so he won’t.
He clears his throat and they all look up. Written across two of their faces is, simply, please. Something kicks House hard in the chest and he announces he’s going for a coffee. He does not return for half an hour.
You fed your love to me like crumbs to pigeons in the park
Sometimes I think you're satisfied to see me begging like a dog
Chase stops House from leaving, just once, just to see what House will do. House stands there for a moment, looking amused.
"I've thought about what I want." Chase begins.
He reaches a hand towards House with no idea what to do next. House grabs his wrist and pulls it down, gripping it firmly. Chase is breathing hard and there's a curious roaring in his ears. He wonders if House is going to hit him. He wonders if it will leave a bruise again. He wonders if he will lie alone in bed stroking the deep purple mark and thinking, House was here again.
The roaring in his ears intensifies and he leans towards House and brushes his lips against the other man's. There is a sudden flash of movement and Chase finds himself flat on his back on the floor again.
He watches House leave and feels obscurely satisfied.
I was enamoured you were king I gave my everything
Because sometimes you showed me just a hint of you within
Another couple of days pass. It feels like a few thousand millennia to Chase, who, understanding that he will never be able to make the first move, waits for House to choose his next step.
His wrist is bruised. The bruises came up over the course of that afternoon and he stood in the shower for hours in the evening admiring what a beautiful colour they were. He knows that he is utterly crazed and he can’t help it. Somehow jerking off has become much more enjoyable because of the finger-shaped marks around his wrist.
House catches sight of the bruises once, when Chase is checking the time on his wristwatch. He flinches and realizes something. It can’t go on like this.
*
That evening, at five o’clock, he orders Chase to stay behind and then sits there with no idea what to say to him. Eventually, he makes his choice.
For just a moment I romanticized the notion;
I could take away the torment I could love you like they never did
“Is this a test?” Chase asks after a while. House keeps his eyes on the road.
“Everything is.” He says distractedly. Chase bites his lip and falls into silence. He wonders exactly what it is that House expects him to do, and then realises he doesn’t really want to know. His heart is beating wildly but somehow his head is completely clear. He focuses on the now. He is sitting in House’s car, and presumably they are driving to House’s apartment. House has not said more than about ten words to him. But he won’t panic.
Chase can’t help thinking that maybe House is going to kill him. That he’s finally pissed him off so much that House has just given up on him. Then notices the obvious swelling in the front of House’s trousers and wonders if it’ll count as rape if Chase still can’t make up his mind.
Am I so unlovable? Is my heart unbreakable?
Do I remind you of a part of you that you despise?
Well, the wall isn’t made of glass, because House’s apartment is made of normal, apartment-type materials. The wallpaper is surprisingly rough against Chase’s back though. It’s disturbingly like his fantasy, actually.
House says nothing and bites into his collar bone, until Chase is screaming and moaning and House lets him come first because, well, he kind of wants to.
Greg pulls out abruptly and Robert slips to the floor, drained, shaking and weak. Greg keeps a firm hold on his cane and looks down at the pale, naked Australian.
“What do you want from me?” he asks. It’s odd to be asking this, shirt half undone, jeans sliding messily down around his thighs. Robert looks up and smiles. There are marks from where the denim has been rubbing against his thighs and his mouth and neck are swollen with red bites.
“I want whatever you want from me.” He says.
Are my lips unkissable? Are my eyes unlookable?
Are my words unlistenable? Are my hands untouchable?
Am I undesirable? Am I unlovable?
Greg lies in bed. He wanted to ask Robert to stay, he really did. But he couldn’t, and Robert seemed to understand that, because he excused himself and went. Greg has no idea if they will do it again, if this night has even fixed anything or made it all worse.
His whole body is shaking.
*
Robert gets home at about three a.m and has a shower instantly. He’s got carpet burn in the most unusual places (Greg has a bed but did they use it? Of course not) and all of him seems to be bitten and swollen and bruised and touched.
He doesn’t really mind. He got what he needed and he understands a little more about Greg. Not much. But enough.
Finally, for the first time in a month, standing under the shower, with Greg’s teeth marks seemingly everywhere, Robert allows himself to break down and cry.
TBC
x
Pairing: House/Chase, onesided!House/Cameron
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine, sadly, or i'd be watching them fight over me now. in mud. naked. While Wilson feeds me cookies liquorice. And the song used isn't mine either.
Summary: cynical jaded faithless disappointed dissolusioned used... Chase goes off the rails.
Notes: I think I must have been in a very bad mood when I wrote this. Oh well. It's a bit crude in places but I was practising writing with a word limit.
I'm failing my exams at the moment so all feedback is appreciated.
Part One... Part Two...
Cynical jaded faithless disappointed disillusioned used
If I could take back all my sweat my tears my sex my joy I would
Chase leans against the cold wall of the shower and jerks himself off, trying not to think. It fails as usual, and as the hot water runs through his hair, he can't help thinking about the man who has everything that Chase holds dear in his hands, and doesn't even realise.
The bruise he left on Chase's ribs is almost gone; just a few greeny-yellow patches left to show it was ever there at all. The first few days after he got it, Chase used to send House smoky looks from under his eyelashes, saying You've marked me and I can feel it under my clothes and we're both thinking about it every second of every day.
He stopped after a while. House treated him with such indifference that it physically hurt.
He comes and strokes the faded bruise and wonders if he can get House to hit him again.
My time my love my effort passion dedication
In a case of mistaken identity I gave these things to you
Work is hell. Chase can no longer cope with it. House is playing him like he plays his gameboy. But House knows all the rules, and Chase knows none of them. He tries to cheat, and ends up losing. Every time. He's sick of it, but he can never work up the nerve to confront House about it. Besides, he's had the conversation a thousand times in his head and no matter what he says he still winds up the loser.
Chase wonders why he still comes in. House doesn't listen to his opinions and scarcely lets him near the patients. He barely looks at Chase. Chase questions what he ever saw in this man, except that his feelings haven't changed. He is exhausted from not screaming. He wants to get close to House, whether to fuck him or kill him he has no idea. He's not sure he cares.
I sound angry bitter sad INFATUATED it's the truth
He doesn't know what House sounds like when he's aroused but his imagination gives it a go anyway. House is making incredible noises into his shoulder and Chase can feel the cold, clear glass rubbing against his back with loud squeaks as House thrusts into him over and over. In the back of his head he wonders how the hell they're going to get semen off the glass walls of the office. House draws back, smiling at him in a way that isn't entirely nice before he says:
"Chase, got any idea what she has? Of course you don't; you weren't listening. Cameron?"
As Cameron pipes up obediently with obscure illnesses, Chase scowls and pulls his lab coat a little more over the straining bulge in his jeans. He almost wants House to see; wants him to know what he does to him. But House never spares him a glance.
Denial anger bargaining depression just a few stages of acceptance
That it's really over
House is drinking more and sleeping less. He doesn't want to feel like this, but watching Chase mope is getting painful for him and he barely even dreams anymore because the young Australian just stands there, crying pathetically at him, or lies on the floor and lets House hit him.
House thinks back to that time and feels physically sick. He can't believe that he hit Chase with his cane and that Chase let him. Or that Chase got a fucking hard-on because of it. How disturbed is he anyway? Normal people don’t do that! They don't get aroused from their boss hitting them with a stick! They just don't.
House knows that he is partially in the wrong but doesn't care. He is drowning here. So he throws another thinly veiled insult at Chase and twists Cameron around his finger and pretends that he has no conscience at all.
It's just so complicated I'm stupid for believing in you
"You have to stop doing this to him." Wilson says one day, when he and House are walking down the corridor.
"Who? What?" House feigns innocence. It's the only way.
"Chase. You're torturing him. And why? Because you scared him in the first place." Wilson is the voice of reason and House both hates and loves him for it.
"Chase doesn't need you to fight his battles for him." House points out with more acid than he intended. Wilson gives him a searching look that makes House feel uncomfortable. He's glad he lead-lined his emotions.
Chase walks past, rather like a kicked puppy, his eyes lingering on House for just a second too long. House pops a Vicodin and viciously glares at the Australian. Chase looks away and blushes miserably.
Wilson doesn’t understand what just happened but he gives House a pointed look anyway. House sullenly pretends not to see.
You make me feel like my father never loved me
You make me feel like the act of love is empty
Chase wonders if this is what madness is. This constant bubbling under his skin, the desperation, the obsession, which is now so far gone that it can't be healthy. All he can think of is House, wanting him and hating him at the same time. The bruise has faded from his ribs now. He misses it. House has been cold to him for so long that Chase needs that mark as a reminder that he can get a rise out of his boss, that he can make House feel emotion.
Hatred is a passion of a sort, anyway.
Chase doesn't want to fall apart like this. It's sickening and frightening and he knows he used to be a good doctor. Now he just watches the clock, waiting for the time when he can get away from House, so he can go home and dream about being close to him again.
Am I unlovable? Is my skin untouchable?
Do I remind you of a part of you that you don't like?
Chase loses it eventually, goes to House's office, and screams, "What do you want from me?" at him. House looks at him levelly, calmly, lets him shout and then says:
"What do you want from me?" Chase is thrown off balance, and House continues: "I know that Foreman just wants me to teach him things he thinks are 'worth knowing' and then he will go off to better things. Cameron... well we both know what she wants. But what do you want?"
Chase can hear his reply in his head, the string of incoherent sounds of need that somehow won't form proper sentences. He wonders why there is no better word for 'need'; it sounds so... needy. He thinks about his answer and knows then that he will never, ever say any of those things to House.
"I don't want anything from you." he snaps.
"Liar." House says, and smiles.
I had your back I held you up I told you you were good enough
It was never reciprocated you kept affection and yourself apart
Cameron is practically drooling with every word that House says and he can’t help wondering how Foreman can work in this office in which every other person seems to be so mad with lust he expects the glass to steam up any second. Chase won’t look at him. Ever since the conversation they had two days ago, Chase has avoided him. House can’t work out if this new development is better or worse.
He feels cruel, stringing these two along as he tries to work out what to do about them. Cameron is annoying him but he pities her. Chase is too complicated to think about so he won’t.
He clears his throat and they all look up. Written across two of their faces is, simply, please. Something kicks House hard in the chest and he announces he’s going for a coffee. He does not return for half an hour.
You fed your love to me like crumbs to pigeons in the park
Sometimes I think you're satisfied to see me begging like a dog
Chase stops House from leaving, just once, just to see what House will do. House stands there for a moment, looking amused.
"I've thought about what I want." Chase begins.
He reaches a hand towards House with no idea what to do next. House grabs his wrist and pulls it down, gripping it firmly. Chase is breathing hard and there's a curious roaring in his ears. He wonders if House is going to hit him. He wonders if it will leave a bruise again. He wonders if he will lie alone in bed stroking the deep purple mark and thinking, House was here again.
The roaring in his ears intensifies and he leans towards House and brushes his lips against the other man's. There is a sudden flash of movement and Chase finds himself flat on his back on the floor again.
He watches House leave and feels obscurely satisfied.
I was enamoured you were king I gave my everything
Because sometimes you showed me just a hint of you within
Another couple of days pass. It feels like a few thousand millennia to Chase, who, understanding that he will never be able to make the first move, waits for House to choose his next step.
His wrist is bruised. The bruises came up over the course of that afternoon and he stood in the shower for hours in the evening admiring what a beautiful colour they were. He knows that he is utterly crazed and he can’t help it. Somehow jerking off has become much more enjoyable because of the finger-shaped marks around his wrist.
House catches sight of the bruises once, when Chase is checking the time on his wristwatch. He flinches and realizes something. It can’t go on like this.
*
That evening, at five o’clock, he orders Chase to stay behind and then sits there with no idea what to say to him. Eventually, he makes his choice.
For just a moment I romanticized the notion;
I could take away the torment I could love you like they never did
“Is this a test?” Chase asks after a while. House keeps his eyes on the road.
“Everything is.” He says distractedly. Chase bites his lip and falls into silence. He wonders exactly what it is that House expects him to do, and then realises he doesn’t really want to know. His heart is beating wildly but somehow his head is completely clear. He focuses on the now. He is sitting in House’s car, and presumably they are driving to House’s apartment. House has not said more than about ten words to him. But he won’t panic.
Chase can’t help thinking that maybe House is going to kill him. That he’s finally pissed him off so much that House has just given up on him. Then notices the obvious swelling in the front of House’s trousers and wonders if it’ll count as rape if Chase still can’t make up his mind.
Am I so unlovable? Is my heart unbreakable?
Do I remind you of a part of you that you despise?
Well, the wall isn’t made of glass, because House’s apartment is made of normal, apartment-type materials. The wallpaper is surprisingly rough against Chase’s back though. It’s disturbingly like his fantasy, actually.
House says nothing and bites into his collar bone, until Chase is screaming and moaning and House lets him come first because, well, he kind of wants to.
Greg pulls out abruptly and Robert slips to the floor, drained, shaking and weak. Greg keeps a firm hold on his cane and looks down at the pale, naked Australian.
“What do you want from me?” he asks. It’s odd to be asking this, shirt half undone, jeans sliding messily down around his thighs. Robert looks up and smiles. There are marks from where the denim has been rubbing against his thighs and his mouth and neck are swollen with red bites.
“I want whatever you want from me.” He says.
Are my lips unkissable? Are my eyes unlookable?
Are my words unlistenable? Are my hands untouchable?
Am I undesirable? Am I unlovable?
Greg lies in bed. He wanted to ask Robert to stay, he really did. But he couldn’t, and Robert seemed to understand that, because he excused himself and went. Greg has no idea if they will do it again, if this night has even fixed anything or made it all worse.
His whole body is shaking.
*
Robert gets home at about three a.m and has a shower instantly. He’s got carpet burn in the most unusual places (Greg has a bed but did they use it? Of course not) and all of him seems to be bitten and swollen and bruised and touched.
He doesn’t really mind. He got what he needed and he understands a little more about Greg. Not much. But enough.
Finally, for the first time in a month, standing under the shower, with Greg’s teeth marks seemingly everywhere, Robert allows himself to break down and cry.
TBC
x