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House/Chase Snapshots
by Lex
House/Chase Snapshots
Rated Adult
House knew he'd lost the battle when, despite his efforts to contain it, a goofily affectionate grin appeared on his face and stripped his supposed anger of any credibility. Who could have known that a cute Australian accent could become even cuter when its owner was caught up in an argument?
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Chase wouldn't eat cereal for breakfast unless it was drenched with cream. Cereal with milk wasn't an option. House shook his head, watching as the blond (after the last Corn Flake had been eaten) closed his eyes and tipped the bowl against his pretty mouth, savoring the remaining cream in a manner that struck House as hedonistic. In these days of fat free milk, who the hell used cream anymore?
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Chase's offended glare only served to fuel House's laughter. "The `Socceroos?' How can a team with such a stupid name be expected to win a game, let alone the World Cup?"
Chase, with wounded dignity, flipped one end of his green and yellow scarf over his shoulder and turned his attention back to the tv. "I wouldn't expect an American to know anything about the world's greatest sport," he remarked cuttingly, and, paying no further attention to House, lost himself in the match. House raised his eyebrows, but, surprisingly, refrained from further mocking commentary. Later, he had the good grace to remain tactfully silent when Italy put an end to Australia's World Cup dreams, assuming what he hoped was a suitably grave expression and pretending not to notice the tear trickling down Chase's smooth cheek, or the slump of the boy's shoulders.
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House woke up early in the morning pretty much every day, ready and wanting to fuck Chase. As the blond slept, unprotected and innocent, beside him, House would press up against his lover's back, rubbing and thrusting his morning hard-on against Chase's sexy ass. House's need was so urgent that, most mornings, he didn't even wait until Chase came awake before driving his stiff cock into the kid's asshole, pulling the blond tightly against him and moaning against the pale neck. Chase always ended up wide awake though, writhing and gasping House's name, imploring him to do it harder, faster, deeper, as his young body jerked frantically against the diagnostician's long frame. Later, House, sucking Chase's come from his fingers, would tell Chase to take the first shower; as the Australian dazedly padded to the bedroom door, House would ogle that tight little caboose and grin like an idiot.
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During his relationship with House, Chase had learned to hear "I love you" even when the actual words remained unspoken. At first, he'd been hurt and upset when his heartfelt yet shy declarations of love had been met with only uncomfortable silences from House. Still, the blond couldn't stop himself from saying those three words: in bed, at the movies, on the sofa, in restaurants, even surreptitiously in House's office, he confessed his devotion to his lover over and over. As time passed, Chase eventually came to recognize in House's awkward gestures of affection, in his ragged endearments during sex, and in the diagnostician's blue eyes and in his smile, corresponding declarations of love - so that one day, when the older man quietly whispered, "I love you - I love you," into Chase's ear, the Australian drew his lover even closer and said, "I know."
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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