Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chase finds himself uncomfortably hungover, his hands bind to a wall with what felt like heavy, cold chains. Looking around in his post-drunken haze, the lack of windows and a set of stairs told him he must have been in somebody's basement.

He gasps for air as the realization hits him. What the hell was he doing last night? Did he stumble his way into those sex parties again and agree to something he'd regret later? Was this supposed to be some sick foreplay?

No, he'd never agree to that. He hated feeling trapped. The claustrophobic setting of his bound hands and the otherwise spacious basement, of which he'd laid on the cold floor, caused him to greedily inhale heaps of air through his mouth. He didn't even mind the smell of mildew and static doing so.

A sting in his chest made him instinctively reach for it, only for the rattling and the sudden stop to remind him he was bound to a wall. He just pants, trying to ground himself. He looks around, spotting a bunch of old computers and open boxes, seemingly all filled with computer parts, sorted and organized. The old computers seemed taken apart, if not completely empty. This wasn't a sex dungeon, that was good at least.

Suddenly, the echoing thuds of what seemed like steps began approaching as a figure revealed itself. He saw a boy, quite young, around college age, holding a tray.

"Oh. Hi." he simply says, setting the tray next to him. "I made you a BLT and a coffee. Black, two sugars."

"Who are you?!" Chase yells, attempting to slide himself far, only to get not too far away. He recognizes the pain to be a panic attack, and this new figure's uncanny... politeness didn't help.

The boy stays silent, crouching down and staring at Chase like if he was mesmerized by some otherwordly creature. He slowly reaches out, patting Chase's head in a way that felt like a child in a petting zoo would - not getting what they were doing but meaning well anyway. He calms down, eyeing the boy. He seemed young, innocent, and polite, so not the type with malicious intent - assuming kidnapping could ever have a non-malicious intent. His gaze was familiar, like House when he hugged him - showing a rare form of newfound empathy -, in a way that made him feel... uncanny...

"Eat." he eventually says. "You'll feel better."

Chase's stomach grumbles, loud, reaching for the sandwich, only for the chain to hold him back.

"Oh, sorry..." the bloke softly says, taking a key out of his pocket and unlocking both of his cuffs.

Chase gets a shot of adrenaline, his mind screaming 'run', however his stomach decided he should scarf down the sandwich first, not even caring if it was drugged. He then washes it down with the pleasantly warm, perfectly sweet coffee, feeling like he'd just consumed ambrosia. He then places the cup down, loud, causing the weird freaky guy jump a bit, startled.

"BLT is your favorite, right?" he asks, "Did I get it right..?"

Chase softly nods, "How'd you know..?"

The guy just shrugs.

"Why did you uncuff me..?" Chase raises a brow.

"So you could eat..."

"And... Why did you chain me in the first place..?"

The bloke stammers, eventually just claiming "I had a good reason..."

"Which was..?" Chase slowly asks.

To this, the bloke just stands up.

"Wanna come upstairs? I can make you another sandwich, give your stuff back, and... you can go if you want to..."

Chase takes a deep breath, standing up.

"Sure..." he softly murmurs, realizing that staying for a bit longer might get him a knife to the throat, or a sandwich, but leaving will get him... nothing.

The guy softly smiles, heading upstairs, expecting Chase to follow. He does, seeing the colorful, yet perfectly cozy furnishing and plant collection of the living room. He sits onto the couch, watching the guy go and head inside what he assumes to be a bedroom. He soon returns with Chase's messenger bag, seemingly untouched.

"Here you go. I'll have your sandwich ready in a bit. Bathroom's down the hall. Make yourself at home." He lists off, his tone robotic.

Chase nods, watching the bloke start to prepare another BLT with leftover bacon. While he's looking away, Chase runs up to the front door, attempting to break out. He got a rush of what he could only describe as 'a bad feeling'.

Fuck. The front door is locked.

"You wanna leave..?" he appears behind him. "You could've asked..."

Chase slightly nods. "N-no, I..." he sighs, "Sorry."

"Don't apologize." the bloke huffs, a smirk showing emotion for the first time. "If you want to leave, just ask, and I'll unlock the door."

Chase squints his eyes, unsure.

"Can I go, then?" Chase asks.

"Want me to wrap up your sandwich?" he offers.

"Why are you doing this?!" Chase finally breaks.

The bloke stammers, eventually blurting out a "What do you mean..?"

"You kidnapped me... Now you're letting me go?" Chase straightens, attempting to assert dominance, despite the guy being at least 4 inches taller than him.

"I didn't- kidnap you, I..." he assures, looking away and stammering. "I can explain, but- until then... You can stay for as long as you want and you can leave whenever you need."

Chase nods. Despite his large frame, this guy was very... meek. He nods, walking back to sit down.

"Tell me what happened."  Chase demands, watching him sit down onto the opposite side armchair.

"You don't remember..?" He asks, Chase shakes his head.

"I don't even know who you are..." Chase softly speaks.

"I'm Adam... You work for my father..." he meekly says.

Chase nods, eyes widening. "House has a kid..?"

Adam stammers, getting up to get Chase some water.

"How old are you..?" Chase raises an eyebrow.

"Twenty..." he says, returning with a glass of water.

"Only twenty..." Chase echoes. "And you already have a drink rack."

Adam's head reflexively shoots to the drink rack he had, full of wines, champagnes, brandies, and whiskeys. What caught Chase's eyes was the Jägermeister and vodka stock, which seemed to be in the majority.

"Gifts from family." Adam deadpanly states.

"How do you have your own house at twenty..?" Chase slowly asks. "Are you employed..?"

Adam shrugs, leaning back. "I buy and sell computers."

Chase stammers. It made sense, but he'd never met someone with a 'career' so... unconventional...

"As in..?" Chase raises a brow.

"I buy them, fix them, sell them. I go to scrapyards, eBay, Facebook Marketplace, buy a bunch of used computers, clean them, fix them up, and list them online." he explains, "I even have repairshop services, my office is in the garage, that's where the real magic is," he now smiles, seemingly giddy over getting to explain what he does, "but for the scrapped ones, I often times just take apart the unfixable ones, salvage whatever parts I can, sell the rest back to the scrapyard... or make something with them."

Chase glances around. The walls were full of decoration made with parts. There was a broken RAM stick snapped in half and mounted to the wall, with old, faded keycaps writing below: 'MEMORY LOSS!1', and little arrows used to pinpoint things like 'BATHROOM', 'OFFICE', and similar. That was just when he'd looked down, seeing the coaster for his glass being a literal motherboard, cut into a circle and coated in epoxy resin.

"And guess what, some of these whatsits actually go for quite a lot online. People like dumb art." he adds, almost giggling.

"So you..." Chase slowly starts, "take the junk and turn it into art..? Is that why you kidnapped me..?"

Adam's expression dies, glancing around as his eyes eventually fixate onto a fridge magnet - an old CPU coated in resin, labeled 'Brainfuck' -, taking a soft breath before leaning forwards, his eyes meeting Chase's again.

"If someone was to tell you something you... might not want to hear... would you want them to tell it upfront?"

"Yes!" Chase argues, Adam's demeanor telling him that whatever his reasoning may have been, it was serious. "Hit me with it. C'mon."

Adam stammers, as if he was gonna just... blurt it out, yet knowing he might not want to hear it.

"You... tried to kill yourself."

Chase's expression goes numb, his ear ringing as he looks down.

"Tell me what happened." he flatly commands.

Chapter Text

Adam was scurrying down the halls of the hospital. His college classes had ended, and it was now summer break, and he was spending the first night like this. He finished year 2 of his 4 year IT course, aiming for that sweet sweet place of 'network administrator in PPTH' for the fifth year now. He loved the hospital, part of the reason why he was here again.

"You called, dad?" Adam asks, barging inside the office.

He'd stopped caring about Chase - in the way that he was still in love, but refusing to hide -, so this 'barging' became common. Unfortunately Chase was never there to get to know him.

"Did you change my password?" House asks, looking up from above his reading glasses.

"Lord..." Adam mumbles, dropping his laptop bag wherever it was safe and slouching over him. "Last time I changed it to 'Wilsonisgay69' just like you asked. I even wrote it down for you." he points to a sticky note he'd stuck next to the touchpad.

"Well, it's not working." House quips.

"Did you try capitalizing the W..?" Adam deadpanly asks.

House, fingers slower than ever, tries the password again.

"It's so hard to tell with your handwriting. People are gonna think you're a bigger doctor than I am." House rolls his eyes, the laptop unlocking.

Adam looks at House opening Opera - his idea of a superior browser he made House get -, cursor circling around and opening menus.

"How do I switch to incognito again?" House loudly asks.

"Control, shift, n." Adam rolls his eyes.

House looks down, a focused grumble on his lips playing on his small double chin.

"Control is C-T-R-L..." he repeats, slowly pressing each key. "Okay, perfect."

"Your data provider can still see your searches, big man." Adam pats House's shoulder. "If you have to murder someone or watch weird porn..."

"What's the point, then?" House complains.

"Dad, it’s for hiding your search history from the team and me, not the government" Adam quips.

House slowly types in 'Cat video compilation' and clicks on the top result.

"Now I can think. Thanks." House deadpanly says. "Now get out."

Adam huffs, leaving.

Foreman and Cameron were in the lab, seeing which, Adam heads inside.

"House is in the office." Foreman reflexively responds.

"I know." Adam deadpanly replies. "Chase?"

"Went to the supply room." Cameron absentmindedly says, "Didn't say why, something about maintenance."

Adam nods, slowly heading out. "Thanks guys" he quips, leaving. He heads to the nearest supply closet, hoping Chase was still there, hoping that, maybe just maybe, they can finally meet.

He slowly cracks the door open, silently entering. 6 years of stalking the man was plenty time to learn how to be sneaky and silent. He tries to suppress any fantasies of closet sex in the surprisingly spacious closet, passing by a packed rack.

He finally spots Chase, recoiling behind said rack, peeking around like a child. He was sitting on an empty desk, hunched over, hair covering his face completely. His two hands were together, almost like a prayer, which explained the sobbing mumbles emanating from his lips. This is when Adam gets a bad feeling, his giddy excitement immediately dropping on his face, instead replaced by a silent gasp.

He slowly gets closer, seeing an empty antifreeze bottle. Talk about maintenance. He picks it up. It was empty. A meniscus ring stopped around a third of the way up from the bottom. He drank what was left. The bottle was 6 fl. oz. so there were only two ounces left before. Not enough to kill him. Not right away.

With this realization, he shakes Chase's shoulder, who jumps a bit, his face and torso drenched in sweat.

"Chase..." he softly says.

"This isn't-" he slurs "This isn't what..."

"Hey, look, it's okay. I'm not gonna report you." he pleads, voice hushed, dropping the bottle as tears well in his eyes. The bottle makes an echoing thud as Adam's arms wrap around him. "We need to go."

"No... let me die..." he pleads back, burying his face in Adam's neck, holding on like a lifeline.

"No..." Adam chokes out. "What were you praying about..?" he deflects, hoping he can convince him.

"...Peace... an angel in the afterlife... anything..." he cries out.

Adam thinks for a bit. The ethylene in the antifreeze causes confusion, something he could exploit.

"Here I am." he states. "I'm taking you."

"I'm not dumb." Chase spits back.

"No, really. Come on, we need to go." Adam hurries.

He's seen this happen before. House cured an inmate on death row by getting him drunk. He got a thing of 56% vodka as a college acceptance gift from his maternal relatives, more than enough ethane content to bind to the ethylene. It would only take around 5 to 6 shots.

"How long have you been sitting here..?" he asks, grabbing a spare wheelchair.

"Idonnoo" Chase slurs, having Adam sit him down as he, almost drunkenly collapses in his seat. "About... 5 minutes..."

Adam nods, wrapping him in a cooling blanket, both to disguise him as a patient, and to slow the creation of metabolites from the ethylene. He had less than an hour before said metabolites would be produced and his organs would shut down. He knew he had to get him out somehow, because while hospital treatment is obviously the best bet - he would lose his career. His qualifications, his credentials, decades of hard work, all flushed down the toilet for one rash decision that'd probably been brewing for ages. If Chase were caught in an attempted suicide at PPTH? Mandatory psych eval. Immediate suspension. Possibly reported to the state board. Damn you, bureaucracy.

He takes the bundled up Chase out, luckily avoiding many stares with the given fact it was the night shift. Nobody gives two fucks during the night shift. He elevators his way down to the parking lot where he'd left his car, haphazardly leaving the wheelchair on the edge of the parking lot and laying Chase and the cooling blanket in the backseat. He wasn't gonna let Chase die, nor was he going to let him be watered down from a smart, handsome doctor to nothing but a liability. He did what he thought was best.

Arriving home, he hurries the confused and lost Chase into the living room, sitting him down and bringing out two shotglasses.

"Let's have a drink and talk it out, okay?" he says with a pretend-smile, pouring out the strong stuff. "Here, I'll race you."

Chase lazily nods, clinking glasses as Adam, trying to handle the situation like he isn't completely heartbroken and terrified, downs the first shot. Chase follows, his face scrunching up.

"Five shots. That’s what it takes. You drink five, you live." he murmurs, pouring out the second, then third shot. "You better be hungover tomorrow, you dramatic bastard."

Chase just silently drinks, barely coherent. Adam, hand tremoring, pours out the fourth shot.

"Hey, dude, I don't-" Chase slurs. "I don't need more, I'm already wasted.."

Adam looks at the clock. 10 minutes left. The three shots probably distracted most of those unfortunate ADH hormones, but it's not enough.

"You a loser?" Adam pants, "What, you seriously gonna lose to some- some kid? I mean I'm not even supposed to drink until next year and I'm still only tipsy."

With this, Chase huffs, drinking the fourth, only for his shotglass to be replaced by Adam's. He lets out a terrified chuckle as Chase downs that too.

"Okay, fine, hit me. I'm ready for number six." Chase dares.

Six would be too much, so Adam thought.

"No, you win" he admits defeat. "You get a special cocktail as reward."

Chase just whistles, intrigued. Adam rushes to the kitchen, trying to recall the case. Acidosis and electrolytes. He pours a glass of tap water, mixing baking soda for the acidosis. Why does he even have that?? He then mixes sugar, remembering having an electrolyte suppliment he'd impulse-ordered, for which House called him a moron. He stirs it, bringing it over.

"Drink." he commands.

Chase takes a sip, letting out a disgusted groan.

"This tastes like ass."

"Drink!" Adam raises his voice.

Chase, startled, drinks the whole thing. Adam gets him more water, which he also drinks. He wipes his lips, standing up.

"I need to take a fuckin' leak." Chase proclaims, his accent more prominent.

"Bathroom's down the hall." Adam says, relieved. If he'd done everything well, the antifreeze should just pass right on, leaving little trace or damage.

He takes a small rosary from his pocket - one he'd also impulse-ordered, originally to mess with House but has gotten attached to -, and mutters a soft prayer. He didn't actually know how to pray 'properly', but both the Lord and the Catholic church tends to recognize free-worded prayer, right? Putting it away, he watches Chase stumble back.

"I missed." he mopes.

"I'll clean." Adam sighs. That's the least of their problems right now.

Chapter Text

"That's... what happened..?" Chase asks, his BLT cold, leaned forward. "Why did you keep me in a basement, then..?"

Adam shrugs. "The basement is cold. Cold slows metabolism. I wanted to make sure none of the leftover ethylene would get turned into nasty shit."

"And the chains..?" Chase raises a brow.

"If I hear them rattling, you're no longer upright. If you're not upright, you could aspirate vomit in your sleep." Adam explains. "I kept you there so I could have you recover and I could check your vitals... I ended up passing out, and I woke up before you, which was when I cleaned up and prepared you breakfast."

Chase huffs, tears welling at his eyes. Adam saved his life. He wasn't lying when he tried convincing him he was the angel he'd prayed for - even if he took him to his house, not heaven... or hell...

"You... saved me..." Chase slowly hushes out, falling forward and onto his knees.

Adam hurriedly gets up, embracing him.

"Why..?" Chase sighs out.

"Because you're worth so much more..." Adam confesses. "You're brilliant... handsome... a bit cocky... You deserve a good life as much as anyone else."

Chase cries into his shoulder.

"I even told auntie Cuddy you went home last night and felt sick so you could stay home for the week..." Adam reveals, "I'd prefer if you stayed over so I could monitor you."

Chase nods. "Why?" he cries out.

Adam stammers, unsure if he should speak. He lets Chase go softly, standing up.

"Because I love you." he blurts out, deadpan, heading off into his office.

Chase stammers, "W-wait!"

But Adam already shuts the door behind him. With a grumbling stomach, Chase sighs, eating the rest of his sandwich. He goes to the bathroom, hoping he'd passed most of the ethylene. He didn't feel feverish or like he's going to vomit, so that was a good sign. Eventually, he just stumbles his way into the office - his garage -, and sees Adam pull a vape as he starts unscrewing a component from a PC.

"This model had a complete breakdown..." Adam reveals as he hears Chase enter. "The CPU burned out, damaging the motherboard, but the cables and power supply are hopefully still usable..."

Chase just silently hugs Adam from behind, embracing his stomach and pressing his lips against his shoulder. He stares down to watch Adam unscrewing components and sorting them between three boxes labeled 'doesn't work', 'salvageable', and 'junk.'

"What do the labels means..? On the boxes..?" he softly asks.

"The salvageable parts I can put inside another model, the ones that don't work I can make into some junky art, and the junk I sell to the junkyard." Adam speaks. "I got plenty to build, it's rare to find a model where the case and I/O panel are unsalvageable. Usually it's if they're out of style or something." he chuckles.

"So you... lego new models out of the parts of old models..." Chase concludes, his voice muffled by Adam's shoulder.

"Basically." Adam says, tossing a SATA cable into the 'salvageable' box before lifting out the power supply and checking it. "Does this smell like burnt plastic to you?"

He smells it, letting Chase take a whiff too, before raising his eyebrows in consideration, placing it inside the 'salvageable' box.

"Want a hit?" he raises the vape to Chase.

"What flavor?" Chase meekly asks.

"Pineapple mango peach." Adam lists off, letting Chase inspect it. "I stopped buying strawberry ones when I learned you're allergic."

Chase takes a hit, coughing a bit. "Where did you learn that?"

"When dad said 'it would be so funny to sneak strawberry jam in his sandwich', and I had what he calls a 'teenage diva breakdown'." Adam rolls his eyes, placing the screws in a separate, unlabeled tin.

Chase nods, taking a second hit, this time more used to it, before placing it back down and hugging Adam tighter.

"Why do you love me..?" Chase quietly asks.

Adam just shrugs, "If you were a machine, I'd repair you with salvaged parts and try to keep you together." he absentmindedly says.

Chase begins to softly sob, hugging Adam even tighter.

"I remember the day you got hired. I reviewed your file with dad, I remember saying 'he seems good', when it came down between you and Treiber." Adam tells, reflexively continuing to salvage parts. "When it came down to the in person interview... I don't know if you remember, but I was sitting in dad's office, playing on his console."

Chase nods, recalling the day. He'd remembered seeing what looked like a 14 year old, scrawny kid, playing on a console, legs up on the cabinet next to him. The 6 years of handling House's shit caused him to forget, since House having a son wasn't talked about as much.

"I heard your accent. I glanced at your face... I fell in love." he mutters.

Chase now recalls the little notes that tipped him towards the right diagnosis, the chocolates appearing at his seat, the way his coffee was always gone and replaced with a warm, fresh batch...

He takes a deep whiff of Adam's scent, taking in his cologne, catching a weird herbal smell underneath.

"You're using Ketoconazole?" Chase raises a brow.

"How the hell did you-" Adam starts, "right, doctors. Yes, I'm using an anti-fungal ointment. Yes, I have a fungal infection. Go ahead, judge me."

Chase scoffs. "Which one? You want me to guess..?"

Adam huffs, placing his trusty, nearly broken screwdriver down and leaning onto his work counter, face turning towards Chase.

"Tinea versicolor." he eventually mutters. "Go on, do your House-magic."

Chase chuckles. "Alright, well... That explains the AC plus dehumidifier in both the house and the garage, the yeast flares up in hot humid areas."

"Does it explain loss of pigment?" Adam asks rhetorically. "Spoiler, I also have vitiligo."

Chase slowly nods.

"Plus acne. My skin hates me." Adam rolls his eyes.

Chase shrugs. "Explains the overflow of creams and ointments in your bathroom cabinet. It makes sense that the biggest organ would have the most issues."

Adam shrugs, "I barely go out because every tan I get makes the pigment loss more prominent... so do the tinea spots... I use a damn sunbrella to get from my door to my car for fuck's sake." he chuckles.

Chase just lets go, taking a couple soft, small steps back.

"Can you show me..?" he asks.

Adam sighs, slowly taking off his shirt, his back still facing the man. Chase steps closer again, his fingers running over the bundles of spots on Adam's upper back.

"I like your spots..." he softly says.

"It's a fungus caused by yeast." Adam deadpanly states, putting his shirt back on.

"It's not deadly or contagious so I'm allowed to like it." Chase states.

Adam huffs, turning around to finally face him.

"Do you... like me too..?" he slowly asks.

Chase stammers, slowly nodding.

"You saved my life..." he quietly replies.

"I'm a biological mess." Adam deadpanly responds, huffing.

Chase suddenly steps closer, their lips meeting in a slow, passionate kiss.

"So..." Chase starts. "Any plans for today..?"

Adam, face beet red, glances at the analog clock on the opposite side of the room, right below his tool cabinet. 10 AM.

"Fuck." Adam huffs. "I have a client scheduled for... about right now."

"...Is it okay if I stay? I'd love to see you work." Chase meekly asks.

Adam slightly nods, a childish grin creeping onto his otherwise blank, shaken expression.

"Yeah, sure..." Adam dreamily replies.

To this, Chase nods, Adam instructing him to a chair where he can watch without being in the way. Soon enough, after Adam packs away his salvaging stuff, the client arrives.

"Sorry, had to bring the kiddos." the woman starts, bringing three children inside, "My 8 year old's tablet stopped working."

Adam gets a tense look, "No worries. What was she doing when it happened..?"

"Watching Youtube." she responds, turning to the middle kid. "Melissa, get back here!"

Adam nods. He presses the power button and tries tapping, only for a video to play, and then stop when he turns it off.

"It appears the inner screen broke. It needs a repair. We're looking at a Samsung, so it should be upwards of 100 bucks, but we'll discuss after" Adam says, taking out a sticky note pad. "Write your name and phone number here, please ma'am."

The woman sighs, writing down her info. Adam scribbles a number in the corner, placing the top note onto the device.

"I'll call you when it's repaired." He says with a forced smile. "And tell your toddler to stop playing with the dehumidifier please."

"PATRICIA!" the woman yells, eventually gathering all three girls before leaving.

"God, I hate children..." Adam sighs. "Fuck, I have to finish the other guy's laptop."

"I thought my line of work was stressful." Chase comments, watching Adam place the tablet into a plastic tin labeled 'Do these ASAP.'

He digs out a laptop, doing one last POST before grabbing the sticky note. He dials the number.

"What's the number on the corner..?" Chase asks, slowly walking closer.

"Order number. I started tracking when I first started. I've fixed over 500 devices in two years." Adam explains, a certain amount of pride in his tone.

"Can I... say something odd..?" Chase starts.

Adam, absentminded, mumbles a 'yeah', listening to the dial.

"It's hot that you know what you're doing." Chase blurts out, causing Adam's eyes to go wide and face even redder.

The guy finally picks up the phone. "Hello?"

"Uh, yeah..." Adam starts, snapping back into business. "I, uh, booted into the OS and the device appears to be working well... Jacks, battery, RAM, running smooth as butter... Yes, it's available for pickup, just don't spill coffee on it next time... Aight, cheers."

"So hot..." Chase mumbles again, like a teenager with a crush, once Adam hangs up.

"Okay, I got a pickup in about ten, and..." Adam sighs, eventually his eyes defocusing. "Lunch with my dads..."

"Dads..?" Chase raises a brow.

"Shit. I meant to start the borscht yesterday..." Adam rambles. "I'll just throw together some pot roast."

"You work IT and repair... and you cook..?" Chase slowly asks. "I think I love you."

Adam's eyes widen even more.

"What do you mean dads?" Chase asks again.

"Greg and Wilson." Adam replies.

Chase's eyes widen in solidarity.

"Greg House..." he echoes. "Oh, God."

"Yeah..?" Adam asks, still in a lovely haze.

"I'm supposed to be sick..." Chase reminds. "Oh, God..."

"Oh, come on, you can just chill in my room or the basement." Adam chuckles.

"I'm never going down there."

Adam's chuckle melts, nodding.

"Right..." Adam awkwardly says.

Chapter Text

Adam clutters in the kitchen, having handed his latest repair over and having an extra 120 for a keyboard replacement, feeling like a big, strong, responsible adult. He hears Chase exit the bedroom, standing in an oversized hoodie and sweats that he let him borrow. He simmers a pot roast, making pelmeni as side-dish. He was so busy praying to the culinary gods to forgive this combo, he barely noticed Chase almost drowning in his clothes.

"You're so damn cute..." Adam chuckles, finally noticing him.

Chase silently sits on top of a nearby, unused counter, staring down at his hands.

"I'm supposed to be dead..." Chase flatly states.

"Oh, honey..." Adam coos, stopping the heat under each now ready dish, letting them cool.

He goes up to Chase, who was now eye to eye with him, and embraces him.

"Do they have high expectations of you..?" Chase asks, quiet.

Adam shrugs. "I have high expectations of myself..."

"Why..?" Chase asks, his voice softer.

"I know they're proud of me..." Adam starts, "...but I feel the need to impress them... prove I can be an adult..." he chuckles, "Dad keeps trying to slip 100 dollar bills under my coasters and Wilson keeps bringing up my baby years..."

Chase snickers, "You already have everything figured out... At your age I was drinking my allowance away... You're making your own money, hustling, studying..."

"It's not enough." Adam argues, a huffed laugh leaving his lungs. "It's never enough..."

He then lets go, taking out his best cutlery and plates to serve the food. He sets up the dining table fit for four, laying out everything just in time for the two to arrive. Chase, terrified, heads inside the room.

"Adam." House greets, letting the boy take his cane and place it aside, hanging up coats and hats.

"Hey there, kiddo." Wilson joins, helping House to his seat.

"Tell your boyfriend Chase to stop hiding!" House deliberately exclaims.

Chase, reluctant and stomach grumbling, heads inside.

"You disappeared yesterday..." House reminds. "Why..?"

"I was tired... I-" Chase stammers.

House stands up, Wilson reflexively reaching to help him, only for House to shrug him off. He roughly grabs Chase's jaw, who begins to shake from head to toe.

"Wilson! I left my sidesalad in the car. Can you go get it?" House asks.

"I told you not to put it in the damn glovebox for 'convenience', I knew you'd forget..." Wilson grumbles, heading out.

House turns back to Chase, "Look at me."

Chase looks up, feeling like a nervous kid.

"Look at my nose." House specifies.

"Why are you..." Adam quietly asks.

"You took him, I could tell when you and him disappeared without a call..." House monologues, eyes squinting at Chase. "Your eyes are puffy, bloodshot, implies a hangover... Look at my nose." he reminds.

Chase obeys, beads of sweat pouring down his face.

"Nystagmus. Really subtle. Implies slight nerve damage." House concludes. "What causes nerve damage? Maybe... the empty bottle of antifreeze where you last were..?"

Chase gulps, eyes following House.

"Sit" House says, sitting. Chase sits across, looking forward. "Adam, some water..?"

Adam jumps, heading to the pantry to get a full bottle of water. He lingers for a moment, knowing the command wasn't about water.

House takes a deep sigh. "...Why did you try to kill yourself..?"

Chase wipes his welling years into Adam's hoodie's oversized sleeve. "You already know. You just need me to admit it..."

"Was it your father? Cameron broke your heart? Lost a patient?" House lists off.

"Why do you care..?" Chase counters.

"Don't want to lose my employees." House quips. "Legally, I am obligated to report this... Maybe give some bullshit reason, like... an ex replaced your vodka with antifreeze... but for that I have to find out why you did it and how I can make sure that you aren't going to try again."

"I don't need treatments, I'm okay now..." Chase softly says.

"No you're not. You need dialysis under a fake alias." House states. "I just can't tell if it's polite or jerkish to wait until after brunch."

Adam returns. "Can I listen now..?"

"I asked for water..." House rolls his eyes.

"I know you asked for privacy." Adam pours out a glass of water, sitting down next to Chase.

Chase sighs, nodding. "One round of dialysis, under a fake name, make sure nobody sees or asks."

"Deal." House nods. "Are you gonna do it again..?"

"Depends..." Chase shudders.

"On what..?" House frowns.

"Your son..." Chase softly says, intertwining his fingers with Adam's. "If you'll let me love him..."

"Your life depends on whether or not I give you fatherly blessings..?" House deadpanly asks.

"I have nothing else... If you just- want me gone you can tell me now." Chase blankly chuckles.

House nods. "He has a free will now, you know..."

"I stalked him for 6 years and you know it." Adam rolls his eyes. "I don't care. He's my boyfriend now."

House huffs, watching Wilson return.

"Where have you been? You caught the part where gay is in the air. Be careful, it might catch on." House snarks.

"At this rate the next step in our relationship would be another divorce." Wilson states, opening the container of potato salad, sitting down.

"Already there, hon." House jokes, finally digging into his meal.

As soon as they finish eating, House hurries Chase to get in the car, offering a ride - through Wilson - to the hospital so that he doesn't, y'know, die. As soon as Adam gets up, his phone rings. He sighs.

"It's Aleksey..." he picks up, a hand hinting to wait a second. "Govori" ("Say it")

"Adam, bro, ya sluchayno udalyu tam kakuyu-to papku... chto-to tipa "system32"... eto vazhno?" ("Adam, bro, I accidentally deleted some folder... something like "system32"... is that important?")

Adam pauses, excusing himself to his office. House just shrugs and sits down onto the couch to wait for him, the other two following.

"CHTO TY SKAZAL?? System32?! BLYAAAT, TY CHE, SOVSEM??" ("WHAT DID YOU SAY?? System32?! FUUUCK, ARE YOU SERIOUS??") comes a loud, echoing yell from the office.

"Nu ya dumal, chto eto kakie-to starye fayly... A kompyuter teper’ ne vklyuchaetsya..." ("Well I thought it was just some old files... Now the computer won’t turn on...")

"Konechno on ne vklyuchaetsya! Ty chto, tup— da kogo ya obmanyvayu. Konechno ty, blyad’, debil." ("Of course it won't turn on! Are you an idio- who am I kidding, you stupid fucking idiot.")

"Mozhno pochinit’?" ("Can you fix it?") Aleksey asks.

"Da, pochinyu. No na etot raz ya voz’mu za eto v dva raza bol’she. I budu stonat, kak babka, vsyo vremya poka stavyu Windows zanovo." ("Yeah, I’ll fix it. But this time I’m charging you double. And I’m going to groan like an old grandma the entire time I reinstall Windows.") Adam rambles angrily.

"Nu ladno… Mozhno s kartoy oplate?" ("Okay… Can I pay by card?")

"Mozhno, no ya schitayu etot sluchay lichnoy obidoy." ("Yeah, but I’m taking this one personally.")

Adam hangs up, returning to the living room. He embraces Chase, leaning down to bury his face in his chest. He lets out a guttural scream, muffled by the contact. He pulls away.

"Got a work." he states. "If I grasp the bloke's nuts hard enough I can churn out 400 bucks. 500 with an emotional damage fee."

"Attaboy." House praises. "Let's go."

"Will you be fine without me..?" Adam softly asks Chase.

Chase slowly nods. "It's just hemapharesis... I do it to patients enough to know what to expect."

Adam softly kisses Chase on the lips, seeing the three out.

"Wilson, our turn." House snarks, Wilson groans.

They drive off, Adam lighting up a cig and popping a painkiller for the raging headache he was already beginning to get.