Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"I bet a 50 the man's never even said the words 'I love you'," Chase chuckles, referring to House.

The ducklings slaved away, doing cultures, trying to figure out what causes a 42 year old mother of three to develop random burns and rashes along with psychosis.

"He did, to Wilson, but never a woman" Foreman corrects. "I bet a 100 he's secretly fucking him."

"You mean he's like gay or something?" Chase chuckles back.

"Guys, shut up" Cameron complains. "Instead of talking about a person's love life, you could get back to testi-"

"Positive for Staph aureus" Foreman interrupts, printing out the test results.

Chase nods, looking at Cameron.

"I ran back with the results last time." Cameron states.

"Is there a schedule for that? Foreman, then you, then me?" Chase remarks, sighing. "Fine."

He leaves, test results in hand, walking all the way to the office. At the door, he stops. Looking through the glass door, he saw a disgruntled House being... yelled at..? No surprise, he must get angry patients yelling at him all the time. The person in question was this... tall, black haired dude. He seemed... familiar.

"Sorry, dude" he recalls the bloke's voice, he bumped into him in the hall an hour earlier.

"Watch your step, mate" he responded, grumpy.

"Geez, sorry, just looking for House." He recalled the response. And that was that.

Curious, he heads inside.

"Dad, I told you, I don't want hookers at my birthday party!" The guy yells.

House chuckles, almost finding this... funny? Wait, 'dad'..? Is he...

"Yes, I remember, 7 male hookers, not female, and make sure none of them are white. You can't see the coke on their toned muscles if they are." House snarks, yet with an undercurrent of... caring?

The bloke's frustration falters, dropping the hands that were initially rested on his hips, walking over to the kitchenette. "I never said that. That was all on you."

"Chase!" House changes topics. "Care to volunteer?"

"Uhh... What would I be volunteering in..?" Chase asks, confused.

"My son needs 7 male hookers." House turns to the guy "Adam you don't mind if one of them is white, right? An exception never hurts."

"Marie has Staph aureus." Chase states, unwilling to humor the man. "You have a son?"

"Trust me. I'd rather have the Staph." He remarks, limping out.

"Where are you..." Chase starts.

"Wilson" he simply states, unwilling to elaborate.

"Dr. Chase, right?" Adam asks as soon as House is out of the office.

"Yep. And you're... Adam. Never knew House could even procreate but- no offense."

"Some taken" Adam responds, walking over to the kitchenette. "I'm making coffee. You're nice for a brit so I could make you some."

"I'm Australian." Chase corrects, taking a seat on the couch "and if I have another coffee, my heart will explode."

"Sorry, mate" Adam mocks. "Then what do you need? I'm feeling nice, you might not want to let the moment expire."

"Tea would be nice. Thanks."

"You take it with honey?" Adam asks.

"Uhh, yeah... why?"

Adam shrugs, "lucky guess"

"Alright, I'll bite" Chase sighs after a beat passing, "How much do you know about the team?"

"Foreman's a thief, sorry, ex-thief. Cameron's a widow. You almost became a priest... Pretty much all the juicy water-cooler talk dad brings to the car ride home."

Chase hums, it figured how Adam would know everything about them, either from father dearest, or his own, inherited deduction skills, yet it felt weird to imagine House, legs crossed, sipping coffee as he'd go on about the latest PPTH drama.

Adam scoffs, his movements freezing right before he'd raise the thing of honey. "Ironically enough, I doubt you know anything about me. I've briefly met the other two, they treat me like a kid, big whoop, but you..."

Chase shrugs, his previous frustration still present, yet now carrying an undercurrent of curiosity. "Tell me about yourself, then."

"Not much to say. I'm the presumed closeted gay son of a state-wide famous diagnostician. I don't have much of a personality besides the perfect candidate for a gay doctor porno movie." He snickers, squeezing a dollop of honey into one of the mugs, bringing them over to the couch, sitting next to Chase, yet not too close.

"Sure you do." Chase reflexively says, ignoring the waving red flags in his brain that gave him a feeling of 'wrongness' upon hearing the word 'gay', one that he was most likely deeply engraved to feel. "Surely you have hobbies."

"Yeah, hobbies. Being beaten up in the lockers after every PE class and having a girl best friend. I'm like... a walking bundle of stereotypes." Adam complains, his voice getting higher and more 'girly', "It doesn't help either that I can do a perfect gay voice."

Chase doesn't know whether to chuckle or become disgusted. He didn't want to give off the impression of judging him, seemingly more so as a way to suck up to House through this newly discovered gate named Adam, despite the twin devils of those seminary days protesting otherwise.

Adam sighs. "I don't even know why I told you this. After bullying a ten year old for being fat, no surprise you'd be a homophobe too." He scoffs as if it was a completely normal remark and takes a sip from his mug, sucking in air through his teeth from the scalding hot temperature. "The tendency of man to torture himself out of guilt will never cease to amuse me."

Chase looks at Adam, who seems to avoid his gaze. Did Adam... basically just drop an anecdote some ancient philosopher would say as if it was an average Tuesday? He dwells on those words, as if unwilling to acknowledge just how much he felt his heart drop.

"You wanna know something fucking hilarious?" Adam shoots up, breaking Chase out of his pondering, his slightly aggressive tone not quite implying he's about to say something actually funny, "My middle name is Cain."

"...Oh." Chase reacts, holding back a chuckle.

"Yeah!" Adam nods, looking at Chase, eyes wide. "Ever since the infarction, my father trained me to get his cane for him. He'd say 'Cain, fetch my cane' and laugh hysterically as if it didn't get old around the nth time!" He chuckles hysterically.

"No kidding" Chase incredulously chuckles back, amused.

"Yeah! At some point he'd just say 'Cain', not even elaborating if it was my name or the command. He never calls me anything besides Adam unless he needs his cane."

"That's... incredibly House of him" he says, half comfortingly, half chuckling.

"Yeah." He simply says, taking a sip of his tea, which was still piping hot, but this time he seemed to try to put up with it. "Yeah..."

A beat passes, Chase praying on a conveniently timed page to interrupt the almost eerie silence. He wasn't sure if he was to treat Cain- sorry, Adam, as a buddy, a trauma survivor - credit to House -, or just a kid. Similar uncertainties probably ran through the other two's minds when meeting the bloke.

Speaking of, where were they? Did House seriously start bossing them around without him so that he has a baby sitter to leave his little angel with? How old is he anyway??

"How old are you anyway?" Chase channels his thoughts, his voice merely above a mumble.

"...I turned 18 this Tuesday, we just didn't have the time to celebrate." He explains, both men's minds jumping back to the hooker discussion, as if by telepathy. 

"Awh, why is that?" Chase asks, furrowing his eyebrows, trying to recall what happened on Tuesday. Right, they had to stay late. All of them including House.

"I got school, dad got work, but he promised I could hold a party this weekend. The day itself, uncle Wilson just made some fire carbonara and a cherry-chocolate cake, and we sort of had this private celebration, y'know?"

Chase hums, the mention of Wilson causing him to raise a brow. He never agreed to give Foreman that 100 on that one bet, right?

"Wilson? Like... Dr. Wilson in oncology?" Chase questions.

"Yeah, y'know the one with the divorces and alimonies." Adam snickers, "He moved in with us, not the first time since he tends to do that after every divorce."

The blonde lets out an amused huff, his mind travelling to more serious topics. He didn't know why he was so curious now, but damn, this guy was interesting.

"What's it like..? Y'know, House as a dad." Chase questions, seeing Adam look down, a finger tracing the rim of his cup.

"He's... strict, but fair. Still, he has one rule, to tell him everything. And I mean everything." Adam says, placing the mug down.

Chase observes the action, wondering how he hasn't burnt off his fingertips, watching the younger guy lean over the table in front, a hand digging into his thick, pitch black head of pullable hair, another arm acting as a pillow for him to lean his head down, turned to face the blonde.

"Tea makes me sleepy..." Adam adds, a juvenile smile on his face. "It's funny, I get the feeling you're the type to hurt me, yet I feel comfortable enough to tell you everything about me that comes to mind."

"It's a good trait." Chase anecdotally starts, "I'm just surprised you're so open."

"Me too. I can already hear you calling me a fag but then again I can't see myself doing anything about it."

Chase gets a guilty little pang in his heart, partially ashamed that he gave off that impression, another part correcting the first with a 'so soon'.

"Did you tell your father..? That you were..." Chase starts, unsure how to phrase it. Even the word felt weird leaving his tongue. "gay."

Adam snickers, like a child who just stole a candy and got away with it. "Who said I was gay?"

"You did??" Chase asks, confused.

"I said I was presumed gay, as in everyone thinks I- Nah I'm just kidding. I am gay."

"Fucker" Chase chuckles, enjoying the sudden banter.

"Ey, language." Adam playfully scolds, the blonde's reaction prompting him to explain. "Uncle Wilson's got to my head."

"Hm..." Chase hums.

"I realized when I was 13, I came out to some friends at 16... and yet I feel like my father's known it since I was 12." Adam rattles off, chuckling, "I never officially told him, I just started dropping hints, and now it's just... out there."

"Huh... Well, what'd you mean by telling him everything?"

Adam's eyes wander around, his mind looking for an example, before looking back with a smirk. "He was the first person I told when I lost my virginity, smoked weed, got wasted, need I go on?"

"Whoa." Chase exclaims, amused and almost... envious.

"Yeah." Adam simply exclaims, burrowing his face into the crook of his elbow, seemingly dozing off. "Ironically it was with a chick... It was gross, but oh well."

"Maybe you should tell him then... That you're gay." Chase tests the waters.

"Whenever you say it, it just feels like a slur." Adam slurs, his breathing changing as he slowly falls asleep.

"It's just... It'd be more..." Chase stammers, Adam's soft snoring putting his 'big bro advice' on hold. He awkwardly finishes his tea, taking the empty cups into the sink.

He sees Adam slightly shiver, his position - halfway sprawled onto the table - causing his shirt to ride up, revealing his waist. He tries to suppress the thought of his hand perfectly fitting along the curve of his waist, like a puzzle piece, instead grabbing a nearby blanket and laying it onto his back. He didn't even treat the women he'd sleep with this good, he told himself he shouldn't care, that he didn't really care. He pondered. Should he rather admit to caring or would he just say he's using him for brownie points with House? Which one would be less shameful? He takes his pondering to the washrooms, leaving the office with Adam in it with a page to House informing him that his babysitting hours were up.

Chapter Text

Chase stood on the cold tiles of the hospital showers. Usually, he'd lean his head up to let the water hit his face, taking no longer than five minutes per a once-a-day shower, as was his unintentional routine. Usually, he'd make a joke in his mind on how a public shower will still have a petri dish of fungi holding raves despite being in a hospital setting, causing him to awkwardly let out an exhale through his nostrils. Unusually, he was looking down, a palm pressed against the equally cold tile wall, his other hand furiously stroking himself off as if his life depended on it.

For once, he felt alive, yet didn't know why. As the lukewarm water droplets hitting the tiles blocked out his disheveled breathing, he slowed his movements as he stared at his load of spunk be washed away. He presses his forehead against the wall, panting, letting the shower head wash away the evidence of this rare but present little vice of his, but just like always, the guilt of it all could never be washed away. He exits the shower in a mere towel, checking his pager. Nothing. Did they forget about him? Or did Marie see through his Aussie charm, requesting a doctor that seemed less superficial?

He checks his phone next, about 20 minutes had passed. He gets dressed, heading back to the office, hoping to find Adam, whose juvenile grin, pitch-black curls, dashing gray eyes similar to his own, somehow didn't escape his mind, even during the fiasco in the shower. Chase had tried to suppress the image of him, no way he was his type, no way he even has a type in men... right? He returns, finding the office equally empty and quiet, Adam now laying in the classic "student" pose. Chase sits next to him, not having anything better to do. Despite usually being a busy doctor, he was almost tempted to say it was very... Q word.

Adam stirs, deeply yawning himself awake, like a cat. He stretches, feeling the blanket tumble off his back.

"God, I feel like I'm in heaven." Adam groans, still sleepy, his arms stretching as his chest puffs out, allowing Chase to inspect his necklace. It was one of those cross necklaces people wear less out of religious reasons and more so for fashion. Still, Chase was prompted to ask.

"You own a cross?"

Adam's eyes shoot down, as if he'd forgotten about it, before shooting to him, his mouth lazily agape as he mumbles a "Yeah, why?"

"Don't tell me House has a Christian son." Chase mutters, almost in disbelief.

"He doesn't." Adam smirks. "The cross symbolizes Jesus, sure, but a more trendy way to look at it is crucifixion. It's more broad that way, you still got Jesus and the whole shebang, but then again, you got guilt, shame, unjust treatment and persecution. Think about it, your entire body is hung bare for the public to see, often for no valid reason. That's symbolic as heck."

Chase slightly cringes at that, the similar twin demons appearing on his shoulders. It was almost as if he could feel the ruler whacks on his wrists upon the mere thought of paraphrasing his words to anyone in the seminary. Despite the turmoil, he just nods.

"Plus." Adam adds, taking the bottom of the cross inbetween his slightly crooked teeth, "It doubles as a way to piss off religion freaks. This way it's upside down."

Chase tries to suppress a smirk, instead, deadpan, stating, "You mean Saint Peter's cross."

Adam lets the cross slip out his lips, huffing. "Right, I forgot, you're one of them."

Chase cringes at that.

"Saint Peter didn't believe he deserved to be hung like Jesus was, so they hung him upside down." Chase explains, almost as if reciting a paragraph from a notebook.

Adam snickers. "That's kinda funny."

Another pang hits Chase, right in the religious guilt.

Adam feels the silence grow, abruptly standing up. "Speaking of the father, son, and all the rest..."

"Holy spirit" Chase corrects, his face blank, slowly shutting down.

"Same thing..." He mutters, looking through House's bookshelves. "A-ha!"

Chase slowly looks back, seeing Adam return with what looks like a photo album.

"Turns out, my father might just love me." he mentions, "Or he wanted traces of my existence out of the house. Wanna take a peak?"

"Uh..." Chase mumbles, his eyes darting all over the blank table, slowly turning his head to face Adam once more.

"Dude, you okay?" Adam asks, his face now concerned.

"I- I just-" Chase stammers, a hand covering his mouth.

"L-look, I'm sorry, I know you were like, in priest school for a year but like..." Adam stammers, a comforting hand reflexively patting Chase's back, the closeness causing him to jump a bit. "I'm sorry for bringing it up. We can stop talking about it."

Chase subtly nods, eyes defocused. "It's fine... I don't mind..."

"You do... you're uncomfortable at best."

Chase sighs, nodding.

"Let's just... see the damn album."

Adam reluctantly nods, his hand sliding off his back, opening the album up. The images all show either a grumpy House with a really energetic Adam both staring into the camera, or images that seemed more unintentional 'capture the moment' photos where, for once in his life, Chase saw House genuinely smile. Was he... actually a good father..? There were also lots of Christmas (or Hanukkah) photos of House, Adam, and Wilson, the former disgruntled, the rest smiling.

"Wow..." Chase reacted for the nth time, almost impressed.

"Adam! It's five! We're off." House chimes in. "Wilson's got a seminar to attend, you can drive the car."

"Sweet!" Adam shoots up, abruptly closing the album, breaking Chase out of his focus.

"We can go?" Chase asks, hopeful.

"Is Marie discharged?" House sarcastically asks back, "Thank you for watching my Cain, but it's time to go play with the other ducklings."

Chase sighs, rolling his eyes. "Which room?"

"MRI room. Turns out we were wrong about the Staph causing the burns. Something caused the burns and the Staph." House explains, "Good luck!"

Chase groans, waiting for the others to get back.

The team busts their asses, looking for invisible tumors, imaginary STDs, pulling at every last strand of hair to find something, anything, even if it makes no sense. They wanted House to have the answer he seeks, otherwise he'll give them hell until the next puzzle.

They eventually agree to take a break. Having drank three coffees since, Chase found himself unable to sleep while the other two were off showering or grabbing something to eat. He scrolled away on the work laptop, deciding to log into his Faceplace account to check his timeline and messages.

Wrong password.

"The fuck?" He softly exclaims.

He types in his password again, typing way more slowly. Wrong password. He sends himself a 'reset password' email, logging into his email account. Wrong password.

"What the fuck?" He exclaims louder this time.

He checks the password hint, which usually just said 'password', but this time, it said 'your password is password? really? you deserve to get hacked, bitch. for the new password, leave a txt.', followed by a phone number.

His eyes widen. He got hacked?? What is the hacker gonna do with all his accounts?! He grabs his phone and texts the mystery number.

Chase: I would like my accounts back.

He awaits a response.

XXX-XXX-420: mynameisRobertChaseandIamverygay

XXX-XXX-420: much more secure than just 'password'

Chase rolls his eyes, trying the password. It works. He resets his passwords, only to receive another text.

XXX-XXX-420: welp it was fun while it lasted :P

Chase: Who even are you?

XXX-XXX-420: secret X3

Chase: Ugh

He checks his timeline, three likes and a reply. He hasn't even posted anything in the last week. Curious, he checks his profile.

Robert Chase: I love fat people.

Three likes, two replies. He checks the replies.

Gregory House: Chase did you get hacked again

Robert Chase: Yes!! I would never say that!! OWO

He rolls his eyes, deleting the post. Suddenly, he gets a notification.

'Adam Cain House accepted your friend request.'

Chase just stares, deadpan, a hysterical laugh eventually escaping as he pieces everything together. He never sent a friend request, so it seems as though the hacker gave himself up.

He sends a message.

Robert: I hate you.

Adam Cain: thats homophobia!! <3

Adam Cain: how could anyone hate me ever

Robert: Plenty of reasons come to mind.

He snickers, seeing Adam type.

Adam Cain: mean </3

Adam Cain: whutevr, gn

Chase: Good night.

Adam Cain: oh for the love of sweet satan could you stop writing like youre a corporate email turned human

Adam Cain: plus your password is password, dear christ, you're mentally older than my dad

With this, he goes offline. Chase is slightly hurt by his words, but his pride isn't gonna let him be undermined by someone who was a child last week. He circles his cursor, processing the events of the past half hour, realizing it was 3 AM.

Suddenly, he decides to look through his profile. He told himself he just wanted to prove (to himself) that his posts - either vacation pics with cryptic captions or random thoughts that he thought were cool enough to post - were above whatever he was posting.

He sees a bunch of birthday wishes from the team and a bunch of people he didn't know, probably friends and family. Below that was a picture of him sitting at a dinner table, wearing one of those cheap paper birthday hats and staring blankly at the cherry-chocolate cake, House smiling proudly as his hands hold his shoulders firmly.

It was posted by House with the caption 'I'm only smiling because I can send him off to college soon'. Adam's reply below it read 'Love you too, dad :D'. There was also a comment by Wilson reading 'Can't believe I've been co-parenting with House for so many years now. Happy 18th, kiddo.', the reply for which was 'Thank you duncle! :D'.

Chase scrolls further down, curious what Adam's timeline looked like usually when it's not his birthday. He saw a photo compilation simply captioned "they hate me for my emo swag, too bad i dont care rawr XD", the photos capturing Adam posing, giggling, and throwing up peace signs and rock and roll hand signs in what looked like emo make-up, accompanied by a girl whom he tagged.

It seemed satirical, most likely a dare or a troll or something, but the last two images showed the two sharing a soft kiss, then the girl giving him what looks like a playful peck on the cheek. He felt his stomach churn for a reason he could not pin-point, so instead he focused on the thousand questions floating in his mind. He scrolled back to check the account info.

'Relationship status: Dating - Veronica Clark', the same girl tagged in the photos.

Was this really the same person? Was that all a facade to mess with him? He did mention having been with a chick before, but he framed it in a way you'd talk about a hookup. Chase began doubting everything, almost angry that he let himself be toyed around with by some- some liar..! Of course, everybody lies, his father says that to him more than 'I'm proud of you', why wouldn't he take advantage of that? He scrolls down, staring deeply at that second-to-last image, trying to convince himself they're not really together. He wasn't even sure what was true at this point. He sees Adam's eyelids lazily drooping, lips barely puckered, his entire appearance seeming less passionate than he'd probably intended to seem. He ignores the images, scrolling further down.

The next one is a top-down view selfie, his hand holding the phone as his other hand makes a claw shape, tongue stuck out. "guess whos in trenton all alone biatch!!" read the caption.

"Language" read Wilson's comment.

"Big whoop, kid, just don't miss the train, I don't feel like driving today." read House's.

Neither got a reply, just a like.

Chase continues scrolling, the silence only broken by the ticking clock on the wall and a couple distant heart monitors that he'd learned how to block out. He mostly sees textposts of random thoughts, anecdotes, quotes from the likes of Kafka and Camus, going down all the way to age 16, which is probably when he was allowed to create an account - and also why his birth date said May 5th 1986 instead of 1988, or maybe his age was a lie too. His first ever post was a textpost simply stating "cane house in the house yo XD". Chase cringed a little inside, trying to fight the urge to think he was cute.

He decides to skim over the timeline one last time, scrolling back up to the selfie in Trenton, finding a post above it he must have missed in his sleepless daze. It was a video, which he decided to watch. It showed Adam curled into a ball against the wall of what appeared to be the train station, taking a drag of his cigarette, slowly inhaling it as he panned the phone further away, showing off the surroundings and his very stylish outfit.

"My first day in Trenton." he simply states, his voice way deeper, almost forced, compared to when they were chatting, "No father dearest to hold my hand, I get to do whatever the fuck I want! Woohoo!" he quietly cheers. "Sorry auntie Cuddy and the other aunties and uncles and shit but I'm almost an adult now. I'm an almost adult! Now... how the fuck do I get to the centre..?"

The video ends, earning a chuckle and a reflexive like from Chase. He smiles, finding the video endearing, said smile fading in an instant as he realizes the fact he just liked an old post of his. He simply sighs, closes the laptop, and leans forward, banging his head into the edge of the table softly a couple times, falling asleep.

Chapter Text

Chase finds himself in a strange bed, shirtless, lying on his side, facing the wall as the morning sun hits the clean bedsheets. He feels perfectly well-rested, contentedly turning over to see Adam grinning at him.

"Morning, cutie." Adam greets.

"When'd I get here?" Chase simply asks.

"I dunno, sometime last night." he simply says, laying on top of him, noses almost touching. "It's the weekend. I convinced dad to let you stay."

"Thanks" he simply says.

"Dork." Adam remarks, pressing a kiss onto his lips.

Chase kisses back, almost against his will, feeling cold as soon as Adam pulls away.

"Chase..." he softly says.

"Yes..?" he asks.

"Chase. Chase. Chase!" he starts chanting louder and louder.

"What the-"

"Chase!" Cameron exclaims, "Wake up!"

Chase glances around, still in the office, his eyelids heavy as cement.

"Aw, God..." he rubs his eyes, glancing at the clock. 6 AM. "What happened?"

"Case closed. Go home." Cameron advises. "And don't fall asleep at the wheel." She commands, handing over a coffee.

"Okay... Thanks..." he mumbles, gulping down the coffee in one go, burning up his tongue and throat as Cameron's furrowed brow turns into a concerned raise.

The team all go home, having gotten a day off for the overtime. Chase finally collapses in bed, now wearing a shirt and boxers instead of his usual colorful shirts and ties. He tosses and turns, trying to suppress the dream, playing it off as some bizarre psychological nightmare, yet as he closes his eyes, it doesn't take long for them to spring open again.

He sighs, checking his phone. He sees a message he got from Adam, sent shortly after he'd fallen asleep. Reluctant, he opens the message. He sees an image of Adam, showing only a smirk on his face, the rest of it slightly revealing his shoulders. The slight glimpse immediately helps him notice how toned Adam's muscles were. He assumed Adam was scrawny, like a beanpole, but that may have been due to him wearing his father's old shirt when they met - and apparently every other time. The glare he shares with what he can see from Adam's shirtless torso, which wasn't a lot, almost causes him to miss the caption attached to it.

Adam Cain: me when bobby boy stalks me at 3 am LOL

Chase groans, almost dropping the phone onto his face, remembering the incident.

Robert: My name is not 'Bobby boy'.

Robert: And why are you shirtless?

He switches off his phone, placing it aside with another sigh. He is not gay. No way. No fucking way. Why does he think of Adam so much? How can that scrawny little troll have this much of an effect on him? Chase felt exhausted, yet couldn't sleep. He drags himself out of bed, walking over to the kitchen, his stomach rumbling. He decides to make some open sandwiches, silently cutting up tomatoes and some lettuce, frying up some ham. As soon as he is done, he carries the plate to the living room, setting it onto the coffee table before grabbing his phone. He sees a reply come as soon as he checks his messages, and despite wanting to, he doesn't answer just yet.

Instead he turns on the TV, eating half the plate before thinking 'Fuck it'. He checks the message.

Adam Cain: u dont sleep shirtless?

Adam Cain: shits comfy

Adam Cain: i stalked u back btw but u dont know that bcz im not a dumbass and know how to stalk <3

Pissed, he retaliates.

Robert: Don't you have a girlfriend? 

Robert: That girl Veronica.

Robert: Was that gay talk just to mess with me?

Adam replies fast.

Adam Cain: fake dating

Adam Cain: people wont think im gay and that shes a weirdo its a win win

Robert: ......,,,,,,,;;;;;;;

Robert: Here, punctuation, use it.

Adam Cain: dork

Chase's eyes flash with the memory of the dream, causing him to flinch. He deflects.

Robert: So, you're like a secret Russian spy or something? Double life and all?

Adam Cain: technically yeh

Slight pause, Chase is confused.

Adam Cain: i did one of those ancestry things and it told me im like 40% russian and like a bunch of other eastern european shit

Adam Cain: 3% hungarian 2% romanian 5% polish or smth like that

Adam Cain: now i get why dad taught me how to swear in those languages

Robert: Proof?

No response. Chase finishes his meal, carrying his plate and meekly placing it inside the sink. Then suddenly, he gets a voice message. Reluctantly, he listens to it.

"It's actually, like, so funny, because..." Adam softly says into the mic, almost whispering, accompanied by background kitchen noise. It made sense, considering House and Wilson were still sleeping, and Adam decided to grab a snack regardless, "I can just, like, start swearing and mix languages and stuff, and nobody can fact check me."

Adam quietly starts walking back to his room, his breathing slightly seeping into the voice message, struggling to open the door with the phone in one hand and the plate in the other.

"And people will ask me like 'omagawd Adam please say somethin in Russian'... aaaand... I'll just like..." he mumbles, finally opening the door. After placing his plate down and closing the door, his voice gets louder. "And I'll just start swearing in, like, part Russian, part Polish, Serbian, Romanian, Hungarian, part everything... They mostly use similar words anyway, like, picsa, pička, pizda, same word different language almost same spelling and like pronunciation..." he rattles off.

Adam's voice gets even louder, almost yelling. "Aaand usually I'll just go FUTU-ȚI PIZDA MĂ-TII GŁUPIEC, SUKA BLYAT BAZDMEG, MÁŠ RÁD MUŽE...* and you know nobody cares if, like, half of it is in like Russian or..."

"ADAM, LANGUAGE!" Wilson yells from the other room.

"SORRY!!" He yells back, almost giggling.

This is where the voice message ends, and Chase finds himself partially startled, partially impressed, and mostly trying to suppress a very, very confusing boner. Was it the degrading, or the foreign language? Doesn't matter. He's not gay. Adam's just a friend. A friend he never wanted, neither does he want now, and has to put up with. Like House and Wilson. Wilson is just a guest at theirs, no? The one who takes the couch, hangs around, keeps the House's in check... He replies.

Robert: Dumbass.

Adam Cain: Блонди пидор-шлюха ("Blondie faggot whore")

Robert: Really?

Adam Cain: Соси мой хуй ("Suck my dick")

Adam Cain: máš rád muže ("You like men")

Robert: Ne, nemyslím. Ale ty ano. ("No, I don't. But you do.")

Pause.

Chase: My father was Czech.

Adam Cain: ...

Adam Cain: wow

Adam goes offline, leaving Chase blushing like a child, clearly proud of himself for getting to take the final word.

Exhausted, Chase goes to sleep again. He sleeps all the way until 3 PM, awakening to a phone call. He groggily checks his phone, the caller ID reading "Adam", since he had saved his number. He takes the call, muttering a "Yeah?"

"Sorry, did I wake you up?" Adam teases, his grin audible. "I was wondering if you wanna hang out. I dunno what lonely single adults do on Friday night and I'd love to learn."

Chase rolls his eyes. "Where and when?"

"Dad gave me your address and let me borrow the car, can you believe that?" he explains, almost giggling.

"He did?" Chase questions, suspicious.

"...Well I may have also looked at your employment file."

"Of course you did!" Chase hysterically exclaims.

"...Be down in 20, I'm driving off." he commands, simply hanging up.

Chase groans, getting dressed into something casual, trying to get himself in good shape. He stands, in his usual jeans, shirtless, combing a hand through his hand in front of the mirror, only for a mysterious hand to grab his bare waist.

"Morning, sunshine." Adam grins.

Chase jumps, letting out an audible scream. "Wh- How'd you- Huh?"

Adam giggles, "Spare key under the doormat. Really?" He pulls away, sitting onto the couch, taking out his phone. "I miscalculated the time, I didn't want to stand in the hallway for ten extra minutes."

"I didn't hear you enter." Chase states, quickly putting on a shirt.

"That was the goal." Adam mumbles, seemingly swiping away on Grindr or something.

Chase sits down, watching the guy swipe away.

"Less than a week as an adult and you already have Grindr?" Chase raises an eyebrow, ignoring the pang of jealousy eating at him.

"How do you know what it is?" Adam raises an eyebrow.

Chase's face goes pale, staring blankly. "Fuck off."

"What's your tribe? Mine's cub." Adam teases. "Wait, let me guess. Twink?"

"Tribe..?" Chase questions, clueless. "Hey, I'm not a twink!"

"Aren't twinks usually slender with little or no body hair, often blonde, dressed in club-wear even at 10 AM, and not particularly intelligent?" he rattles off as if he'd memorized a definition.

Chase stays silent, staring, unsure how to respond, before Adam just looks down with a snicker and continues swiping.

"Are you implying..." Chase starts, unsure. "Hypothetically, you could top me?"

Adam shrugs, amused "I dunno, probably, I mean, it wouldn't be hard."

This was the last push of Chase needed to flame back. He lets out a scoff, almost sounding forced. "Kid, I've been with tons of women, and you're still talking about how you lost your virginity."

"Don't 'kid' me, and being a whore doesn't make you a good top. Makes you a better bottom, in fact." Adam says, placing his phone aside.

"You couldn't top me. You probably can't last over 5 minutes. You act all grown and cool but you're still a kid."

"You daring me on?" Adam teases, shooting Chase a cheeky smile.

"I'm just saying, hypothetically..." Chase slowly explains.

Adam suddenly grabs the collar of his shirt, having Chase, eyes widened, staring up at him.

"Hypothetically..." Adam repeats, "I could fucking destroy you."

Chase lets out a shuddered breath, Adam shoves him away softly.

"Ever heard of, oh I dunno, high school?" Adam starts, "Lots of closeted kids, easy to spot them when you know where to look. I have the experience. Don't fucking doubt me."

Chase stares, cheeks flushed, his Adam's apple (pun unintended) bobbing up and down with an audible gulp, followed by him clearing his throat.

"Sorry..."

Adam's expression softens, he lets out a soft huff. "Cute..."

"Shut up, mate" Chase groans.

Adam rolls his eyes. "So... you wanna, like, do something? Go somewhere? I'm craving take-out."

"..." Chase stammers, "Sure. We can order something."

Adam closes the app, opening some nearby restaurant's website.

"I'm thinking pizza... What's your fave? Meatlovers'?" Adam teases.

"Do you know how much grease and sodium is in an average pizza? Think of your cholesterol"

"Do I look like I care about my damn cholesterol? We getting pizza or nah?"

Chase is silent, eventually speaking, more so to himself. "I'm not gay."

"Right... So... I'm thinking 'Balkan bundle', it's got ham, sausage, onions, chili peppers, potato..."

"I don't like you." He mutters.

"Neither do I. Glad we settled that. Can you please help me pick a goddamn pizza?"

Chase sighs, trying to focus. "Sure, whatever."

"Okay. I'm getting a large with extra sausage. Wink wink. It's my treat."

Adam stands up, walking off to place the order, letting Chase's mind linger around his presence. The boss's son, the golden boy, an annoying little gremlin. He's not attracted to him, no way, he doesn't even like men to begin with. Hanging up the call, Adam sits back down.

"I'm so fucking hungry man" he complains.

"Why are you here?" Chase breaks. "Are you playing some elaborate trick on me? Are you- do you have nothing better to do? Did House send you to spy on me?"

"Whoa, dude..." Adam exclaims, hands shooting up into a defensive stance. "I just- I just figured you'd need some company. You're a lonely, lonely man. Figured you'd need a friend."

"I... have friends" Chase defensively states.

"Who only talk to you at work or in the bar. That's not a friend, it's a situational buddy. You don't call them over to have pizza or watch football or cricket or whatever you Aussies are aroused by. You don't have fun parties where you wake up halfway on the floor hungover in your underwear. You don't talk to them about stuff bothering you, your struggles, your problems. I think everyone needs a friend, including you."

"Well..." Chase starts after a slight pause, trying to comprehend his words, "Maybe that's because I'm an adult." he matter-of-factly states.

"Adults stop having emotions after 24? C'mon, man, you know I'm right!" Adam complains.

Chase sighs, leaning back, a hand rubbing his eyes.

"Hey." Adam says, trying to get his attention. "Can I be your friend?"

Chase considers the offer. He can't remember having a friend like that past middle school. Even in high school, all his friends were such that Adam would consider 'Situational buddies', people he'd go on parties with, only for them to backtalk him or leave as soon as they get too close. Even in the seminary, him and his roommate were less so friends, more like two people drowning in the same pool of holy water; and, despite trying to convince himself otherwise, he couldn't help but feel this deeply seated guilt around him, his face red whenever they'd change in the morning in the same room, so close yet so far. He realizes he'd never had a true 'friend', not even a 'best friend' or 'platonic soulmate'. He feels tears welling at his eyes, causing him to panic with the realization that he cannot physically hold them back this time.

"Hey..." Adam whispers again, slowly wrapping his arms around Chase. "It's okay, I-... You don't have to pretend with me."

Chase's heart skips a beat, leaning into the hug as he starts sobbing. He burrows his face into his shoulder, Adam's hand caressing the back of his head. Chase slowly hugs him back, tightly squeezing him as if he was the last anchor he had tied to his sanity. 

Chapter Text

A knock on the door disrupts the silence. Adam has been sitting there, holding Chase for the entire twenty minutes he was crying.

"Pizza's here." He whispers, seeing the previously sobbing man now softly sniffling. He wipes Chase's tears with the sleeve of his shirt and reflexively plants a kiss onto his forehead before standing up to get the door.

Chase freezes, the small peck causing him to blush. He rubs his eyes, wiping away the remaining tears. Adam walks back, holding the pizza and a bottle of coke.

"Thanks God I got us some coke. You need fluids." He says, setting down the things as he runs to get plates and glasses, as if he lived there.

Chase takes a deep breath, opening the pizza box, folding back the box lid as Adam returns. He hands Chase a plate and pours coke in both the glasses. Finally, he sits down, taking the first slice and digging in.

"Hhat's hrong?" Adam asks Chase, mouth full.

Chase eyes the slice of pizza up and down, seemingly focusing on a particular spot. The hot pepper.

"I don't like spicy food..." Chase slowly says.

"The guide to a happy life. Spicy women, bland food. Courtesy of Dr. Bob Chase." Adam remarks. As if listening to his father. "Just pick it off."

"It'll still be spicy..." Chase derives.

"You're a big boy" Adam remarks as he downs the first slice, "You can handle it."

Chase stares blank, before simply shrugging and taking a bite. As soon as he bites the pepper, though, his face gets red as he tries to suppress a groan.

Adam smirks, amused, standing up to bring the man a glass of milk, taking his coke aside with a "Don't mix the two or you'll get a stomachache", most likely quoting Wilson. Chase gulps half the glass, letting Adam pick off the hot peppers for him, wondering that if this was truly some sort of trick, he sure was committed to the bit. This man came over unprompted, held him for twenty grueling long minutes as he cried, ordered him pizza, and brought him milk. Either he was nothing like House, and was truly just some chill guy who just needed a friend, or he was exactly like House, committed to getting what he wants no matter what. For all Chase knew, Adam could be planting a seed and watching it grow as we speak.

They finish the pizzas, Adam taking the pizza box out to the garbage disposal he saw on the way there, giving Chase just enough time to pack the dirty dishes and glasses into the dishwasher, turn it on, and whip out a bottle of fine wine as a token of his gratitude. Just as Adam gets back, Chase sets the wine, a corkscrew, and two wineglasses onto the table.

"I get you cheap pizza and you get me expensive wine? Dude, we get it, you're rich." Adam mocks, yet his face wears a grin, the same juvenile grin that's burned into Chase's brain at this point.

"It was a gift, from my father." Chase reveals. "He got me it after my mother died, she was an alcoholic" he adds, his words cold, yet his tone almost jocular, as if at this point, the fact was less of a trauma and more of a dark joke for shock value.

"Wow. We both have bastard parents, huh?" Adam adds, trying to stay inoffensive without entertaining his obvious emotional bait. "I was named after a mobility aid, you were cradled to sleep by ethanol."

Chase softly nods, snickering. "And then my father died from cancer."

Adam's smirk freezes momentarily, recognizing the hysteric emotional turmoil behind the jocular expression. "And... I'm guessing he wasn't exactly father of the year..."

"He gave me wine as a taunt. Expensive one so I can't refuse or dispose of it. He didn't tell me he had cancer. He was never there, never reliable. I don't hate him, I just don't care about him. And that's that."

Adam softly nods, realizing this is the moment he drops the topic. He watches Chase open the wine, the cork letting out an audible pop.

"So... why not save it for a special occasion?" Adam softly asks.

Chase shrugs. "Now's a good one, I have a friend, in my age that's an achievement."

Adam snickers, being handed the first glass.

"Wait." Chase exclaims, "Aw, shit, you can't drink."

"I can drink alright. Where my mother's from, it's legal after 18 years and, even then, kids start drinking at 13." Adam shrugs, taking a sip like it was juice.

"This is the US, remember?" Chase mutters, pouring himself a glass as well.

"Do I look like I care? My father lets me drink. Just have a couple glasses and see if you still care."

Chase rolls his eyes, realizing he might as well go through with it.

He takes his first sip, savoring the taste as he watches Adam dilute his wine with leftover coke.

"Well yeah but then again, what would House say?" Chase finally asks. "And also why are you mixing it?"

"Dad would say 'okay son, drink with moderation, not because it's responsible but because I don't want to drag you out of a ditch at 6 AM in the morning again'. And I'm mixing it because wine is already weak, might as well make what the Hungarians call 'fröccs', or a splash."

Chase chuckles. Figures. "Wine, weak? You're saying you're like those stereotypical hardcore Russians who wear Adidas, squat by default, and drink vodka like it's water?"

"Vodka? What, you got some?" Adam chuckles "Hate to burst your big, manly bubble, but not only could I take you in bed but also in a drinking contest."

"Bet" Chase absentmindedly says.

"Okay, sweetheart, strip down for me." Adam teases.

"No! No! Not that part!" Chase chuckles, denying he could be serious when he says that.

They drink practically half the bottle, Chase plugging the cork back in to spare the rest for later, his final glass being his border between tipsy and drunk. Adam cockily smirks as he sips his own chaotic little cocktail, not showing any signs of intoxication besides a permanent blush, even though there are things besides alcohol to blame.

"What?" Chase asks, catching Adam staring at him dreamily.

"Just wondering if you're the laughy drunk or the crying drunk."

"Depends on the circumstance, mate." He chuckles back, an idea popping to mind. 

It's clear as day Adam's sobriety was a facade. He was at that age where faking sobriety is an essential skill, but there were no teachers or parents to bust him, leaving the only logical reason be that he was acting tough. Chase, whether it was the alcohol talking or not, knew he had what it would take to break him, to turn him into a bumbling mess. 

"You're blushing." Chase states, grinning.

"So are you, idiot." Adam remarks, "It's because red wine just so happens to be an aphrodisiac. That tells me there's probably a reason you picked tonight to whip it out. If it was possible in your mind, you would've kept it until the day you meet the perfect girl." Adam fires back, as if he was speaking through his father's tongue, "I think you're trying to tell me something, something you cannot bring yourself to say out loud."

Chase freezes. Fuck, he doesn't have what it takes to break him after all.

"Shut up." He simply says.

"How about you shut me up, sweetheart" Adam teases back, seemingly to paraphrase the good old cliché of 'make me'.

"I could shut you up so good you couldn't even form a cohesive sentence." Chase threatens.

"Proof?" Adam cockily raises a brow "I think I'd like to see you try."

"You don't believe me?" Chase asks, his voice deepened, desperately trying to assert dominance.

"I don't think you could please a penis above three inches." Adam grins, "Mine's closer to three times that amount."

"Bullshit" Chase calls out.

"You want proof? The big, bad, Christian straight man wants to see a gay guy's dick?"

Chase freezes again, a permanent smirk etched into his face before he just huffs.

"No." He sincerely says, grabbing his glass and downing his last glass in once. "Okay, ask me again."

Adam lets out an amused chuckle, downing his splash as well, his sleeve wiping his mouth. Chase admires the sight, his previously erect walls now dropping as he can't think of anything besides the sight in front of him. He wants to see Adam's bare chest, from collarbone through navel to pelvis. From every single little bone and muscle's shape to the slightest hair or birthmark or childhood scar. He was past the conventional desires, but he also couldn't say he didn't appreciate them either. Either way, if Adam didn't get shirtless in front of him, he was afraid he might explode.

"Take a picture. It'll last longer." Adam slurs, snapping Chase out of his daze. "Man, you're drunk."

"And what are you?" Chase remarks back.

"Gay and Russian. Now you say something ironic."

"...If I was gay, gay and Christian would be funny as hell." Chase chuckles.

"If..? Would..?" Adam raises a brow, "I can see you stripping me with those puppy eyes. Stop dicking around."

"You want me to strip you with something else?" Chase asks, his heart beating with desperation and anticipation.

"You wouldn't dare." Adam teases, his arms almost raising reflexively, as if to give him access to taking off his shirt.

And take off his shirt, he did, practically tearing Adam's shirt off and tossing it aside. He stares him down, the sight igniting a flame in him that was as if he'd been catching sparks, yet not catching fire for hours. His eyes hungrily take in Adam's torso, the soft skin draped over his toned muscles, one he wanted to feel against his. He finally looks up to see Adam stare down at him, his lips stuck in a smirk, almost impressed.

"You did it!" he sarcastically cheers, pushing Chase onto his back and towering over him. "My turn."

Adam tears off Chase's shirt, seemingly sensing his desire as he lays on top of him, skin to skin, chest to chest, a sensation Chase never knew he needed. Chase's lips immediately get caught on Adam's neck, leaving a wet, sloppy kiss as Adam caresses his side.

All doubt escapes Chase's mind, replaced by a drunken, sincere haze. He'd had nights like this before - getting so drunk that a bad idea is a good idea, and an actual good idea is nonexistent -, but while that usually meant one-night stands with nurses or random bar chicks, this was different; this was something that might not leave him feeling empty, used... filthy. Adam leans away, glancing at Chase with a look he'd never seen before - from anyone for that matter -, one that spoke nothing but genuine desire. Adam leans down, pressing his lips onto Chase's. The latter wraps his arms around him, unwilling to let go, as if doing so would cause him to fall into a deep abyss. Adam deepens the kiss, eventually pulling away as a string of saliva forms between their lips.

"You don't even know what you're doing to me..." Adam teases, grinning. "You want this? Like, genuinely..?"

Chase desperately nods, "Please..."

This was enough for Adam to kiss him again, climbing off him and onto the floor, kneeling in front of him.

"For a guy who always talks about topping..." Chase remarks.

"I'm just trying to ease you in." Adam shrugs, "Start slow, all the way until you find yourself being torn apart and enjoying it."

Chase blushes, his legs reflexively spreading wider as Adam gets settled inbetween them. Chase nervously covers his mouth, a certain level of uncertainty present from the knowing that this is a completely new experience. Adam senses this, making sure Chase's eyes were following him, his movements slow and careful, palms sliding over his thighs as he reaches up to undo his belt.

"The moment you feel uncomfortable, tell me." Adam reassures, sliding off the man's jeans, fingers hooked into his boxers.

Chase nods, Adam reaching up for another kiss before pulling off the boxers, eyeing his size.

"My Lord... I was wrong..." Adam remarks, smiling, "Maybe we're more similar than I'd realized..."

Adam's thumb teases Chase's tip, rubbing up and down slowly, watching the blond's head lean back with a relaxed exhale. With a glance to the wall clock and slow and assured lick, Adam's lips begin to wrap around the man's shaft, cheeks hollowing as he begins to suck, his head bobbing up and down. He feels Chase's hand gently caress his head, causing a huff to leave his nostrils, taking in all seven of Chase's inches with an impressive and likely practiced deepthroat. Chase feels Adam's cheeks flutter around his length, causing a moan to leave his lips, pressure already building inside his abdomen.

"I-I think... I think I'm gonna c-cum..." Chase whines, his voice higher than usual.

He didn't need Adam's ability to speak to know his response to be "Already?", instead continuing to caress and grab locks of his thick, curly black hair, a soft, reassuring tap on Chase's thigh likely signaling that he was ready for it. Chase begins to shake as he feels Adam's throat constrict and relax around his dick, swallowing his seed entirely. He slowly sucks along his length, delivering an extra lick to his frenulum, causing him to jerk up a bit from the post-nut sensitivity. His dick escapes Adam's throat with an audible pop, his face forming into a smirk as he looks back.

"3 minutes" he simply says.

"Wh-wha-" Chase mumbles.

"You lasted 3 minutes. Funny since you told me I couldn't last over 5." Adam teases.

"You can try." Chase attempts to argue back, yet his words slurred.

"I will" Adam dares him on, flipping him around with one swift movement and pulling his ass upward, forcing chase's back to arch.

Adam stands up, standing next to him as a hand tugs his pants further down. He takes two fingers into his mouth, slobbering them in spit before hovering them over where he wants them to be. He leans down.

"This is gonna feel strange at first. You ready?" Adam softly asks, Chase desperately nodding as he presses his face up against the backrest.

Adam smirk, straightening himself as his free hand spreads Chase's ass open, fingers entering his opening. Chase shivers a bit, a small whine escaping his lips as Adam's fingers curl inside him.

Chase already feels pressure building inside of him, which he never thought was possible twice in a row, yet regardless, an empty feeling begins to haunt him as soon as Adam pulls his fingers out.

He listens to the sound of an unbuckled belt, Adam softly lathering his dick with his own spit, rubbing his tip against Chase's throbbing opening.

"If you feel uncomfortable, tell me." He softly reassures once again, chest pressing against his back as he leans down again.

Chase simply whines in desperation, attempting to press himself up against Adam even more. Adam smirks, slowly slipping himself inside, closely observing the blond's reactions before going all the way in.

Adam slowly takes his shirt off, tossing it aside as his hands wrap around Chase's waist.

"Alright, you ready..?" He asks, voice sultry and hushed.

"Mmyess..." Chase mumbles, face red.

He leans down again, as if his spine wasn't feeling strenuous already. He begins to slowly thrust inside him, his movements slow and assured, gentle.

He eventually straightens out, deciding Chase probably adjusted to his large size by now, grasping at his hips to roughly pump inside him, his necklace inbetween his teeth. His rhythm was steady, fierce, and rough, staring at the man in front of him falling apart, eyes rolled back, hands grasping at whatever was in reach.

"I- I'm gonna- I will- Aaaauughh" Chase moans, finishing on top of the couch cushion.

Adam leans down, his rhythm unbroken as he tightly wraps his arms around the blond, humping like a dog in heat.

"Don't you misfire to fill me up" Adam quietly sing-songs into Chase's ear with a juvenile grin.

"Fuck off." Chase sneers.

Adam teasingly tangles a hand into Chase's hair and tugs, muttering a "Language, puppy."

Chase blushes at that, burrowing his face into the couch cushion as he feels Adam's warm cum fill him up.

"Oh, God..." he sighs, feeling Adam slowly pulling out.

"It'd be nice if a conveniently placed roll of paper towels suddenly appeared." Adam jokes, scrambling to get a thing of tissues from his jeans' pocket.

As he slowly pulls out, he stares proudly at the leaking semen drip down Chase's thigh, which he then proceeds to gently wipe down.

It could've been the post-nut clarity, or perhaps the effects of the alcohol wearing off, but a bad feeling began to stir inside Chase's chest. Adam continues to clean up, Chase's muscles feeling stiff from the upheld position, from which he stands up, lazily putting his clothes back on.

He stares at Adam mundanely toss away the dirty tissues and whatnot, chuckling a bit as he realizes he should probably toss the cushion cover into the wash - again, as if he lived there -, and dressing up himself. Chase ponders in silence, the realization hitting him like a bullet to the head.

Did Adam... use him? Did he have some sort of secret vendetta against him, fabricating a whole plan to get him into bed with him to humiliate him? Or in this case, onto the couch... Regardless, he isn't gay, he can't be. What happened here just now is probably a bad dream, like the one in the office, right? He didn't actually sleep with another man, did he? No, not willingly, he must have spiked his drink, or the pizza, or drunk less on purpose, trying to get him to be vulnerable.

"How was it..?" Adam softly asks, like someone trying to validate themselves.

Chase's expression shoots down, lips locked in a quiet stammer.

Adam notices this, walking up to him, eyes softened. "Hey...", he ushers, caressing his arm softly.

"Don't touch me!" Chase raises his voice, causing Adam to jump a bit, "Get away from me!"

"Wh-wha-" Adam stammers.

"You come to my house, butter me up with food, get me drunk and violate me? I get it, you're a dumb, rebellious kid, but this is too far." He lectures.

"I-I'm sorry, but listen! I-"

"Get out!" Chase yells, his voice sharp.

"Robert, listen!" Adam yells.

Chase stares like a deer in headlights, staring at Adam, who was now dry-heaving, his face like someone who was about to cry.

He reluctantly nods, a haunting feeling reminding him that this was gonna be the point where he up and leaves anyway. There was no way this was going to be anything more than a one-time thing. That's what he would've likely believed, had Adam not gone up to him quietly, his eyes glassy with fought back tears.

"I'm sorry I made you feel that way, but..." he starts, his eyes sincere, reminding Chase that for a snarky teen, he still somehow has emotions. "I figured... Uhm..."

"What? That I'm gay? I told you I wasn't multiple times." Chase talks back, his tone strict.

"We're not talking about sexualities here!" Adam reminds, "We're talking about... this!"

"What about it? What do you want to-" Chase argues.

"I love you!" Adam screams, interrupting him. "I've loved you for longer than you realize..."

Chase's mouth hangs open, eyes wide, head slowly bobbing left and right in denial.

"No..." He utters. How can anyone love him? How can there be anyone out there who doesn't just want to sleep with him, only to leave the morning after at most?

"Y-yes..." Adam affirms, eyes hopeful, a tear streaking down his cheek that he reflexively wipes. "B-but... I fucked up, I'm sorry, I should go."

Adam grabs his car keys, pocketing them swiftly before walking towards the door. He is then stopped by a hand grabbing his wrist tight.

"Stay." Chase commands.

Adam looks back, in silent disbelief, before a smile tugging at his lips forms along with a nod.

Chapter Text

Chase woke up in his bed, fully clothed, having no memory of the events that transpired the night prior. He was used to this, but what he wasn't used to was a certain soreness in his behind, and the sensation of his body laid on top of another, instead of him being the one on the bottom, acting as the big, dominant one. He looks up, seeing Adam stare out the window quietly, his expression thoughtful. Chase quickly looks away, giving himself a couple extra seconds between recalling last night and confronting the reality of being in bed with a bloke.

Right, they ate, drank, fucked, and argued. As he played everything over and over again in his head, Adam noticed the fact he was awake.

"Morning..." Adam quietly mutters.

"Good morning." Chase responds, rolling onto his back with a sigh. "I'm sorry..."

Adam softly nods, recognizing the self-blame.

"I'm sorry too... That makes us even, no more apologies, okay?" He almost pleads.

"Right..." Chase agrees.

"I... didn't mean to... y'know, sleep with you, it just happened and I thought..."

"Stop." Chase says, the silence settling, "What'd you mean by 'I've loved you for longer than you realise..?'"

Adam shrugs, "You've been working for my dad for about... four years now. All that time, I've been eyeing you. I found you so... handsome. Every day, after school, I'd sit in my father's office, and whenever you guys were discussing cases, I'd nervously listen from outside, hiding... I was so damn scared to let you think I was some weirdo, I'd get jealous of those nurses murmuring about sleeping with you, I'd subtly ask the other two what they thought of you. Whenever dad, uncle Wilson, and I would sit down for dinner, I'd ask about how work was, and subtly ask about you. Dad picked up on it and began to tease me about it."

Chase takes in his words. For those 4 entire years, he'd had this cutesy little high school crush on him? And now that he's 18, he comes out, all casual, flirting with him? Maybe it was an elaborate plan, or maybe he'd been working up the courage to talk to him without his age making for an entirely separate problem. He was so infatuated that he waited 4 years for a chance with him.

"For the record..." Chase starts, deflecting with a smirk, "Those nurses lie."

"I know, they told me you have a micro, but you proved them wrong." Adam chuckles. 

Chase ponders. Perseverance does not equal worthiness, as is a quote he'd heard Adam's own father say, and yet he can't help but admire it. He gives in, scooting closer to lay his head onto Adam's chest, whose arm reflexively wraps around him.

"Just... give me time to get used to this..." Chase asks. "I know you waited 4 years, but..."

Adam nods, "It's just funny..." he scoffs, "I finally accept the fact I can't pursue you forever... and yet here you are..."

Chase wraps an arm around Adam's torso, nodding. "Here I am..."

Silence falls, the two silently holding each other before the ring of a phone interrupts the moment. Adam reaches for his phone on the nightstand.

"Shit, it's dad." he mutters, reminding Chase of the fact his father was House, something he tried to forget the moment the first sip of wine hit his lips.

Chase lets go, letting Adam sit up, his shirtless torso equally as attractive as it was last night. Adam picks up, seemingly scrambling for excuses.

"Yes..? Oh fuck, today? Can't we reschedule?" he pauses, "Well tell them to take a detour! Go to Florida! See the 'gators!"

Chase stared up at him, clueless.

"Well I don't care! I don't want to see Johnathan the same day I got band practice." Adam nags, "and I'm not calling him grandpa, like, ever."

Grandpa..? House's father..? Also, band practice..?

"Okay, fine, I'll tell the guys to move it to 6, is that okay?" Adam negotiates, "Okay, thanks... love you." He meekly says, anticipating a response before ending the call.

"Band practice? You're in a band?" Chase raises a brow as soon as the call ends.

"Yeah. I'm kinda the frontman" he shrugs, nonchalant. "I play the bass, we also have two electrics, drums, and a violin."

"...Violin..?" Chase chuckles.

"Yeah, violin, it's revolutionary. You're gonna see us in the Teen Vogue one day." Adam responds, his tone not quite clear on whether or not he was being serious.

"Uhuh..." Chase hums, a lip twitching with what he was gonna ask next. "So... who is Johnathan?"

"My father's father." he nonchalantly says, "Ever since I was little, they insisted they visit every year for my birthday, and the 18th is a big one, so."

"Oh..." Chase exclaims. He'd never imagined what House's parents would be like - to be fair, he wasn't even sure the man didn't ascend from aliens.

"I remember when I was 15 he scolded me for wearing nail polish." Adam chuckles, yet the sound was empty, "I was heavy in my scene phase and almost lost it. I was stubborn as hell."

Chase presses his lips together with the next question he's about to ask.

"And your mother?" he innocently asks.

"My mother..." he repeats. "Don't know much about her besides the fact she's dead."

Chase's eyes widen at that, "I'm so sorry..."

"Eh, it's fine, I'm good with my two gay dads. Sure, they might not be gay gay... but I'd like to think they're more than good friends. I would know." Adam chuckles. "Anyway, thanks for the good time but... I kinda sorta have to go..."

"Oh..." Chase exclaims, disappointed.

"You okay with that..?"

"Yeah, yeah, I mean- Not like I have a choice, right?"

Adam grins, endeared, slowly pressing a kiss onto Chase's lips, letting it last, simmer. Eventually, once he feels Chase is ready to let go, he pulls away. He gets up, slowly putting the clothes of yesterday over his boxers as Chase stares in awe.

"Ay, eyes up here." Adam teases. "If my father asks, you were alone and I was at Veronica's"

"Sorry, you're just quite a treat to the eyes." Chase smirks, "And what happened to telling House everything?"

"He wouldn't kill me for taking opiates but he would definitely kill me for sleeping with his fellows." Adam sarcastically teases back. "Or, you know, at least tease me about it."

Eventually, after a cascade of farewell kisses, Adam stands in the doorway, his back turned and legs flexed in a way it shows off his ass in his tight jeans the right way.

"See you at band practice at 6. We'll need an audience."

Chase blushes, smiling at Adam as the door softly closes.

Adam gets inside the car, a sigh leaving his lungs as he leans his head onto the steering wheel.

"You... idiot..." He mumbles, suddenly whacking his head into the steering wheel with force, "Idiot!" He hits his nose into the horn, which lets out a loud, sudden noise. "Ow..."

He slowly inserts the keys into the car, driving off.

As soon as he gets home, House is sitting, watching his soap. He quietly sits next to him, contemplating. Maybe Chase was right, it'd mean a lot if he just... made it official, had a big coming-out, stopped the hiding and the secrecy... "Dad, I'm gay." he suddenly blurts out.

House's eyes widen, staring at him jarringly, which causes Adam to meet his eyes, terrified. Then, House puts a hand over a mock-gasp, whispering a "No way, really?"

Adam quietly chuckles, "I just figured... I know it's obvious and that you hate all this formality bullshit but..."

"Can you shut up for a second?" House asks, his tone direct, but not unkind.

"The baby is not my husband's..." the woman in the soap dramatically says to the doctor that didn't need to be cast as handsome as he is, "It's yours!"

"Hah! Knew it!" House cheers. "Wilson!!"

Adam grins. "Aight, I moved practice to 6, talk later."

Just as he is about to stand up, House tugs on his arm.

"D'oh, don't you run away." he remarks, "Just because I can't out-run you..."

Adam giggles, all those memories of him running off and attempting to play tag just so that he can mess with his dad. He'd always end up telling his dad that he knew where he was going and how to get back, making for a great segway into the dangers of kidnappers and murderers.

"Is this about..." Adam starts.

"Yep" House nods, "Whip out your church clothes and wipe off that eyeliner residue."

"Are you sure we-"

"Yes" House sternly says, "I wanted to avoid this as much as you, but our best bet is a layover."

Adam nods, "Alright... when are they arriving?"

"At about 12... You got two hours. Then we'll go to that place you like, I picked it out." House explains.

Adam nods, heading inside his room. He looks around, contemplating. He recalls his memories of his grandparents, finding the contrast between 'nana' and 'sir' ridiculous. House never said much about why he'd get that look he gets whenever he wants to leave, like a war veteran during 4th of July, every time they visited. The only ever time he saw that look was with these family reunions, and...

When Adam was four years old, that was when this whole yearly visit started. Before that, they probably only visited shortly after his birth and maybe a couple Christmases. That was also the first time he saw that look outside of reunions. He was in the park, with House, Wilson not being part of their lives yet. Back then, House was clueless on parenting. His first ever core memory, they were at the park before House suddenly told him it was time to go.

"Addy. We need to go home and have lunch, okay?" he reluctantly said, his tone softened with force.

"No!" Adam fussed, crossing his arms with a pout.

"How about... you pick your favorite number and slide down that amount of times, okay? Then we get going, and-"

"NO!" Adam screamed on the top of his tiny lungs.

This was when House's eyes widened, shaky hands reaching up, almost as if to cover his ears, yet stopping mid-way, mouth slightly agape.

"...Papa..?" Adam softly asked.

House stood silent, micro-glancing around, the lack of response causing anxiety to stir within Adam. He begins to tear up, softly hugging House's leg - even back then he could remember which one hurt and which one he can hug.

"I'm sorry, papa..."

And that was the end of the memory. He'd then learned that reaction is usually labeled as a 'trauma response'.

With this, Adam snaps back into the present, realizing he should start getting ready. He opens his closet, a pair of dress-pants and a button-up tucked away just for these occasions staring at him. He decides to pick out something casual instead, fully knowing the likely consequences. He trades his jeans for baggy cargo pants and his baggy T-shirt with a crop-top, the print saying 'God made me to piss the world off." He lays out everything, considering. He decides to paint his nails black, putting on eyeliner and, after the polish dries, trying on the outfit. It was something he'd gladly wear to a gay bar, meaning it was gonna be perfect for a family reunion.

He reluctantly leaves his room, House immediately locking eyes with him.

"Are you..." House raises his eyebrows, "disguising yourself as a lady-boy to avoid family lunch?"

"Wouldn't you?" he scoffs.

"Adam... ever since you stopped taking residency in my nutsack all the way until now, I never told you that you can't wear something, right?"

"Yes." Adam nods, amused.

"Yyyeah... Go change." House quips.

"Why..?" He asks back, knowing the reason damn well. "The times are changing and Johnny here needs to accept that."

"He never will, and you know it." House remarks.

Adam huffs, "Just play it off, blame me, it was technically my idea to dress like a gay hooker anyway." he chuckles, but it dies quick, "I know what I'm doing, trust me."

House gazes away, eyes defocused, battling between being a good dad and being a good son.

"You sure you know what you're getting into..?" he asks, deep in thought.

"Dad, John had been trying to play the 'rough-but-nice' relative ever since I stopped shitting in diapers. I have an advantage you don't, and I'm gonna use it like you would."

House nods, realizing he was right. Ever since Adam began to notice that look, he stopped giving in to John's fabricated 'niceness', and he was going to use this lack of connection to his advantage.

"We can get going soon, then..."

They get into the car, Wilson having stayed behind with a worried look. Adam drives, House sitting in the front seat. As soon as they arrive, they take a seat and order some drinks, waiting for the other parties to arrive. As soon as they see the two enter, House gets that look again.

"Dad..." Adam whispers. "It'll pass."

House nods, "I know."

"Hey! Nana! Good to see you!" Adam stands up as soon as they get to the table, his arms opened and chest out for the print on his shirt to be visible.

"Oh, Adam!" Blythe coos, hugging her grandson, then holding his arms to look him over. "You've grown so much! Oh, my little angel is turning into a grown man! Happy 18th, Addy!!"

She hands over a gift bag, which is when Adam turns to John, who hands him an envelope of cash.

"Sir." He sternly says to John, taking the envelope, letting Blythe coo the same formality jargon to House.

John looks Adam over, his face contorting into a disgusted grimace.

"Adam..." he sternly says back. "You look... different."

They sit down, tension immediately filling the room.

"Greg..." John starts as soon as the orders are placed. "Your son looks... interesting."

House zones out again, causing Adam to speak up.

"I'm 18, I get to dress how I want. Of course, I got a couple whippings with the cane for it but we were out of time and being late is improper, so." he nonchalantly explains. "I'm sure you know a lot about whipping children, sir."

John is caught off guard, looking at House who is simply staring ahead, blocking out the world. They're all quiet, until Blythe speaks up.

"Where's the ladies' room..?" she gently asks.

"I think dad can show you." Adam clues, looking at House, "Right, dad?"

House snaps back, glancing at him. "Your legs work better than mine."

"C'mon, you complained about having to go on the way here. Might as well kill two birds with one stone." Adam clues again, House finally picking up on it.

"Right..." House says, grabbing his cane.

They stand up, slowly making their way to the restrooms. John immediately leans in.

"What happened to you, Adam? Last year you were so... normal. What changed..?"

"Nothing." Adam scoffs, "I just finally stopped caring enough to put up with your 1950's bullcrap."

"Language, young man!" he raises his voice. "Did your deadbeat father never teach you how to talk to your superiors?"

"Respect is a relative term. I respect people by being myself, it's a sign of trust, but maybe there's a miscommunication happening here." Adam explains, taking a sip of his coke. "And speaking of respect, I know it's not the child who judges the parenting, but I have to say, you're a creative damn grandfather. Most people stick to hitting and yelling their children, but making them sleep in the yard? Ice baths? That takes brain work."

John stays silent, face red with anger.

"And that's not even mentioning the really, really bad offenses, like asking for seconds or using the restroom without permission." Adam continues sarcastically, leaning even closer. "One punishable by what we call today as 'sexual assault'. Really takes balls to get there - literally."

"That's-" John starts, fuming from anger. "You can't know that! You're just a kid making up some- some horrendous rumor! Did Greg put you up to that?"

"Hey, no judgement. You only ruined his entire life." Adam scoffs. "Nothing more than what an innocent, brilliant, young prodigy child deserves, right?"

"Stop it!" John commands, hitting the table with his fist.

Adam jumps a bit, but plays it off. "I'm told that's called the 'warning hit', foreshadowing the next one."

John sighs deeply, looking away.

"To think my own son..." he starts, forcing Adam to hold back a chuckle, "...raised such a disrespectful, inconsiderate, lying little brat..."

"As they say somewhere in the far west, kak yest’, tak yest’" ("As it is, so it is" in Russian) Adam remarks, smirking.

John's eyes snap back up to meet Adam's, "Just because your immigrant mother had you in wedlock and abandoned you doesn't mean you can speak that filth. Speak English." he growls, voice low.

Adam leans away, looking around, pretending to have lost the fight. The food arrives, yet the other two aren't back yet. Adam waits for the waiter to walk off before leaning back in again, face red in anger.

"Ty zhalkiy, ubogiy trus, izbivavshiy svoego syna, potomu chto sam boyalsya byt’ nichtozhestvom. Ty skryval svoi kompleksi za krikami, za remnyóm, za ‘distsiplinoy’; a teper’ smotrish’ na menya i tryasyosh’sya ot slov, kotorye dazhe ne ponimayesh’. Boish’sya yazyka? A dolzhen boiat’sya menya. Ya mog by razrushit’ tebe zhizn’. Zastavit’ kazhdogo, kogo ty kogda-libo uvazhal, voznenavidet’ tebya. I mne dazhe ne prishlos’ by lgat’."

("You’re a pathetic, miserable coward who beat his own son because you were afraid of being nothing. You hid your shame behind shouting, behind a belt, behind ‘discipline’; and now you look at me, trembling at words you don’t even understand. Afraid of the language? You should be afraid of me. I could ruin your life. Make everyone you ever respected hate you. And I wouldn’t even have to lie.")

John's eyes grow wider with the words he can make out settling in. "Shut your mouth before I shut it for you!" he yells back.

"Zhri. Mo-yo. Govnó." ("Eat. My. Shit.") Adam sneers. He glances aside, his expression shifting into a smirk.

John slaps Adam across the face, who just clenches his jaw, his smirk persisting. 

"John!" Blythe exclaims. "What was that for?!"

She practically tugs on Adam, getting him to stand up so she can inspect his face.

"Oh, honey..." She coos, patting his cheek.

"It's fine, nana. Let's just eat, I'm starving." Adam calmly remarks.

The table is quiet, the most fruitful bits of actual conversation being small-talk about school and work. About halfway through lunch, they decide to request some take-out boxes, discussing how the grandparents are staying for a couple extra days in case they want to do something - mostly as a hail-Mary.

As soon as Adam and House get in the car, take-out boxes and gift bag tossed in the back, House continues staring out of the window. Before starting up the car, Adam looks over.

"Are you mad at me, dad..?" Adam softly asks, his tone almost innocent.

"No..." House murmurs, looking at him "Thank you..."

Adam slowly showed a smile, "For what..?"

"I... overheard what you said, the... thing in Russian..." He explains, "Who knows what would've happened to me if I said that..."

"Someone needed to." Adam declares, staring up the car and beginning the journey home.

As soon as they get home, Adam watches House go up to Wilson. He doesn't eavesdrop, but the sight of the two men sharing a quiet, understanding hug made him smile as he entered his room. He decides to text Chase.

Adam: i told gramps to eat shit and die :P

Robert: Huh

Adam: it was very funny i wish you saw it

Adam: i felt so cool

Robert: Can'r talj nkw

Adam: dude listen to my story geez

Chase goes offline, Adam rolling his eyes. He looks over his outfit, deciding that an edgy choker matched with his cross necklace would make for a perfect fit for practice, so would a bunch of leather and bead bracelets. As he finishes touching his looks up, he gets a text.

Robert: Uhm

Robert: Is this a bad time to say I scrolled through your Face page?

Adam: ugh stalker :c

Robert: Not like that

Robert: Uhm

Robert: Can I say something in confidence that you won't get mad at or make fun of me for

Adam: eh sure wat is it

Robert: I may have

Robert: Bahksfjldshlfkfdsfs

Robert: Uhm

Robert: Jerked off to your profile picture.

Adam: ...

Adam: okay mr robert 'im not gay' chase i see you

Adam: honey im takinf that as a compliment LMAO!

Robert: ...

Robert: Shut up.

Robert: Where's the practice?

Adam chuckles, texting him the details, followed by a bunch of voice notes about how lunch went.

"But like oh, my GOD, he was infuriating, like, like okay OLD MAN. Jesus, I almost feel sorry for dad." Adam rants in one of the many voice notes. "And fucking guess what. I got all up in his wrinkly, Moai-statue looking ass face, and told him what I fucking think. Okay? Because I can. He wants to pretend to be the nice little ray of sunshine after what he did?! Well I never buyed it... or bought it? Doesn't matter..."

Chapter Text

"You got your dad?" asks a scrawny guy with long, brown hair, tied in a low pony. He takes out an entire bottle of Jim Beam and takes a hefty sip, "He's the coolest dude I ever met."

"Says he'll be down in 5. Gimme a sip of that." Adam responds.

"Wait, which one?" Asks the one with straight, black hair tied in a bun. "Cane guy or cancer doc?"

"What's it to you, Paul?" Adam snarks back, taking a sip of the drink, almost saying the name like a slur.

"The cancer doc is such a softie. He'd have a stroke at our intro alone." The first guy, Samuel, chimes in.

"The man starred in a porno. I think he can handle a scene-metal-screamo-violin single just as well as dad." Adam rolls his eyes.

"Where're the other two?" Asks Paul.

"I dunno, jerking each other off in the car out front?" Samuel scoffs, sitting on top of the amp despite being told otherwise multiple times.

"MUEL, GET YOUR ASS OFF THE AMP!" Adam yells.

"I PAID FOR IT! WITH MY MONEY! LEAVE ME ALONE YOU SOUND LIKE MY DAD!" Samuel yells back.

Chase enters the rented warehouse where the set-up was, just in time to witness Adam smacking Samuel, who retaliates by trying to body slam him. Before he could pick him up, Paul tears him away, causing the two to fall back as Adam falls the opposite way.

"Uhh..." Chase hums.

"Oh yeah. Hi Bobby." Adam stands up, smiling at him.

"You replacing Muel?" Paul asks, jokingly wrapping his arms around the significantly smaller Muel. "Can I keep him though? I promise I'll feed and walk him every day!"

Muel elbow-jabs Paul, crawling out from his grasp. "Guessing this guy's not your dad."

"He's my dad's intern." Adam shrugs.

"Specialist." Chase sternly specifies.

"Same thing." Adam jokes, before his expression turns absent-minded, "Uhh, we're still waiting for Abel and Carl. Until then..."

Chase raises an eyebrow, spotting the messily laid out plastic folding chairs - of which there were five - and takes a seat.

Adam walks over to Paul, "This is Paul, he has fleas." He then pats Muel's head, "This is Muel, he smells like shit."

Muel retaliates, "This is Adam, he's got no bitches."

Adam takes another swig of the Jim Beam, offering it to Chase who scoffs, taking a small sip. Another guy enters, carrying a guitar case.

"Hey guys." the guy greets, seemingly taller than Chase but not by Adam, his scrawnier appearance making Adam seem like a bodybuilder. He had light brown wavy hair that was styled in a mullet.

"Abel!!" Adam greets, hugging the guy. "Where's Carl?"

"I dunno, wanking off?"

The other two chuckle at that, lighting a cig.

"You can smoke in here?" Chase softly asks.

Adam lets go of Abel, leaving him to go set up the instruments with the other idiots.

"What is the smoke extractor for, dummy?" Adam asks, pulling out his cigarettes and offering one to Chase, who politely declines.

"Fucking wonderful!" Muel yells. "We have an audience of some vanilla ice cream looking sad little man, a crippled guy, and possibly a stuck-up middle-aged cancer doc who ruins the vibe. Seriously?"

Adam stands up, swiftly pacing over. "Hey, just because my family supports what we do-"

"Hey guys!" Carl yells.

"Cumshot Carl! Finally!" Adam yells. "Did you see uncle Wilson?"

"Yeah but he drove off after dropping off your dad about a minute ago. He then went to go get donuts." Carl delivers the report.

"Wonderful. Now get to work." Adam pats his shoulder.

Chase observes the line-up. Adam stood in the front with the mic, holding the bass, Abel and Muel stood on either side of Adam's with electric guitars - rhythm guitar and solo guitar respectively -, Paul takes a funny looking electric violin and stands opposite of the drums, and finally Carl sits behind said drums.

House walks in, causing Chase to physically flinch.

"Sorry guys! Am I late?" House sarcastically asks, walking inside to toss a bag of donuts onto the communal table where everyone's coats, phones, bags, and sunglasses were haphazardly tossed.

"Uncle Greg!" Muel yells, an expression which is then repeated by the other guys.

House heads to the seating area, spotting Chase.

"Chase!" He greets. "What are you doing here?"

Adam offers House some Jim Beam, who takes a light sip before watching his kid screw the cap back on and putting it into the freezer in the fridge that was situated next to the communal table. It was dubbed 'communal fridge' and was mostly filled with cans of coke and various flavors of Monster energy along with leftover take-out.

"Uhm..." Chase stammers. "Adam invited me??" he shifts the blame.

"Aren't you supposed to be banging hookers this time of week?" House snarks.

Chase feels a sting in his chest, but brushes it off. "This is an exceptional week."

The guys, who were originally tuning, adjusting, whatnot, were now ravaging the giant bag of donuts like starved vultures. Phrases like "I call dibs on the strawberry-jam", "Leave that hazelnut for me or I'll whoop yo ass", and "Hey guys, it was my father who bought them. C'mon" were audible. House pulls out his separate, secret bag of donuts. They were three regular sugar glazed ones. He hints the bag towards Chase without taking his eyes off the band, treating their banter like a TV show. Chase reluctantly looks up, slowly taking a donut.

"Are we expecting anyone else?" Abel questions.

"My step-dad..." Muel meekly says.

"My uncle Ricky" Paul adds.

"My girlfriends Martha, Leslie, and Chloe" Carl smugly mentions.

"Blow-up dolls don't count as people, Cumshot." Adam smacks him upside the head, "Then we'll be plenty. Until then, warm-up?"

"So..." Chase reluctantly starts, having savored the first bite, "Do they have a name..?"

"Cane N Able." House instantly responds. "It was my idea... Well it was theirs but I polished it up."

"And... What exactly do they... do?" Chase probes.

"It's like... scene metal with screamo and violin elements?" House remarks. "I can't see them going far, but it's funny to observe their high before the fall."

"Huh..." Chase hums.

As the guys finish eating, most of them end up wiping the powdered sugar and grease onto their shirts or jeans, grabbing their stuff. They begin their first song, which was a short love song written by Adam, with lyrics like "The blackjack of life, red or black / a fifty-fifty bet on good or bad." The singing part was high and squeaky, but the screaming, courtesy of Abel, was just forced scatting that were probably going to rip the dude's vocal chords apart.

In the meantime, a very polished looking man, who "looks like he's desperate for Meeks or whatever he was called to accept him as his father" in House's words, enters and takes a seat, smiling nervously. Right as the warm-up song ends, a man who looks like a motorcyclist metal-head with dreads and a leather vest breaks in.

"Whoa, whoa, guys! Tune down the rhythm and boost the bass! Did I teach you nothing?" The man, presumed to be 'Uncle Ricky' lectures.

After a quick re-tuning and technical banter, and Abel's response of "It's not supposed to hurt?" to Uncle Ricky's scolding on the screaming, they begin to cover some songs, which seems to lay easier onto the ears.

The first three songs are the band's unique rendition of either Panic! At The Disco or My Chemical Romance, during which it was obvious every adult in there was just either pitying them or helping them mask the drinking and cigarettes - mostly both. They go over each song at least twice before calling for a break, which is when they all light up - well, all except Muel and his step-dad. Even Chase decides to try, not that it was horrendous, but he'll still need nicotine to process what just happened.

"Guys" Adam calls. "Remember that instrumental we worked on? I thought of some lyrics!" he cheers.

The boys huddle together, Muel peeking to see his step-dad leave to go to the bathroom - if there was even one nearby -, which is when he also lights up. They share the rest of the Jim Beam before Uncle Ricky jokingly scolds them and downs the bit at the end.

"The touch of his skin, like a poison flower?" Paul reads aloud, "You fuckin' gay or something?"

"Fuck off. It's a metaphor." Adam rolls his eyes, lips pursing in discomfort.

"Speaking of, where's Veronica?" Carl asks. "I'd love to have her-"

"Shut up, Cumshot." Adam sighs, "She's busy, A+ student and all."

"C'mon, it's been ages!" Paul exclaims. "Your girlfriend is so cool!"

"I know you lot haven't seen a real, human woman in real life, outside of internet porn, but y'all are the exact reason I stopped inviting her!" Adam cracks.

"Oh... Sorry.." Carl mutters.

"Whatever... Okay, break's over."

The boys get their set-up going again, starting off with what sounds like a new, experimental song. This one included no random screaming and had more emphasis on the violin, yet the more and more Adam sang along the lyrics in what can best be describes as a whiny, forced, untrained singing, it became more apparent to Chase - and also House - that it was about him. With such 'metaphors' as "Like a dingo puppy in the tall grass, with a cute little belly and a fat ass", which made Chase cover his face. It wasn't better the second time, but thankfully they went back to covers after.

The whole practice took a total of 3 hours, and from the guys' reactions, this was seemingly their biggest audience yet, the only all-timers being Uncle Ricky and House. Everyone leaves, except for Adam and Chase.

"You wrote a song about me..?" Chase asks.

"Couldn't sleep after yesterday. I was typing in my notes as you laid on top of me in your little boxers and tanks. How could I not?"

"You didn't tell me House was gonna be here." Chase nitpicks as Adam takes a take-out tray from the communal fridge, sniffing it to see if it'd gone bad.

"Are these microwaveable?" Adam deflects, shrugging as he takes the lid off and tosses the open tray into the secretly well-hidden communal microwave.

"He's been attending all your practices? That's... oddly sweet of him."

Adam starts up the microwave, going up to Chase with a sigh. "Does it bother you..? Like, my father, and the song..."

Chase shrugs back. "I've never had anyone write me a letter or a longer text, let alone a song. But then again... the performance was kind of... public."

Adam silently hugs Chase, who just leans his head onto his shoulder. "I'm sorry... I haven't told my father about us, and I'm not sure I should... I don't wanna get you in trouble..."

Chase nods, hugging him back. Adam hears the microwave beep, to which he lets go, taking it out, burning himself. He sharply sucks in through gritted teeth, followed by an "aghh". As he takes out the leftover pizza, placing it onto the communal table, Chase embraces him from behind.

"Why do you have leftover pizza in a take-out tray and not a box?" Chase asks.

"We didn't have space for an entire box so we forced Muel to eat a thing of chicken tenders that may or may not have gone bad so we can use it for the pizza." Adam rattles off, tearing at the pizza's cut lines.

Chase reaches under Adam's shirt, but instead of groping him with the intent of initiating something, he just silently hug his bare stomach.

"Just because you have a thinner waist doesn't mean I have a 'cute little belly'." Chase complains, burying his face in Adam's back.

"You've been getting chubbier. I would know. I stalked you for four years." Adam states. "You were so scrawny, like a victorian child, and now you're like a cute little plushtoy."

Chase snickers, pulling away to lift up his shirt.

"Fuck. I'm getting fat..." Chase exclaims as he palms his stomach.

Adam hands him a slice of microwave pizza. "Is that bad?"

Chase looks up, conflicted between cravings and body image.

"You want to fatten me up or something?"

"Most of the grease was probably evaporated by the rays or some shit. C'mon. You've been here for three hours."

Chase pouts slightly, taking the slice as Adam takes the other one.

"So... a warehouse, huh?" Chase mumbles.

"Yep, we all pitched in and rented this baby out. We've been practicing multiple times a week." Adam says, like a proud father. "Look, I know we suck, but..."

"I never said-" Chase excuses.

"We suck, no use sugarcoating it." Adam cuts him off. "But the guys... they think we're amazing, and I want it to stay that way... At least until we get better. Besides, it's not about the music, mostly it's about the community and shit."

Chase slowly nods.

"So... we eat and we go home? Or..." Chase meekly asks.

"I mean... we could just spend the night." Adam hypothesizes.

Chase nods. After sleeping with Adam, the next step would naturally have to be sleeping with him in a random warehouse with at least five environmental health hazards.

"What the fuck. Let's do that." Chase gives in, he'd recalled mornings where he'd wake up in some random girl's dorm room or some frat party, and this wasn't gonna be all too different.

Adam shoves the rest of his slice into his mouth, locking the warehouse, even tugging on it to make sure it stays closed. Chase felt almost giddy, like he was camping.

"Y'know..." Adam starts as he begins to make an impromptu bed from an old couch and a couple blankets. "We have these little games with the band."

Chase takes off his jeans, tossing them onto the table as Adam lays down, also in his boxers.

"My personal favorite: 'Feed the Mule'. It's basically the one where we throw shit at Muel and bet him five bucks to eat it."

Chase lays on top of Adam, chuckling, as Adam drapes a blanket over him.

"Seriously?" Chase scoffs. "Gimme some examples, c'mon."

Adam blows raspberries, thinking. "Let's see... semi-expired chicken tenders, a single tissue, the ice from the back of the fridge... One time I even saw him munching away on a plastic bottle cap. Ooh, and then there was the cigarette butt incident... We're pretty sure he has PICA... or he's just a dumbass."

Chase chuckles, burrowing his face into Adam's pec, the absurdity of Muel's eating habits lost on him due to the realization that he's never felt as safe as he did being squeezed in Adam's arms. Even in a cold, tetanus-ridden warehouse, he felt safe with him.

"I'm fucking cold... Wanna go back to yours?" Adam finally says.

"Yes. Please." Chase immediately responds, getting up to get his stuff.

They drive to Chase's, Adam sending a call to House that he's 'at Veronica's again', this time House questioning how he has a girlfriend if he's gay, to which Adam just says they can still be friends. Walking down the hallway, Adam smacks Chase's ass, causing a silent game of tag to ensue, but due to not having keys to the door, Chase is able to catch up and pin him against the door. He suddenly leans in, kissing the taller man, slowly unlocking the door as they stumble inside.

"I want to feel your lips on me forever." Adam pants inbetween kisses as they drop into bed.

Chase pulls away at that, an uncomfortable squirm making it obvious he doesn't want to go farther than that.

"No! Wait! I didn't mean-" Adam lightly facepalms, "I meant... We don't have to do anything tonight, we can just sleep and, like, kiss."

Chase awkwardly chuckles, nodding. He lays back, Adam laying next to him as they share a soft kiss. Chase keeps squirming, which convinces Adam to just let him go to sleep. Once again, Chase lays on his chest, but this time, a thumb fiddles with his lips.

"You used to be a thumb sucker?" Adam asks. "The crook in your teeth, the longer left thumb... Sorry, I'll shut up."

Chase just sighs, his thumb travelling inside his mouth. Adam caresses his head, acknowledging he doesn't feel like talking. It's going to take time for him to get used to this, but as Adam eventually sees him twitching every once in a while, he continues caressing him with a little bit more hope. He kisses the top of his head, falling asleep, despite not wanting to.

Chapter Text

Adam stirs awake at around 8 AM, still finding Chase laid on his chest, gently sucking his thumb, his ass still perked up. Of course those are the first things he notices. He gently pats his head, pressing a soft kiss onto his hair. Chase slowly opens his eyes, thumb leaving his mouth as he presses his face into Adam's chest, embarrassed.

"Hey, it's okay..." Adam whispers, hugging him tighter. "You're safe with me, okay?"

Chase softly nods, a hand reaching up to feel out his collarbone.

"It's Sunday... What do you want to do today?" He softly asks.

"Mmm... nothing..." Chase innocently responds.

Adam nods back, "Nothing it is."

Adam grabs his phone, checking the band group chat. He balances the phone on top of Chase's head, who rewards the act with a whine.

Muel: so like is adam gay or smth

Paul: Nah, just European

Abel: well when he told me we should start a band and perform together i thought he meant an orgy

Adam: guys im right here

Muel: adam you soggy fucker you owe me 5 bux

Carl: hey chat whats up chat

Adam: hey carl

Adam: murl why do i owe you 5

Muel: MURL XD

Muel: last week you dared me to finish an entire pack of crayons with the paper still on

Muel: i ate one every practicr nd finally finished it

Adam: okay fine

Paul: Muel I dare you to eat Carl's cum towel

Muel: i have my limits

Abel: wtf paul

Carl: ...

Carl: hey chat whats up chat

Adam: yes, carl, hi

Carl: wait whens your birthday party again

Adam: ЁБ ТВОЮ ЖЕ МАТЬ ("OH FUCK YOUR MOTHER")

Adam: yea i forgot abt that

Paul: Dude if my father was like that, a party with him would be etched into my brains. How can you forget?

Adam: u gay for him or smth?

Adam: cause honey, youre not his type

Paul: Fuck off.

Abel: paul can you paste the muel eat list

Paul: One sec

Adam puts down the phone, sighing. He tries to get up to go to the bathroom, but Chase doesn't budge. Adam chuckles, knowing that if Chase pulls away, he'll have to face the shame of knowing how childish he thinks he's acting. Adam kisses Chase's head.

"What do you want for breakfast..?" Adam softly asks.

"Mmm. You." he mutters.

Adam chuckles again, patting his head.

"I'll be back, okay?"

He tries to get up again, but Chase's arms tighten around him with a whine.

"Hey... It'll be only five minutes. You'll be okay." Adam reassures, eventually getting Chase to roll over with a pout.

Adam leaves, heading to the bathroom. Finishing his business, he looks into the mirror, adjusting his hair before sighing and silently staring into his own eyes. He'd spent the past two nights at another man's house, and they're not even dating or fucking. They're just... coexisting. Not to mention the lies to his father. He wasn't sure if House trusted him for always being so painfully honest - something he then had to tone down after certain remarks would unintentionally result in that jarring, traumatized look of his -, or if he's already started suspecting something.

"Tomorrow's labor day..." he mutters to himself absentmindedly. He didn't have school the next day, neither did the guys, meaning they could get hungover all they could want. 

He reluctantly leaves, looking around Chase's pathetically one-person oriented pantry and fridge, pondering what to make. He ends up preparing some ham-cheese-tomato sandwiches, dividing them between plates. He sees that there are an odd number of sandwiches, so he silently lays the extra one on the plate meant for Chase. He carries them to the sofa, watching Chase groggily enter.

"Why'd you make me more?" Chase asks, sitting down and inspecting the plates.

"Already ate one." Adam lies.

Chase awkwardly takes a sandwich, taking a slow bite. It felt weird, having not only another person next to him for this long, but also a man. A man he fears he has feelings for. He almost craved his touch, as it was the only thing to distract him from those haunting thoughts of what people would say; his co-workers, his boss, his lost family members, the old seminary teachers, college mates... They'd all look at him with the same disgust that seemed to eat away at him consistently for the past two days - and possibly his whole life.

And yet... it felt so natural... he didn't even notice how he'd consistently be next to him, the two never being apart for longer than a couple hours, like they were old and married. Even though it's not even legal yet. (A/N: I love meta humor)

He leans back, staring ahead of himself, as Adam turns back to inspect.

"Hey..." Adam starts.

"Hey... uhh..." Chase mutters, absent-minded.

"What is it..?" Adam softly asks, his expression sad.

"It's just- It's all so sudden... Two days and you're acting like you're my wife or something." Chase states.

"I-..." Adam starts, his words stuck in his throat. "I just... I feel like I've known you for years." he scoffs, an awkward chuckle leaving his lips.

"...How much do you know about me?" Chase asks, his tone accusative.

"W-what do you mean..?" Adam chuckles again.

"You stalked me, hacked me, made your father spill the beans on me..." Chase lists. "Do you... know me better than I do myself?" He half-jokes.

"I-" Adam starts again, this time his breathing getting just a hitch heavier. "Um..."

"Adam." Chase sternly says as he places his sandwich back down. "Are you plotting something? I-if this is some stupid ploy to ruin my life because House told you to-"

"No!" Adam interrupts. "No... I..." he sighs, pressing his lips and eyes closed in embarrassment. "Promise me... that you're not gonna hate me for..."

"For... what..?" Chase asks, almost hysteric. Was this whole thing fake this entire time? Was he feeding embarrassing facts about him to House? Was he even gonna be able to go back to work..?

Adam lets out a shuddered breath, wiping his nose in the sleeve of a sweatshirt he'd 'borrowed' from Chase shortly after waking up. He tries to swallow held back tears, suddenly turning to him.

"I... don't love you..." he softly says. "I'm severely, severely obsessed with you."

Chase lets out a nervous scoff. "Who the hell starts a confession like that?"

Adam returns the scoff, a tear beading at the corners of his eyes. "Someone who wanted to see how you'd react. If the feeling is mutual..."

Adam takes another bite, hand shaking.

"I... did some bad things, unethical things..." he starts.

"I do that on a daily basis. I work with your father." he deflects, despite his stomach-churning anxiety rushing to hear what he was getting at.

"N-no... mine was selfish... Uhm..." Adam places down his own sandwich, finally turning fully towards Chase, "About a year ago..."

The time-span alone causes Chase's eyes to widen. Whatever he was going to say, it was definitely not a fresh wound.

"I went to the office after school, like every day. I'd collect the pens and lollipop sticks and whatnot that you'd chew on, like always... I'd drink coffee from your cup and wash it after... I'd scrape the office clean of any trace of you... And on this specific day, I saw the workplace computer opened to Face, and I just... looked around. The moment I heard someone enter I just switched to solitaire, since it was open for some reason."

Chase's expression switches constantly between disgusted, freaked out, and yet somehow... endeared? Where was this headed..?

"And uhm... that day I went home and uhh... I remembered checking the E-mail you used to sign with... I didn't know the password but it was easy enough to guess, so." Adam takes a deep breath, knowing the time to back out had long passed. "And I signed into your account, checked your posts, your followings... messages and private posts..."

Chase's eyes widen even more.

"I also may have... saved some... footage." Adam almost murmurs. "Images, to be clear."

Chase stammers, fingers fiddling with his bottom lip as he tries to figure out how exactly he's supposed to be feeling. He felt seen, in both an exposed way, and in the way where it soothed him, like a red, hot knife cauterizing a wound he never knew existed. The one feeling that was very clear was the feeling of being naked. He knows damn well what images Adam was referring to; images he wasn't reluctant to send on certain platforms anyway.

"I-it then got worse... I dunno what happened but I just... got desensitized to it I guess... One day I saw you napping in the office... you looked so... so... adorable..." Adam says, his tone shifting from nervous to endeared in a morbid fashion. It made Chase unsure whether he should be scared or blushing.

Adam curls into a ball, looking away, his gaze unfocused. "I took a photo of you and had it as my background for a bit before someone at school saw it and I had to change it..."

Chase's mouth hangs slightly agape, unsure what to say.

"Y-you have images of me..? Including- erm, my... nudes..?"

Adam shudders a bit, curling up even tighter. "I'm sorry, I just-"

"You... invaded my account and waited until we met to make it look like some cyber-prank..?" Chase attempts to process.

"Y-you're right, it was wrong, I-I'll get rid of everything I swear!" Adam starts crying, "I don't know what the fuck's wrong with me..."

Chase shakes his head, eventually just scoffing. "You're very, very disturbed, but I'm even more disturbed for feeling honored above all..."

Adam sniffles, feeling Chase slowly hug him on the side.

"You're not mad..? You should be, like, calling the cops or something."

"I'm not mad..." Chase confesses, "It's a shameful thing for a sane person to say..."

"Why..?" Adam softly asks.

Chase sighs, shrugging. "You fucked me and didn't leave, for starters."

Adam can't help but chuckle, burrowing his face into Chase's shoulder. "We're fucked up, man, both of us."

Chase stammers. "Can I... see those images?"

Adam scoffs, reluctantly opening his phone. He enters a folder, one that he'd password-protected.

"I can't believe I'm doing this..." he mutters, handing Chase the phone, expecting him to delete everything and tell him to get out.

Chase takes the phone, and wouldn't you know it, there are images. A lot of images. Through the window, napping on the couch, shirtless in the locker room... Now it made sense why this past year, everything felt weird, like he was being followed. Because he was. He also saw his own nude images he'd sent to women on dating apps, which Adam got access to through the fact both the E-mail and the 'password' password were the same. He felt foolish, when he should be mortified.

Chase hesitantly hands back the phone, thinking. "Look, uhm... is it okay if... you let me be alone for a bit? I just- it's so sudden- erm.."

Adam nods, putting his phone away.

"I know, I will..." he stands up, taking a last bite of the sandwich before grabbing the minimal stuff he came with. "Dad must be worried dead over me."

Chase nods, fighting back the urge to chuckle at the idea House would be scared of losing anyone - even though he would, possibly more so than others.

"Text me the details." Chase says, "of- um, of the party."

Adam softly nods, "I will", and leaves, the sudden silence feeling like a jarring stab to them both.

Chapter Text

"Hey..." Adam greets.

"Hey." House returns, sitting in the living room, his reading glasses sat on the bottom of his nose, trying to solve a crossword puzzle.

Adam eyes the newspaper, looking at the words, most of them filled in. He had multiple images of Chase trying to solve one, taken from outside the office, Adam only escaping his gaze by a millisecond. He'd alternate between looking at his thoughtful face and the words scribbled on the paper - most of which were wrong, so much so that Adam would chuckle to himself, muttering a 'he's so stupid...'

"Oh, hey Adam!" Wilson greets, "Ready for the party, kiddo?"

"Say, where'd you get that sweater?" House inspects.

Adam sits down, shrugging. "Thrifted one. Impulse buy."

House lets out a loud "Hah!" and chuckles quietly. "Funny."

"What's funny about thrifting? It's good for the economy!" Adam chuckles.

"Did you buy it with that awfully Australian stench? Don't they cram all the clothes together until you got an international wad of pit stench?" House teases, filling in a word.

"I don't know what you're talking about" Adam defensively quips.

"Help me with this." House hints at the crossword, "Six letters. Masculine diminutive form of Veronica, starts with R, ends with T."

"I'm- gonna finish the cake." Wilson says, sensing what he calls 'a House' to happen.

"Ohh, no no no, Wilson! You're gonna wanna be here for this." House grins, causing Wilson to sigh.

Wilson runs back to put down his cutesy pink apron that he got from the Houselings as a 'Happy second divorce gift' when Adam was 11. He sits down, curious what was going to conspire, locking Adam in the middle of the couch.

"What are you getting at..?" Adam raises an eyebrow.

"I called Veronica's mother. She said she hasn't seen you all weekend. That means you were gone for two whole days and slept in... probably some ditch or that warehouse..."

Adam stammers, a hand shaking, "I'm sorry dad, I-"

"After I left you alone with Chase, you hastily scarfed down your lunch and said you were gonna go to Veronica's. I call you home for a nice little family lunch after you, from what I assumed, slept at her place, but then you tell me you're gay, which, by the way, it's kinda obvious, honey. Then you have a practice with the guys, you tell me you wanna clean up and leave last, and guess who else leaves last. Chase. You spent the last two nights at Chase, stole his sweater, and God knows what else." House quick-fires. "And you know what's the worst part? You lied to me about it."

Adam micro-glances around, Wilson's mouth hanging slightly agape.

"I..." Adam starts.

"You're a horrible liar, by the way." House adds, to which Wilson assuredly nods.

"I'm sorry! Okay? I didn't want you to get... 'you' with him..." Adam confesses.

"Why?" House simply says. "Why Chase?"

Adam crosses his hands in a prayer position, thumbs circling around each other.

"Because I love him..." he confesses.

"What happened? Did you... pretend you ran away from the big, bad House?" House probes.

"Why do you wanna know? Nothing happened!" Adam shoots up.

"Adam, you told me when and how you lost your virginity over breakfast. You told me when you tried weed before Wilson could guiltily blurt out he slipped you some. What happened?"

Adam sighs, deflecting. "I'm thirsty..."

Wilson nods and runs to get him a glass of juice. This is when Adam leans closer to House, almost like a child begging to be hugged.

"I... I went over to his place... and uhm..." He starts, sighing. "We got drunk, we had sex, I made war at family lunch, I invited him to practice, we almost slept in the warehouse, and then we went to his and I ended up ruining everything."

"...Top or bottom?" House blurts out.

"What the hell?!"

"What? No son of mine is gonna be a bottom." He sarcastically remarks, "I figured you'd prefer talking about that and not the last part."

Adam sighs. "Yeah, no, I-" he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I... told him I've been stalking him for a year..."

"You have?" House snarks. "I thought mentioning him every dinner was a hobby."

Adam rolls his eyes, having Wilson hand him a glass of juice and sit back down.

"So why don't you tell your uncle?" House jokes.

"What? That I fucked your fellow?" Adam chuckles.

"Whoa!" Wilson's eyes shoot up. "You... did Cameron?"

"I'm gay, duncle" Adam reminds.

"You... did Foreman?" His voice gets quieter.

"The other one." House specifies. "The bottom."

"Ohhh..." Wilson exclaims "Okay, now I need a drink.."

Wilson leaves, shamefully putting his cute little pink apron back on, and continues to make the cake batter.

House sighs, turning back to Adam.

"I'm glad you're finding yourself and all..." he says, somewhat sarcastically. "But you know that this-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You held the same speech when I had that scene phase, and that emo phase." Adam rolls his eyes.

"You told me it was not a phase." He remarks, "Fine then, what speech? I mean if you know it so well..."

"That people are gonna mock me, treat me like shit, beat me up..." Adam lists "because they're all so miserable that they'd want to see someone else feed into their validation."

House nods, slowly hugging Adam on the side, who reflexively lays his head on his father's shoulder.

"Just... stay safe." He murmurs, almost like an after-thought.

"Safe from what..?" Adam questions, almost joking.

"...This thing with Chase... it will hurt you. I've been warning you the moment I hired him, the moment I saw you take interest. And of course you never listen."

"He couldn't hurt a fly. He's like a bunny." Adam chuckles.

"Nnno, more like an annoying mosquito, buzzing in my ear every day for 8 hours." House says, sighing, letting go of the one-sided embrace. "he’s the kind of guy who’ll smile at you in front of others and say something nasty when the doors close. You think you can fix him? This isn't a charity case. This is emotional self-harm with a British accent."

"He's Australian..." Adam corrects.

"Don't interrupt me. You don't need a serial prick like him. You’re my kid. You’re already smarter, tougher, and way too pretty to be begging validation from someone who thinks 'gay' is a punchline."

Adam slowly nods. He cannot recognize the man he's describing as the man he knows, but he's well aware that he's not gonna win this argument.

"Since when do you care who I date?" He snarks back.

"I don’t care who you date, as long as they don’t suck the soul out of you like a narcissistic tapeworm. But Chase? Chase will look at you like you’re a diagnosis, something to explain or pathologize, not something to love. And you - God help you - you’ll try to earn his approval like it’s a medical license or a gig at the Apollo theater."

"I'll prove you wrong, then." Adam hesitantly argues.

"He could ruin you." House coldly remarks.

"..." Adam stammers. "Maybe I want him to ruin me."

House scoffs, popping a Vicodin. "Then I either raised a dumbass or a giant masochist."

Adam rolls his eyes.

"Well, good talk." House says, turning on the TV, as if he had an internal bulb light up the moment his soap was about to play.

Adam silently stands up, retreating to his room. He lays on the bed, on his stomach, checking his messages.

Adam: hey

Robert: Hey.

Adam: r u mad at me

Robert: I should be, but I'm not.

Adam: wat now

Robert: I go to your birthday party. It'd be nice to know when and where to go.

Adam: 7 my place you surely know where i live u probably checked dads file before

Robert: I had a stroke reading that..

Robert: But okay.

Adam: wanna see the muel eat list

Robert: What the hell, sure.

Adam switches to the groupchat, scrolling up to read all his unreads. He screenshots the Muel eat list, catching up.

Muel: i will never die

Muel: i am like a god

Paul: We're feeding you an entire beanbag next.

Abel: HOLY WSHIT GENUIS

Abel: i bet a tenner, you guys call?

Carl: chat what's up chat

Paul: CARL CAN YOU NOT SAY ANYTHING ELSE??

Carl: chat this is crazy

Paul: Anyway, I call

Abel: me 2

Muel: mmm beans

Adam chuckles, typing a simple "i call" before sending the screenshot to Chase. The Muel eat list read:

• ice from the back of the fridge
• an entire pack of tissues
• stale pizza from under the amp
• styrofoam takeout box
• five ciggie bums consecutively (vomited out)
• literal mold (small amount but he tripped balls)
• his chord sheet
• a tennis ball
• a thing of lipstick
• an entire loaf of bread (vomited it back up because he's a mild celiac)
• half a jug of expired milk (he's also lactoes)
• a box of crayons (he wanted to see if he'll poop rainbow)

Robert: Jesus Christ...

Adam: yea hes a dumbass

Robert: Or suicidal... and a masochist...

Adam: im his therapisy dw

Robert: That explains everything, actually.

Adam sighs dreamily, closing his messages. He opens up his gallery, entering the password to his locker folder, scrolling until he finds the man's nudes. He stares, half out of guilt, half because... well... because he was horny. Teenagers. He reaches into his pants, palming himself slowly before-

"Adam! Wilson's asking what flavor cake you want!" House says with two quick knocks on the door.

"Uhh, chocolate?" he yells back, swiftly removing his hand.

"Okay!" House limps away, Adam swiftly locking the door.

He lays back again, sighing, reaching into his pants again. He felt ashamed, yet the shame and the obsession with Chase blurred together so much so that Adam was genuinely concerned he was going insane. That was right after noticing how bad Chase was at taking nudes compared to him. This gave him an idea. A bad one.

He nervously checks the door lock again, pulling the blinds, switching off the ceiling light and turning his LEDs to a color that shows up the best on camera. He is so battled between blue and magenta-pink that he almost can't even question the absurdity of what he is about to do. He slowly adjusts himself in the mirror, taking a couple images and then looking through them to try and find the perfect one.

Adam: btw whats up

Robert: In the store for reasons I will not disclose.

Adam: either sex store or a last minute gift

Adam: or both

Robert: I got a short notice.

Adam: and thats when you give an envelope of money its not personal sure but its convenient for everybody

Robert: ...,,,;;;

Adam: STOP

Adam: just tell me when you get home stupid

Robert: Why?

Adam: trust me x

Adam sighs, tossing his phone aside. There was still an entire workday's worth of time until the party, and yet Adam had nothing to do. He leaned out the window for a cigarette, tossing the butt out of it - something that his father encouraged since the butts usually fall on Wilson's head when he's tending to the garden, just like now. Adam closes the window with Wilson's echoing "Adam! I told you not to-"

He sighs, sitting down, deciding to rub one out. As he'd sniff the sweater, the one still carrying Chase's scent, he could almost imagine him, sitting down in his lap and letting him grind slowly, a hand reaching around to slowly jerk him off. After cleaning up, still dazed from the daydream, he gets a text.

Robert: Okay, home.

Robert: What is it?

Adam: u suck at taking noods

Adam: *sent a photo*

Chase opens the photo, seemingly caught off guard. His eyes linger, looking Adam's exposed torso up and down, his eyes repeatedly drifting downwards. Adam felt his heartbeat increase with every passing second, eventually getting a response.

Robert: ...can i take a screengrab

Adam: screengrab xD

Adam: nope

Robert: Come on! You have at least a movie's worth of footage on me.

Adam lets out a shaky breath, the reality of it all settling in. Now he has something against him... And then, being the impulse thinker he is:

Adam: fine ;*

After all, Chase has one image, and Adam still has at least ten.

Adam: but i get to keep every image i have of you

Adam: and we leave it behind us

Robert: ...two more.

Adam: fine, i owe you

Robert: Omg you used a comma :0

Adam: futut gura mati ("I'll fuck your mother's throat" in Romanian with shitty spelling)

Chapter Text

"God, I want you..." Chase slowly mutters to himself as he stares at the image, feeling immediately embarrassed afterwards. He had finished preparing for the party - having picked out his outfit, wrapped the gift -, and decided to spend his remaining free time with a quick rub.

He stared at Adam lifting his shirt, his pants all the way down to his knees, fully erect, the other hand holding up the phone with a juvenile smirk. His entire body was visible from collarbones to thighs, revealing an enviable layer of body hair Chase couldn't achieve to grow for the life of him. Must be those russian and balkan genes. His chest, abs, collarbones, and v-line were well defined on top of his surprisingly slutty waist, Chase's eyes tracing over the lines so many times, he was basically memorizing him. He finally brings himself to glance down at his erect penis, the shame washing away with an involuntary memory of Adam's head bobbing up and down as his lips wrap tightly around his cock.

"Mmmh... Adam..." he murmurs to himself, a relieved sigh leaving his nostrils as he slowly cums onto his stomach, lazily laying back.

After he recovers, he reluctantly dials Adam's number, listening to the dial tone for so long, Adam's voice causes him to jump.

"Hey..." Adam softly greets.

"Hey, uhh, what's up?" Chase asks.

"Uhm-" Adam stammers. "I... may have rubbed one out to your nudes..."

Chase looks down slowly, almost as a reminder, before eventually confessing, "Me too... just a second ago..."

"Huh..." Adam hums, "So... we'll meet at 7, huh?"

"Yeah... It'll certainly be something..." Chase declares. "So who else is coming?"

"The boys, dad and duncle, and maybe Veronica but she'll probably leave early."

"Oh, yeah, I wanted to ask, what happened with her and the guys..?"

"She just says they freak her out. Nothing serious happened if that's what you mean." Adam clarifies. "Especially Carl, he's always either jacking off, watching porn, or thinking about sex. Plus he's a virgin. Paul is chill, Abel might also be gay, and Muel... He's very Muel. But still, she doesn't like being around them and I respect it."

"That's how he got the nickname..." Chase processes.

"Cumshot Carl!!" Adam chuckles.

"Well uhh... They don't know you're... gay... then. They think you're dating Veronica."

"And they still flirt with her! The audacity! Yeah, no, they would call me a faggot. Maybe as a joke, maybe paired with a punch, but I'm not risking it." Adam half jokes.

"I mean, you have a band together. You can always disband but then there's the question of was it worth wasting money on the equipment." Chase logics.

"You're sweet... Also I just realized you're probably sitting with your dick out right now." Adam bluntly blurts out.

"Uh, yeah-" Chase mutters. "Is that... bad..?"

"Party's in an hour. Hurry up." Adam commands, hanging up.

Chase then realizes he's still naked and covered in cum, reaching for a tissue to clean himself up. He gets dressed, chugging an entire half jug of orange juice, wiping his mouth with his sweater before deciding he should probably get going.

He drives to the house, knocking, only to be met with House's jarring stare.

"Hey House." Chase reflexively says.

"Chase." he greets. "Come in."

Chase nervously nods and walks inside, House limping back to the couch were Adam and a girl already sat.

"Happy birthday, Adam!" he greets, handing over the gift.

"T-thanks... uhm, make yourself at home." Adam says, placing the gift onto a separate table.

Chase slowly sits down, turning to the girl. "Veronica, I assume?"

"Yes, and you must be Robert. Adam told me all about you!" Veronica greets. "You can just call me Vera."

Chase nervously gulps. Just how much does 'all about' entail exactly?

"Did he call me House's fellow or intern? There's a big difference, you know." he jokes.

"Neither." House quips. "You're my lapdog."

"Uh... I was just told you work together." Vera specifies, "his dad is your boss."

"Yeah..." Chase chuckles. "So... am I the only duckling here?"

"Cameron's got a seminar and Foreman is out, probably stealing or something." House states.

Knocking can then be heard through the door, House turning back.

"Wilson!" He yells towards the kitchen. "Door!"

"I'm not your slave!" Wilson says, opening the door. "You ordered pizza?!"

"Cash is on the doorside table." House quips.

Wilson stammers, sighing and paying the pizza guy, placing the pizza onto the dinner table.

"I'm making dinner! You know I was gonna make dinner and you-"

Another knocking. Wilson sighs and opens the door to see the four guys enter.

"Yo uncle Greg!" They all greet, one after the other, "Happy birthday Adam!!" they chant as they all hand a gift over each and dab Adam up.

They all sit on the couch or one of the armchairs, but Muel ends up sitting on the floor once he sees no more seats are left.

"Oh don't you treat my poor little Muel like that!" House jokes. "The cripple's sitting but one of you gotta stand."

"It's fine uncle Greg, really." Muel says, fiddling with a piece of fuzz of mysterious origin.

"Op-, here, Muel, sit." Vera says with a smile, sitting in Adam's lap.

Muel grins, squeezing himself between House and Adam. House chuckles and hugs Muel on one side as Chase attempts to not be jealous. Before he would beam with envy, however, Adam shoots him an ironic grin, and he feels whole again.

They sit and chat for a bit before deciding to eat. The boys dare Muel to eat a piece of the box, which he does as if it was a side dish to the pizza.

"No! You guys don't get it!" The previously cheery and polite Vera now raises her voice at the dinner table, "Not only are those remarks annoying, but very patronizing!"

"What? I just said your boobs looked perky today!" Paul clarifies "'Big' is patronizing, 'perky' is just an observation."

"See? This shit is why I stopped attending your shitty band practice." Vera leans back, crossing her arms.

"Hey! Don't insult Cane N Able!" Abel quips, chuckling.

"Whatever... It's a shame, Paul, I was gonna tell you how Lindsey from 10.C. likes you." Vera teases.

"She what now?" Paul perks up.

"It's a shame you don't have a cool female friend to introduce you to her..." Vera quips, eating her pizza.

While the two brawled, everyone else ate and occasionally commented something along the lines of "yuhh" or "forreal". Adam softly brushes his hand against Chase's under the table, who looks down, and then at him. Adam just blinks at him with a slight smile, causing Chase to slowly interlock his fingers in his.

Vera keeps arguing with the guys, only to sigh, grab her bag, and leave, despite the offer of a drink. Speaking of drinks:

"Who's ready for a Black Russian?" House quips. "Too bad Foreman's not here."

Adam rolls his eyes. "Just because you slept with a Russian woman doesn't mean-"

"French Martini?" House tests.

Adam sighs, "Vodka and pineapple juice..."

"Greyhound?"

"Vodka and grapefruit." Adam answers.

"Of course you'd know, you rascal child" House laughs as he lightly smacks Adam - not too bad to hurt, but enough to cause a good comedic effect.

"I was gonna say..." Adam emphasizes. "Just because you slept with a Russian woman doesn't mean the offspring comes with an encyclopedia on vodka."

"Just shut up and pick." House remarks.

"...Gimme a damn Black Russian." Adam pouts.

"What's that one like?" Chase asks.

"Coffee liqueor." Adam states. "Hits hard as balls."

"Yo which one should I pick, teach me the fancy lingo c'mon." Paul laughs.

"Yeah, start chirping, alchie." Abel teases.

"Says you!" Adam responds. "Alright. Moscow Mule for Muel, Screwdriver for Paul, French Martini for Abel, Bloody Mary for Cumshot, aaand... Arctic Kiss for the fancy Aussie."

Chase rolls his eyes.

"What's all those even mean?" Muel asks.

"Uhh..." Adam looks up, thinking, "Vodka mixed with... Ginger ale, orange juice, pineapple juice, tomato juice, and champagne respectively."

"Ew, all that in one?" Paul scrunches his nose with a grin.

"Respectively, idiot" Adam rolls his eyes, "Did I get it right? Everyone happy?"

Everyone agrees, forming a choir of enthusiastic 'hell yeah's as the forced bartender, Wilson, mixes everything up.

After about three drinks and Wilson's dinner also being eaten out of solidarity for his hard work, the stuffed, drunk, loud bunch keep on talking and laughing.

"So how'd the band get together?" Chase inquires, sipping his third 'Arctic Kiss' of the night with a tipsy blush.

Adam gestures to Abel, who gestures towards him, causing a bunch of overlapping 'you go- oh or I will- oh, no, you start-' to leave their mouths as they just end up giggling. Adam ends up talking.

"We met in 9th grade and we were the best in music class. We also kinda had this religious teacher tell us how it's 'funny we got both a Cain and an Abel in class', yes, religious teacher, religion is mandatory for some reason but hey it's an extra A..." Adam slurs, House scooting his 4th drink a bit farther from him. "And we sorta had the idea around 10th grade which is when we met the 11th grader Paul and a 9th grader Muel in the school music club."

Abel gently takes over, chuckling, "We rented the warehouse around the end of 11th grade and got it all set up after finals. Paul was an ass and didn't contribute."

"I preferred graduating instead, thank you very much." Paul snarks.

"And then-" Abel chuckles, "And then we realized we needed a fucking drummer! Like holy shit!"

Wilson gives a look upon the swears but, after his 6th drink, he found it hard to care.

"So we were in the warehouse, drinking, smoking, realizing we didn't have a damn drummer - but a violinist!" Adam laughs. "And so we posted an ad on Face, and this random dude shows up, does a solo, and we were like 'Okay, welcome to Cane N Able!' And that's how we got Carl! We didn't even know him, he just sorta appeared!"

"I go to a separate school, dipshit, that's why." Carl chuckles.

The cake is then also brought out, candles blown and pictures taken, Chase's expression seemingly on edge around House, as if he didn't even know what planet he lives on.

Eventually it's time to open gifts, since the boys claimed they 'would rather die than miss his reactions.' They all sit in a circle on the floor, including Chase, as House and Wilson silently clean up in the background - AKA Wilson cleans as House hits the hay.

"Oh, cool!" Adam reacts, seemingly impatient, as if looking forward to something. "Muel got me a giant raccoon plushie!"

"I wanted to get a live one in a duffelbag but it bit me." Muel casually mentions. "Twice."

"Oh..!" Adam smiles, moving onto Paul. "This is..."

Adam's expression dies, a hysterical chuckle leaving his lips.

"Glow in the dark condoms and a bottle of brandy" Adam laughs, shooting a glance towards Chase who just scoffs and looks away. "You implying we should hold a drunk saber fight?"

"It's not gay with the homies." Abel jokes. "Okay, check mine."

Adam scoffs "Okay, okay!"

He opens Abel's gift, which contained a pack of cigarettes and that 'Demon days' vinyl he's always wanted - arguably the most normal one -, while Carl gets him a Gorillaz shirt, seemingly having conspired.

Adam impatiently packs back the gifts, intending to put them away sometime, turning to Chase as the others drown into their own conversation. Muel lays on the couch, clutching his stomach, the lactose, gluten, and cardboard mixed into a gross soup of alcohol and stomach acid apparently didn't really sit well with him.

House, almost having sensed this, comes out from his retreat to tend to him like a wounded puppy. He ends up calling Muel's step-dad to take him home, who, when told the news, just softly mutters a 'God, again?'

"Řekneš jim to..?" Chase mutters to Adam, making sure the others don't pick up on their conversation, his accent broken. ("Are you gonna tell them..?")

Adam slowly looks at him, as if forgotten he was part Czech.

"Nikdy, budou mi říkat buzerant." ("Never, they'll call me a faggot.")

Chase stammers, looking over the remaining three almost practically fistfighting each other.

"Jsou to tvoji přátelé, a to už léta..." ("They're your friends, and have been for years...") Chase probes.

Adam looks ahead of himself, realizing he may be right in what he's implying. He takes a deep breath, turning to the guys who somehow managed to settle down.

"Guys, I have a drunken confession that will never leave this room." He rambles. Everyone turns to him. "I'm gay."

Paul scoffs, "Yeah, you are."

"Fuckin' gay dude" Carl joins.

"No. Gay gay. Like, liking dudes gay."

The two's eyes widen, Abel just nodding understandingly.

"So... Vera's free game?" Carl asks.

"God, no!" Adam yells.

"Aw..." Carl whines.

"...If it makes you feel better, I may be bisexual." Abel drops.

"That's at least four sexual deviants if you count Carl's weird fetishes and the fact Chase is a whore. We're all fucked up, so." Adam rambles. 

"I'm not a whore!" Chase suddenly shoots up. "And I'm not gay either if you're gonna say that next."

Adam rolls his eyes, masking the slight crack in his heart from the hypocrisy. He's not willing to own up to it, yet he makes him do so. Usually, he'd say he was helping him while keeping his dignity, but after so many drinks, he just feels... empty.

"Sure, buddy, real convincing." Adam teases.

"So, like, do you put your dick in another dude's dick or-" Carl asks.

"How can you even put a dick in another dude's dick, Cumshot?" Abel barks, dumbfounded.

"Look, if we're talking about it, I figured I'd ask-" Carl huffs, "Whatever, man, I'll get us an uber or something, it's too late for this shit."

Abel snickers, "Alright, man, but no funny business. I wouldn't want your dick in my-"

"Shut up, Walker." Carl sneers.

"Don't fucking call me by my last name, Ardelean."

"Abel Walker?" Chase chuckles out loud. "Jesus..."

"Yeah, my parents didn't think that through... You can imagine the comments uncle Greg made when he started attending practice."

While all this chatter was going on, Adam just zoned out, micro-glancing around the room as he reconsidered his father's words. Maybe he was right, Chase was only going to hurt him. With this thought, he was sober.

Chapter Text

Adam lays on his back, on his bed, having retreated to his room to 'change into his pajamas'. It seemed like a lesser of the two awkward excuses next to 'I will go into my room and cry under my hastily set up fairy lights with the LEDs purposefully set to a dark blue color' he could give the guys and Chase. He lets out a shaky sigh, tears at his eyes. Four years. Four years he'd spent fantasizing about Chase. Four years he'd perfected his paparazzi skills. Four years he'd attempt to get closer to Abel, whose light brown, 'blonde in the summer' hair and blue eyes were close enough for Adam to just close his eyes and pretend if the latter would ever want to kiss him.

He was so close, yet so far. They were above the friend level, that's for sure, and if it wasn't for that comment, Adam would've believed they were much more. Usually, he'd call the bluff, raising until all other parties fold, and yet with Chase... he'd found he'd lost the ability to stay secretive, skeptical, analytical, instead blindly following his words, trusting him more than he wished he would. He buries his face in the crook of his elbow, softly crying as he reminds himself of how he's a serial slut, a hypocrite, a spineless bully, and all the things he derived from him from those stories House would bring home.

And yet... he loves him. He needs that slutty, hypocritical, spineless bully like he needs air. In this very moment, his chest got heavier and heavier with every second that passed without his touch, made worse by the hearty chuckling of the three in the living room. Adam slowly changes, heading back.

"Took you long enough, which one of us'd you beat to?" Abel teases.

"I borrowed your dad's gay pornos." Adam rolls his eyes, sitting down onto the floor, since none of the slowly sobering men ever realized they should get up.

"Fuck off." Abel gives him a playful punch.

"Abe, we should get going." Carl reminds, "Uber's almost here."

"Right..." Abel remembers.

"Abe?" Adam asks. "You guys gay now?"

"The seminary boy officiated us just now. You should've seen it. Carl cried." Abel teases.

The two get off the floor, shaking hands with Chase and Adam before leading themselves out. Chase reluctantly turns to Adam.

"You never opened my gift..." Chase reminds. "Why?"

Adam shrugs, "I have other friends if you couldn't tell."

"Is that supposed to make me jealous?" Chase raises a brow.

Adam sighs, taking Chase's meticulously wrapped gift box and slowly unties the bow on the top.

"Pink bow and yellow wrapper. How cutesy." Adam comments, opening the box. "Is that the bow you tie into your hair?"

Chase's expression falters as he picks up on Adam's passive-aggressive tone, "Bite me" he spurts out.

Adam takes out a sweater, one that he'd seen while looking through his closet, covering a new, still in the box vanilla and honeysuckle scented candle, same thing he saw in his bedroom. The smell reminded him of waking up in bed with him. There was also a drawing, one that'd seemingly been modelled off the picture he'd sent him.

"You... drew me." Adam says. "And... gifted me your sweater."

"I... just happened to find one that looks like the one I own. I, erm, also took art classes in high school."

Adam scoffs. "'Course, no way you could be gay, right?"

Chase shoots his head down, slightly ashamed.

"You want me to smell like you, dress like you, and see myself like you see me. Very platonic, very bro-ish." Adam derives.

Chase's eyes widen, as if Adam had reached right into his brain.

"Well, what do you want me to do? I'm a great gift giver..." Chase mutter.

"Well I don't want some extravagant gift with no real value. I want you to fucking tell me how you feel, if this is worth the risk... If I'm worth the risk..."

Chase stammers, thinking. Fuck, he missed feeling his touch, his skin, his... penis inside of him. Yet he couldn't stop glancing over to the door of House's room, expecting either him or Wilson to shoot him a shameful stare or a remark or something.

"I..." Chase stammers. "You are worth the risk..."

Adam scoffs, "You're just saying that. After all, you're not gay..."

Chase's eyes widen, realizing why he was acting this way. He was hurt. Chase feels himself overtaken by guilt, his mind reeling with possibilities of how easily he could lose him forever.

"I- I-" Chase stammers, sighing, "This isn't about sexualities, it's about us." he quotes Adam to himself.

Adam sighs, as if he'd been holding in air since the beginning of this conversation. "Just- Just please tell me that- that I matter to you and that you care about me and that I don't have to worry about- about being betrayed again. I just want to know that after four years I didn't just get my hopes up for nothing." Adam rattles off, tears welling at his eyes.

Again... The word was like a warning shot, sobering him up. It prompted him to ask.

"Again..?"

Adam lets out a shuddered breath. "When I was a freshman... I secretly dated this guy in senior year, he had his own car and bought me cigarettes and all..." he sighs, "He filmed us having sex without me knowing and outed me to almost the whole school. I managed to convince most people that that wasn't me and eventually everyone forgot about it..."

Chase slowly goes up to him, hands meeting his waist. "I'm so sorry..."

Adam looks away, but Chase softly grabs his chin, turning his head to face him. He tiptoes, reaching up to kiss him softly on the lips. The kiss was gentle, warm, yet fleeting as Chase then reluctantly pulls away.

"I'm not gonna treat you like that. I don't want to..." Chase says, his expression genuine.

"Jesus Christ, get a room you two!" House suddenly exclaims, having left his room without the two noticing. "Chase, I'm not giving you a raise for fucking my son."

The sudden exclamation causes both of them to jump, letting go of one another.

"Go to sleep, old man." Adam jokingly responds.

"Stop fucking my ducklings." House barks, walking over to the bathroom.

Adam looks back at Chase, his eyes hopeful.

"You uhh... you wanna spend the night?" Adam softly asks. "I slept two nights at yours. I owe you."

"Two nights, two nudes, and letting me top you." Chase reminds, the two slowly heading to Adam's room, "You owe me so fucking much."

They enter the room, Adam awkwardly stammering. "I... never actually been topped, except by my ex..."

Chase's cheeky smirk dies, replaced by a saddened, worried gaze.

"B-but..." Adam sits on his bed, which was seemingly fit for two if the two were stacked, "I... I want to try."

Chase sits down slowly, examining the messy desk giving platform to his high-end PC, his LEDs and fairy lights, his semi-dirty clothes sprawled over chairs, the end of the bed, the floor...

"Are you sure..?" Chase carefully asks.

Adam nods, looking up at him with a half cheeky, half deeply saddened look, one that stirred a foreign feeling in Chase. Chase's hand travels to drape over Adam's cheek, his ear between two fingers that dug into his hair, almost as if he was softly trying to take his face off and keep it to himself. He leans in again, pressing a soft kiss onto his lips, as if trying to get himself used to being intimate without being drunk, as the 3-4-5-whocountsit Arctic Kisses have left his system by now. He pulls away.

"Why do you love me?" He asks, almost as if the question had been swirling in his mind for a while now.

Adam lets out a huff, "I don't know, I-" he softly shakes his head, looking for the right words, "I just know that if you hurt me, I'd bear it. If you were cruel to me, I'd put up with it. If you rejected me, I'd continue chasing you. Forever. It kills me inside. I've- I've had nights I couldn't bear it. If I can't have you, it'd seem like a natural course of action to ruin anyone else that tries to get with you and- and just end it. I feel ill."

Chase's eyes widen, he'd never thought of it that deeply before. It scared him, not only the implication he was willing to ruin anyone interested in him but also kill himself, but also the fact that there was anyone who would love him that much to begin with. After the short phase with Cameron, after the abuse of his mother, after the absence of his father, he felt completely unlovable. To go from that to being obsessed illy over was too overwhelming, too... foreign.

"And if I... got with you..?" Chase softly asks, his voice shaky, as if he was about to tear up too.

"Then I'd feel at peace." Adam simply declares, the mere idea causing a smile to form across his face. "Then I wouldn't have to bear this- this- this pain, this obsession."

"And... if I topped you..?" Chase reluctantly asks.

Adam sighs, considering the idea, as if he hadn't dreamt about that multiple times a week - scratch that, a day -, for the past couple years.

"I think that'd fix me at least a little more." Adam confesses with a chuckle, "You're probably the only person I'd allow to do that to me..."

Chase mirrors his chuckle, feeling like he'd been promised a piece of land or a bag of cash as inheritance, like he'd gotten something of high value to be all his, yet this was more than monetary value, it was something better.

"So, do you want to..?" Adam asks, hopeful.

Chase observes his demeanor, seeing his nervous twitches, manic expression, and remnant of those 'Black Russians' affecting him ever so slightly, causing him to softly shake his head.

"How about a breather. Calm down first. We should make this one special." Chase decides.

Adam softly nods, trying to suppress the fact he's about to explode. He stands up, going over to the closet.

"Make this one special..." he echoes, looking through what is seemingly a secret drawer, covered by overhanging clothes from the one above.

"What are you..." Chase begins to ask.

Adam softly straightens up, facing him, ashamedly revealing a skirt and knee highs. "Uhm..."

Chase's lips slowly melt into a smirk, then a chuckle.

"Whatever you're about to ask, I'm down."

"I was thinking you wear these." Adam snickers.

Chase's smirk drops, not having anticipated that.

"Kidding, dummy." Adam laughs, tossing the clothes on the bed next to Chase. "But it's interesting you'd want to see me in these..."

Adam is about to begin to change, but as he reaches to his waistband, Chase grabs his wrist to pull him onto his lap, guiding his hands to wrap around his neck.

"Whatever you wear, doesn't matter. Raw. No questions asked." He states, kissing Adam before he could even react.

Chase hugs him tightly to himself, not caring about the height difference, or even the fact he was with a man. For once, he allowed himself to do what makes him feel fulfilled. Adam slowly pulls away, a slight blush nipping at his cheeks as he slowly gets off.

"Well, wearing a skirt was always one of my fantasies..." He says, slowly changing into said skirt and knee highs.

Adam straddles him again, softly rubbing his erect penis against Chase's, grinding away as the latter lets out a contented groan. It was one thing for Chase to bottom - like a fork in a kitchen drawer, really -, but Adam voluntarily letting him take the lead was oddly... arousing. Chase suddenly lifts him a bit, placing him onto his back as he towers above him. He scans his eyes over Adam's body, locking onto his thighs, which were visibly full of self harm scars from the skirt having risen up. His breath gets stuck in his lungs, fingers softly tracing over one as Adam lifts his head.

"So uhm..." he tries to distract him. "What position..?"

"What happened?" He softly asks, so much so that his lips barely move.

"...I've had nights I couldn't bear it" he echoes his own words, his expression melting. "J-just ignore it. I'm... I'm okay now."

Chase slowly looks down again, lowering himself to kiss along his thighs, softly caressing his waist.

"I'm sorry..." Chase mutters, as if it was him who knowingly caused it.

"Leave it." Adam sternly says, hinting to Chase that this was a topic for a later date.

He raises himself to face him, planting a much more passionate kiss onto his lips. He feels a surge of affection, care, protection, and dare I say love, one that made him want to hold him forever.

"I love you..." he pulls away, expression tense anticipating an answer as he realizes that that wasn't a thought, but something he audibly said.

Adam blushes, which Chase wasn't sure was possible. "I love you, dumbass..."

Chase huffs, going in for another kiss.

"You didn't answer my question..." Adam starts, "Which position."

"God, it's so hard to choose..." Chase says. "We might have to try all of them out."

"You can last that long..?" Adam asks.

Chase jokingly smacks him, chuckling.

"Harder." Adam dares.

"You keep getting more interesting..." Chase comments.

He reaches down, tugging at Adam's waistband.

"You know..." Adam starts. "I have this... fantasy."

"What is it?" Chase immediately asks, expecting something kinky as hell.

"I... once saw a born clip of a man fingering a twink while cradling him... It was so... cozy and passionate. Lowkey turned me on."

Chase chuckles, lowering himself to sit against the wall, his head hinting invitingly. Adam climbs inside his arms, Chase prying his shirt off as he holds him protectively. He reaches down to take off Adam's boxers, dousing a finger in his mouth before reaching down to tease his opening. Adam wraps his arms around Chase, burrowing his face into the crook of his neck as he feels Chase's fingers enter.

"Mmh..." Adam softly whines.

"Shh" Chase briefly shushes, "Your father."

"He's probably doing the same thing with Wilson so just shut up and let me enjoy this." Adam complains as he lets out a contented sigh.

"Fine..." Chase accepts, fingers curling inside him.

Adam's lips latch onto Chase's, the two practically fighting a battle with their tongues. Chase's free hand palms Adam's back, holding him close, as if he was scared he might escape.

"I'm ready..." Adam softly says, pulling away.

Chase presses one last kiss onto his lips as Adam adjusts his position, hovering over his lap, slowly unzipping his pants. He takes his erect penis out, Chase immediately shivering from the touch as Adam presses it inside. He begins riding, lowering his head as a satisfied groan slowly leaves his lips.

"Look at me" Chase commands, lifting his chin with a finger. "I want to see you fall apart over me."

Adam blushes, his expression tense from pleasure as he continues grinding, Chase's hand never leaving his chin. He leans in for a kiss, Chase wrapping his arms around him as he begins to thrust upwards repeatedly. 

"Mmh, daddy~" Adam softly whines, causing a scoff from Chase.

"Cute..." he mutters back, kissing his neck.

Adam lets out a low moan, slowly cumming onto Chase's stomach, feeling Chase's cum filling him up, as both of them tightly embrace each other, emitting sensual moans and whines against the other's skin. As soon as they finish, Adam collapses on top of Chase, letting himself be held as he pants.

"Shouldn't we clean up..?" Chase asks.

"This is too nice..." Adam mutters, embracing Chase tighter.

Chase nods, exhaling through his nostrils as he burrows his head in Adam's neck, landing one last soft kiss.

Chapter Text

Chase stirs awake, finding himself with a snoring Adam on top of him. He looks around, the realization of having spent the night at House's sending a terrified shock all over his body. This was a rare off-day - labor day -, making for the longest 'vacation' they've ever had this year. He caresses Adam's head, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he gently tries to climb out from below him. He spots his hazily unbuttoned shirt and jeans laid on a nearby chair, him only being in boxers and an undershirt.

He heads to the bathroom, followed by the kitchen, pouring himself leftover orange juice from the minibar, which is when he hears House limp out of the bedroom. He heads to the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water to take his morning Vicodin, standing next to Chase silently.

"He's still asleep... probably for another two hours." House calculates in his head, "You have time to dress up and leave."

Chase raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean..?"

"You're gonna go home now, right? Follow the ol' pump n dump schedule?" House questions, taking his pill. "I can even convince him it was all a dream."

Chase rolls his eyes. "If you want me gone, tell me."

"I wanted you gone after the thing with Vogler but your pompous British ass is so hard to get rid of." House states. "No, I don't want you gone. I don't care what you do with my son, but I'm not letting you hurt him."

"Good, I don't wanna hurt him." Chase says, his tone sincere.

House looks at him, eyes squinted, before nodding. "The moment you do, you're fired."

Yep, Chase was certain he'd entered a house of sociopaths.

"Cain" House calls out, hearing the door open.

Adam, like a service dog, being told a command, freezes and looks around, spotting the discarded cane laid on the floor of the living room, bringing it over.

"Atta boy. Here's a treat." House snarks, turning on the coffee machine.

He limps back, leaving Adam and Chase all alone, together.

"We got practice today, care to join?" Adam awkwardly mentions.

"Sure, I'd love to..." Chase mutters.

Adam stammers, awkwardly stepping forward as he leans down to hug Chase, his chin rested on his shoulder, a soft exhale escaping his lungs.

"Your dad scares me." Chase states, hugging him back.

Adam nods, "Yet you're staying..."

Chase nods back, "Yep..."

"So uhh..." Adam starts. "Do we... put a label on this..?"

Chase freezes. Adam was right, they were too far gone now not to put a label on this. Three nights in the same bed, two sexual encounters, one coming out, and thousands and thousands of kisses. This wasn't nothing. This wasn't a 'friends with benefits'. This was something they could both name, yet were reluctant to.

"Adam..." Chase starts, "Will you... be my boyfriend..?" he speaks, the words feeling foreign to his tongue.

Adam lets out a huff, smiling, "Yes..."

He leans down, kissing Chase passionately, a hand traveling across his waist to hold him close. Chase ponders the decision, realizing the implications of it. He's gonna have to go out there and publicly admit he was dating a man. He's not going to keep Adam a secret, he doesn't deserve that. He wants the world to know that this is how he feels at peace, even though the possibilities of the reactions he would receive terrified him.

As soon as he lets go, Adam runs to knock on House's door, remembering the practice. He heads inside, realizing House was on the phone, which he took as a sign to stay quiet and wait patiently as Wilson walks by him to head to the bathroom.

"Yeah... yes I'm sure..." House says into the phone "Damn it will you stop asking and be happy I'm going in? Are you boss women never happy?"

Adam snickers, watching House end the call.

"I got asked to go in" House informs, "some idiot shot himself in the foot with an arrow and had a seizure."

"Whoa" Chase appears behind Adam, "and you agreed to go in? On a legally mandated holiday?"

"I mean, idiot shoots himself and goes into a seizure. Implies coordination issues or a neurological problem. Even idiocy is an interesting enough neurological problem. I don't want to miss it." House snarks, grabbing his jeans.

"Do I need to go in?" Chase asks.

"...No." House says before attempting to get pants on.

Chase scoffs, "Really?"

"Cuddy said at least two people, and Foreman is sick." House explains.

"Aaand... Cuddy didn't call me..?" Chase inquires.

"...She said she was gonna call you if I didn't go in." House breaks. "But I'm clearly the smarter and prettier of the two to not turn an arrow-footed idiot into a dead arrow-footed idiot."

"You're... covering a shift for me..?" Chase asks, dumbfounded.

"Yeah and because my son decided to fuck 33% of my employees, I cannot see my other sons. Are you proud of yourself?"

"Yeah!" Chase says, "I made my boss cover a shift for me!"

"Don't get your thongs in a twist, mate." House mocks. "And by the way, here in the land of America, thongs mean-"

"I'm not getting my thongs in a twist, don't worry." Chase rolls his eyes.

"Smart boy." House pats Chase's shoulder mockingly, heading towards the front door.

House leaves, Wilson leaning against the counter, sipping his coffee.

"Who wants pancakes..?" Wilson exclaims from the kitchen.

As Wilson makes them chocolate-chip pancakes, the three sit down to have breakfast. Adam compliments the cooking - like always - as Chase tries to get himself accustomed to casually having breakfast with a co-worker and his step-son - since he had presumed that's the closest to the role Wilson played.

"So... am I allowed to practice?" Wilson asks.

Adam freezes, the piece of fried batter skewered onto his fork floating mid-air.

"...The guys stopped accepting you the second time I took you."

"Why the second..?" Chase asks.

"Because the first time he caught the other idiots smoking and drinking, so the second time he snuck pamphlets on the dangers of lung-, mouth-, and throat cancer, and liver cirrhosis under all our noses."

"I even alphabetized them and printed them in color..." Wilson sighs, "I just don't want you boys to..."

"Yes, uncle Wilson, I get it. But then again were you not a stubborn jackass in high school?" Adam asks, shoving the pancake bite into his mouth. "Smoking in the dorms, sneaking away to read poetry in a cave like some deranged cult..."

"Back then I wasn't an oncologist, seeing people every day dying." Wilson sternly says.

"Hey, it's not a bad thing, I mean-" Adam takes a sip of his complimentary coffee. "You introduced me to Camus, Kafka, Whitman, Wilde..."

Wilson silently continues eating.

"O captain, my captain?" Adam says with a grin.

"You're gonna make me cry now." Wilson warns, swiftly lowering his fork, hitting his plate with a small thud, "Are you... manipulating me into letting you boys smoke and drink like sailors?"

"Is it working..?" Adam snarks, "I mean c'mon, most of us are over 18!"

Wilson sighs, "Fine. But only if you-"

Wilson's phone rings, which he picks up with a groan.

"Paraneoplastic syndrome. Know where I can find an oncologist?" House starts.

"I'll be right there..." Wilson says, almost with a pout, hanging up. "Sorry guys, next time then. And I guess... I guess you're right. If I couldn't convince you before, I can't convince you now."

Adam looks at the sad little man, standing up to give him a hug. "Actually, it wouldn't be the same without your policing. I know you do it because you care."

Wilson chuckles, shaking his head in amusement, "You're just as much a bastard as your father."

"Love you too. See you in a bit." Adam grins.

Wilson walks off, everyone finishing their breakfast and departing to their respective duties.

As soon as Adam and Chase arrive, Adam gets out, yet the latter stays.

"What, you scared?" Adam chuckles.

"Nope. I just have an errand to run. I'll be back in about 20. Deal?"

Adam scoffs, reaching his head through the window of the car to give Chase a kiss, who then watches him walk head into the warehouse before eventually driving off.

"Hey gu- Abel?" Adam asks, caught off guard.

Abel looks back, hunched over the communal sink, his hair sopping wet with a magenta tint, a box of hair dye tossed into the communal trash can underneath.

"Hey Addy." Abel greets, turning the tap to finish his business.

Adam lights up, waiting for the others. As frontman, he preferred arriving early, even though majority of the guys were always late anyway. Apparently, Abel beat him to it this time.

"What we doing tonight?" Abel asks, turning the tap off and wrapping his hair into a towel.

"Retro night. Y'know shit like Queen or Kiss."

"I was made for luuuuvin you, baby, you were made for luuuvin meeee." Abel sing-songs, as if commanded to. "Sounds great."

"Where's Carl? Didn't feel like jerking you off?" Adam teases.

"That was a one time thing, Ade." Abel jokes, rolling his eyes. "Just because you're gay, doesn't mean the whole band is."

"Right, Freddie was gay but the others had wives. And let's not even mention John and his six kids."

"Hey" Abel warningly snaps and points to him. "Freddie was a bi icon"

"Sounds like we're both projecting." Adam accuses, hearing Muel enter.

"Hey guys, what's up?" Muel asks, smiling.

"What'ya all cheery about?" Adam grins.

"My step-dad took me to get ice cream for breakfast." Muel says with a toothy grin. 

"Ain't you lactose?" Abel nitpicks.

"What's Lactaid for, idiot?" Muel snarks back.

"Anyway, speaking of" Abel continues. "Adam, since you know so much, list all of John's kids."

"Robert, Michael, Laura, Joshua, Luke, Cameron." Adam rapid-fires, as if right on command. "And that's in age order."

"Impressive" Paul greets. "Now Roger's"

He takes out a bottle of Jack Daniel's, giving everyone a sip as more cigarettes are lit up. He puts the rest into the freezer and tunes his violin.

"Oh c'mon, the number's in the thousands." Adam says, walking over to the communal sink to draw over his eyeliner. "But there's... Felix Luther and Rory Eleanor from his first partner and..."

"Hey chat what's up chat" Carl greets.

"Carl! You're late!" Adam scolds, "aaand from his current wife... Rufus Tiger, Tigerlily, and Lola Daisy May"

"Now Brian" Muel shoots up.

"Jimmy, Louisa, Emily Ruth." Adam responds, shrugging, "I read a lot about the band."

"No fucking way. Gay and autistic" Abel teases, prepping his guitar. "Now the audience. We expecting anyone?"

"Dad has work." Adam says, saddened, "But Robert's coming."

"Aw man..." Muel sulks, "Ion like that guy."

"Stop pouting, Muel. Your step-dad's coming?" Paul asks.

"Nope." Muel pouts.

"Neither's uncle Ricky..." Paul joins.

Adam plugs in all the amps and speakers, going up to the mic.

"I guess this is a night for the boys." He says, "I figured we'd do a Queen tribute with bits of other similar stuff. Who knows, maybe we'll find a retro talent comp."

"Then why'd I tune the violin, idiot?" Paul snarks.

"We're allowed to have some creative liberty if we're just jamming. We don't have a pianist, for example." Adam explains.

"You think you're a match for Freddie's vocals, you prick?" Abel teases.

"You think you're a match for '92's Kurt Cobain?" Adam snarks back, referring to his hair.

"Bite me." Abel rolls his eyes.

Paul sighs, nodding, as they start the session with a warm-up. They agree to start with Killer Queen, to which Adam shines a juvenile grin.

"Drop of a hat she's as willing as
Playful as a pussy cat
Then momentarily out of action
Temporarily out of gas"

Chase stumbles inside the warehouse, hugging a giant bag of donuts, almost like he's holding a toddler. He watches Adam play with the mic stand, walking over to the communal table to place down the donuts, trying to hide his blush. He sits down, watching Adam in his thick eyeliner, baggy jeans, loose Queen tee - things he watched him pick out, yet admired regardless -, eyes closely following the way his hands wrap around the mic and stand with remnants of his chipped nail polish.

"To absolutely drive you wiiiild, wiiiild
She's out to get you
She's a Killer Queen
Gunpowder, gelatine
Dynamite with a laser beam
Guaranteed to blow your mind
Anytiiime"

Chase was never a huge fan of Queen, he'd hear them on the radio or see them on TV, sort of... tilting his head with an internal 'That's impressive' - much like he's doing now. Adam realized, singing the last few verses and cursing at Abel's ability to miss so many notes, that despite knowing so many bands and so many genres - as much as a most likely neurodivergent teen with a special interest in music among other things would -, he had no idea what Chase was into.

"What are we thinking, was that epic or what?" Carl asks, clearly proud of himself.

"Shut the fuck up, Carl, we got donuts!!" Muel cheers, placing his guitar down and hopping off the stage area.

"You still don't like Chase?" Adam asks, chuckling as Paul follows him.

"NO FUCKING WAY HE GOT THE HAZELNUT ONES" Muel exclaims, "CHASE YOU SOGGY MAN YOU ARE AMAZING"

"Soggy..?" Chase questions as Adam sits next to him.

"He calls everyone that. He finds it funny." Adam explains.

Chase nods. "Did I get it right? Muel likes hazelnut, Paul likes chocolate, Carl... or... Abel... no wait Abel likes strawberry, Carl likes blueberry."

Adam chuckles, finding Chase's thinking face cute. He stares at the man, the man with a career and a car and an apartment and a whole life built for himself, trying to please five dumb teenagers. He was almost tempted to take a photo of the way Chase furrows his eyebrows, mouth slightly agape, letting his two front teeth peak out like he was some sort of bunny or a wombat.

"Yeah," Adam affirms, "What about me?"

Chase smirks, pulling out a separate bag from his coat's inner pocket.

"Plain, like father dearest." Chase jokes.

Adam looks inside the bag, seeing a couple plain donuts. "You got some for yourself?"

"No way" Chase scoffs, "I've been getting chubb- Mph!"

Adam shoves a donut in his mouth before taking another one and leaning ahead, eating it.

"Asshole..." Chase pouts before taking a bite.

"Okay everyone!" Adam yells as soon as they finish eating. "Let's jam, c'mon."

The others pass around the Jack Daniel's once again, offering to Chase who takes a large swig, before moving on to the next song. Chase leans back, enjoying the show, taking silent pride in being the only person here. They settle on "Don't stop me now" and begin playing, Adam trying his best to match his vocals.

"I'm a racing car, passing byyy like Lady Godiva!
I'm gonna go, go, gooo
There's no stopping meee
I'm burnin' through the sky, yeah!
Two hundred degrees
That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheeeiiit
I'm traveling at the speed of liiight
I wanna make a supersonic man out- Hey, what the hell!?"

Adam suddenly stops singing, the entire warehouse going dark as fuses blow, lights flash, amps spark. Muel lets out a high scream as the rest mumble things like "What the fuck!?" or "Holy shit!". Adam stumbles through the darkness, trying to dodge wires and furniture, reaching up above the fridge to grab an old oil lamp. He turns it on, trying to diffuse the tension as he leads everyone in the open middle of the warehouse.

"Did... we cause this..?" Abel asks, sitting on the floor in a circle with the rest, including Chase.

"I'm calling the manager." Paul sighs, implying this wasn't the first call he has had to make so far.

They all silently stare at Paul, who looks like he's done with life. Muel pants, tearing up a bit.

"Are we gonna die..?" he asks.

Paul looks at him with pity, wrapping his arms around him reluctantly.

"No, Muel, we're not gonna die." Paul assures. "Manager says he'll check the power supply."

"Until then" Adam shoots up, assured. "Let's think of things to do, considering the manager will still stall for another hour despite the fact we pay rent on time."

Carl chuckles, along with Abel.

"Bet he's gonna rub a quickie out before even considering driving out here." Carl quips.

"He probably spends our rent on blow-up dolls instead of the power bills, hence the outage." Abel jokingly theorizes.

"We'll be okay though, right? I mean it's a warm day for November, no need for heating. We have food and water..." Chase tries to weigh in.

"Phones charged. Right, everybody?" Adam probes, like a teacher.

Everyone checks their phones, nodding.

"We'll be fine, then." Adam assures.

Then, a shrill, metallic wail begins to emit, like the sound of a cheese grater being dragged on a metal pole if it was recorded on a Nintendo DS. What made it worse was that it played on all six of their phones, causing screams and panic to ensue. Chase, used to alerts and alarms, silences the alert and waits for everyone to turn their off with a couple ushering hand gestures.

"Severe thunderstorm alert. A storm is expected to hit between 5 PM and 7 PM, take cover immediately, lock and secure doors and windows, take outdoor animals and furniture inside, do not travel and seek shelter immediately." Chase reads aloud. "All power will be shut down for preventative purposes, avoid using any wired electronic devices and make sure to power down and unplug such devices to prevent surges."

"Shit, my amp!" Abel scrambles, grabbing his phone's flashlight and unplugging the cord extender.

"We're gonna die!" Muel yells as Paul just hugs him tighter with an eyeroll.

Chapter Text

"Yes, dad, we're okay... Muel's... holding on, let's just say." Adam says into the phone mic. "How's the hospital? Everything okay there?"

"Ehh, the TVs don't work but that's fine I guess. Cuddy's got the power generator hooked up on those coma guys and hospice goons. It's just two hours. It'll be fine..." House explains.

"Yeah... I love you, dad." Adam softly mutters.

"...Don't say that, you're not dying..." House says back, hiding his worry with sarcasm.

"I just... felt like saying it... Could you hand Wilson the phone?"

House angrily grumbles something under his breath before mockingly handing the phone over.

"Hey, kiddo..." a worried Wilson says, his sad puppy eyes audible in his tone.

"I just wanted to say I love you... and that I consider you my father just as much as that other bastard..." Adam confesses, letting out a stressed chuckle.

"I'm right here!" House exclaims as Wilson can be heard nearly crying.

"That's... that's nice, kiddo. Stay safe, aight?" he advises.

"Alright... Bye." He says, reluctantly hanging up.

The six were divided in different areas, taking up four corners with Muel and Paul in the same corner and Chase sharing Adam's for any panic calls, violent sobbing, or stress-wanking. Adam had already called a neighbour with a spare key to unplug his 'absolute beast PC that would take three months rent to fix if it gets dry-humped by a power surge' and other electronics, and to make sure the apartment was secure, with a counter offer that she can take whatever food or aid they might need - except for the Vicodin - as payment, considering nobody was home to eat whatever might spoil anyway.

Speaking of, they scurried to take out all the leftovers from the fridge, gathering in the middle for a cold, warehouse-floor meal. They had no microwave, so the cold foods had to be heated up in creative ways, such as how Paul stuck a cold leftover Taco Bell wrap under his shirt, which Abel and Carl copied, or eaten cold like how Adam and Muel forced themselves to. They also finished the donuts, hoping that'd be enough until the end of the storm.

As soon as the wave of scared familial farewells and well-wishes ended, the six thought of what to do, making sure to keep their phone batteries powering the flashlights only.

They tried dramatically putting the flashlights below their faces, making for a spooky shadow, telling made-up horror stories. That got boring quick.

They tried "flashbang hide n seek", which is where the seeker has to search for the hiders in the dark, the only light source being the oil lamp in the middle of the warehouse, and as soon as they think they've found someone, they try to flashbang them. That got boring as well as Chase kept talking about the health risks such as blunt force trauma from collision with furniture or vision loss - most likely because he was mad of always getting flashbanged first or getting incorrect guess penalties.

Then Carl burrowed himself into a corner to jerk off as Muel and Paul 'laid down on the stage', very clearly cuddling. Adam kisses Chase, who freezes and pulls away, but since Carl insisted on total darkness for his... 'activities', Chase realized he had nothing to be afraid of. He wasn't the one jerking to weird porn in the corner. Abel makes a joke on jerking Carl off, whose 'jokes' felt a bit too comfortable for comfort. All this went down within the span of an hour.

They soon gather in the center, sat around the oil lamp like moths.

"God, this sucks..." Adam says, as if he finally got the ability to admit it.

"At least we're not with uncle Ricky, he'd bum all our alc." Paul says as he brings over the leftover Jack Daniel's "Thought of a game."

"Spill" Abel dares.

"I read this book, Looking for Alaska. They had this drinking game 'good day, bad day', you tell the group about the best day of your life and take a swig, then the next person, then the next, all the way until everyone's told theirs. The person with the best story gets to take an extra swig. Then we rinse and repeat, telling the worst day of our lives." Paul explains "Sounds good?"

Everyone rejoices in a communal 'Hell yeah!!" as the bottle is given to Adam, since he is the frontman, after all.

"Okay, so..." Adam starts, "The best day of my life was probably... uhhm..."

The room falls silent, the rest quietly giving Adam the dignity of thinking for as long as he needs.

"Ooh, I got it. This one time in middle school, I was in IT class. We had this younger chick who'd make video game references all the time to keep us hooked. This specific class, I was struggling. We were learning HTML and got our first assignment of making a website with whatever the hell we wanted. Now, I was a total goof and spent most IT classes slacking so I didn't know what the fuck to do. She just sorta sat next to me and asked me what I wanted to do and explained how to do it. All my middle school teachers were absolute jackasses so that one class made me so interested that I ended up taking IT as my high school major."

The rest cheer as Adam takes a deep swig, passing the bottle clockwise to Chase.

"The best day of my life..." Chase echoes, as if the mere concept was foreign to him. "When I got accepted to work with your father. At first it felt like a dream, working in a clinic with the country's best diagnostician, just a state away from 'The Big Apple', still confuses me why it's called that. Of course, I regret it sometimes, but at the time I felt proud of myself... until I learned my father made the phone call that got me hired, but that was way after."

The gang cheers again, watching Chase take another swig, handing the bottle off to Carl.

"The best day of my life was when I lost my virginity." he confidently says.

"You have?!" Abel asks, astonished. "I thought you were, like, a full on incel."

"Oh fuck off." Carl rolls his eyes, taking a sip.

"Like Takumi" Paul starts, taking the bottle. "In the book, Takumi's best day is also losing his virginity."

"Whatever, nerd." Muel teases.

"Okay, okay, fuck off." Paul chuckles, "The best day of my life... was last year when I graduated high school AND got my bike endorsement added to my license AND a brand new motorcycle on the same. fucking. day."

He throws up a pitchfork gesture as he takes a giant sip, the rest cheering as Muel takes the bottle.

"The best day of my life was when my father left my life. For about four years it was just me and my mom, and... that was the best four years of my life." Muel says, a bittersweet little grin on his face as he takes a light sip.

The boys cheer again, the bottle making its way to Abel.

"The best day of my life, I went on a vacation to Greece with my parents and godparents when I was 15. My godparents had, like, this super hot daughter, two years older than me. Well one night during that week, we met on the balcony. She caught me smoking and at the time my parents didn't know yet. She just takes the cigarette from me and take this really, really long drag, staring deeply into my eyes..." Abel says, looking at the ceiling with a nostalgic smile. "And that night, we had sex in her room and it was super awesome."

The boys cheer, the bottle finishing the full circle and ending up in Adam's hands again.

"Okay. Now for who wins. Let's take a vote." Adam declares.

The boys mostly vote Paul, who lets out an audible "WOOO" and takes a swig bigger than before, handing it back to Adam.

"Okay, worst days..." Adam starts, stammering as he thinks. "I guess... when I talked to my mom for the first time since she abandoned me."

"...You told me she died..." Chase softly probes, confused.

"Yeah, well, everybody fuckin lies." He echoes House's words. "Well in short, I found out she was alive when I hacked dad's FacePlace."

He turns to Chase.

"Turns out 'password' is a really common password, right, Robby?"

"Bite me." Chase rolls his eyes.

"Anyway so I hacked dad's Face at 15 and found out they were friends on it. She was actively posting, and so I messaged her on dad's account. I asked her if she could take care of me some time, since she was just a state away according to her last status update at the time... She then went on a rant about how she never wanted me and blamed dad for my existence... and called me a pest... and a bunch of other shit on how I'd have to 'pay off' the nine months I spent 'sucking the life out of her like a parasite' before she would even consider looking at me..." Adam says, his words turning slower and slower, tears building. "My dad caught me pretty quick and told me that he never even wanted to sleep with her, she was just some... psychotic stalker. He implied GHB was involved but in a way that he wasn't sure... We then never talked about her ever again."

Everyone stays eerie silent, processing.

"What is GHB..?" Muel softly asks.

"The date-rape drug" Chase defines, his eyebrows furrowed in deep focus, yet eyes empty with sorrow, pity, and empathy.

Adam nods. "Very high chance I was an SA baby. But whatever. Chase, you're up."

Adam takes a giant swig, handing the alc off with a sleeve-wipe on his lips. Chase wasn't sure if he should embrace him, say something, or leave it, but from his attitude it seemed like something he'd never mentioned before and will never want to mention ever again. He just nods.

"My worst day was when..." he starts, contemplating between laying it out there like Adam did or keeping it hidden forever. He just thinks 'fuck it', and says "When my mother locked me in my father's study for the nth time, but this time, I heard yelling before my dad found me, and..." his voice cracks, head shaking, "he proceeded to touch me and send me off to bed like nothing ever happened."

Everyone nods, the sudden tense atmosphere clearly palpable.

"My worst day was..." Carl starts, taking the bottle after Chase takes a huge swig, "probably when in middle school some guy pulled my pants off in the cafeteria and everyone called me 'tighty whities' for months."

He takes a swig, handing the bottle to Paul.

"My worst day was," he lets out a scoff, "the exact day after I got my bike. I got shoved off the road by a car on my first ride and got into an accident. Months of legal jargon and I still have, like, PTSD from it. Haven't touched the damn thing since."

He takes a swig and hands it to Muel.

"My worst day was when my father got mad at me for skipping school and hit me." Muel says matter-of-factly, taking a sip.

Abel takes the bottle, saying "My worst day was when I got a heart attack in 10th grade and nearly died. I had to be shocked about seven times. They nearly gave up on me and I had to get a pacemaker. A year later they found some congenital issue. I almost died in surgery but now I'm pacemaker free."

He takes a swig, the bottle making its way back to Adam.

"Well uhh..." Adam starts, awkwardly scratching his forehead with his free hand. "I suppose it would be unfair to pick a 'worst' worst day..." He lifts the bottle, trying to position it adjacent to the light in a way he can tell how much is left, "The bottle's got a bit more to give. I say we all drink."

He takes a swig, handing the bottle over. It goes around once more until Adam receives the empty bottle.

"All six of us, half of us have something to do with assault, the other half almost died... or something like that, let's not get tied up in halves and thirds and shit..." he burps "and I guess I should say... as is a common unspoken rule... whatever was said and done today stays between us, alright? It stays here forever, in the warehouse, in the- in the fucking bottle for fuck's sake."

Everyone looks at him, curled into balls, the tension leaving as the grueling sounds of the thunderstorm, branches hitting walls, rain falling like it was being poured from a cauldron, all seep back in.

"Everything we just said and done, from good to bad, humiliating to devastating, funny to hilarious..." he screws the bottle cap back on. "stays right here. In this very bottle. Never to be mentioned again..."

They all nod, a couple 'amen's emitting from the small crowd.

"How about something lighter?" Abel interjects. "Y'know, some surface level shit we never said before."

Adam shrugs, "I guess that'd be therapeutic."

"Who starts? Chase?" Paul asks. "It's okay if you don't wanna start, man, it's just that you're kinda new and we only know who you work for and that story about you punching a shark that screams 'fake news', but you're proper part of us now."

Chase chuckles, "I guess... your accent is interesting though, Irish?"

"Me grandpapi's propah Irish, lad." Paul jokes, strengthening his accent jokingly, "Shit, I stole your spotlight. Sorry, go ahead."

Chase chuckles humbly, thinking. "Well I guess I-" sigh "I almost became a priest, I guess.."

"Ooh." Abel shoots up. "Do tell."

"Yeah! Did you, like, sing and twirl in robes or what?" Carl chuckles.

"It was... more than that." Chase awkwardly chuckles again. "We did sing a lot, but uhm..."

Chase pulls out his phone, entering his cloud, typing in... 'password'. Figures.

"I have some backed up stuff, I guess." he mutters, opening the folder named 'Religious related'.

Everyone scoots around him, Adam's head on his shoulder as the rest practically lay over one another like bunnies, as if they were children sitting around the teacher for story time in kindergarten. He goes through a lot of images, showing him in and outside of a church with his parents.

"This was my confirmation. I chose Saint Francis of Assisi." he commentates, going further. "You can't really tell but this was about a month before my dad left and around the third time my mother was sober in the previous year."

He continues scrolling, finding a video of the exact moment he was confirmed, followed by a time skip to his departure to the seminary, dressed in a black robe.

"That's the cassock. It made my ass look fat." he mutters, more so to himself, "We also frequently wore a surplice over it during mass and sometimes an alb with a cincture..."

"You still speakin English, mate?" Adam teases, his voice sleepy.

Chase just softly nods, scrolling further.

"All these images of you in that black robe thingy... I'm getting all sorts of icky, confessional worthy thoughts right now." Adam teases. "Gimme a kiss you sexy priestling."

"What the hell. Why not." he sleepily mutters as he presses a soft kiss onto Adam's lips, the rest staring or snickering.

"Wait so you guys are together, right?" Muel asks.

"Yep, this guy's just ashamed of me is all. What if God sees, right?" Adam grins.

"Piss off." Chase groans, continuing to scroll.

"Did they let you jack in the seminary?" Carl asks.

"You could, you just couldn't get caught." Chase says, his tone half joking, half resentful.

He finds a video, his face physically cringing.

"Ooh, what's this?" Adam asks.

Chase sighs, "They did an interview for this... recruitment film. I was in the UK alone and scared and shit, they just thought God gave me autism or sumth-" he mumbles.

"Play it!" Muel grins.

"Hell nah." Chase mumbles.

"Play it! Play it! Play it!" the five chant.

"Fine... It's gonna be awkward as hell, jus sayin."

He plays the video, which seems to be cut from a longer collage, the end of the cheap transition clipped in as Chase stared at the interview behind the screen. His stare was a mix of an angsty teenager's and a viet-war vet.'s, lightly rocking on his feet from heel to toe, trying to keep the action subtle.

"Robert, thank you for speaking with us. What inspired you to consider the priesthood?" Asks the interviewer.

"Uhm... I suppose it was a mix of things. Faith, for one... uhm, but also the idea of... healing people. Not just- not just physically, but, uhm, something deeper. My mother is very Catholic, very devout. It always felt like the one quiet place in the middle of everything else." Chase says, his expression unsure and lost, his hand reaching up to awkwardly scratch the back of his head a couple times.

"Do you find the community here supportive?"

"Yes... Everyone’s... kind, focused... Sometimes I think they know something I don’t... Like they’ve already heard the answer, and I’m still stuck trying to figure out the question."

"That’s a powerful reflection. What’s the hardest part of seminary life so far?"

Chase pauses, his hesitance to any normal person seeming like deep pondering or consideration, but the circles around his eyes, the shaking in his voice, the red rash around his wrists, they all hinted towards one thing; a fear of punishment.

"Silence. The internal kind. You spend so much time listening, uhm, to God, to yourself... and some days, all I hear is... static. B-but I’m learning to live in it."

He then switches off his phone, staring ahead.

"The storm should be subsiding by now..." he deflects.

"Which storm?" Adam asks, looking into his eyes.

Chase glances at him, then looks away, deciding to lean back on the cold floor, the rest laying with him.

"It's half past 7... Still storming..."

Paul quietly stands up stumbling over to the communal couch to drape a blanket over each of them, Abel turning off the oil lamp.

"So... can you still sing like priests usually do?" Abel suddenly asks as they lay on the cold warehouse floor.

"No, I never could and I never will." Chase claims, defensive.

"I mean, forgive me for not mentioning it," Adam starts "but your voice is, like, crazy deep and smooth. I could imagine you chanting about the Lamb of God."

Chase sighs.

"C'mon, think of it as singing your five adult sons a lullaby or something." Paul dares.

"Yeah. I hate silence" Muel weighs in.

Chase takes a deep breath, his face cringing a bit as he softly begins to sing "Ubi Caritas", the first one to come to mind, in Latin. Nobody understood it, but as the alcohol and the thin, raggedy blanket kept them warm, they didn't care what it was about, the situation itself was a good enough context clue. Pretty soon, since everyone was drunk, tired, and drained, they fell asleep. Cold yet warm, alone yet together, scared yet at peace.

Chapter Text

"Adam said he loves me..." House says, sitting in Wilson's office, staring out the window that he's tapped his cane against, right before leaning his head onto it.

"Yes..." Wilson starts, suspicious. "Turns out, children sometimes love their parents..."

"We both had shitty dads, and yet somehow the kid with two dads turned out okay" he leans away, sitting opposite of Wilson. "I guess two negatives do make a positive."

"Or maybe... we are not our fathers." Wilson lays out, incredulous.

"Stop quoting that annoying therapist chick you're trying to bang." House snarks, leaning his head down.

"So to you... a casual, friendly conversation between two people of the opposite sex immediately signals an intention for sex?" Wilson questions. "Maybe I'm just trying to stop everyone in this building from thinking that we're gay."

"...Do you think Adam's gotten squished by a branch by now? Or maybe a car was flown into that filthy excuse for a stage." House deflects.

"That's your way of saying 'I wonder if my son, whom I love, is okay.', right?" Wilson analyzes.

"Will you stop it with that?" House rolls his eyes. "I'm trying to be cool and mysterious here."

Wilson sighs, reminiscing of the day he first moved in with House. He expected the two of them, two single doctors chilling on the couch watching TV with a couple of beers and cold pizza. He enters with a single backpack of essentials, still processing the divorce, surprised by the freakishly clean apartment that he'd expected to be musty and murky, full of mold and mildew. House showed him around, made remarks, inconspicuously leaving a certain second bedroom out of the tour with the excuse 'If you knew I had a second bedroom, I couldn't make you sleep on the couch'.

Suddenly, the sound of multiple failed attempts at opening the door could be heard, a toddler running out, the run being more like a waddle.

"Papa, ty kakashku yesh" ("Dad, you eat poop") the toddler babbles with a grin.

"No, you eat poop, you little gremlin." House responds, as if by reflex, patting its head like a dog.

"Uhh..." Wilson's mouth hangs agape, confused.

"This is my son Adam." House mentions.

"Kakaaa" Toddler Adam mumbles, waddling in circles around them with arms sprawled out on either side, like an airplane.

"Say hi to uncle Wilson, Addy." House coos.

"Num-nums!" Adam babbles.

"Fine, I'll feed you, but say hi first." House negotiates.

"Privet kaka!" Adam giggles.

"You have a son... who speaks Russian..." Wilson tries to piece together. "And you never told me."

"Just got him about a year ago." House says, as if it was normal, walking over to the kitchen to cut up some fruit. "I told you to say hi, not 'Privet kaka', damn it."

"Hiiii!!" Adam grins, his teeth softly biting down on his bottom lip.

"Hey..." Wilson awkwardly says.

"I found him on my porch at two years old with an envelope tied to his wrist with a letter and a birth certificate stating me as the father. And so I took 'infant male Morozov' in and, naturally, did a paternity test. Believe it or not" he scoops a bunch of cut up fruits into a plastic bowl, holding a dramatic pause, "I have a son."

"And you named him Adam... since he was unnamed..." Wilson concludes.

"Adam Cain House. Like father and son, right? Adam and Eve, Cain and Abel..." House mentions, "But really, I just closed my eyes and threw a dart at a list of names. It ended up in his foot."

Wilson's mouth hangs agape, watching House hand Adam the bowl.

"Num-nums!!" Adam celebrates.

"What do you say?" House probes.

"Pasibuhh!" ("Thank you" but babbled. Correct form is "Spasibo")

"English" House deadpanly mutters.

"Dank youuuuu" Adam babbles in the same tone.

The first night in the House residence was... weird. They had dinner, since House had surprisingly learned to cook, and it wasn't even bad either. Adam finishes early - leaving most of his plate behind - which House takes, explaining why he took a smaller portion - he expected Adam to eat little. Adam starts playing with toys next to them, smashing plastic figurines against each other, muttering a 'boom-boom'.

"He has a nice grasp of concepts..." House flexes. "A boy fighting a broccoli, classic cartoon trope."

"Nazoylivyy tvar’" Adam quietly mumbles to himself, "Otvali, durak" ("Annoying pest", "Fuck off, idiot.")

"Parroting..." House says, "Also known as echolalia. Children, often neurodivergent ones, will repeat words they hear mindlessly for no reason other than, I dunno, it rolls off the tongue nice."

"What's he... parroting?" Wilson decides to engage.

"Things his mother would often say. There, take a few guesses." House simply says, continuing to eat.

That's where the memory ended, and now he was yet again in the office with House, who was now inspecting the plush collection he's accumulated in the form of patient gifts.

"What?" Wilson asks, breaking the silence.

"My son is in a warehouse in the middle of a storm... how am I supposed to feel? What am I supposed to do? Risk my life to bring them cheap hospital food?"

"He'll be fine, House. He's an adult now. I mean, he's survived shot days, the first night alone, that one power outage that lasted two days..." Wilson lists. "All after two years of... Natalya."

"Don't bring her into this!" House immediately shoots up. "If anyone asks, you're the mother. You're like some transformer or something."

"Makes sense, you drugged me on Mother's day to bake me a ca- Doesn't matter! All I'm saying is that if I'm such a huge part of this kid's life, I should be able to know what he can and can't handle." Wilson rattles off.

House bangs his cane on the desk, causing Wilson to reflexively shoot up, hands up.

"He's alone! He's scared! And I can't be there! Am I supposed to pretend everything is okay? Am I supposed to pretend there's no way I'll go outside and see him being wheeled in? Maybe an autopsy report in the mail?" House yells.

Wilson cautiously goes up to House, slowly embracing the man, who just lays his head on Wilson's shoulder.

"This is why the whole building thinks we're gay..." House murmurs "I wonder if Adam has anything to eat, or if he's just gonna turn into Muel 2.0"

"Let's think about something else..." Wilson advises.

"House, got a case for you" Cuddy suddenly enters. She sees the embrace, and finally House showing an ounce of emotion, following up with "Actually... I'll, uhm, put it here"

"Wait." House says, letting go and grabbing the file. "What is it?"

Cuddy sighs, "Nothing interesting, I just need help treating storm victims so I picked at random. But I'm sure you can find a puzzle to mess with to take your mind off" she gestures to him "whatever's wrong with you."

"Gee, thanks" House nods, picking up his cane and leaving. 

He holds the cane in one hand, file in the other, reading the name on the file. "Natalya Morozova". He freezes, stopping in his tracks and looking around, multiple nurses having to ask him to stop blocking traffic. He heads into the clinic, the other two exam rooms occupied by Cameron and Foreman, the latter of which was called in when the alert went off, as they'd premeditated this. 

He reluctantly enters exam room one, hoping he was wrong, hoping she wasn't who he thought she was.

"Hey, what's wrong with you?" He says, entering, trying to focus so much on the file that he doesn't have to look up.

"Broke my leg" Natalya says with a thick Russian accent.

"Hope it was from the storm, we're treating storm patients now. It's the cool new fad." House snarks.

"It was... I was running home and fell." Natalya says "Take a look?"

House sighs, pulling up the pant leg for inspection. 

"That's a self-injury, I'll contact Wolf in orthopedics." House concludes after a single glance.

"Greg..." Natalya shoots up. "I miss you..."

"Oh that's why you're here?! I could've never guessed!" House snarks. "Sorry, I'm still dealing with our son Adam. Or- wait, how do you know him as? Infant male? Nazoylivyy tvar’? Durak?"

"Leave it out of this!" Natalya shoots up.

"It? He's not an it, he's a he" House corrects. "And you wanted it. You wanted to be able to say you had the firstborn son of the infamous Gregory House. But the son part..? Not so much. When I found him, he was like a malnourished puppy, all mumbling Russian insults. You left him to me in his underwear in the cold. I had to keep him wrapped in a blanket with a spiking fever for weeks. You didn't want to deal with him? Maybe you shouldn't have drugged me." House rapid-fires, his tone flat, since this story was one that he'd told himself plenty of times. 

Natalya just sits, mouth agape. Her pitch black hair that she'd given to Adam tied in a loose, greasy bun, her teeth messy and discolored, her skin pale - such were the things House noticed when he could finally bring himself to look at her.

"I love you... I've always loved you..." Natalya just whispers.

"No..." House shakes his head. "You're just some obsessed sadistic psycho. That's your diagnosis. And also the fact that that's not even a full break, mostly just a fracture."

Natalya breaks, covering her face as she cries.

"Okay! I get it! I've made some mistakes!" She starts, House thinking 'some..?' as he stares at her in disgust. "But- but I just wanted..."

"Your idea of flattery is legacy until you have to wipe an ass that's not yours. Now let me contact Wolf in orthopedics." House hops over to the wall-phone, regretting the action.

He refers Natalya to the other doc as she just silently sobs on the exam table. He leaves without a further word and goes up to Cuddy, fuming.

"Why'd you give me her case?!" he breaks as he practically barges in.

"Uhh, I'll call you back in a bit" Cuddy says into the phone before hanging up. "Whose case?"

"Ms. Morozova. Infant Male Morozov's mother." House lists.

Cuddy raises a brow, "I'm not following."

House sighs, "That crazy chick about twenty years ago who stalked me for two years?? Adam's mother?? Out of all the idiots who lick lightning rods and decide to go on a field trip, you give me the woman who made herself pregnant with my son to force me to marry her. I had to spend multiple months scraping her off my back. Is this how much you hate me?"

"Y-you never told me how you got Adam!" Cuddy says, eyes wide, "If I would've known-"

"You didn't pick at random" House interrupts, hysterical. "She asked for me, and this shocked you, so you gave her file to me because patients don't usually request me."

"House! I- I didn't know!" Cuddy watches him storm off.

House breaks through the door to Wilson's office, who immediately recognizes something must have went wrong.

"What happened?" Wilson stands up.

"She's back" he mutters, his rage fading into shock as his cane lazily falls out of his hand.

"...Natalya..?" Wilson cautiously asks.

"Don't mention her. Don't acknowledge her. She was never here. I-" House mutters, micro-glancing around.

He nearly collapses, but Wilson reflexively catches him.

"I'm sorry..." Wilson mutters.

Wilson embraces House, carefully sitting him onto the floor in the nearest open area, sitting beside him. House takes a Vicodin and swallows it dry, panting. Wilson looks at him, worried, recalling all the times little Adam would pull on House's arm to get him away, simply saying 'papa, you have that look again', and from then on, 'the look' became a regularly used, well understood term in the house.

"Don't fucking look at me!" House yells, causing a startled Wilson to snap out of memory lane, looking away.

"Sorry..." Wilson mutters, slowly standing up to get some water for House.

Wilson resists the urge to look, consistently keeping his head turned as he places down the thing of water and sits next to him, a comforting hand on his back. He knew House felt ashamed to break, to show this side of him, a weak man his father never wanted to raise, and nothing was gonna convince his 'id' or his 'superego' that Wilson would never judge him. Oddly, Wilson found this side of him morbidly preferable - like his ass-busting is finally going somewhere good and useful, even if it's just comforting a friend.

"I need to call Addy..." House suddenly mumbles.

Wilson freezes. It's been years since House called Adam 'Addy'. He hurries to hand House his phone, who frantically calls Adam, but right as he'd expect a ring-

"Heyyy, it's Adam. If it's important, you know where to find me. If it's dad, don't worry I'm probably on my way home wherever I am. Either way, leave it at the tone." followed by a long beep.

House sighs, unsure if he should leave a voicemail or just hang up. He thinks for a moment. He stammers, stumbling over words before just shutting off and hanging up.

"His phone's probably dead." House mutters. "His phone, he-"

Wilson wraps an arm around him awkwardly. "Only his phone. He's okay."

"You can't know that." House sternly says, looking like he's about to break down. "For all we know he- he's probably pinned under a damn tree branch in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere slowly... bleeding out or something."

House finally breaks, covering his face in frustration as Wilson just tightly holds him, patting along his back.

"You can't know he's in trouble either... Last we saw him, he was with the boys and Chase..." Wilson reminds. "He's with friends, he has a responsible adult supervising, he's probably better off than we are..."

House slightly nods, "Anything happens, blame Chase. Got it."

Wilson sighs, "How about you lay down for a bit..?"

House nods, letting Wilson help him up and lay him onto the couch, laying next to him and draping a blanket over the two of them.

"The moment I feel your boner poke me I'm trashing your office." House snarks.

"You couldn't give me one." Wilson says, spooning the taller man.

"You wanna bet on it?" House scoffs.

"Not nooow." Wilson whines, reminding House of how he always gets sleepy in gloomy weather.

"That implies a yes later. Gaybo."

"You started it!" Wilson argues.

House says nothing, his breathing changing as he falls asleep, jerking a bit as Wilson clutches him tighter.

Chapter Text

The boys wake up in the middle of the warehouse floor, the looming sound of the light and heating turning on waking them up.

"Aw, shit... My pho-phe-hen" Adam mumbles. "My phone fucking died..."

"Mine still works. Lemme ring House..." Chase responds, "It's fucking 8 PM."

"You guys think it's safe out now?" Muel asks, scared and hopeful, curled into Paul's arms.

"Muel get off me" Paul snarks.

Muel just tightens his arms around his neck, letting out a small 'hmmph'.

"Fiiine, come here you big baby" Paul teases, hugging him tight.

"We should check." Abel says, "If it's safe out."

"I'll go..." Chase mumbles. "I'll ring House and investigate. I'm the oldest one here."

"That's hot" Adam quips.

"What is..?" Chase raises a brow.

"Taking responsibility, being the big, tough, adult man... God, if we were alone right now-"

"Adam, gross" Carl interrupts.

"Oh oh says YOU. Cornersturbator."

Abel laughs, "My God, that's even better than Cumshot Carl."

"Okay, okay, guys, shut up" Chase says, calling House.

Chase calls House, pressing his lips together in anticipation as the call finally gets picked up.

"Who the fuh-" House sleepily mumbles into the phone.

"House, it's Chase, we got the power back." Chase starts.

"Oh!" House exclaims, holding a small silence before finally speaking, "Could you... hand Adam the phone?"

Chase mutters a slightly disappointed 'yeah' as he hands the phone over.

"Hey dad, everything okay?" Adam enthusiastically asks.

"I'm okay now... I'm okay if you're okay..." House sleepily mutters.

"Great..." Adam exhales, "We're gonna check if it's safe out. Want me to visit you?"

"No. Just go home. The boys all go home. Doesn't matter if they crash at ours for fuck's sake, just go somewhere with proper food and heating."

Adam nods, as if that could be heard through a call, "Alright dad... stay safe."

"You too, kiddo." he hangs up.

Chase swallows his envy, his daddy issues showing as he takes back his phone and pockets it. The boys start to clean up and huddle around the heater like it was some sort of Bluetooth life support, hungrily shoving each other to get more of that hair-raising warmth. Chase reluctantly opens the warehouse, stepping out. The sun had set, but you couldn't tell from the sky alone due to the thick blanket of clouds covering the sky.

"Close the damn door! You're letting the heat out!" Paul shivers.

Adam rolls his eyes, standing up to close the door before a sharp pain hits his chest. He sucks air in through his teeth as he holds his chest, a strange calling leading him outside. He exits, the warehouse, closing the door behind him. He watches Chase stare in awe and terror at the level of destruction that went down right under their noses - branches fallen, shredded leaves plastered onto every surface, the thick and humid air highlighting the putrid mud smell of the dirt and rain mixing, cars smothered in said mud and leaves...

Adam hears a crack, his eyes widen, adrenaline going haywire. His eyes fixate on a thick branch, crackling slowly but surely, right above Chase, who paranoidally looks around, trying to spot the source of the sound. Adam runs faster than he thought he could, tackling Chase out of the way and into the mud, the two of them getting doused entirely as they meet face-to-face, the branch landing right next to them.

Adam lands on his back, Chase on top of him, wrapping his muddy arms entirely around the man, shaking and crying.

"Robby..." He whines, "Are you okay..?"

Chase shakes violently, stunned by the situation, softly leaning his hands up to hold onto Adam, nodding weakly.

"You can't die..." he mutters, more so to himself, "I don't deserve to live if you don't..."

He hugs him tighter, as if holding onto an anchor while being vigorously glided across the sea. Chase takes a deep sigh, standing up despite Adam's silent protest, who just continues laying and crying. A car pulls up, a man getting out.

"You guys okay?" The man asks, who they realize to be Muel's step-dad.

"Will be" Chase says, shaking as he looks at the branch, "Five years therapy and we will be..."

"Sammy called me. I-I could give you guys a ride." The man says, "I'm Stuart, by the way."

Chase shakes hands, helping Adam stand up and embracing him as they walk back to the warehouse.

"Dad!" Muel yells as he runs into Stuarts arms, "Dad we almost died it was so scary I wanna go home!!"

"Dad..." Stuart echoes, wearing a stunned smile, hugging Muel back as he pats his head. "It's okay, Sammy, we're going home. Your mother's worried sick about you..."

Paul seems to be on the phone, possibly with his uncle, a call that doesn't last long and seems to end with a quick 'on my way'. Soon, uncle Ricky arrives to pick up Paul, Abel and Carl, who sit behind him and in the sidecar respectively. Stuart takes Muel, Adam and Chase, dropping the latters off in front of the apartment, driving off. Adam and Chase head inside, quiet.

"What's up with House?" Chase asks, watching Adam plug every electronic back in and put his phone to charge.

"Probably helping storm victims..." Adam mumbles, unsure, "Although I'm sure I heard 'the look' in his tone, something must've happened."

"It'll be fine..." Chase reassures, watching Adam hunch over the kitchen counter, exhausted. "We should wash off the mud."

Adam nods, "Strip, I'll put our clothes into the wash, and we can shower. Maybe we can save water as well, wink wink."

Chase weakly chuckles, "Sure... let's do that, yeah..."

"You ever dream of making out hotly in the shower?" Adam chuckles, the sudden arousal seeming to relieve any sense of trauma. "Pinned to the wall, water streaming down our bodies..."

"You wanna fuck the pain away or what?" Chase asks.

"Like my dad when he runs outta Vicodin, yeah." Adam chuckles, "Why do you think he calls Wilson 'my little Vicodin'?"

Chase laughs, taking his shirt off on his way to the laundry room, where the two strip naked, washing everything - including shoes -  in the same wash. While the machine does its magic, the two head into the shower. As soon as the water is turned on, Adam shoves Chase to the wall, lips latching on as he presses his entire torso up to his.

"Don't you wanna get clean first?" Chase asks as he pulls away.

"We could clean each other..." Adam offers.

"Adam, I'm tired and just want to sleep." Chase whines.

Adam kisses him again, eyes desperate, "Fine..."

He lets go, slowly cleaning himself as he keeps stealing glances at Chase. They get out, Adam picking out some boxers and tanks for Chase to borrow. They lay down, this time Adam laying on top of Chase, making sure he won't just... disappear. He wraps around him like a second blanket, desperate to feel him against himself; to remind himself that he's still here, and that he has nothing to worry about.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable..." Adam suddenly pipes up. "I think I just needed to cope..."

"That's... very mature of you to say." Chase simply mumbles, sensing something wrong.

"I-I just-" Adam stammers, "whatever..."

Chase nods, trying to sleep, his arms wrapped loosely around Adam, who presses his face into Chase's chest. Suddenly, right as Chase was about to fall asleep, Adam begins shaking.

"Wuh-wha-what's wrmgh" he sleepily mumbles. "What's wrong..?"

Adam sobs, shaking violently. He mumbles "I'm so sorry" multiple times, as if his throat was closed up, not getting any air. 

"Hey..." Chase soothes "What is it..?"

Adam finally breaks "I can't lose you. I-I can't, I-" he streamers as he wails loudly. "You almost... you almost died! I-I can't lose you, I don't wanna lose you." He sounds violently, Chase's arms tightening around him as he shushes him quietly. 

"It's okay, I'm here... I'm not leaving..."

Adam cries out loud, muffling his wail into Chase's chest, his entire body jerking. Chase froze, silently holding the younger man like his life depended on it. Maybe he fell asleep and was having a nightmare? Or perhaps he was having a panic attack. In any case, Chase wasn't willing to let go until Adam had finally stopped jerking, tiring himself out and falling asleep. Even then, Chase's arms stayed stuck in position, anchoring him like a lifevest.

The next day, expecting to go to school and work, the two wake up a gnarly shade of pale, coughing up phlegm and snot dripping like yesterday's rain. House and Wilson are getting ready, seemingly alright, before seeing Adam, jaded and weak.

"Whoa! Turns out warehouses aren't exactly 3-star hotel material." House snarks as he puts a hand on Adam's forehead. "You're staying home, young man."

"Thanks, dad" Adam weakly says, sniffling.

"Can't work today, boss." Chase comes out, equally sickly, like a small Victorian child.

"Since when do you call me boss?" House asks, grabbing his bag, "but fine, go home and take the week off for all I care"

Wilson leads him out the door, the two disappearing into the outside world, leaving the two alone. 

"Wanna go back to yours? Last time I stayed home for a sick week I- Achoo! I nearly suffocated from Wilson's constant coddling." Adam sniffles "He'd keep- pouring tea down my throat and loading me with meds."

"I'm gonna do that to you too so don't get your hopes up" Chase warns, heading to the dryer to grab his stuff.

"Yeah but if you did it, I wouldn't want it to end." Adam flirts. "I'll leave them a note and we can go."

They change and drive to Chase's, deciding to quarantine together until they get better. Either this or Chase would have to bear being within spitting distance of the big, scary House, and of course being separated is simply not an option. As they walk inside, Chase makes tea and prepares a medicine dosage plan for the both of them as Adam just slobbishly throws himself onto the couch.

"Haaaahh" Adam sounds, looking up to the ceiling light, "Ahhh-CHOO"

Chase suddenly covers his ears, as if a gunshot had went off.

"You sneeze like a dad." Chase comments.

"Like a balkan, you mean" Adam corrects, wiping his nose with a conveniently placed tissue. "God, I feel like a victorian child" he groans.

"So... we gonna spend the week together or something?" Chase asks.

"That and the rest of our lives if it's up to me." Adam grins, "I'd even do a reverse-mitosis with you and mend our cells together to form one giant blob of cells."

"That's the grossest, most romantic thing I've ever been told..." Chase mutters, placing the cups of tea onto the coffee table before lazily draping himself over Adam, who doesn't hesitate to hug him back. "C'mere, you big plushtoy"

"Speaking of-" Adam starts, interrupted by a crunchy ass cough not even I can describe, "Speaking of, you probably own a plush collection."

"...How do you-" Chase asks.

"I have a photo of you getting a kangaroo plush from Foreman as a consolation gift after Cameron broke up with you." Adam nonchalantly drops.

Chase raises an eyebrow. It'd been a couple of months since he'd gotten together with Cameron - despite most of the relationship being casual sex and nothing else -, only for her to suddenly, her demeanor nervous and secretive, tell him that they couldn't work out. Did... Adam sabotage their relationship..?

"Did you have anything to do with that?" Chase suddenly pipes up as Adam freezes, "C'mon, you got me in a gay relationship that'd make the priest fume. Tell me the truth." he calmly asks.

"Uhm..." Adam hums from below him. "Don't get mad please."

Chase sighs.

"I... may have secretly blackmailed Cameron." he confesses.

Chase's eyes widen, looking up.

"How..?"

Adam sighs, "I found out she keeps her dead husband's sperm in her freezer and I anonymously threatened her that I'd tell you if she didn't leave you alone."

Chase just huffs. He didn't want to admit, but he'd always had an off-feeling about Cameron. He liked her, of course, but even his dumbass could see that she didn't.

"You dumbass." Chase simply says.

"So am I right about the plush collection?" Adam deflects.

Chase ashamedly nods. "I- keep them in the laundry room when I expect company."

"Show me." Adam grins.

Chase groans, rolling his eyes as he gets up. Adam sits up, taking a sip of his tea as he watches Chase disappear into the laundry room. He comes back with various plushies, barely able to hold them all. He dumps them on an empty spot in the middle, sitting on the other end of the couch. He introduces them all, blushy and ashamed, which Adam rewards with a juvenile grin.

"This is Eric... um, it's the one I got from Foreman." he holds the kangaroo plush, then points to the monkey, "That's, um, Cocoa, because he's chocolate-brown colored."

"That's adorable..." Adam comments, dreamily staring at Chase.

"Um... This is Bamboo, he's, um, a panda... so..." he then points to the koala, "and that's, uh, Kip, short for Kipper"

Adam grabs another panda, "And this one?"

"That's Dumpling. He's chubbier than Bamboo." Chase says, matter-of-fact, his shame slowly dissipating. "And the shark is Kicker."

"And the fox?" Adam asks.

"He, um, doesn't have a name yet." Chase says, "But the sheep's called Cloud."

"Creative..." Adam smiles, "How about Takumi? For the fox, I mean."

"Why..?" Chase asks, raising a brow, surprised Adam is actually engaged.

"Remember that book Paul yapped about?" Adam asks, reflexively hugging Kip, "He made me read it last year when it was published. There's a scene where Takumi and Pudge are running from the Eagle, AKA their teacher, and Takumi calls himself 'The motherfucking Fox', I can lend you my copy if you want."

Chase slowly nods, picking up the fox. "Takumi it is."

He stares at the fox, reflexively playing with its legs, suddenly putting it down and leaning forward, covering his face.

"Whoa, what's wrong?" Adam reflexively asks.

"Y-you care about me..." Chase says, softly tearing up.

Adam hurriedly stands up, scooting the plushies aside, not caring yet feeling guilty for knocking down Dumpling and Cocoa, sitting next to Chase and embracing him tight.

"Of course I care about you, you big baby." Adam grins, hugging Chase to himself comfortingly, "Better get used to it."

Chapter Text

Adam woke up to a phone call, one he could only take once he's climbed off of Chase and scooted past the worn-out 'it was only a gift' bundle of plushies. It's House. He takes his meds Chase prepared for him with a freshly cracked open can of Monster Ultra White, taking the call.

"Hey dad." He simply says.

"Hey Addy..." House greets, "I have something to tell you."

"From the unusual preface and easing, I assume it's something serious. Usually you just blurt shit out and hang up." Adam scopes.

"Smart boy. I saw your mother during the storm." House blurts out, almost as if saying it will make him forget it; almost as if he could remove the memory from his brain if he places it in Adam's.

"How's the hag?" Adam casually asks, heading to the balcony for a smoke, bringing his drink with him.

"See, this is why I have a problem with your new boy-toy. This type of thing you usually say face-to-face." House lectures, hearing the lighter crack, "And don't smoke while you're sick, dumbass."

"Wilson's getting to your head?" Adam asks, taking a drag, "And please don't respond with a 'giving head' joke, I might believe it."

"Touche..." House says, trailing off. "My father called. He was angry."

Adam freezes, eventually mumbling a "Go on..."

"Your mother somehow found his number and called him. She somehow found out about you and... your boy-toy. She told my father, and he began fuming about how I 'raised a faggot'." House explains, his breath hitching, as if each word hurt to say out loud. "It's probably part of some revenge plan she'd been plotting..."

"What does she even want from me?" Adam asks, his incredulity masking his bitter resentment, "How is my private business related to the fact she's some frantic maniac?"

"Well, you usually break a chain at it's weak point. A young gay couple is an easy exploit. I just wanted to warn you that I don't know what else she plans to do or whether or not she's gonna try to get to you... So tell that- blond idiot that whatever happens to you, it's his fault."

Adam sighs, "Just- tell me one thing." he mutters, taking a drag, "Was I a GHB baby?"

House stammers. "Sometimes, not-knowing is more fun."

"Is that a yes..?"

House stays silent for a bit before hanging up. Adam sighs, taking a sip of his monster.

Adam leans his head into his shoulder, hearing Chase get up and go to the bathroom before also taking his medicine. He then comes out to the balcony with a spare jacket.

"It's freezing" Chase says as he slowly drapes the jacket over Adam, deciding to embrace him in the process. "You're sad. What happened?"

"My mom..."

Chase nods, empathetic, softly kissing him.

"What about her..?" he asks as he pulls away.

"She's in town. She knows about us. She told Johnathan. And no I'm still not gonna call him grandpa." he snarks.

Chase's eyes widen, his stomach churning with the feeling Adam had gotten used to at this point - being outed. His mind goes haywire. If people find out he's in a homosexual relationship, nobody will take him seriously. 

"Go inside." Adam commands, "Your weak British blood is no match for my Balkan immune system."

Chase scoffs, noticing the deflection, "I'm Aussie and you know it."

"Even worse," he takes a sip, "you can't handle cold for shit. That's why you got the heating cranked up in 60 degrees" (16°C)

"Fine..." Chase rolls his eyes, heading inside, as Adam reluctantly puts his sweater on.

Adam then pulls out his phone, trying to numb the anxiety by - naturally - hacking into Chase's cloud. He types in the password, seeing multiple folders of stuff all names in a clinical, objective manner, such as 'family' or 'religion' or 'vacation'. He scrolls around, wondering if it'd be more effective to ask Chase more about his life or find out himself. Scared of rejection, he settles for the latter, opening the family folder.

The folder was mostly full of him and an infant, parents nowhere in sight. Before the fear that he used to be a teen dad would hit in, however, he realizes he has a sister. Unwilling to touch that fact, he continues scrolling between the folders. He finds one titled 'high school', which he opens to find a high schooler Chase, much younger and more adorable, dressed in punk and holding an unassuming acoustic guitar. Mostly there were images, showcasing him and the guitar with the backdrop of his messy bedroom, the walls covered in posters, with a video of him awkwardly performing a near-perfect rendition of Street Spirit by Radiohead.

He smiles to himself, watching the video, noticing how much skinnier and scrawnier Chase was back then, yet saddened by how pale and disheveled he'd seemed, dark circles defined and cheeks sunken. He sighs, logging out and heading inside.

"Hey" he greets, sitting next to Chase who blankly stares at the TV, "Wanna order something?"

Chase slowly nods, leaning his head onto Adam's shoulder. Adam opens an app, placing an order for Chinese take-out.

"Soo.. What music do you like?" Adam finally asks.

Chase shrugs, "Radiohead, Arctic Monkeys, The Neighbourhood, The Smiths..."

"I love The Smiths..." Adam says with an ironic chuckle.

"Aaand... uhm." Chase sucks in through his teeth, sighing, "Conan Gray, Lana Del Rey, Cigarettes After Sex."

"Cute..." Adam grins.

"And you? What inspired Cane N Able?" Chase rolls his eyes.

Adam shrugs, "Well, definitely not Lana Del Rey."

"Bite me." Chase comments.

"Well for me personally," Adam starts, "I like... a lot of shit, really."

"Anything I would know?" Chase raises a brow, watching Adam seemingly guess perfectly what he likes, almost by telepathy, as he places the order and types in their address.

"Cigs after sex and Conan Gray, but I also like Cavetown, Alex G, TV Girl... Also a lot of pop-punk shit that we'd play. You know like My chem romance, Panic at the disco, Paramore, shit like that... And also Molchat Doma."

Chase nods, recognizing all the names except the last one.

"What's that last one like?" he asks, curious eyes looking up at Adam.

"The musical equivalent of walking down a post-Soviet country's streets during blue hour." he comments, "Dad took me to a lot of summer vacations to countries like that, especially when I was young and he could excuse it when I said 'băga mi-as pula' or some shit like that to the Romanian waitresses" ("I'd put my dick in it" in Romanian)

Chase scoffs. Of course House would set up his own son up to that. "Can you show me..? Their music, I mean."

Adam nods, entering his music app and putting on "Sudno", laying his phone onto the coffee table and quietly singing along.

"Emalirovannoye sudno
Okoshko, tumbochka, krovat', -
Zhit' tyazhelo i ne uyutno
Zato uyutno umirat'"

("Enamelled vessel,
Window, bedside table, bed
Life is heavy and uncomfortable
But it's cozy to die")

"What is it about..?" Chase asks after the chorus goes by the third time.

Adam stops singing, shrugging instead. "Life being miserable?"

"Hm..." Chase hums.

"I mean... it reminds me of a hospital, if that makes sense. The repeated mentions of dying and the comfort of ending one's suffering..."

Chase softly nods, an arm wrapping around his, letting the autoplay play more of their songs as they sit in silence, eventually coughing or sneezing here and there. Suddenly, Adam receives a call. Unknown number.

"Uhm-" he stammers, Chase's head shooting up like a deer caught in headlights.

"I don't think you should take it... After what your father said..." Chase advises, wary.

Adam stammers, reluctantly taking the call anyway. Morbid curiosity.

"H-hello...?" he softly speaks into the phone as Chase facepalms.

"Adam..." says a woman's voice. "Adam, I miss you..."

"Natalya." he states, his tone turning bitter like a rotting orange.

"I'm your mother. Show some respect." She immediately scolds.

Adam rolls his eyes, "Mom..." he slowly says, irritated. "I'm surprised you even know my name."

"Of course, you're my son..." she says, almost in disbelief Adam hasn't hung up yet.

Adam takes a deep sigh, momentarily glancing at a worried Chase before muttering "Udivlyon, chto ty ne znaesh' menya kak "Muzhskoy Rebyonok Morozov" ili "Gregorievich."" ("Surprised you don’t know me as "Male Child Morozov" or "Son of Gregory.")

"Oy, ty znaesh’ russkiy? Ya tak gorda toboy, zaychik..." Natalya responds, surprised. ("Oh, you speak Russian? I’m so proud of you, bunny...")

"Da, papa menya nauchil. Ty tol’ko 'Nazoylivyy tvar'' menya nazvala." Adam responds, deadpan. ("Yeah, dad taught me. You only ever called me 'annoying pest.'")

"Prosti, chto ty videl menya takoy, solnyshko... Ya izmenilas’. Ya skuchayu po tebe." ("I’m sorry you saw me like that, sunshine... I’ve changed. I miss you.")

Adam rolls his eyes, his face stuck in a furious Kubrick stare, Chase deciding to make some more tea.

"Lyudi ne menyayutsya." Adam sneers. ("People don't change.")

"Pozhaluysta, synok, ya skuchayu..." ("Please, my son, I miss you...")

With this, Adam breaks, raising his voice, eyes tearing up.

"Ya ne tvoi syn! Tak chto otvali i nikogda bol’she ne zvoni!" ("I’m not your son! So fuck off and don’t ever call again!")

He hangs up, angrily tossing his phone onto the coffee table, leaning back and covering his face, crying. Chase comes back with the tea, which Adam gulps down, despite it being piping hot. Chase just palms his back and pulls him close. He couldn't make out a word, but he knew it must have been something bad.

Their food arrives, which Chase takes, setting up their lunch, letting Adam cry it out. Eventually, Adam wipes his eyes, silently eating his takeout with red, puffy eyes. Chase takes his half, silently eating before hearing a knock at the door. He stands up, reluctant. He creaks open the door paranoidally, only to see a very disheveled looking woman - black hair, blue eyes, familiar face.

"How can I help you?" He asks, suspicious.

"I'm looking for my son Adam. Are you his friend..?" The woman says with a thick Russian accent.

Adam hears this, freezing, as if any movement - even a breath - would get him noticed.

"Uhh I don't know any Adams. You sure this is the right apartment?" Chase seamlessly lies.

"Are you sure..? I'm pretty sure this is the one... Let me call him."

Hearing this, Adam scurries to silence his phone. Right as he picks it up, his ringtone plays, the shock causing him to drop it and recoil in shame and fear, as if by reflex. Before Chase could even react, Natalya swoops past him.

"Synok..." ("My son...") Natalya whispers under her breath.

"Kak ty menya nashla?!" Adam yells, hysterical. ("Where'd you find me?!")

"Ya prinesla tebe podarki, khotesh' posmotret'?" Natalya deflects ("I brought you gifts, wanna see?")

"Ostav' menya v pokoye! Ya tebya nenavizhu!" Adam yells ("Leave me alone! I hate you!")

"Ya ispekla dlya tebya svezhiy Medovik. Khochesh' vmeste poprobovat'?" Natalya offers, taking out a container from her backpack. ("I baked you fresh honey cake. Wanna try one together?")

Adam pants, trying to calm down, watching Natalya take a slice of the pastry, eating it. He hesitantly takes one, despite Chase's silent protest. He eats one, knowing that, if anything happens, Chase is near.

"Ladno, mama..." ("Fine, mom...")

"You want to try one?" Natalya turns to Chase.

"I'm good" he simply says, watching from afar, his gaze strict and fixated on Natalya.

"Ty dlya menya vse. Znaesh' eto? Uzh mnogo let ya khochu pomirit'sya s toboy..." Natalya softly says, ("You’re my everything, you know that? For years I’ve wanted to make up with you...")

Adam glances down, sighing, as his voice softens "Ya tozhe... ya ne hochu eto..." ("Me too... I don’t want this either...")

"Ya byla slaboy, no teper' ya drugaya. My mozhem nachat' snova..." ("I was weak, but now I’m different. We can start over...")

Adam scoffs, internally fighting demons. He wanted her gone, yet he ached to experience her love - even for a little bit.

"Prosti, mamochka..." ("I'm sorry, mommy...")

Chase senses something's wrong, subtly trying to get closer. Adam leans forward, letting Natalya hug him. He lets out a deep sigh, burrowing his head into her shoulder, which worries Chase.

"On tvoy drug?" ("Is he your friend?") Natalya asks, shooting Chase a cold look behind Adam's back.

"On moy lyubovnik. Tebya eto ustraivaet, mamochka?" Adam carefully asks, his voice more... innocent, regressed... ("He's my lover. Are you okay with that, mommy?")

Natalya lets out a small, almost demeaning chuckle, "Chto tol'ko delayet moyu solnyshku schastlivym." ("Whatever makes my sunshine happy.")

"Spasibo..." ("Thank you...")

Chase finally steps in. "Vzpomínáš, co ti udělala?" ("Remember what she did?" in Czech)

"Jdi do hajzlu, tohle je moje máma, trochu respektu." Adam ushers, ("Fuck off, this is my mother, show some respect.")

"Manipuluje s tebou. Hele, kámo, víš, že mám pravdu." Chase responds, ("She's manipulating you. C'mon, man, you know I'm right.")

Adam's eyes defocus, trying to think clearly, but Natalya just coos to him before he could get a minute with himself and his own brain.

"Ty moy zaychik... Kakoy zhe ty krasivyy stal, pryamo kak papa." ("My little bunny... You've grown so handsome, like your father.") Natalya coos, hugging Adam tighter. "Ya kazhdyy den' dumala o tebe... Kak ty tam, odin... Bez lyubvi. No eto vse v proshlom, ya zdes' teper'. I bol'she nikogda ne uydu." ("I thought about you every single day... How you were, alone... without love. But that's all in the past. I'm here now. And I’ll never leave again.")

"Adam..." Chase grabs his shoulder.

"Oh, leave him alone!" Natalya snaps, "Don't you have anything better to do than bother my son?!"

Chase sighs, his face contorting into one that might just be about to cry, slowly retreating to his room. He watches Adam from afar, watching him fall deeper and deeper for the facade, calling House.

"House. She found us." Chase says, sniffling.

"Idiot." he sneers after a soft pause, "I told you two one thing and you can't even-"

House sighs, Chase numbly listening.

"Just... tell her to leave, call the police, anything, just..." House sighs, "Just make sure he's okay... Or you're fired."

Chase subtly nods, as if it could be heard through the call. "Aight..."

He leaves the room, furious. He dials 911, shoving the phone to Natalya's face.

"Hey! Leave my house or I'm calling." he sternly commands.

Natalya looks up, eyes switching between Chase and the phone.

"Zaychik, ty zhe ne pozvolil by emu eto sdelat', pravda?" ("Bunny, you wouldn't let him do that, right?")

"Don't bring him into this." Chase commands, "You need to go. You are trespassing, you are a threat, I have every right to make you leave."

Natalya slowly turns to Adam, who just looks numb, now leaned away. "Zaychik..." ("Bunny...") she coos.

Adam sighs, unsure. "Ty slyshala ego, ukhodi..." ("You heard him, get out...")

Natalya gasps, fury building in her eyes, standing up and grabbing her backpack.

"Tsk... Ládno. Ya vsyo ravno nikogda ne khotela pedika-syna..." ("Tsk... Fine. I never wanted a faggot son anyway...")

Adam's lips fall agape, tears welling in his eyes as he stands up, shoving Natalya. "Suka! Ty nikogda, blin, ne menyaesh'sya! Otstani ot menya, ya tebya nenavizhu!" ("You bitch! You never fucking change! Leave me alone, I hate you!")

"Whoa!" Chase exclaims, trying to separate the two.

"Ne zovi menya sukoy, ty nevospitannyy malen'kiy urod!" Natalya yells on the top of her lungs, her voice akin to a witch's. ("Don't call me a bitch, you disrespectful little brat!")

Chase calls the police, trying his best to shield Adam, who was now also yelling on the top of his lungs. He places the call, voice shaky, the yelling just reinforcing his claims. The police arrive, diffusing the situation and talking to everyone separately. Adam starts crying hysterically on the couch, all the way until Natalya is removed and the police leave.

"Fucking bitch..." He mutters inbetween sobs as Chase finally wraps his arms around him, "She called me a faggot..."

Chase's heart drops. It was less from shock, he was used to being thrown insults and slurs by a mother figure. It was more so pity, having to watch Adam go through that.

"I want that stupid bitch to die." He slurs, leaning into Chase's arms.

"What'd you tell the officers?" Chase deflects.

"That this was a one-time thing..." he says, "If I go deeper, it might blow over into a whole arrest and trial and... I just- I didn't want to deal with that. I want her arrested but I don't want this to weigh down on me. Does that make sense..?"

Chase nods, it was a familiar feeling, the feeling of not wanting to speak up. "I told them what I saw. That she began yelling..."

Adam nods, "Good..."

Chase presses a soft kiss onto Adam's cheek. "I love you."

Adam lets out a shuddered chuckle, knowing he can starts believing that phrase again. "I love you..."

"Wanna finish the takeout and go to sleep..?" Chase offers, pulling him close.

Adam nods, taking his takeout box, eating his cold noodles. Chase does the same, occasionally feeding Adam a bite or stealing some of his to lighten the mood, which he just rewards with a sad, exhausted chuckle. Eventually, after what felt like a thousand years, they go to sleep, passing out immediately.

Chapter Text

It'd been a couple days since Natalya's visit, one that Adam seemed not so fond to talk about. He'd so desperately wanted to get back to normal life - taking his meds, ordering junk, pretending that giving Chase nightly head wasn't a coping mechanism -, and it worked, things seemed to be normal again, but that doesn't mean they were. Chase had declared one Sunday night that he was gonna go back to work, which Adam encouraged by having gotten his notes filled and homework made so that he may rot in school again in solidarity.

"So... we're still not gonna talk about-" Chase starts, laying on top of Adam, preparing to sleep.

"No, we're not gonna talk about it. It happened, but now it's passed." Adam sternly says, grabbing Chase's hand and attempting to shove it in his face, "So just suck your thumb and go the fuck to sleep, dummy."

Chase rolls his eyes, "I hate you."

"You love me." Adam corrects.

"Damn right."

Adam looks away, sighing. It was clear to both of them that neither of them were able to sleep, despite the impending load of responsibilities awaiting early in the next morning.

"My dad had me when he was..." Adam abruptly starts, puckering his lips and then sucking in through his teeth, thinking, "28, freshly employed at PPTH, treating a family of legal Russian immigrants. No issues there."

Chase looks up, anticipating something bad. He reflexively takes his hand, inspecting it, from chipped nail polish on his fingernails filed into a neat oval shape to his defined veins. He had realized since how much of an infatuation he had with Adam's hands.

"The father had some cardiovascular issues, but the daughter had some neurological issue. The former was treated, the latter ended in... me." Adam monologues. "Natalya was freshly 18, trying to bait dad with some 'barely-legal' shit, and when that didn't work, she drugged him. She got pregnant. Insisted on keeping it... Well, not 'it', me... and threatened to report dad for assaulting her if he ever tried to speak up."

Chase simply hums, pressing the back of Adam's hand to his cheek.

"Then... when I got taken by dad... all was well... Most people will say otherwise when they look at a single father and an oddly homoerotic effeminate uncle, but I'd say I had a decent childhood." Adam continues, softly caressing Chase's cheek, "I remember when dad's leg was okay. He'd take me to the skate park from when I was five. He'd teach me the sickest ollies and kickflips... I remember how he'd hold my waist as he skated behind me, leading me..."

Chase scoots upwards, looking at him face to face, despite Adam consistently looking away.

"When I was eleven... he was 39... he had an infarction, golfing... Pretty sure he already told you how that went down... Soon after that, I realized I didn't like skating; or at least I began to hate it knowing dad wouldn't be able to skate with me anymore..." he finishes, finally turning to Chase.

The blond softly kisses him on the lips, making sure it lasts before pulling away, staring.

"What?" Adam asks, chuckling.

"...Wanna go skating tomorrow after I'm done with work?" Chase asks.

Adam scoffs, kissing him again. "Sure, I'll dust off the old thing."

The next morning, Chase drives Adam to school before heading to work. Adam heads inside his homeroom, attempting to block out the giggles and F-slur bombs dropped behind him. At around the 3rd break period, he turns to Vera.

"Hey Vera, you're a feminist, right?" Adam rhetorically asks, "Say, hypothetically... how would you react if an assault happened between a freshly 18 woman and a 28 year old man?"

"What do you mean how would I react? That's a ten year age gap, that's ten years in jail minimum." Vera incredulously shoots back. "Plus an offender registry."

"For the man, right?" Adam asks, still rhetorical, "What if the woman did it?"

Vera freezes, not having anticipated that part of this so-called 'hypothetical'.

"Are you bugging me on purpose? I have values, much like you. Just because they're not the sa-"

"You thought the man was the offender, right?" Adam grins.

"Well- Okay, in the majority of the cases, statistically-"

"We're not talking statistics, we're talking an individual case." Adam interrupts, to which Vera smacks him.

"Don't interrupt me!" She quips. "If the woman was the offender... Technically, I'd say the sentencing would have to be the same. Ten years plus registry minimum."

Adam nods, "Equality, right?"

"Are you trying to provoke a reaction out of me on purpose?" Vera asks, frustrated.

Adam sighs, contemplating whether or not he can trust her.

"Fine... you caught me..." he mock-raises his hands.

"...Is something wrong..?" Vera asks, placing a hand on Adam's shoulder.

"N-no, I just..." he starts, only to be interrupted by the bell. "Biology, my favorite."

"Adam" Vera sternly says as everyone else prepares to head to the biology lab, "Did something happen..?"

Adam sighs, "Nothing happened. I mean- not like women can assault like that, right?"

"I- Yo- Look. You caught me off-guard, I-"

"Leave it..." Adam stands up, grabbing his notebook and pen, "And no, this is not about me, before you get any ideas that I'm some sick, wounded puppy."

Vera stares, mouth agape, watching Adam leave before realizing she is supposed to catch up.

During lunch, Adam sits alone. He told Vera in a tone 'not like him' to go and chit-chat with her other feminist friends over 'what do you do when a woman falsely accuses a man of assault', another so-called 'hypothetical', as he just stares ahead, slowly eating as he shoots everyone passing by a demeaning look. By the time the bell rings, he tosses his tray into the disposal area, heading to homeroom.

The homeroom teacher, Mr. Willis, talks about an upcoming event, which is when Adam's phone quietly buzzes. He ignores the first one, but then that gets followed up by the second one, then a third. He discreetly checks his notifications, his expression freezing into a gasp. 3 missed calls from Chase, 5 from Wilson, 2 from Cuddy, and a myriad of texts.

Chase: You need to come in. It's urgent.

Chase: I don't know how to tell you this, but definitely not over text.

Cuddy: Come to the hospital, I'll call the school if I have to, it's urgent.

Wilson: I'm sorry, kiddo. Cuddy's probably told you what happened.

Wilson: Or that something happened.

Wilson: Either way, hurry.

"No texting in class, Adam." Mr. Willis scolds.

"I have to go." Adam states, his tone flat, yet strict.

"What, your pre-scheduled stomachache went off? Got a math test after this?" Mr. Willis teases.

"We don't have math today, Mr. Willis..." Someone from the class corrects.

"I-I have to go..." Adam repeats, getting another call from Chase. He takes it and puts it on speaker, not caring who hears. "I know it..."

"Adam, did you see my texts? You need to meet me by the ICU. Something happened, and-" Chase's panicked tone speaks, interrupted by beeps and background hospital noise. "House is in a critical state, we're not sure..." he sighs, "Just come in, alright..?"

Mr. Willis covers his face before giving a silent go-ahead, murmuring a 'go'. Adam grabs his stuff and dashes out the door, telling Chase he was on his way before hanging up and running like his life depended on it.

"No running in the halls!" The janitor yells after him, but he brushes it off, dashing out the main door.

He thinks to himself, the hospital is 8 miles from his home, about the same amount from Chase's, the school is 4 miles, so from the school to the hospital is, naturally, 4 miles. Calling a taxi or cab is almost useless, so he runs instead, backpack tearing at its seams from the weight - much like Adam himself.

He runs the entire 4 miles, panting as he enters the ICU, seeing House stabilized, stitches at his neck, near the jugular vein. Chase stands up from his bedside, silently taking off his backpack and coat.

"House... got shot about an hour earlier. Once in the stomach and once in the neck... He went through surgery and was put on Ketamine..." Chase softly explains.

Adam's lip quivers, his breathing heavy, "What idiot shot him..?"

Then, as if by chance, an equally hurt Natalya is wheeled in, chained to the bed.

"N-no..." Adam gasps, backtracking to the wall. He slides down the wall, covering his face with both hands. "No, no, no, no, NO! This can't be- This-" he starts hyperventilating, "This is a nightmare, right..?"

Chase crouches down in front of him, debating whether he should treat him like a person or a professional. Adam reaches under his sleeve, his nails digging into his arm as he scratches himself, rocking back and forth.

"This isn't real, I'm dreaming, I- Th-This can't be real, right??" He cries, eyes teary as Chase softly tries to tear his arm away from him, watching him proceed to scratch himself bloody.

Chase takes a shuddered breath, unsure what to do and how to act, but before his mind would catch up, his lips immediately yell a "Push a milligram of Ativan, stat!"

"No! No drugs!" he yells as the nurse attempts to stick him, banging his head against the wall behind him. "Don't fucking drug me!"

Chase holds him down, feeling his heart drown in guilt, as the nurse finally manages to inject him.

"YA SKAZAL BEZ NARKOTIKOV! VY IDIOTY! YA VAS UB'YU!" Adam screams through gritted teeth, like a feral animal. ("I SAID NO DRUGS! YOU IDIOTS! I'M GONNA KILL YOU!")

Chase continues holding him, using protocol as a shield.

"I'm taking him to the office." Chase tells the nurse. "I'll watch him."

Adam continues jerking around, attempting to bang his head, which was blocked by Chase's, before the Ativan hits in 20 minutes later. He stares down at the floor, sighing, numb. Chase slowly stands up, helping him up and leading him to the office, observing his coordination issues, resulting in him having to hold Adam's shoulders to lead him.

"Maybe a milligram was too much..." Chase mentions, more so to himself.

"Fuh yu" Adam slurs, head tilted down, drooling.

"I'm sorry..." Chase whispers, as if he was still talking to himself.

"You- you- you know the problem withhh... drugs... you can- you can do whatever to me and I" Adam huffs, "I can't even tell my nipples from my toes or tie my own shoe..."

Chase nods, acknowledging what he was getting at.

"How's your vision?" Chase deflects.

"..."

They enter the office.

"Adam." Chase sternly says.

"...I don't know." Adam replies, tone flat.

He sits down, eyes defocused.

"Want some tea?" Chase probes.

"...I don't know"

"...I'll make you tea." Chase says.

"No."

"Okay..." Chase nods, making himself tea.

As the silence set in, Adam begins jerking his neck, as if he was being smacked. He then begins to tilt his head up and down, drumming on his thighs as he pops his lips and clicks his tongue. This process repeats itself multiple times as Chase observes, unsure what to do. He sees the look on Adam's face as he tightly jerks his head back, as if he was in pain. As he jerks his neck forward, his nose scrunches up with a couple forced blinks.

"You okay..?" Chase softly asks, leaning down.

Adam responds by trilling his lips and softly nodding, staring ahead. He jerks his head back again, causing Chase to place his hand onto the nape of his neck.

"Hey..." he coos.

Adam lets out a high whine as he pushes Chase away.

"Adam, what's wro-"

"Don't fucking look at me!" he yells, tone still flat.

"Okay! Sorry!" Chase responds, startled, eyes widened.

Adam looks away, curling into a ball, continuing the neck jerks and lip trilling. He begins to rock back and forth as Cameron and Foreman enter.

"Hey, Adam..." Foreman greets, turning to Chase, "Is he..?"

"He needs space." Chase immediately responds, sitting down with his cup of tea.

"What happened?" Cameron asks, worried.

"Ativan... and also the fact that House, y'know..." Chase explains, taking a sip.

Cameron goes up to Adam, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, it's okay, House is-" she coos, only to be interrupted with a whine and a light shove. "Okay..."

"Leave him." Chase advises. "I just said he needs space, Cameron, Jesus..."

Cameron rolls his eyes, sitting next to him.

"No need to get snappy, Robert."

"Okay, Allison..." Chase responds, wide eyed, taking another sip. "I'm just saying"

Adam bangs a nearby empty Vicodin bottle against the wall, whining.

"What's wrong?" Chase immediately runs up to him.

Adam doesn't respond, instead attempting to hug Chase. He tries to play it off, the anxiety of what the others might think hitting in.

"So... you gave him Ativan, and now..." Foreman starts, "He's... regressed..."

"Yep..." Chase responds, "Not a usual response to Ativan..."

Wilson enters, "It is, for people on the autism spectrum."

"Adam's autistic..?" Cameron asks, shocked.

Wilson sighs, "Just like father dearest."

"Autistic people respond differently to Ativan," Foreman brainstorms, "Trouble speaking, identifying emotions, recalling identity... Am I the only one who read the study on that?"

Chase discreetly pats Adam's back, "Sedation leads to unmasking, which leads to shame, which leads to overwhelm..."

"Chase, you idiot..." Cameron facepalms.

"What was I supposed to do! He was flailing and yelling!" Chase reasons.

"Just-" Wilson raises a hand with a sigh, "Let him rest. It's been a long day already. Chase you wanna stay with him?"

"Why me?" Chase asks, masking his excitement.

"He seems to like you. C'mon" he leads the others out.

Chase turns to Adam.

"I'm sorry..." Chase whispers.

"...I'm tired." Adam whines.

Chapter Text

House walks into the living room, seeing Adam, bringing the two of them a cup of coffee each.

"How you doin', kiddo?" he asks.

"School was... fine. I had an argument with Vera, though." Adam replies, dejected.

House shrugs, "Friends have cat-fights. That's what you're hearing when Wilson sleeps in my bed." he teases, ruffling his hair.

Adam giggles weakly, "C'mon, dad, I know you're gay."

"...I'm not- gay, I'm just... Wilsonsexual." House huffs.

Adam scoffs, "And I'm Chasesexual then, huh?"

"Speaking of, how is he? Handling the separation well?"

Adam shrugs, "He's a pathetic little bitch but I'm sure he can handle it."

House looks at him, the same juvenile grin, the same, familiar, demeaning eyes. He raises a brow.

"You wouldn't call him a pathetic bitch, only I would..." he looks around, "How did I get here..?"

"You're hallucinating, Greg..." says a woman's voice, in that God-awfully familiar Russian accent, "Why else would you call me kiddo?"

House sits up. He was in the ICU. Judging by the growth of his stubble, it'd been two days.

"You shot me" he states. "Why?"

"Same reason I shot myself..."

"No..." House simply says, touching the stitches at his neck. "You didn't aim for me to die... You wanted me to suffer..."

Two days ago, while Adam was high on Ativan, the last couple hours of its effects were about to wear off, Chase and Wilson watching him.

"He hasn't been like this since... he was about seven... He'd have trouble asking for what he needs, he went from fluent Russian to non-verbal..." Wilson thoughtfully monologues. "Then... he began talking, giving up his toys, acting... 'normal', saying he was too old to 'behave like a child'."

Adam whines, still hugging Chase.

"Right, you hate it when people talk over you, don't you, kiddo?" Wilson chuckles.

"Bite..." he replies, grinding his teeth.

Wilson grabs his bag, digging into his bag all the way to the bottom, grabbing what looked like a baby teether. He looks at it, disgusted by the dust, quickly rinsing it off.

"He used to bite a lot, we had to teach him to ask for a teether whenever he felt like biting..." he adds, slowly bringing it over.

"He still needs it..?" Chase carefully asks "Why do you still have it on you..?"

Wilson shrugs, "In case he suddenly needs it..."

Chase watches Adam take the teether, looking away as he bites on it.

"He's like this... because of the Ativan..?"

Wilson sits down, sighing.

"Yeah... Imagine you're trying to hide something, like a second phone or a stash of weed. You get sedated, you slip almost immediately." Wilson explains "Except you're trying to hide the fact you need to bite something or rock back and forth."

Chase nods, a memory flashing in his mind of him, as a child, being yelled at for constantly hitting his head, partially due to overwhelm, partially since it 'felt right'. He began to feel envious over the fact Wilson, and presumably House, just treat it like a normal thing to be figured out and treated properly, not even knowing the why or how; unlike his parents.

"What causes it?" Chase tests.

Wilson shrugs, "I assume the autism? Same reason House never lets me change the bedding without him witnessing."

Chase nods again, hugging Adam tighter.

"Why did you let him drug me?" Adam abruptly asks, his tone flat.

Wilson sighs, "I'm sorry, kiddo, it had to be done..."

"When dad got drugged..." he starts, "That had to be done too? You're gonna tell me God made him go through that just so that I can be born or some shit?"

"Addy..." Wilson gets closer, hard raised defensively.

"Don't touch me!" he yells, shoving Chase away.

Chase falls off the couch, landing with a thud.

"The Ativan's wearing off..." Chase mutters silently to Wilson.

"I said no drugs! How is that too hard to understand!" He yells, throwing the teether past Wilson's head and against the wall. "You drugged me and talked about me like some- like some child!"

"Addy, it's okay, you-" Wilson starts, attempting to hug Adam.

"Don't fucking 'Addy' me!" he yells, smacking his arms away. "I'm gonna go see dad..."

Adam storms out, Chase piping up to follow him, before Wilson silently signs that it's not a good idea. Adam enters the ICU room, sitting down by House's bedside, still as a statue, staring at his parents. He was still, claiming he wasn't leaving no matter what they do or what they inject him with.

"How you doin', kiddo?" House finally mumbles.

It'd been two days, and Adam never budged unless it was to go pee or grab a bite to eat - and even that was scarce. The nurses almost considered setting up a bed for him, letting him fully move in.

"Dad..!" He huffs.

"Friends have cat-fights... That's what you're hearing when... Wilson..." he continues mumbling.

"Dad" Adam gets up, getting closer, "Dad, can you hear me?!"

"You wouldn't... pathetic little bitch... How did I get here..."

Adam sighs. Either he was having a nightmare, or House was. Either way, his hopes died then and there.

"You shot me, why... You wanted me to suffer..." House finally mumbles before taking a sharp inhale, his eyes shooting open.

"Dad!" Adam cries.

House sits up, thinking. A hallucination inside a hallucination within a dream. How is that even possible?

"Oh... Hey Adam..." House mumbles, rubbing his face, "Judging by the growth, it's been two days... You sat here the whole time?"

"I- just came in a moment ago." Adam huffs, sitting back, ignoring the fact he was sore all over from sitting for two days.

"Judging by the oil build-up in your hair, I'd say you're lying. You have a whole diva breakdown the moment your hair feels even a bit greasy..."

Adam scoffs, "Yeah... sorry..."

House looks away, seeing Natalya still unconscious. His brain warned him that she was here, as it seems.

"Don't worry..." Adam says, "The cops got their neatest handcuffs polished for when she's fit to leave..."

House nods, relieved. "Still, it's a bit absurd they'd lock me with the crazy bitch that assaulted me and shot me..."

"She's already chained to the bed. She's as good as dog shit." Adam sneers, "What happened..?"

House thinks back, sighing. "She shot me in the stomach after boldly proclaiming a 'If I can't have you, no one can'. She then accused Cameron of being a slut... pointed the gun at Chase and... called him a filthy 'pedik'... but before she could take a second victim, she either... tried to shoot me in the head and missed, or... wanted me to slowly bleed out like a butchered pig. From what I assume, she then shot herself but missed while being detained by security..."

Adam starts crying, leaning over House, laying his head on his chest.

"And you didn't die..." Adam whines with sorrowful joy, "Are you in pain?"

"I upped the morphine. I'll be fine..." House nods, patting Adam's head.

"They drugged me, dad..." Adam cries out, "They gave me Ativan, I felt so weak... childish... powerless..."

House nods, ruffling his hair. "You're okay, kiddo... You smell like horse dung but besides that..."

Adam scoffs, pulling away. "Unless you go into something-fib the moment I leave, I'll go take a shower."

House scoffs back, "Aight, I'll try not to go into 'something-fib'."

Adam takes a shower, borrowing a pair of sweats and a hoodie from Chase's locker, replacing it with his two day old clothing, walking in to find only Chase.

"The others?" Adam asks.

"You wearing my hoodie?" Chase asks back.

"Had nothing else. The others?" Adam repeats.

"Foreman's dealing with the patient, Cameron heard House was awake and ran off." Chase explains.

"My back is sore as fuck" Adam groans.

"I told you to go home. You stayed. Face the consequences." Chase snarks.

Adam rolls his eyes, sitting on the chair next to Chase backwards, pulling up his hoodie and taking it off.

"Rub my back?" Adam smiles.

Chase sighs, aligning his chair to Adam's, rubbing his back. Adam lets out a satisfied moan, Chase fighting the urge to blush.

"God, I wanna kill myself..." Adam mumbles, almost too quiet for Chase to hear.

"Hm?" Chase hums, eyes wide, unwilling to believe his ears.

"Nothing..." Adam sleepily adds.

Chase just silently wraps his arms around him, pressing his chest against his back, but only for a moment, what if the others see?

"Oh don't pretend you suddenly care." Adam calls out. "There's an itch by my left shoulder blade, can you get it?"

Chase sighs, scratching Adam's back, leaning away as the other two come back.

"Chase, we have to-" Cameron starts. "Whoa."

"What? He's got an itch." Chase shoots back, defensive.

"First the nine year old..." Foreman starts.

"I'm eighteen! I'm not a kid!" Adam shoots back.

Cameron sighs, "Chase, we need a consult."

Chase sighs, standing up as Adam puts his hoodie back on. He heads just outside the office, Foreman briefly leaving to check on House - since Cameron commanded him to.

"We did the lymph node biopsy, came back negative." Cameron explains.

"Is... that why you pulled me over..?" Chase asks.

Cameron sighs, stammering as she glances around.

"I was... also wondering if... there was anything going on between you and Adam." She confesses.

"What? Why?" Chase asks, nervous and defensive.

Cameron shrugs, "You guys seem close, and... I was wondering if that would prevent me from asking you out for a drink?"

Chase scoffs, "Is that my only two options? Being with you or being gay?"

"Look, I'm just saying-" Cameron sighs, "He's House's kid, that could only end wrong..."

"And we're coworkers... is that any different..?" Chase raises a brow.

"Better..." Cameron argues, "I mean, we've done it before, why not do it again..?"

Chase huffs, "Are you worried sleeping with you made me gay?" he defensively asks. "Whatever, let's just go tell House... about the patient..."

They head to the ICU, Adam holding back tears from behind the office door. He sniffles, wiping his face with his sleeve before heading out, all the way to the parking lot, getting inside Wilson's car and driving home.

"Are you hallucinating?" Wilson asks House.

"Yeah, I'm hallucinating!" House yells, not even willing to question why he was in Cuddy's office.

"No, right now..." Wilson's face fades into Natalya's, "Are you hallucinating..?"

"How did you know I was–" House starts.

"You were yelling at me. You were calling me Wilson."

"No..." House mutters. "I never called Wilson by his name."

"Oh, yeah, right. The hallucinator is going to tell the hallucinatee what happened." Natalya giggles.

"You’re not the hallucinatee, Wilson was the hallucinatee." House barks "Cuddy’s office was the hallucinatee, the bathroom was the hallucinatee."

"Ah. Bathroom. It figures." Natalya softly says "You wet your bed."

"Damn it." House sneers as he tries to hide it.

The team enters. They don’t notice the incontinent incident at all.

"Test was negative." Cameron starts.

"EFP and beta HGG say no testicular cancer." Foreman explains.

"So, let’s recap. We’ve just ruled out everything, which doesn’t make sense, and the answer has to be something that does make sense. Do a cystoscopy, make sure he’s human." House rapid-fires.

House and the team are now suddenly walking down the stairs.

"Test was negative." Chase shoots back.

"For him being human?" House snarks, "Did you check really, really well?"

"Everything was right where it was supposed to be, all the tubes go where they’re supposed to go." Chase says, he seems to be on edge because of something.

"Most likely scenario is some kind of bacterial prostatitis." Foreman mentions.

House looks up the stairs, walking up them as he looks in awe.

"Find out if his father hunched?" he walks down the stairs. "His father have trouble peeing?" And up, and down and up. "His father have sex with his own mother? The answer to any of these questions, if yes, assume you’re right. If the answer’s no, assume you’re right, but biopsy some prostate lymphs just to make sure." he rapid-fires.

"But then we’d have to cut through his stomach, and since he’s clearly got a bleeding problem, this kind of surgery might-" Cameron nitpicks.

"He doesn’t clearly have anything." Foreman reminds.

"How did I get here?" House suddenly pipes up.

"What are you talking about?" Chase scoffs.

"I was in the ICU, and then I was coming down these stairs with you guys." House recalls, "What happened in between? I don’t remember how I got here."

Adam sits on the cold bathroom floor, eyeing an almost-empty bottle of Vicodin - the medication that's consumed his father's life for years now. Now he was in the ICU, laying next to the same woman that forced herself on him and created... Adam. His whole existence felt like a joke, where the punchline is hard to make out. Was the punchline his conception? Was it when his father had an infarction and turned him into a lapdog? Was it when Stacy came around and began bossing him around like some puppet, pretending she was now somehow allowed to?

No, the punchline was when he became obsessed with Chase, finally got him four years later, and losing him right next to his own two parents. He technically hasn't lost anyone; not yet, but he just felt... numb... as if nothing mattered anymore...

Maybe the punchline was him all along.

He takes a scalpel he'd snuck from the ICU, taking off the stolen hoodie and tossing it aside as if it was cursed.

"Adam took the car..." Wilson complains.

"I could give you a ride." Chase offers.

"You owe him for head or something?" Foreman raises a brow.

"Uhh, yeah, I asked him to check this weird blemish last week for skin cancer." Chase lies, Wilson notices and plays along.

"It was a stain from chocolate pudding." He humors.

Chase scoffs, "Whoops."

They get going, Wilson taking his car to run some errands as Chase fiddles with the wheel. Adam was alone, in Ativan withdrawal, and traumatized. He should check on him, he really should, yet he was frozen. Eventually, he brings himself to head inside, finding the home empty, dark, decrepit, and cold.

"Adam..?" Chase calls out, yet he gets no response.

Chapter Text

"Adam..?" Chase yells again, finding the entire home empty, dark, and lonely.

Chase looks around, opening every door and looking through every room, before noticing the bathroom light switched on. He tries to open the door, but it's locked.

"Adam, open the door." Chase commands, an impending feeling of doom churning inside his stomach. "Please..."

He continues trying to get the lock to fail, his attempts at opening the door delving into full-on body slams. The lock finally gives out, hitting against the tiled walls with a giant thump, Chase reluctantly heading inside.

"Adam..?" he whispers, eyes wide, finally spotting him.

Adam laid back, barely conscious, resting his head on the edge of the bathtub, covered in vomit, sweat, and blood. He runs up to him, inspecting him. He couldn't tell if he was hallucinating, but he could swear Adam's eyes were clouded - much like someone 2-3 days post-mortem.

"Go away..." Adam weakly utters.

"...What did you do..?" he softly asks. "Why..."

He sees the blood covering the scars on his arm, the bloody scalpel still in his other hand, right next to an empty discarded Vicodin bottle and a needle of Narcan.

"I'm okay now... I just..." Adam starts.

"What did you do?!" Chase pipes up, panicked.

Adam scoffs, weak. "I gave up."

Chase lets out a shuddered breath.

"I'm a selfish cunt. I gave up on dad, I gave up on the band... I gave up on you..." Adam weakly explains.

"How much Vicodin did you take..?"

Adam's head goes limp, the scalpel making a sharp sound against the tile floor as he raises his hand to show five fingers.

"And you changed your mind... You made yourself puke..." Chase analyzes, "And gave yourself Narcan..."

Adam nods. "I'll be fine. Now go away."

Adam's hand drops to the ground, creating a small thud as Chase slowly stands up, not knowing what to do. He lets out another shuddered breath, knowing he needs to call 911, and so he takes out his phone.

"No!" Adam yells, "Don't..." he begs "Don't do that..."

Chase slowly dials the number, only for Adam to grab the phone out of his hand and pocket it, staring up at him like a feral animal.

"I'll be fine..." Adam repeats. "If you call the paramedics, they'll book it a suicide attempt. My dad will book it a suicide attempt. I can't do that to him, so I made myself puke... treated myself... and now I'm better."

Chase takes a sharp inhale, sighing it out, his heart pumping.

"...I'll have to monitor you..." Chase concludes, "At least let me do that..."

"No. Go away. I gave up on chasing you, since you're obviously not gay..." Adam snarks.

Chase helps Adam stand up, taking off his pants carefully.

"Nevermind, that's kinda gay..." Adam scoffs.

"I'm cleaning you off. If you're not gonna let me call the paramedics..." Chase says, sliding down his pants and boxers, helping him inside the bathtub.

Chase rolls up his sleeve before starting the shower, rinsing off the vomit and letting it wash away down the drain. He then switches the showerhead to the faucet, plugging the drain and checking the temperature, kneeling down.

"Look at you, kneeling like a slut." Adam scoffs, flexing his pelvic muscles to bounce his penis up, placing his hand on the back of Chase's head.

Chase pulls away, groaning, "Not the time to be funny, Adam. Sit."

Adam rolls his eyes and sits down, letting Chase put some old bubble bath into the water that hasn't been used since Wilson stopped bathing Adam when he was a child.

"Why are you giving me a bath..?" Adam asks, his voice hoarse.

"...It can help nausea or discomfort..." Chase simply says, grabbing a sponge. "If you feel dizzy or weird, tell me."

"It's funny..." Adam says, "I give up on you and suddenly you're the one who cares."

"Stop saying that..." Chase says, his tone that of an abandoned child.

"I fucking gave up on you. You're nothing to me." Adam barks, "Y'wanna know why? Because apparently I'm nothing to you."

Chase tries to swallow his tears, turning the tap off and using the bubbles to slowly bring the sponge over Adam's arms and body.

"And yet you're still here, pretending I'm some sickly, miserable creature that needs to be taken care of. You don't love me. You pity me." Adam rants.

A tear rolls down Chase's cheek, he sniffles as he quickly wipes it.

"I do love you..."

"But..?" Adam probes.

Chase sighs, "But... I'm not ready to admit it publicly..."

"Then you don't love me..." Adam concludes. "Now leave."

Chase washes Adam's cuts carefully, making sure it doesn't sting as much, laying his arm out onto the edge of the tub, grabbing the nearby med-kit to wrap him up.

"Pain releases endorphins..." Adam recites, "it's like the body's reward for pain. Ironic, isn't it."

"Your point being..?" Chase asks.

"We need pain. A world without pain is dangerous, unpredictable... boring..." Adam quips, unplugging the drain and getting out. "Think about that."

Chase watches Adam towel himself down and head out, tossing the towel haphazardly onto the floor, right into the drying pool of blood. Chase rolls his eyes, following him, watching him dress into sweats before throwing himself onto his bed.

"How do I prove to you that I love you..?" Chase softly asks, watching him from the doorway.

"Oh, how the tables have turned." Adam scoffs, "Four years stalking, I get an open ended question."

Chase looks down like a dejected puppy.

Adam sighs, shrugging, "Is it selfish that I want you to be devoted to me..?"

"H-how devoted?" Chase asks, hopeful, getting closer.

"As devoted as I am to you. You trust me, you love me, you want only me... You listen to me, let me control you, let me own you..." Adam says, his look manic, before turning his head to the wall. "I was right. That's selfish."

Chase stammers a bit, his lip quivering with uncertainty as he looks out, then back at Adam. He slowly walks up to the bed, taking off his jacket and jeans for comfort, laying on top of Adam like it was a habit, Adam's arm reflexively wrapping around Chase as he continues to look away.

"I'd be willing to be devoted to you..." Chase softly says.

"No you wouldn't" Adam calls out. "You weren't even able to tell Cameron... I don't want you to tell her that you're dating me, but it destroyed me how you implied she still has a chance with you... That's how I heard it, at least."

"You want me to fake date someone like you did with Vera?" Chase scoffs.

"I removed that status." Adam reveals, "Vera's a bitch."

Chase hums, hugging Adam tighter.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Chase asks. "Difficulty breathing, nausea, dizziness?"

"None, why..?" Adam asks back.

"Because I'm about to fall asleep, and if you die in my arms tonight, I'll never forgive myself." Chase says, eyes softly closing. "Tell me how I can be devoted to you..."

Adam huffs, caressing Chase's head. "You'll think I'm crazy..."

"I already do..." Chase giggles.

"Well... I'd want to have access to your phone, you'd have access to mine. I'd want to be the only one you ever confide in, and I'd only confide in you... with some exceptions on each end, like dad or Wilson, they'd slip anyway. I'd want to constantly see where you are, where you're going, what you're doing, and you'd know where I am. I'd want you to tell me everything, from why you would suddenly be distant or why you want to leave. Tell me everything, even if it hurts me..." Adam finally turns to Chase. "Could you live with that..?"

Chase hums, hugging Adam tighter. "Yes."

Adam scoffs, "I could give you time to think and even an experimental period to make sure you think this through."

"Right... Thank you..." Chase softly says.

"Adorable..." Adam coos, caressing Chase's head again.

"Anything else..?" Chase asks, quiet.

Adam huffs, admiring his face along with his question, a blush appearing on his pale face.

"Eventually... After graduating and getting a job... I'd want to move in with you."

"Can't wait." Chase smiles.

"And... One last thing" Adam mentions, his hand moving down to draw circles on Chase's back. "We're never using protection."

Chase snickers, "You serious..?"

Adam shrugs, "It's a trust thing... Naturally, neither one of us would sleep with anyone. I've... read your routine STD test results and learned you were clean... The risk is low, almost none, and it's not like I can get you pregnant."

"Low, never zero." Chase shoots back.

"And that 'almost' is the trust part... I'd need you to trust me enough to let me feel you... raw... no barriers..." Adam specifies. "It's about being open, trusting... vulnerable..."

Chase nods. He'd been in relationships like that before - although the 'open' part was more so about BDSM, something he suspected Adam to want to bring up eventually -, but never has he felt so... willing.

"I'm completely yours, then." he says, hugging Adam tighter.

"You're gonna make me cry, baby..." he coos, continuing to draw shapes into his back. "And also give me a boner."

"Speaking of..." Chase teases. "What about..."

"What about what, sweetheart?" Adam smirks, brushing his nose against Chase's.

"...about, uhm, BDSM..?" Chase asks, shy.

"Aww, how adorable." Adam mocks. "Is my baby shy talking about his kinks?"

"Shut up..." Chase looks away, burrowing into Adam's pec, blushing.

"Well... I'm open to things, I've seen things... I've fantasized about things..." Adam lists.

"Like..?" Chase quietly asks.

Adam shrugs. "Marking, ownership, taming... praise, power play... Domming, subbing, anything, really. You?"

Chase gulps, a soft sigh leaving his nostrils. "I... like being dominated..."

"Adorable." Adam coos. "What else?"

"Uhh..." Chase hums, unsure.

Adam lifts Chase's head up, giving him a soft kiss.

"One more rule... Don't be ashamed to tell me anything ever... Nothing you could say will ever make me hate you..."

"...Didn't you say you gave up on me earlier..?" Chase asks, his tone insecure.

Adam's smirk fades a bit. "I-"

"The rule applies to you too..." he softly says.

Adam shrugs, "I was... in a different mental state... I gave up on you, but I never stopped loving you... Now you're here... and I'm better."

Chase scoots up, kissing Adam's cheek, inconspicuously checking for a fever, relieved to find none.

"You wanna stop talking about it?" Chase asks.

"You ready for that or are you still shaken?" Adam mutters, like he owes an apology.

"I'm gonna be shaken for days but right now this is a good distraction..." Chase explains.

Adam snickers, "Right then. What else do you like..?"

"I... also like... restraints... and uhm..." Chase shrugs, "Caregiving... like, bathing you, or nursing you into health..."

"Cute..." Adam smirks.

"Stop..." Chase pouts. "I'm kind of into masochism..."

"In what way..?" Adam asks, excitement radiating from his tone.

Chase shrugs, "I've always secretly liked being slapped..."

Adam chuckles, "I remember when you guys treated those mafiosos, the boss's brother slapped you."

"It was kinda hot..." Chase admits, seeing Adam's expression get envious, "The slap, not the brother."

"Now I'll slap you." Adam jokingly threatens.

Chase rolls his eyes, burrowing his face into the crook of Adam's neck.

"Baby is sleepy, huh?" Adam teases. "C'mon, you get me all excited and I don't even get a make-up make-out?"

Chase scoffs, scooting even more upwards to meet Adam at his face. He presses a soft kiss onto his lips, deepening it like he means it. 

"Wanna fall asleep like this..?" Chase shyly asks, blushing. "Kissing, pressing our faces together, touching from head to toe..?"

"And start the day with you whining around my raging morning wood." Adam drops.

Chase snickers, his face entirely red. "Deal."

Adam's arms wrap tightly around Chase, their cheeks pressing together.

"Even when I try to hate you, I'm sickly in love with you... You entice me more than what should be possible..."

"I love you." Chase simply mutters back, sleepy. "I want to be yours."

Adam's cheeks redden a bit, "Say that again"

Chase smirks, "I want to be completely, undoubtedly yours. I love and cherish you more than anyone else..."

Adam lets out a shuddered breath, tearing up as he leans in again, slowly, lazily making out with Chase as the two of them fall asleep. The entire night, their lips stay conjoined, laying on top of each other like a nest of bunnies.

Chapter Text

"Morning, sunshine" greets Adam, finding himself particularly close to the blond that he'd gotten to bed once again.

"Morning..." Chase returns, slightly pulling away, his heart jumping at the proximity.

"Wanna play a game?" He immediately asks.

"Uhh... What game..?" Chase asks, wary.

"Dealbreakers. We basically list shit about ourselves that may make someone think twice about dating." Adam explains "Remember yesterday?"

Chase cringes a bit, which Adam notices.

"Not that, the convo after. We 'dated' like a week, but if we want to Date, capital D and all..." Adam continues, "We might as well get the punches out now."

"Y'know..." Chase starts, sitting up, "Most people aren't this... scientific... about dating."

Adam scoffs, thinking of a counterargument. There were plenty, yet he couldn't feel like he could mention most of them. He craved control, routine, order, many things that would realistically not be so emphasized, because maybe then, he won't get betrayed again.

"It's... safe. I'd rather a partner tell me they were a manipulative sadistic narcissist now rather than after a year of goose-chase." Adam shrugs.

"Let me guess..." Chase starts. "A. That's happened to you before. B. No matter what I say, you'll continue being obsessed with me."

Adam stammers, micro-glancing around. "Fucker."

"Sorry." Chase mutters. "I'll start, then..."

"Be brutally honest. Destroy me for all I care." Adam dares on.

Chase sighs, thinking where he could even start. "I'm... extremely scared of turning into my parents. I'm either gonna become some cold, unloving bastard or an alcoholic. Or both."

Adam nods, "I'm willing to do anything to get you back, even if I hurt myself or others."

"I'll use sex as a distraction, just like you, just to avoid conflict. Either with you or myself." Chase concludes.

"I will ruin anyone that as much as takes an interest in you." Adam sternly speaks, as if it was a promise.

"I would throw your father under the bus whenever someone more powerful comes around. It happened before and I'll be ready for when it happens again." Chase reveals.

"I'll kill you if you wrong my father, even slightly." Adam shoots back.

"I'm not going to proclaim our relationship to certain people even if you threaten me." Chase confesses.

"I will make you wear skirts, make-up, and nail polish for me whether you like it or not." Adam threatens.

"I will need you to constantly remind me that you love me, need me, crave me. Otherwise I'll feel worthless." Chase reveals.

"I will need you to do the same except on your knees." Adam snarks back.

"I don't like this game..." Chase pouts.

"Do you still want me?" Adam eggs on.

"More than your father needs opiates." Chase immediately answers.

"Good boy." Adam praises as he presses a kiss onto Chase's lips. "This is why I'm gonna let you back out anytime for a while. So that once the honeymoon phase ends, you can decide if you can handle me or not."

"Can you handle me, though?" Chase asks, masking his child-like hope with sarcastic snark.

"Honey, I'll never get my hands off you." Adam leans closer, whispering against Chase's lips.

He pulls Chase close, lips attached so tight they might just fuse together, Adam flipping the blond onto his back and below him. He pulls away to look down at Chase, seeing a giddy smile form on his face as he finds Adam towering over him, like a protective barrier.

"Did I hurt you, baby?" Adam softly asks, Chase shaking his head as he covers his blushing face.

"Shut up..." Chase mutters.

"You're so cute..." Adam coos, "Like a little baby..."

Chase looks aside, past Adam. "It's 8, I'll need to start getting ready for work.

"Aw, shit, is it?" Adam groans, "Guess I'm not going to school. Next week's Thanksgiving break anyway."

"You've become a skipper, eh?" Chase snarks as he gets up from below him, Adam following, "At least lend me some clean clothes, I slept in yesterday's."

"I don't have nearly as many funky ties as you, but I have a plain white shirt." Adam comments, taking out a shirt, socks, and boxers, anything Chase would have to borrow. "Also, it's senior year. I've been an straight A student since freshman year, no way they could fail me out now. I'll pass the exams without studying, watch."

"I'd rather you not do that." Chase quips, getting dressed. "What was even the point of that game?"

Adam shrugs, "Knowing you better, and myself."

Chase hums, quietly fixing his tie. "And... you're not even gonna mention that stunt you pulled before that..?"

"I don't want to be written on suicide watch." Adam snarks.

"You almost died... and I acted unprofessional..." Chase grieves.

"But I didn't, so neither of those things matter." Adam justifies, "Just pretend nothing happened, okay?"

Chase nods, sighing.

They hop in the car and get going, arriving early. Chase follows Adam to Wilson's office, who practically barges in.

"Hey Uncle Wilson. How come you didn't come home yesterday?" Adam asks.

"Moved to a hotel" Wilson replies. "I love you guys but you know this day was gonna come some day."

"Hm..." Adam hums, "Write me a scrip for weed?"

Wilson sighs, slowly grabbing his prescription pad and writing a scrip, tearing it out.

"Only if" Wilson states, pulling the scrip away from Adam's reached out hand. "You pay Mrs. Pillsboury a visit."

"I don't even know who the fuck that is." Adam quips.

"The woman whose scrip you've been taking. She never picks her prescription up, which is why I can afford giving it to you." Wilson explains.

"Oh... Is this one of those... 'it's about the principle' things? You don't want me to visit some old lady, you want me to learn a life lesson." Adam calls out.

Wilson sighs, "Yes."

"Why are you taking weed from an old woman anyway?" Chase asks, scrunching his nose in confusion.

Adam shrugs, "We made a deal with uncle Wilson that I can take her scrips. She stopped taking it out a couple months ago and to make it less suspicious he writes me scrips under her name."

"Why do you even need it?" Chase asks.

Adam shrugs again, "What's a wannabe star that doesn't get baked a couple times a month? It helps me write."

Chase rolls his eyes, right when Wilson does.

"Pay her a visit. I'll call and say you're handing the scrip over. Don't worry, she's not gonna take it if you force her to." Wilson says, already grabbing his landline.

"Fine..." Adam sighs, "How's dad?"

"Holding on..." Wilson says, dialing the number. "We gave him ketamine and his leg stopped hurting. He's hallucinating, having black-outs, but overall doing better."

Adam nods, an annoying ringing in his ears as he squints his eyes, thinking. He almost doesn't notice Wilson talking on the phone or Chase pulling him out of the office. They head to House's office, Adam departing to go to the ICU.

"Hey dad." Adam greets, seeing House chained to his bed. "What'd you do?"

House shrugs, "Gave Cuddy a visit... tore my stitches..."

Adam chuckles, "Figures." he sits down, "Wilson wants me to visit a Mrs. Pillsboury."

"Lung cancer. Inoperable. Boring." House quips, "Probably has a couple months to live, you'll be alright."

"Hey, bunny..." Natalya greets from the other bed. "Come give your mother a hug, will you?"

"You shot my father." Adam barks, turning back to House. "Anyway, when do you get discharged?"

"Couple days, hopefully..." House sighs, "If not weeks... either way I'll need a lot of PT."

Adam nods, "Can I have this week off too?"

"Ask Wilson for a slip and sure." House agrees.

"Thanks dad, you're amazing." Adam celebrates, standing up to lean over and hug House. Natalya looks over, jealous. Adam whispers "I'm sorry you have to deal with her." before heading out.

Adam heads into the office, sitting next to Chase and pulling out his laptop.

"Don't mind me, guys. My father lets me crash here." Adam casually says, booting it up.

"Since when you have a laptop? What happened to your 'absolute beast PC'?" Chase raises a brow.

"Well, this is my absolute beast PC's little brother, my absolute beast gaming laptop. This one's for games on the go, the PC is for-"

"Porn?" Chase interrupts.

"Chase, that's disgusting." Cameron comments, disgusted.

"C'mon, the lil man's a teen, no wonder he has multiple gigs of busty women on his hard drive." Foreman cracks, chuckling.

"I'm an adult and I have no busty women on my hard drive." Adam lazily corrects, opening Sims 4. "Although I have Wicked Whims."

"About who?" Chase jokes, hoping his engagement comes off as friendly banter, and that he won't respond 'you'.

"No, it's a Sims mod, idiot. Come on, don't you doctor people know any video games besides Bio Inc or Surgeon Simulator?" Adam argues, "And don't say YanSim or DDLC or I'm leaving."

"We don't even know what half those words mean, kid." Foreman quips.

"I'm not a kid!" Adam yells.

"You're in high school, you play games all day, you bum weed off Wilson, you're a kid." Cameron concludes. "Yes, he told me about the deal with Mrs. Pillsboury."

"What were those last two games?" Chase asks as Adam sighs, pulling the Sims off to the task bar, showing his clean desktop with shortcuts to videogames and a picture of Chase - naturally - as his wallpaper.

"YanSim and DDLC? Yeah, those games need nuance. On one hand, they're both about high school girls committing violent acts, but without it you just come off as a creep." Adam explains, "Like, I bet my coins the YanSim's dev got more skeletons in the closet than Jeffery Dahmer. The main currency is panty shots, for fuck's sake."

"Then why do you have them?" Chase interrogates.

"I like virtual murder?" He answers, incredulous.

That figured. His list of games included Sims 4, Minecraft, Hatred, DDLC, YanSim, GTA San Andreas, Omori, Undertale, Deltarune, and at least eight FNAF games.

"What's with the 'five nights', what's that one?" Chase asks.

"You work as a security guard and have to survive five night shifts with murderous robots. The first five are all that, but Pizzeria Simulator is more so a simulator game, no shit, and UCN is a sandbox" Adam explains, watching the team's face contort in confusion to half those terms, "And FNAF world is more of an RPG-style deal."

"I need a dictionary..." Cameron sighs.

Adam pulls up the Sims again, entering his main world - one with him and Chase with three dogs and an adopted child. He only lets Chase watch, who stares, wide eyed.

"I've had this save for years..." He drops. "I even made five back-ups..."

"What other mods do you have..?" Chase asks, wary.

"Uhm... Wicked Whims with like, a thousand animations. It's a sex mod, basically" he explains, deadpan, watching Chase's eyes widen, Foreman snickering, and Cameron choke on her coffee, "And Basemental, it basically adds drugs... Extreme Violence, that one's obvious... The creator of that last one, Sacrificial, I have tons of his mods... Sim Torments, Deadly Toddlers, Torture and Chaos... Passionate Romance... I mean hey, it's a game of life, might as well make it more realistic, right?"

Chase just stares, stunned.

"Wanna hear my world's lore?" Adam offers, smiling.

"...Fine, what the hell." Chase sighs.

Adam explains, using inconspicuous cover names, how those two sims basically live together and casually murder people and get high as the grim reaper and the cops bother them every sim week. Chase feels himself age 10 years listening to him explain the relationship system and affair history of these virtual people. Cameron urges him to get back on the case, which is when Adam, like a scolded child, keeps playing quietly as Chase gets his head in the diagnosis.

They solve the case, send the guy home, and sign for clinic duty as Chase remains in the office, Adam urging him to try FNAF.

"I promise it'll be fun!" Adam whines.

"I don't like horror!" Chase whines back.

"It's not horror..." Adam says, opening the game, "Unless you lose..."

He pushes the laptop to Chase, who mutters a 'Fine...' and begins to play the game.

"C'mon! If I could beat the 4/20 mode, you can do this!" Adam cheers as Chase gets to 5 AM on night three, heart beating.

"I hate this game!" he yells, shutting the door on Bonnie.

Then suddenly, the 6 AM jingle goes off, Adam cheering along with the 'Yaaay!!'

"C'mon, Adam. It's noon. Remember what I told you?" Wilson probes.

"Are you my mom?" Adam snarks.

"No, I didn't shoot your father. I'll buy you lunch and then you'll go visit Mrs. Pillsboury."

Adam rolls his eyes, bagging up his laptop, "Fiiine..."

They head to the cafeteria, buying lunch, Chase nervously eating as he tries not to let others think they're a thing. Wilson sitting with them helped. After lunch, Wilson writes Mrs. Pillsboury's address onto a spare paper and gives it to Adam, who just asks why he can't write a text. He heads to the pharmacy.

"Scrip for Mrs. Pillsboury." Adam hands in the paper. "A month's dose of your finest kush, please."

"Are you sure you're not gonna take it, you little snot?" The pharmacist accuses.

"I got her address and everything. I'm doing a home delivery. Blame Dr. Wilson." Adam snarks.

The pharmacist rolls his eyes, "Sign here."

He signs the form as he gets a sealed bag of weed, which he stashes away like a criminal, walking off flashing a peace sign.

"Yeah, it sucks, but I mean, think about it. I get over some sappy cheesy hangout with some miserable dying woman and I get to smoke a month's worth of weed. If I ration it right, I might not even need more for a couple months." he says into the phone, stash in the back seat of Wilson's car - 'bring it back by five', said Wilson -, accompanied by a rolling set and a bag of loose tobacco. "You think she's the 'bake you cookies' type or the 'kids these days' type?"

"Adam, I have to get back to work." Chase sighs as his beeper goes off. "Shit. It's your father."

Adam sighs, "Okay, go... If you hurt him I'll kill you." he threatens, hanging up, tossing his phone onto the bitch seat.

He arrives, looking over the piece of paper again, realizing he has to walk up three floors. He takes out a bag of groceries Wilson made him buy her with his card, shoving the weed set into a separate bag and locking the car, muttering a 'fucking wonderful'. He walks up the three floors, his smoker lungs causing him to pant, his brain activating the craving for the kush right under his hand. As soon as he arrives to the door, he knocks, sighing, wondering what's the worst thing that could happen.

Chapter Text

"Doamne" ("My God") Mrs. Pillsboury looks Adam over, the door creaked open, "Dr. Wilson sent you?"

"Yes ma'am." Adam responds, confident.

"God, you're tall... Come in." She remarks, letting Adam step inside, leading him to the kitchen. "I told that man I don't need him running errands for me. I've managed myself for years without my husband and I can manage myself now"

Adam shrugs, setting the groceries on the table and the weed close to himself, sitting down by the small dining table fit for two. He instinctively puts his feet up onto the spare guest stool under the table. He looks around, seeing the kitchen decorated with a style that seemed familiar, yet he couldn't pinpoint why. Hand-embroidered wall hangings in a red and white pattern, everything made exclusively of wood, ceramics, religious symbols, a rusty gas oven onto which Mrs. Pillsboury would place a tiny kettle filled with water, turning the knob as she clicked a ridiculously long lighter against the stovetop, watching it erupt into a big flame.

"Coffee or tea?" she asks.

"Coffee." Adam responds, absentminded, eyeing the glass ashtray full of cigarette ends. "You're a smoker?"

The lady grabs two cups, placing a teabag in one, tying the string around the handle, and putting instant coffee in the other. "We're all dying, what difference does it make?" She puts away the instant coffee, "Milk or sugar?"

Adam nods, "Black, two sugars."

Mrs. Pillsboury watches the water boil, slowly turning the knob off and pouring water in each cup, bringing it over.

"I rarely have visitors." she mentions, pulling out a cigarette, which Adam mirrors by taking out his rolling set. "You taking my weed?"

"Uhm... I put my tobacco in the same packet." Adam says.

"It's okay. Keep it. I don't need that crap."

Adam hums, taking out the weed and mixing it with the tobacco evenly, licking the edge of the paper as he rolls a perfect joint.

"Better than that Wilson guy, you." She remarks, lighting up and tossing the lighter Adam's way.

Adam nods, lighting up.

"So, what's wrong with you, kid?" Mrs. Pillsboury asks. "Wilson has a secret stoner son?"

Adam takes a puff, deeply inhaling it and slowly blowing it out.

"Other one" he simply says. "House."

She lets out a disgusted groan, "Well, you clearly take after Wilson..."

Adam nods, "He's my uncle."

"Good." She declares.

Adam takes a sip of his coffee, savoring the taste. He'd been allowed coffee since he was 12, always filling it to the brim with milk and sugar, like a caffeinated chocolate milk substitute. By age 14, he cut short on both, taking his coffee like a simple Cappuccino. Yet, at age 15, freshly in high school, he'd work up the courage to drink Chase's leftover coffee. He felt close to him doing it, the bitterness of his coffee not even stirring up his sensory issues over the thought of an indirect kiss with the man he'd been crushing on for a year at that point. After experimenting, observing, tuning, and adjusting, he finally discovered at age 16 how Chase takes his coffee. Black, two sugars. He'd been drinking it like that since.

"Why do you smoke weed?" Mrs. Pillsboury abruptly asks. "Classmates offered it? Girlfriend wanted to try?"

Adam shrugs, "It makes me feel... normal."

"What is normal anymore?" She rhetorically asks, taking a drag.

Adam chuckles, "Not me. Pretty sure my every days could send you into cardiac arrest."

"After your uncle told me I have a year left to live, it's hard to shock me. Even then, that was nothing to what my Wally went through." She nostalgically says, ashing off her cigarette in unison with Adam. "But try me."

"Well..." Adam starts. "I'm an atheist."

"So's your father. Your uncle's a Jew. I'm orthodox. I'm not gonna threaten you with the devil, he'll appear around the corner." She says, deadpan.

"I drink energy drinks like they're water every school day and mix every singe legal drug as much as I can."

"Don't die and you're good." She quips.

"I'm autistic." he drops.

"I don't even know what that means but you seem alright to me." she quips back.

Adam nods in understanding.

"I'm... extremely suicidal." Adam casually drops. "Like, I have a great life and yet all it takes is a... push."

To this, Mrs. Pillsboury perks up, as if she had a comment, but decided to keep quiet, nodding slowly instead.

"And to make it better..." Adam deflects, seeing her discomfort. "I'm gay."

"Like, a rainbow boy?" She asks, her tone more confused and less derogatory than what Adam expected.

"Yes, homosexual, dating boys, the whole shebang. No girls."

She shrugs, leaning back and looking away, twirling her cigarette between her fingers.

"I suppose that's a possibility..." She reluctantly mutters.

Adam scoffs, taking another deep puff.

"What about you..?" Adam asks.

"Don't pretend you care. I'm sure you have friends." She remarks, looking away. "1965, Romania, Ceaușescu becomes General Secretary of the Romanian Communist Party. By the 1980's, people were starving, food was poorly rationed, families had as many children as possible to get as many rations as they could. I was 35, living with my sisters and one brother, taking care of our parents. I was the oldest, there were five of us. I was sick of it. I ran away in '85, changed my name, escaped to Hungary... My name was Ecaterina, changed it to Katalin, and now it's Catherine."

Adam leans closer, having finished his spliff.

"Now, my family resided bordering Harghita county, one of the two counties full of Hungarians. I picked some words up, enough to get around... I saw Queen live a year later. It was probably the best year of my life."

Adam's eyes widen.

"You... saw Freddie Mercury live? And Brian, Roger and John?" Adam gasps.

Catherine nods, nostalgic. "I remember when he performed a special song in Hungarian... poor guy forgot half the lyrics." She huffs a laugh.

"Then... what happened? Were your sisters and brother okay..?" Adam asks like a young child listening to a bedtime story - which was somewhat true, he was sleepy as fuck.

Catherine takes a deep sigh, "1989, Christmas day, Ceaușescu was executed on live TV along with his wife. The system didn't change for a while, but according to one of my sisters in a letter, people were hallucinating ration cards and... hoarding bananas, oranges, coffee... not that fake cicoare (chicory) shit but real, actual coffee..." Catherine slightly laughs to herself. "Coke and pepsi, chocolate, and bubblegum were foreign concepts before, I wish I could experience the first time I've had them after that..."

Adam glances around. It figured now why there were bowls of fruit, chocolates and biscuits tucked away on the counter - it was no longer luxury.

"You hungry..?" Catherine softly asks, bringing a bowl of chocolates and butter biscuits neatly laid out over.

Adam softly nods, like a child, reaching out to take a biscuit and a chocolate.

"Then..." Catherine continues, "My brother wrote me about a daring plan to move to the US after the system collapse. I agreed. Now he lives in Trenton. I've resided here, in Princeton... met this gentle, loving man, Walter. Took his name, got married for 15 years... He passed away last year."

"Hm..." Adam simply hums.

"My brother doesn't even visit me, that little snot..." Catherine snarks under her breath. "Last I heard, he's got this teenage drummer son. Somehow managed to carry the name 'Ardelean' over another generation..."

Adam perks up, "Is... his son named Carl by any chance..?"

"Think so."

"...He's the drummer of my band." Adam reveals.

"Oh..." Catherine quietly exclaims. "Well, boys will be boys..."

"...I'm actually some percentage Romanian..." Adam mumbles, sleepy. "I'm half Russian, but that half has a lot of other stuff. Hungarian as well, I heard those two hate each other."

"God made us enemies because we'd be too powerful together." Catherine jokes. "I'm part Hungarian too... My grandmother was Hungarian... She taught me a couple lullabies."

Adam nods. "My mother is Russian, she taught me..." he trails off.

"Back in my day, we learned Russian in schools..." Catherine mentions.

"I'm almost fluent... I only know swear words in Romanian though..."

"Tell me one." Catherine dares, amused.

Adam's face gets red in embarrassment, muttering a quick "...Băga mi-aș pula mea..." ("I'd put my dick in it")

Catherine lets out a loving chuckle. "Just like my sisters... One time my sister Elena exclaimed 'Pizda mă-ții' ('Your mother's cunt') in front of my grandmother. We thought we'd never hear the end of it."

Adam wears a juvenile grin. "I rarely see my grandma... don't even know what it's like... this is kinda how it feels, right?"

"I can pretend..." Catherine adds. "Want to hear that special folk song that that Freddie character performed in '86?"

Adam shrugs, "Think I'd understand the lyrics, sure."

Catherine laughs, looking away, flicking the second cigarette she'd lit, softly singing.

"Tavaszi szél vizet áraszt, virágom, virágom
Minden madár társat választ, virágom, virágom
Hát én immár kit válasszak, virágom, virágom
Te engemet, én tégedet, virágom, virágom"

("The spring wind floods the rivers, my flower, my flower
Every bird chooses a partner, my flower, my flower
Well, whoever shall I choose now, my flower, my flower
You choose me, I choose you, my flower, my flower")*

"It's beautiful..." Adam huffs, rubbing his sleepy eyes. "It's funny... On paper, my grandma is Blythe House... but in practice, another nice lady is acting more like..." he trails off.

Adam perks up, thinking. From the look on his face, you'd mistake him for House when he gets an epiphany from something seemingly random - because that's exactly what's happening.

"Say, uhh..." Adam starts, "How have you been feeling? On chemo..?"

Catherine shrugs. "Made me better. My sinuses are clear, I feel much more... able. My joints don't hurt and I can hear better."

"...That's not how chemo is supposed to work..." Adam brainstorms.

He thinks over everything he knows about diagnostics, excusing himself to go to the other room, leaving Catherine confused. He calls Wilson.

"How's the visit? Told you it wouldn't be-" Wilson greets.

"How'd you get the diagnosis?" he simply asks.

"Adam, what are you-"

"She’s on platinum-based chemo for inoperable lung cancer, right? Then why is she not dying?" Adam asks.

"What?" Wilson asks, confused.

"She has no signs of chemo related complications besides hair loss and weight loss. She's not weak, she's able." Adam explains, voice hushed. "Do an ANCA blood panel for GPA. Trust me."

Wilson sighs, "...Fine, she's overdue for a check-up anyway."

"Okay... I'll bring her in I guess." he says, hanging up, heading back with a sigh.

"What was that about..?" Catherine asks.

"...You might get a few years of your life back." Adam smiles.

Catherine nods in understanding, thinking. "And now I might have a reason to go on..."

Adam smiles, grabbing the bag of pot and leading Catherine out of the apartment, getting going to the hospital. He drops her off, heading back to the office. Wilson holds a consult as Adam just sets up his laptop, Foreman and Cameron having been asked to assist Catherine's case. Adam sits next to Chase, who observes him closely.

"You're high." Chase states.

"You're sexy." Adam responds. "I want you."

"I'm at work." Chase sternly says.

"Split a spliff with me and think again." Adam says, laying his head onto Chase's shoulder.

"It's 3, can you handle two more hours for God's sake?" Chase pinches the bridge of his nose.

"I want you to touch me inappropriately." Adam states, deadpan. "Gimme a kiss."

Chase glances around, seeing the coast is clear, before tilting Adam's face up with the tip of his nose, lips attaching like magnets, before Chase then swiftly moves away, fingers over his lips, blushing.

"I'm high." Adam states.

"No shit." Chase snarks.

"I'm hornyyy." Adam whines.

"Shut up..." Chase covers his face.

Adam presses a kiss onto Chase's cheek, who just covers his face more. Wilson walks in, nearly causing Chase a heart attack before realizing it was just him.

"You were right..." Wilson says, stunned. "Mrs. Pillsboury has granulomatosis..."

Adam shrugs, "They can both show up as masses in the lungs. You're a cancer doc so you screamed cancer. Chemo helped the GPA hold its horses a bit."

Chase stares, wide-eyed. "And you knew that, just like that." he questions, snapping his fingers.

"Just like that" Adam nods, cocky. "I gotta tell dad."

Wilson nods. "He's awake, he wants to see you anyway."

Adam laughs, giddy, running off to the ICU as Chase stares at his open Sims world. Adam made their sims have sex. Chase covers his red face and closes the laptop in shame.

"Dad!" Adam enters the ICU, excited. "Did you hear what I did?"

"I helped deliver the differential, you dum-dum." House teases, "Well, it was my team, but they love me so much they tell me everything."

Adam sits down, smiling, giddy and childish.

"You're high" House states.

"Ehheheee" Adam chuckles. "No I'm not, dad."

"Oh, don't kid me. C'mon, show me those pearly reds." House jokes, grabbing Adam's face, inspecting the reddened whites of his eyes. His grin dies down, fading into a look of disappointment, but even Adam could tell it wasn't directed at him, but himself. "Just like your father. A brilliant little stoner."

Adam snickers, hugging House. "I love you dad."

"Other parents don't condone weed because it's a drug. I don't condone it because you always get so sappy and lovey-dovey when you're stoned." House snarks, yet his one arm embraces him back.

"Yay!" Adam exclaims, smiling.

Chapter Text

"You're on, old man." Adam proclaims, confident, getting into starting position.

"On the count of three..." A recently discharged House, now in athletic wear, mimics the position.

"One, two, three!" Chase counts out loud from a couple meters away, clicking a timer as the two start running.

After the ketamine treatment, House was believed to start getting better. This meant, above all else, that he could sport competitively with Adam for the first time since he was eleven. He outruns Adam by a couple milliseconds, to which Chase attempts to high-five him, only for him to reach for a water bottle beside him, panting.

"Best runner in your P.E. class, you say?" House snarks, panting.

"Not fair..." Adam pouts.

"I'm fast because I'm athletic, you're fast because you're scrawnier than a streetlight." House explains, pouring a drop of water onto his face and wiping it.

"How about a rematch?" Adam offers.

"Skate park." House argues back, to which Adam nods.

"Yeah, why else would you make me log around two skateboards and a shit load of water?" Chase raises a brow.

"You wanna keep your job..?" House snarks, "That's what I thought."

They end up going from the jogging park to the 'skatepark', AKA the courtyard of the university near the hospital, after a quick change from casual wear to work clothes, since at least two of them were currently supposed to be working. House tries to do an ollie, and when he doesn't succeed, Adam began to demonstrate. As if their roles were reversed.

Chase lays onto his back on the edge of a raised concete planter, a hand on his stomach and another over his eyes, sunbathing alone with his thoughts, something he used to do often in the seminary and college. The dopamine receptors of his autistic ass brain may have been fried, but he had learned to live with the silence. He is snapped out by Adam's voice in his ear, though.

"Robby, wanna try?" Adam asks, startling the older man, who jumps a bit, removing his arm from in front of his eyes and looking up at Adam's giddy face cover his peripherals.

"I'm good." Chase mumbles, startled, yet sleepy.

"C'mon!" Adam whines, "I'll teach you!"

"I never had an awesome dad teach me skateboarding as a kid." Chase shoots back.

"Oh, snap." House exclaims, rolling by, to which Adam just clicks his tongue at him.

Chase pouts a bit, considering. "Fine..."

"Dad, can I borrow your board?" Adam excitedly asks.

"Get your own, loser." House snarks, finally doing a perfect ollie.

Adam sighs, stepping off his board. "Fine... take mine."

"Uhm..." Chase mumbles, standing up.

Adam takes his hand, letting him step up onto the board, a leg holding it still as his arms hold Chase's waist.

"Careful... relax your muscles, I got you." Adam mumbles, almost absent-mindedly - almost mirroring House's words from all those years ago. "Don't be scared, you won't get hurt as long as I hold onto you... and if you do, you get up and try again, alright?"

Chase blushes, embarrassed, this feeling of parent teaching child radiating onto him. He wasn't ready to let go, be infantilised by Adam, and yet... he felt he needed it.

"Ready..?" Adam asks, his foot stepping off as Chase nods, "Now, with the dominant leg, kick yourself forward."

Chase slowly pushes himself forward with his right foot, stumbling and jittering from the unstable wheels. Adam walks along, consistently holding onto Chase.

"Faster." Adam encourages, picking up the pace along with Chase.

"How do I stop..?" Chase asks, voice wobbly.

"You either drag your back foot, or jump." Adam says, invigorated.

Chase gulps, increasing his pace.

"Ready?" Adam asks, letting go.

Chase looks back momentarily before shifting his focus on not dying on four wheels, "You can't just- Oh, God."

Adam jumps up and raises his arms, watching Chase get accustomed to the pace, getting ahead of House. House mocks Chase as he dashes next to Adam, dragging his feet before muttering an 'ow'. Cue panic mode. He jumps off the board, landing in Adam's arms, who catches him, only to lose his balance and fall back, reflexively wrapping his arms tightly around Chase's head protectively.

"That was awesome! I'm so proud of you, Robby..." Adam coos, hugging Chase tighter and kissing his head.

Chase looks up, blushing, adrenaline slowly fading into noradrenaline, as his pupils widen. Adam kisses his forehead, causing him to blush even more.

"Heh, gay." House comments.

"There you are!" Cameron exclaims, walking alongside Foreman. Chase is startled, shoving Adam away discreetly. "Chase?"

"Yeah?" he asks, standing up and dusting off his clothing, trying to remain nonchalant.

"What are you..." She trails off.

Adam shoots her a threatening look, which fades into a maniacal grin, doing the ASL sign for 'milk' in reference to the secret hiding in her freezer.

Cameron sighs, "Nevermind. Glad you're having fun."

"We got a case." Foreman says, handing over a file.

"How convenient. I was about to let Chase off for being my personal mule." House comments, kicking his board up and catching it.

"R-Really?" Chase asks, hopeful.

"How come he gets off basically every day? You like him or something?" Cameron nitpicks, envious.

"He logged around two skateboards all day." He comments, turning to Chase. "Go before I change my mind."

Chase lets out a grateful huff, Adam leading him away after having fetched his board.

"Got practice. Wanna come?" Adam offers.

"Sure. I'll be late though. If House can't be there, who gets the donuts?" Chase smiles, cheeky, walking over to the parking lot.

As soon as he drops Adam off, Chase drives off to go get donuts, which is when Adam enters the warehouse, seeing nobody having arrived yet. He lays down on the cold, grimy warehouse floor, memories of their very last practice so far - the one that was cut short by the storm - pouring back into his mind. He stares at the empty Jack bottle, the one that made them warm in the cold night. He remembers the game - best day worst day. House's worst day was the infarction, but now, perhaps through medicine, faith, prayer, or sheer willpower, he'll get better. Maybe they can keep going jogging or skating... but in any case, today was great.

He gets an idea, perhaps a bad one. Paul had the motorcycle accident, Abel had the heart attack, Muel had his father, Carl got humiliated. Major incidents, lots of overlooked little symptoms. After the accident, Paul couldn't even look at his brand new vehicle. Abel was probably forbidden from the energy drinks they'd kick back the year prior. Muel probably doesn't trust his step dad Stuart. Carl... well, he's Carl. And after Adam's worst day... he couldn't keep up his delusions of what a loving mother is like. Everyone knows the more prominent incidents, but nobody considers the after. But what if... if House could now run again... perhaps it wasn't gonna be impossible for the others to face their devils as well...

"Hey dude." Paul greets, "You wanna rock?"

"No..." Adam simply says, still looking up at the ceiling.

"Fuck you mean no?" Paul asks, confused.

"It's not about the music... but the community..." Adam mutters.

"You high?"

"Not yet." Adam responds.

"Fine, I'll bite, what is it?" Paul asks, pulling out another Jim Beam, about to take a swig.

"Something you need to be sober for" Adam comments, to which Paul gives up trying to unscrew the top, instead placing it aside with an eyeroll.

"Hey guys!" Muel greets. 

"Hey chat what's up chat" Carl appears.

"Lay with me" Adam commands, tone flat. 

The three share a look before shrugging and laying down.

"Sorry I'm late gu-" Abel starts "Whoa"

"Lay with me" Adam repeats.

"...You're plotting something." Abel guesses, laying next to him "Fucker"

Adam just lays in silence, before eventually letting out a content sigh, finally speaking after what felt like an hour.

"How about a game?"

"What game..?" Abel asks.

"Remember the storm..? I want you all to name at least one thing you can't do because of what happened on your worst day."

"That's it..?" Paul asks, skeptical.

"There's more, but I need you guys to be in on it with me on this." Adam reveals.

"What the hell, why not." Carl shoots up.

"Okay... I'll start... be an example..." Adam proclaims. "Since my bad day... I've never been able to feel any sympathy at all towards my mother."

Chase walks in, slowly setting the donuts onto the communal table. "Uhh..."

"Robby! Just in time!" Adam sits up abruptly. "Come on. Sit with us."

Chase hums, shrugging as he sits on Adam's other side.

"Okay..." Paul takes the baton. "Ever since my worst day... I could never bring myself to even look at my motorcycle. I kept it in my garage, repaired it, made it up to be better than new... and left it to collect dust."

"...I..." Muel continues, shrugging, "stopped being able to make decisions without my mom's opinion... even at 17..."

"I..." Carl sighs, "stopped leaving the house without suspensors and an extra tight belt... and, like, I just stopped wearing sweatpants, even at home."

"I had to give up energy drinks and any other caffeine stuff... even after my cardio cleared me... I just... look at it and feel my chest hurt." Abel adds.

Adam nods, looking at a seemingly quiet Chase. "You, Robby..?"

"Don't call me Robby..." he sighs, trying to remember what he told as his worst day, since the choices were plenty. "I... stopped attending church."

Adam slaps his thighs, implying action. "Let's do it."

"Do what..?" Muel meekly asks.

"Everyone will now do the thing they just said they gave up." Adam proclaims.

"You insane?!" Paul asks.

"Yes!" Adam smiles.

A beat passes, the boys are now standing in an empty parking lot, Paul staring at the motorcycle they got House to transport there.

"Well, get on, then." Adam encourages.

"Why do I gotta start?!" he nags.

"Second. We got Carl to remove his suspenders from below his shirt and loosen his belt to an actually comfortable length." Adam reminds, "You're up."

Paul sighs, hands shaking as he sits onto the bike and grabs the throttle.

"Would you feel safer driving someone?" Adam asks. "They say the first drive home after a baby is born is the safest ride of one's life. See my logic?"

"You're actually insane..." Paul sighs.

"Muel, get on." Adam ushers.

"Why me?!" Muel squeeks like an angry hamster.

"Because you guys are gayer than me and Robby. Hop on."

Muel rolls his eyes, cowardly sitting behind Paul. They put their helmets on as Muel reluctantly grabs onto his shoulders. Paul sternly grabs his arms, wrapping it around his abdomen, to which Muel just gives in, hugging Paul tightly, pressing the front of his helmet into his back. Paul sighs, remembering what he learned in bike school. He turns on the motor, twisting the throttle as he begins to feel a mixture of nostalgia, fear, and exhilaration. He steps on the gas pedal, riding off towards whatever seems like the most open, safe area, planning to circle around the parking lot at least once.

"Woohoo!!!" Adam cheers after him, arms in the air. "He's doing it!"

"I'm doing it..." Paul mutters to himself, feeling Muel squeeze him - half out of affection, half out of fear, which was evident from a scared little whine he let out. "Wanna slow down..?"

Muel nods, to which he slows down a bit, riding just fast enough for Muel to lean up, letting himself finally look at the open scenery quickly passing by his field of view. They do a round, which is when Paul gets back to the boys, turns the motor off, and kicks the kickstand open, taking his helmet off and running up to Adam.

"Thank you..!" he shudders, happy tears built at his eyes. Muel comes up behind, shaken, yet impressed.

"Killed two birds with one." Adam humbly boasts. "I made Muel get on with you without calling his mother first."

"Damn right!" Muel exclaims, like an overcaffeinated toddler.

Adam then takes out six cans of Monster, handing one to everyone, handing a Pipeline Punch to Abel; the flavor he always preferred before the incident.

"You sure your doc cleared you?" Adam asks.

Abel nods, yet he is unsure. "I just..."

"We have a doctor and his boss's son here. You'll be fine." Carl assures.

Abel hesitantly takes the drink, hearing everyone crack theirs open. He observes, Adam had an Ultra White, laughing at Chase holding an Aussie Lemonade, Paul had a Mango Loco, Muel had a Pacific Punch, and Carl had a regular. Of course. Every regular Monster enjoyer is some dud named Carl or Kyle or something similar. He watches them light up, sitting on the curb as Paul and Muel lean against the motorcycle. He stalls for as long as possible, sitting next to Adam.

"C'mon, man." Adam reassures. "The doc cleared you. There are almost two doctors here. The hospital is a mile away."

Abel fiddles with the tab, clicking it against the top with his dyed fingernail, biting his lip.

"...You had no episodes or arrhythmias for a year now. I know what I'm doing..." Adam almost pleads, grabbing his wrist and putting his thumb over Abel's vein, feeling his heart beating at a nice and steady 75BPM. "I'll monitor you."

Abel lets out a shuddered breath, cracking open the monster. The sound feels like a gunshot in a childhood memory, causing his heart to immediately pump 90BPM, his hand shaking. He almost spills the drink, taking a tiny sip. Then, he jerks, causing Adam to take his drink with a free hand. Abel clutches his chest, sneering through his teeth.

"Fuck..." he groans.

"No, no, you're fine. It's just..." Adam sighs, "Chase?"

Chase looks over, eyes wide, reaching behind Adam to palpate Abel's back, looking for the spot where he can feel his heartbeat. "110BPM" he states. "He only took a sip. It's not the caffeine."

"Hey, hey, Abel." Adam coos. "You took one sip. Caffeine doesn't even-"

"I'm going to die!" Abel cries out, hyperventilating.

Chase jumps up, setting his drink aside as he kneels in front of Abel. He checks his heartrate by his neck this time.

"Abel, I'm gonna ask you a couple yes or no questions." Chase states, his tone now professional and calm, as if he reflexively switched into 'Doctor mode'. "Simply nod or shake your head, alright?"

Abel nods.

"Is the pain stabbing?" He asks, Abel nods. "Is it crushing?" he shakes his head no. "You don't seem pale... Color is good, no cyanosis... Can you lay down for me?"

Abel lays down onto the curb, his breathing slowing.

"Heartrate's regular, you're gonna be fine." Chase assures. "Now, look at the clouds and tell me what shape they are."

Abel nods, mumbling shapes under his breath, calming down.

"Maybe this was a bad idea..." Adam states, taking the drink away. "Can I have it?"

"Fuck you..." Abel sighs. "Is it sundown already..?"

Everyone, having been watching the whole ordeal like a good medidrama, now look in the direction of the setting sun.

"Wanna take a selfie, Abes?" Adam asks, grounding.

Abel takes a deep breath, nodding. Adam gives him a hand and helps him up, everyone standing up to pose in front of the motorcycle, the sun setting behind them. They argue over who has the longest arm, Adam winning the argument, the boys all smiling and giddy. They sit back onto the curb, lighting another cigarette, taking out the bag of donuts and splitting them up. Chase takes a separate bag.

"Why do you always get a separate bag..?" Muel asks, innocent.

"So you don't steal it." Chase quips.

"Liar liar pants on fire." Adam teases. "I can see it when you lie. You get this stupidly adorable look on your face."

Chase rolls his eyes.

"Abel likes strawberry donuts. I'm allergic. It's a win-win." Chase explains.

"...How did I never notice that..?" Adam looks ahead, slightly disappointed that, after four long years of stalking, there're still things he didn't know about him.

"Well, now you know!" Chase reasons.

Adam shakes his head, realizing he was right. He just takes a deep drag, taking a sip of his Monster.

"Well... all I can say is... we were all really brave today, no?" Adam starts.

"Stop talking like a damn group therapist." Paul chuckles.

"Yeah, I didn't even do anything..." Muel comments.

"Shut up, Sammy, you sat behind me on the bike. That was brave." Paul praises.

"And you drove it." Muel reasons.

"...Fair."

"Yeah... Proud of you guys..." Abel says, now curling into a ball.

"Be proud of yourself too." Adam responds, patting his back. "You were brave enough to take a sip."

"This is so nice..." Carl comments.

"Yeah..." Abel smiles at him before looking back towards the sunset.

Adam leans against Chase, who embraces him.

"You did good, I'm proud of you." Adam praises, referring to Abel's panic attack.

Chase hugs him tighter. "Say it again..." he quietly mumbles.

"I'm proud of you." Adam lovingly says.

Chase sniffles, swallowing tears, nodding, "Thank you..."

Chapter Text

Chase finds himself in Adam's room, again. He wakes up to the sound of House getting ready next door, again. Adam wasn't kidding when he threatened to stick to him like a thing of velcro.

"Morning, sunshine" he pats Chase's back, grinning "you just can't handle nights without me, can you?"

He grabs Chase's phone, trying to bypass the PIN by typing in 0000. Doesn't work.

"What are you doing..?" Chase interrogates, having the urge to snatch it away.

"I told you I wanted to look through it whenever I want and you agreed." He says, trying 1234.

"Can I meet you halfway and ask you to do it while I'm away?" Chase raises a brow, his head remaining laid on Adam's chest.

"I'm just installing a tracker, dummy." He says, typing 1590 in hopes that the 'straight line on the numpad' illusion will get him a correct guess. Doesn't work. "What's your pin?"

Chase grins, almost childishly.

"Big scary IT guy can hack, but not bypass a pincode?"

"I can technically bypass it, but you'd have to wave goodbye to your data." He lectures. "Tell me your pin?"

Chase huffs, "It's your birthday..."

Adam stares at him for a bit before typing in 1104 for November 4th, unlocking the phone.

"Thanks..." he mumbles.

"Wanna stay home and do nothing all day? I have the day off" Chase offers.

"No you don't!" House yells, slamming his palm onto the door. "But I'm feeling nice, so you can just sit on your ass all day. I'm going for a run."

"Bye dad" Adam yells, turning back to Chase "God, do you not even know how to connect to wifi?"

"For what? I get texts and calls either way!" Chase argues, watching Adam type in the wifi password "If I need to check my Face, I have a laptop for that."

Adam rolls his eyes. "Whatever."

Chase huffs, slowly getting out of bed to go make themselves breakfast. "Just don't ruin it, okay?"

"I know what I'm doing!" Adam argues as Chase shuts the door, heading to the kitchen.

Adam decides to, naturally, go into his gallery, sending himself any photos that weren't backed up and therefore within access otherwise - such as experimental nudes and selfies. Besides that, he finds a bunch of images of the sky or random bugs from outside the hospital or out the window. He then decides to look through his own phone, feeling like some evil tech-scientist as he sends himself his best picture - one accentuating his physique just right -, and setting it as Chase's homescreen, setting the lockscreen to something cute he thought Chase would like.

He then finally remembers his main task and downloads a family tracking app, creating an account and linking it with his own. He looks over his map, seeing his dad's last location being work and the location turned off probably the moment he arrived. Figures. Wilson's on the road from a nearby hotel driving to work, which Adam recognizes as a sign he hadn't noticed House and him tracking his location.

"Adam!" Chase yells from the kitchen "Come eat~!"

Adam grins, "Just a minute!"

He then, as a final step, opens settings, entering biometrics. Chase had facial recognition and fingerprints in, probably having thought "Why the hell not", to which Adam adds his own fingerprint. He takes the phones and heads to the living room, finding Chase already eating.

"Cute..." Adam grins, sitting next to him and taking his plate of fresh french toast.

"Can I have my phone back?" Chase asks inbetween bites.

Adam hands over the phone, watching Chase skeptically flip open the screenflap of his case - because of course he'd own one of those cases, probably with sex shop receipts in the cardholders -, and turns it on.

"What is this..?" Chase gently chuckles, amused, staring at his lockscreen. It was a wallpaper themed around Pompompurin from Hello Kitty lore.

Adam shrugs, "Purin the golden retriever with a beret who likes puding." he rattles off with a straight face. "He's the height of five big puddings and weighs a watermelon."

Chase snickers a bit. "And what, uhhh, what's that mean?"

Adam laughs back, "Old man."

"Old man!?" Chase laughs out loud. "You're calling me 'old man'??"

"It's from Hello Kitty lore, you wouldn't get it!" Adam argues, turning his own phone on, showing his lockscreen. "Mine is Badtz Maru."

"A bird?" Chase asks, still quietly chuckling.

"Penguin..." Adam corrects. "He wants complete world domination and I respect him for it."

"Penguins are birds..." Chase pouts, opening his phone. "You watch Hello Kitty?"

"She's five apples tall and weighs three apples." Adam says, smiling.

"At this point that's not even that absurd..." Chase sighs.

"And also Invader Zim and some My Little Pony, but nothing beats Hello Kitty." Adam rambles, like a nerd.

Chase laughs, before his eyes snap towards and fixate onto the homescreen, taking in Adam's curves in the picture he'd never seen before, trying to be mad and failing.

"What?" Adam asks, giddy, "I cut my face out so you could say you have a girlfriend, you dick."

Chase stammers, sighing. "I hate you."

"I love you too." Adam says, pecking him on the cheek. "Remember yesterday?"

"How could I forget..." Chase sighs.

"You never faced your demon." Adam says rhetorically. "And it's Sunday... see my point?"

Chase rolls his eyes, closing his phone and focusing on his food. "You coming with me?"

"Why are you inviting me?" Adam probes. "My dad's an atheist and both my aunt Cuddy and uncle Wilson Jewish. I'm as far from Catholicism as possible."

Chase shrugs, "God's arms welcome everyone, last I heard." he comments, trying to seem hopeful, not quite feeling like he belongs in with 'everyone'.

"I mean, if it would help, I guess I'll join." Adam shrugs.

"Yep..." Chase simply says, the two finishing their meal.

They're now in Chase's bedroom, Adam lazily lounging on the bed as Chase nervously digs his church clothes out of the closet. It's dusty. He changes, Adam watching and even snapping some sneaky pics.

"You think they'll kick me out wearing this?" Adam asks, hinting at his baggy jeans and band tee.

Chase shrugs, "Better than looking like a transvestial hooker." he quips. "And technically they can't ask anyone to leave due to the 'God's arms being open to everyone' thing."

"Yeah. Ain't even Catholic, so, fuck they can do?" Adam rhetorically asks, seemingly as a shitty attempt at grounding him.

Chase sighs, fitting his church suit, feeling around the rosary consistently kept in its pocket.

"You'll be fine..." he says, more so to himself, evident by his worn look into the mirror.

"Shall we get going..?" Adam sits up.

"Yeah..." Chase mumbles, pocketing essentials and heading off, Adam following.

They head outside, Adam's arm reaching for the door handle to the bitch seat in anticipation for the locks to turn, before Chase turns him to himself, patting and dusting his outfit.

"You never iron..?" he mutters under his breath.

"Only Wilson and he moved out." Adam comments. "I don't even know if we own one."

Chase clicks his tongue, opening the car. "Let's just go..."

As soon as they park nearby the church and head inside, the echo of the door opening and closing sends a shiver down Chase's spine. He dips his fingers into the holy water and throws a cross, Adam observing like a tourist, fighting the urge to smack the surface of the water. They head near the front, yet not too close. They were ten minutes early, causing Chase to stammer pretty soon after sitting down.

"I'll... go to confession. You stay here and behave." Chase informs, grabbing Adam's leg. "And don't put your feet on the knee rest."

Adam rolls his eyes, taking his feet off as he watches him walk off, only to put his feet back up soon after he's out of view.

Chase sees the confessional booth empty right as he makes his way to the back of the church, sitting inside, as if second nature.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Speak, my child." The priest starts.

Chase sighs, regretting life. "Forgive me father, for I have sinned..." he starts, leaning his head back against the wall, "It's been... around eight years since my last confession..."

"Welcome back." the priest encourages, "What do you need to confess?"

"I..." Chase stammers, "Ever since my last confession, I have committed the sins of..." he blows out, trying to think of anything. "Theft... I stole a pen... It was an accident..."

The priest nods along, "Go on..."

"I... lied and told my coworker I read her study but I never did... I feel bad about that too..." he awkwardly adds.

This is where he begins to wonder if priests have their own term for the 'doorknob question', perhaps a 'doorhandle confession', the worst one that you keep to the end, about to leave. But that's not how confession works anyway.

"Mockery of the elderly and disabled... I took my boss's cane as a joke and almost broke it..." he admits, fighting the urge to chuckle at the memory "Aaand..." he mutters, "I... began dating his son..."

The priest nods, sitting up. Chase sucks in through his teeth, expecting anger and resentment - regardless if it's illogical to think so -, only to let out a relieved sigh to find the priest simply continuing on with standard confessional speech.

"So... is this it..?" Chase questions, having expected a scolding or a rant, which he had received a lot when confessing to promiscuity, despite priests being trained otherwise.

"Well..." The priest starts, surprised, "The pen, the paper, small sins but sins regardless... The mockery part is interesting, I take it you work for Dr. House?"

"Yyyes..." Chase nods, startled.

"...Unfortunately, mockery is still mockery regardless of the affected." The priest says, feeling a wash of dread at the mere mention of House.

"And the..." Chase begins to ask.

"The son... is he of age?" The priest cautiously asks.

"Yes..."

"Are you two happy..?"

Chase's eyes widen in slight shock. "Yyyes..."

"Then what's the problem?" The priest asks, holding a second of silence in case Chase has something to add before continuing. "You are now forgiven, my child. Leave with peace!"

"Praise be to God" Chase reflexively mutters, slowly standing up.

As soon as he steps out, it's as if a boulder fell off his heart. He heads back, seeing Adam with his feet up, again. He simply sits down, taking out the rosary and praying.

"How'd it go..?" Adam asks, voice hushed, legs on the knee rest, arms crossed.

Chase shakes his head, more so as a signal to stay quiet, continuing his prayers.

"Okay, sorry..." Adam adds, concerned.

Then, right as Chase is done, the sermon begins. Adam curls up, gradually leaning closer and closer before fully laying his head onto Chase's shoulder. He clicks his tongue, shooting Adam a stern stare. Maybe it was ignorance, or the inability to look into his eyes, but he had not noticed Adam's facial hair grown into a short stubble. He ignores it for now, rolling his eyes and diverting his attention back to the priest.

The priest shares a couple thoughts, mostly about the rigidity of church-goers; how proper seating is a sign of respect, but in a small, sparsely visited house of God, nobody is gonna scold you, because God feels your devotion either way.To this, Adam freely lets out a juvenile grin, laying his head on Chase's shoulder again, who fights the urge to complain with the outlet of a sigh.

Once it ends, Chase feels relaxed, almost in a state where he could take a nap but still be conscious enough to take in the words being spoken. He stirs alert with Adam's nudge, realizing he stood up, much like everyone else. Chase stands up as well, saying a final prayer. Adam tries to at least mouth along, repeating a couple words after Chase, who is hit with the realization that Adam didn't come for merit - to be able to say he came with him, use it against him, threaten to tell House and frame him for indoctrinating his darling boy; all things he could imagine him doing -, but because he cares.

He cares enough to pretend he's part of this place, not just a visitor. He acts in a way someone acts in a place they intend to return to, should an excuse come along. As they head out, Adam heads behind the church, sitting on a platform that lead to the exit from the sacristy. He whips out his cigarettes, earning another strict sigh from Chase.

"You did it..." Adam cheers, like yesterday, yet keeping his voice down. He lights up and offers a cigarette.

"Yay for me." Chase takes the cigarette, self-depricating. "Since when can you grow facial hair?"

"Always could've." Adam takes a drag. "Russian genes. Plus. Ever seen my father's scruffy ass beard? Wilson lied and told him he looked better with it and he hasn't shaved since... up until he taught me how to shave."

"And you shave every day..?" Chase raises a brow.

"Yeah, got a whole routine, I had to use a spare beretva (razor) at yours, though." Adam says, patting over what Chase thought to be acne, only to find it was razor burn, "How can you have skin so good you only need shaving cream and no oils or balms?"

Chase shrugs, "You stopped shaving. Why?"

Adam shrugs back, "You have no facial oils or balms." he complains, "But then again you could give me a- Oh, hello father."

The priest exits, now in casual clothes, lighting a cigarette.

Chapter Text

"Dr. Chase, back again?" The priest smiles. "Forgive me for saying, but I didn't take you for a smoker.."

"I'm not... It's just..." Chase starts.

"It's whenever he's with me. I piss him off." Adam comments, laying on his back onto the platform.

"Adam." Chase whisper-screams.

"Well, I'm glad you're back." The priest smiles, turning to Adam. "And thank you for coming... I see you're making yourself comfortable, nothing wrong with that."

Adam smiles back.

"Trying to avoid the big cross falling on me." Adam quips, taking a drag.

"Well, it does look heavy..." The priest says, jokingly looking up to glance at the cross. "What brings you here, my child?"

"My two feet and this blond idiot." Adam sincerely replies. "You'd think it'd take some Godly intervention or somethin'"

"Maybe it did..." The priest theorizes.

Chase just stares between them, feeling like a silent observer - much like in middle school -, 'wrong' signals going off in his brain. He found himself thinking that, any moment, the priest will flip, and he can never show his face here.

"As the wedlock son of an Atheist and a non-practicing Orthodox, I think a Catholic church is the least likely place I'd be." Adam explains, seemingly testing the waters. "My father's a cripple, whenever he needs to hide, he goes to a jogging park. I could do the same."

The priest shrugs, "You can always hide here, but always encouraged to face the thing you're hiding from... And I'm sorry to hear about your father."

Adam does a dismissive hand signal. "We adjusted..."

"...May I ask what's weighing you down..?" The priest asks softly, seeing Adam's numb look.

Hearing this, Chase steps aside, Adam reaching out to grab his shoulder.

"Stay. You already know." Adam simply says. "...My mother shot my father. He got better, but she's... still rotting inside. Inside the hospital, inside her body... God only knows what."

"...How is your relationship with her?" The priest gently asks.

Adam tosses the cigarette butt, landing it into the nearby trash can.

"She fucking abandoned me, called me a parasite, treated me as a fancy souvenir from the 'love of her life.' I came out of rape." he rapid-fires, "And you're gonna tell me how God wants me to forgive her. I forgave her, she betrayed me, shot my father. It makes sense, God says forgive, Satan says avenge, the math teacher says it doesn't matter and I still need to know the derivative of 2x over x to the power of three."

The priest nods, thinking. "That's... a lot for any child to carry... I'm not going to tell you to forgive her... That's between you, her, and God..."

Adam sits up, genuinely shocked.

"God isn’t asking you to be a saint in her story. He’s asking you not to lose yourself in hers. And Satan? Satan doesn’t want vengeance, he wants you to rot from the inside out. And she’s not worth that." The priest continues. "But pain doesn’t cancel intellect. And rage doesn’t make you less worthy of love."

A beat passes. The priest shifts, more human than holy now.

"You survived. You’re still here. And you don’t have to make it all poetic or righteous. You just have to live. Start there."

Adam stares ahead.

"Thanks..." he mumbles, eventually chuckling. "If my father knew I was seeing a priest for soul therapy, he'd act like I called CPS."

Chase huffs, trying to ease up. "Pot is okay but church is not. That figures for House."

"...Your father is House..?" The priest asks.

"Yep. Can't take your words back now, Father." Adam jokes.

The priest chuckles, traumatized from the mere name. "Well, it's ironic... Tell him I said hi, alright?"

They finally leave, Chase's lungs exhaling for what felt like the first time in the past hour. His lips attach onto Adam's, like a gulp of ice cold water after years of thirst. He then pulls away, a grimace playing on his face.

"What, you liked me more when I didn't smell like incense and divine intervention?" Adam asks with a grin.

"Your beard is scratchy... I don't like it..." Chase pouts.

Adam scoffs, feeling his stubble. "It's a goatee with patches... But okay."

"Y-You don't have to-" Chase starts.

"I'd fight God for you, idiot. Shaving is the least I can do." Adam smiles.

Chase huffs, letting Adam start the car.

"Mind if I borrow your phone? Mine's dying." Chase mentions.

Adam hands it over, focused on the road. Chase unlocks the phone.

"Which game can I play?" Chase innocently asks, seeing all of Adam's phone games.

"Uhh.. I haven't tended to my Pou in a while..." Adam mumbles. "Wait, how'd you unlock my phone?"

"Typed in my birthday, got lucky." Chase remarks, opening settings and going into biometrics. "If you're gonna track me and look through my stuff whenever, I will do that too."

Adam scoffs, silently scolding the IT guy in himself, watching Chase finish setting up his fingerprint.

"Can I say something borderline psychotic?" Adam asks, continuing without even waiting for his input. "I think I like knowing your finger is now permanently inside my phone... I wish I was my phone."

Chase scoffs, opening Pou and playing sudoku with it. "Gross."

Adam momentarily looks at Chase, taking in his innocent demeanor. He looks back on the road, regretting his remark, while on the other hand theorizing how Chase may have been affected. He was more... aloof, innocent... childish...

"Want some apple juice with that?" Adam asks, grinning.

"Can I get one?" Chase asks, "Or was that sarcasm?"

Adam giggles, amused and endeared, almost regretting the sarcasm. "You know what, sure. We'll stop by the store."

He momentarily glances again, seeing Chase's face light up like a neglected child being given candy.

"...I like the Pou sudoku..." Chase abruptly mentions. "It highlights the selected numbers... makes it easier to see..."

Adam huffs, nodding. He was most likely just shaken, trying to grasp at a sense of normalcy - one outside of his traumas. He parks in front of a store.

"I'll be back in five. Love you." Adam says, grabbing his wallet and getting out.

"Don't leave..." Chase pouts, purposefully too quiet for Adam to hear. He watches him walk off, getting a sense of unexplained anxiety.

Adam sees the queue in the store, letting out a groan as he goes to get some snacks, stopping by the instant food section, since neither of them were likely to want to cook, but he didn't want Chase to live off junk all day either. After standing for a total of ten minutes, he heads back.

"Here you go." Adam says, handing over an apple juice, "You baby."

"...I'm not a baby..." Chase reluctantly takes the box of apple juice.

Adam smiles, staring at Chase before starting the car again. They drive to Chase's, which is when Adam calls House.

"Had a good run?" Adam asks.

"Your mother had a seizure." House says, his tone conflicted.

"Who the fuck starts a conversation like that? I just sat down!" Adam squeals "Whatever, Father Pe- whatthefuckwashisnameagain??"

"Paul" Chase says.

"Father Paul says hi." Adam says, anticipating the answer.

"Does he now?" House chuckles. "...Tell that old geezer I said hi back next time. Did you ask him how those anal fissures are doing? He ever mention that?"

"He mentioned you confessing to dressing up in cutesy girl clothes for Uncle Wilson" Adam shoots back "told you to say three 'Our Lord's and a Virgin Mary"

"No, I confessed to violent throughts against my fleabag son, he just misheard me with all that hair in his ear." House sarcastically remarks.

"Okay, dad, love you too, bye." Adam laughs, hanging up.

Chase looks over, like a curious child.

"What?" Adam asks.

Chase raised a brow.

"You're so... quiet... childlike... adorable..." Adam smiles.

"I'm calm." He confesses.

"Oh..." Adam hums, knowing this is a one in a thousand years opportunity. "How does it feel..?"

"Calming..?" Chase asks, sarcastic.

"No, like... How does it ｆｅｅｌ?"

Chase thinks. "...Terrifying."

"Wanna smoke a joint?" Adam immediately asks.

"I have work tomorrow." Chase shoots back.

"It'll leave your system by then" Adam says, taking his set out of his back pocket.

His set consisted of a small tin with a couple papers and filters and a subsection for the weed and nicotine mixture. Just big enough to hold enough, small enough to hide well.

"...Fine." Chase rolls his eyes.

"Wanna hear something funny?" Adam says, rolling a spliff. "My mother had a seizure."

"Oh-" Chase exclaims.

"Dad's probably gonna call me back and say it was a tumor messing with whatever the part of the brain controls impulse control." He explains, lighting up and taking a long drag. "Either that, or... she's just a psychotic bitch."

"You're saying... everything so far was caused by a tumor?" Chase asks, "You can't know tha-"

"Well, my father would consider it a tumor." Adam interrupts, handing over the spliff. "Wanna bet?"

Chase rolls his eyes, timidly taking the blunt with a shaky hand. "Fine, I bet a 50."

"Good boy." Adam coos, watching him take a puff. "Lung it down slowly, hold it in, and slowly exhale."

Chase nods, following his directions.

They order a pizza, which they take over with red eyes, giggling. They start eating as Chase, after 3 slices, leans forward. He looks ahead, almost like a cat trying to form a thought.

"I think..." he starts, Adam secretly snapping a pic. "Maybe... You want it to be a tumor. Sure, seizures and psychosis means tumor, but it was your first thought. That means you're hoping..."

Chase lets out a long 'uhhhhhhhhh', continuing.

"You're hoping that... maybe just maybe... if it's a tumor... you can finally have a loving mother after it's removed..."

Adam scoffs. "Would that change the fact she fuckin' violated my father?"

"You... care about that more than the 'pest' thing?" Chase slowly questions.

Adam stays silent, taking another slice.

Later, after finishing the pizza, they lay down.

"Remember my worst day..?" Adam asks.

"You talked to your mother on House's face." Chase recalls.

"Yeah, well, I fuckin lied." Adam breaks. "My actual worst day was when I met my ex."

Chase perks up. "You wanna talk about it..?"

Adam nods, "I met him when he was 15, a freshman... He was 20, a senior." Adam starts. "I tried to get over you, and... began dating him."

Chase nods along. "David..?"

Adam's eyes widen, looking at him.

"You... sometimes mumble in your sleep... 'Get off me, Dave. Fuck off.', those things..." Chase reveals.

"Yeah..." Adam says, feeling Chase's arms tighten around him. "We dated for a year. With my mother I could at least say I had no choice in being a psychotic whore's pet parasite... but I had control over being a sadist sex addict's pet bottom."

"And..." Chase starts, feeling the THC unlock a secret part in his brain he rarely ever uses. "You want the knowledge that your mother had no choice in seeing you as a parasite... because then she could be forgivable."

Adam shrugs. "I guess..."

Chase gets an idea, flipping the two of them around so that Adam lays on top of him.

"The fuck?!" Adam asks, feeling Chase's arms wrap around him.

"Thank you... for trusting me..." Chase sleepily mumbles. "I love you..."

Adam, his frustrated grimace fading, presses his head into Chase's chest, sobbing.

"I love you so much... Please don't leave me..." Adam whines.

"I'm not leaving..." Chase coos. "Even if you get sick of me."

"You better not... I'll want you even when I'm sick of you..." Adam grabs his shirt, balling the fabric in his fist as he slowly cries himself to sleep.

Chase smiles, kissing the top of his head, taking a photo of the scrawny kid laid on top of him - as right now, he was mentally there. He pats his head, falling asleep.

Chapter Text

Chase, Foreman, and Cameron sit in the office, watching House limp his way in. The ketamine finally wore off, causing him to go back to vicodin.

"Natalya... has one good intuitive son." House starts, slamming an MR imaging onto the table. "And a low-grade benign sucker right in the hypothalamus."

"That's horrible!" Cameron shoots up. "I'm sorry, Adam..."

"Don't interrupt me." House quips. "Adam, care to tell me what happens when you meddle with the hypothalamus..?"

Adam lays his head onto his fist, like a bored student, not only unphased from the news, but from the fact he was somehow right.

"Loss of personality and hormonal balance." Adam mumbles. "Cure her and she’ll never be the same. Leave it, and she might die."

House nods. "Good."

Adam huffs, turning to Chase, who just avoids his gaze. Adam rolls his eyes.

"Now, her case got transferred to Wilson. Let's get on with the next case." House quips.

"I'll go continue my redstone structure in Uncle Wilson's. You guys have fun." Adam says, closing his Minecraft game before storming out.

He heads to his mother's room, seeing her torn and disheveled.

"What are you doing here?" Natalya asks, her accent thick, voice aggravated. Like always. "You came to taunt me for being insane bitch?"

"The annoying pest and the insane bitch. Like son like mother." Adam responds. "I'm trying to stop myself from imagining you as someone who was once a good person."

"Pedik..." ("Faggot...") Natalya sneers.

"Mamochka pedika" ("Mommy of a faggot.") Adam remarks, sitting down. "These past weeks... I'd hoped that maybe... you had a side of you that actually ever cared about me."

"Why are you here?!" Natalya shoots up. "Are you here to call me insane and that's it?"

Adam sighs, "Maybe I'm jonesing for some yummy ativan for when the nurses see you force me to try and rip out your guts." He threatens. "Or... maybe I just want you to tell me if there was ever a time you were... redeemable."

"What do you mean redeemable. Redeemable for what?" Natalya mumbles.

"A brain tumor caused you to call your own son a pest for three years and dump him." Adam reminds. "Would a tumorless Natalya do the same..?"

She sighs, looking ahead. "I never wanted children... but when I saw your father, I-"

"You drugged him. You took advantage of him." Adam shoots up before she could sugarcoat it. "It wouldn't fix a thing if it was the tumor, but it would explain it."

Natalya shakes her head, numb. "Bold of you to assume this can be fixed."

"It can." Adam quips, standing up. "Five years therapy for dad after the rape, that takes care of the trauma... The son, well, is a living consequence. Take out the living and there's no consequence."

He leaves, looking back, hoping to see a crumb of remorse, not surprised to find none.

He heads back into the office, House immediately perking up.

"Need you."

"Where are the others..?" Adam slowly asks, placing down his laptop.

"Trying to take imaging of an autistic kid named Adam. Not you, different one. Help them out." House commands.

Adam sighs, "I'll see what I can do." he comments, rolling his eyes.

"So..." Cameron starts, her and Chase in the process of searching the patient's home. "You and Adam close, huh?"

"He's my friend." Chase shrugs, checking the kitchen for expired foods. "To be honest, he just comes off as a scrawny lonely kid so desperate he's trying to play with the older, cooler kids."

Cameron scoffs, looking through the drawers. "He asks to play games on your phone?"

Chase rolls his eyes, suppressing the memory where that happened, except backwards.

"I mean, it's obvious." Cameron starts, moving onto the pantry. "He's the son of a lonely, miserable bastard. Maybe it's hereditary."

"You used to be in love with the man. Second stage is anger." Chase reminds. "I'm surprised you made it through denial."

Cameron looks at him, mouth agape. "I'm over House." she says, defensive.

"...Nevermind..."

They head to the backyard, seeing the private playground and taking samples.

"So I'm thinking we should have sex." Cameron says.

Chase looks up at her, eyes wide.

"That's... abrupt." Chase stammers.

"I mean, we're both healthy adults... we work together so it's convenient..." Cameron explains.

"Like microwave pizza" Chase comments, wondering what Adam would think of that zinger.

"And out of all my coworkers, you're the one I'm least likely to fall in love with." Cameron continues.

"Like... microwave pizza..?"

Cameron shrugs, "Sure. You in..?"

She gets closer, grabbing Chase's arm. Chase looks up.

"Would you have microwave pizza with a Michelin meal in front of you..?" Chase raises a brow.

Cameron gasps, insulted.

"What? You implied I was unlovable, at least by you." Chase accuses.

"So you imply I'm cheap." Cameron fires.

"You want to have all the sex and none of the commitment and your first thought is me. I'm the one implied to be cheap here if anything." Chase calls out.

Cameron stammers as they wrap up the search, heading out.

"We did it before, you were adamant it didn't suck and therefore it will happen again." Cameron shoots back as they get in the car.

Chase takes in a deep breath, stalling before he turns to her.

"Is it selfish that I only want sex from someone actually capable of loving me..?" he asks. "Or do you see me as some sort of stupid, unlovable lapdog?"

"I-I just assumed-"

"I have a girlfriend." Chase lies. "And I'm telling her about this."

"Adam, lookie!" Adam says, looking into the patient's eyes. He takes a puff of the sedative, looking up at House with a tipsy grin.

"I don't mentor you to steal drugs from patients." House quips.

"Monkey see, monkey do." Adam grins "Now you."

House raises a brow, realizing what he was planning. He takes a huff as well, which is when the patient Adam lets himself finally get sedated. Adam looks into the patient Adam's eyes, reassuring him as he falls asleep, spotting something weird.

"Now lets get out before Cuddy busts my ass for bringing you in an OR." House remarks, taking Adam's arm as they both fall against the wall at least a couple times.

"Wait..." Adam protests, but they're already out the door.

House sits Adam down in the office protectively, telling him to get back to his 'ethically questionable but paternally approved' gameplay. Adam just sighs, mind juggling between the weird pupils of the patient that gave him an off feeling and the anticipation of Chase coming back.

"...Cuddy won't replace my carpet." House starts.

Adam huffs. When House got shot, his blood stained the carpet. He needed it there. He didn't want to change it. He's always hated change.

"Dad..." Adam starts. "Sometimes enough is..."

"Enough is enough..." House echoes. "But I still want my carpet."

"Pretty sure the old is under the new. Makes no sense they'd go through the extra hassle of tearing it up and..." Adam tries to explain, his foot inconspicuously digging at the carpet in case he can scratch a bit of it open and see if it had the old carpet or just floorboards underneath. "Would that be enough..?"

House sighs, limping over and sitting next to Adam.

"I'm the parent here..." House reminds himself.

Adam shrugs. "And I'm the kid. Those words don't hold the same meaning for everyone... They're just words."

"Jimsonweed." Chase chimes in, Cameron following.

"Speaking of 'just words'" House stands up. "...The meaning for this one explains everything but the screaming..."

This is where Adam shifts his focus, listening to the team discuss testing and treatment. His ears ring, thinking.

"Parasites." he pipes up.

"Fecal smear was negative." Cameron crosses her arms.

"It's not in the feces, it's in the eyes..." Adam mumbles.

House frowns, "Why would you-"

"His pupils... There's something in his pupils... It fits..." Adam mumbles, creeping everyone - even House - out with the eerie similarity to his father.

"Let's go check..." House immediately says. "Can't hurt, right?"

They all leave, Chase stays. 

"How'd you make that guess? Even if the kid has something in his eyes, you wouldn't see it with the naked eye." Chase nags.

"Intuition??" Adam humors "Just because I live in an all-logic world, I can choose to believe shit like karma exists."

"You believe in intuition and karma..." Chase processes.

"You believe in aliens." Adam shoots back.

"Touché"

Adam just huffs, silently getting back to his gameplay.

"...I wish the ketamine didn't wear off." He then pipes up, slowly taking out a cigarette. "Those couple days of running, skating, roughhousing... Reminded me when I was little."

"Can't smoke in here." Chase reminds.

Adam lights up anyway, gesturing Chase to open a window. Chase groans, but complies.

"I can roughhouse with you..." Chase offers.

Adam scoffs, "It wouldn't be the same..." he comments with a cheeky grin "but alright."

Chase's lips fall agape, taking in the fact with which he had still not settled with; the fact that Adam, House's own blood, above all, is the face he associates with happiness. He felt the type of happiness that feels like freedom after being held hostage; he'd gotten so used to the pain that peace felt foreign, and terrifying.

Adam puckers his lips, anticipating.

"Not here..." Chase reminds.

Adam's eyes soften with a silent heartbreak, less like a shatter and more so a damp crackle.

"Are you mad at me..?" Adam murmurs. "You seem so... distant..."

Chase stammers, micro-glancing around.

"I'm at work... with coworkers..." he reminds again, demeanor nervous.

"Did something happen..?" Adam catches on.

Chase lets out a deep, shuddered sigh.

"I just..." he starts. "I just don't want people to think I'm-"

"That you're what, gay?" Adam asks.

"I'm not!" Chase argues.

"How the hell does that compute?" Adam questions, Chase flinching a bit. "You're not gay but you're dating a man."

"Sometimes I try to convince myself you're a flat tomboy while you give me head." Chase confesses, his words rapid.

Adam lets out another shuddered breath, which transcribes into a huffed laugh.

"Damn it..." Adam simply says.

The room falls silent, Chase expecting Adam to bring up his stalking as emotional bait, but instead, he stays silent. Chase reluctantly speaks. 

"Cameron asked me to sleep with her." He breaks. 

Adam shivers, slowly turning off his laptop and packing. 

"Go ahead. You're straight and single, right?" Adam sarcastically asks, leaving. 

Chase goes after him, grabbing his wrist with the shake of his head.

"I don't want someone who'll just use me and toss me aside..." he repeats, to Adam this time.

"Then why would you do that to me..?" Adam shudders.

Chase briefly glances around, seeing nobody around. He pulls Adam in for a kiss, long, deep, and passionate. As soon as he pulls away, Adam's lips latch onto his, leading him back into the office as he swiftly closes the blinds.

"Do you still love me..?" Adam asks, unsure. "Did you ever..?"

Chase nods, vigorous. "More than I love myself... and that scares me..."

Adam pulls him in for another deep kiss, leading them to the couch.

"Here..?" Chase raises a brow as he pulls away.

"Why not?" Adam snarks "if you love me so much, you own up to me."

Chase's eyes widen.

"We're in public! Best case is a fine. Worst case we're getting on a registry." Chase reminds.

"I want you." Adam simply responds.

"Wait" Chase pipes up, hearing footsteps.

"Adam was right. Parasites from eating animal poop. Congrats." House says "and stop fucking, you're in public."

Adam scoffs, getting up.

"Adam, sweetie, I know you like humping your new toy but this isn't the time" he adds, as if he was talking to a dog.

"Where'd you get that console?" Adam changes topics.

"Kid gave it to me. Must be my charm." House snarks back. "Wanna go home, kiddo?"

Adam grins at Chase, evil. "I think I'll spend the night at his again. I'll make sure he gets his beauty sleep."

Chase scoffs, leading Adam out as House watches them leave. He'd never admit, but he missed having his kid with him. Everyone always said "they grow up so fast!" And House always hated it - why was he even in mommy groups to begin with? -, but then he sighs, packing up.

As soon as they get back to Chase's, Adam leads him into the bedroom almost immediately. Chase tries to at least change, but Adam straddles him onto the bed, slowly grinding against him.

"I want you so goddamn bad." Adam whispers.

"W-wait" Chase interrupts. "We've never..."

"What? Had sex?" Adam laughs.

"...Sober? No.." Chase clarifies.

"Ah..." Adam hums, "you don't have anything to calm you down?"

Chase shakes his head, groaning at Adam's grinding movements.

"It'll be fine... I promise you'll like it... I'll make sure..." Adam says inbetween kisses on his cheeks. "You in?"

Chase reluctantly nods, letting Adam strip him down completely, each article of clothing slowly gliding along Chase's skin. He attempts to get onto his arms and knees, but Adam stops him.

"I want to see you fall apart around me." Adam whisper-screams into his ear, biting down on his neck.

Chase squirms from the pain, feeling his erection grow harder. Adam slowly pushes a finger inside, causing him to moan.

"P-please..." he whines.

"What, puppy?" Adam asks, patting Chase's head with his free hand.

"P-put it in..." Chase whines, quiet.

"What was that, baby?" Adam asks him, grinning childishly.

"P-put it in me already, Adam..." he begs.

Adam smirks, "I love hearing you say my name..."

He slowly presses inside, spreading Chase's legs and placing a palm onto his stomach. Chase's eyes roll up, moaning loudly as Adam takes the opportunity to bite him. Adam reaches down, gently and slowly stroking Chase off.

"A-Adam..." he suddenly says, feeling the thrusts get faster. "I-I'm gonna..."

"Already, baby?" Adam asks, kissing his forehead.

"Yes!"

Adam slows down, grinning evilly.

"But this is so nice!" He exclaims, leaning down to hug the man, slowly pumping inside him, slowly and affectionately.

Chase whines, tears welling at his eyes, refusing to accept he's enjoying this.

They ended up going at it like this for almost two hours. Chase fell asleep happy.

Chapter Text

A young, 16 year old Adam scurries across the halls, puppy ear hat sitting on his head with black and white stripes, covering the top of his hair that hadn't been cut in quite a while, wearing a Kuromi shirt and an oversized zip-up hoodie. He swiftly shadows by two nurses, who are used to his antics already.

He kneels down in a corner, 'Invader Zim' Gir plush tucked into the crook of his left elbow as his right hand lifts up his phone. He'd learned the entire layout of the hospital, quickest routes, busiest areas, and of course, the likely route Dr. Chase would take.

If Adam calculated it right, Chase was about to appear in three... two... one... Snap!

He gets a perfect shot of Chase, hurrying down the hall, the wind of his swift gait blowing his perfect blond hair in a way that looked just right. Adam, content, runs away.

He enters the office, finding Cameron.

"Oh, hi Adam!" She cheerfully greets.

"...Good afternoon Dr. Cameron..." Adam timidly greets back.

"I told you, you can call me Allison." she laughs, "How was school?"

"Sucked." Adam simply quips, sitting in Chase's seat, trying to ignore the feeling that the seat was still warm from his body heat. "Got beat up again."

Cameron frowns. "Why would those boys keep doing that?"

Adam shrugs, sighing. "I'm weird... I don't like football... I don't share cigarettes during lunch break... They think I'm gay... Pick whichever."

Cameron sighs, getting a whiff of his scent in the meantime. She tries to suppress a disgusted groan.

"...They also shoved me into a muddy puddle. That's what you're smelling." He deadpanly states.

Cameron slowly nods, "I can watch your stuff while you take a shower. Locker's got a washing machine."

"...Right." Adam says, implying his leave, yet he stays. "Where are the others?"

"Foreman's on a search, Chase is doing labs trying to prove House wrong."

"Idiot." Adam huffs, eyeing the whiteboard. "Tell me the deets, maybe I can help."

"I sort of doubt that..." Cameron grins.

"Do you like Chase?" He abruptly asks.

Cameron's eyes widen a bit. She stammers.

"He's my coworker. Nothing else."

Adam raises a brow. "So those medidramas all lie about workplace hookups?"

"Those things aren't reality." Cameron lectures.

Adam leans forward, smirking. "I told you about my crush on Vera... You can tell me anything..."

Cameron sighs, reluctantly leaning forward. "I don't like Chase... but I think he likes me..."

Adam's smirk falters a bit, trying to keep up the facade.

"Thank you for telling me..." he takes off his backpack and plush. "Watch these for me."

"I will." Cameron smiles, assuming Adam to be nothing more than a giddy child.

Adam heads into the lockerroom, finding it empty. He unlocks House's locker, who had kept Adam's spare clothes in a designated corner. It was either paint from art class, mud from bullies, or sometimes his own urine; House had heard it all and made sure to be prepared.

He takes his spare clothes, heading into the showers. He sets everything down, starting up the scalding hot water. There was something about the sensation of boiling water that Adam seemed enticed by. The feeling of a thousand ice cold needles stabbing into the skin uncontrollably served for a good counterintuition. He stood like this for a hot minute - pun unintended -, before turning the water into more of a comfortable warm. He'd always wondered if this scalding water habit of his was a self punishment or a deeply ingrained memory resurfacing. Course, his mother used to burn him or freeze him on every one of those rare bath days. If he didn't hate shivering, he might have even done that too.

As the comfortably warm water washes over his face and torso, Adam recalls the sensation of feeling Chase's heat in his seat, catching a whiff of his cologne when quickly scurrying by, or when he'd find a strand of his hair fallen out and collect it. He ends up rubbing one out. It didn't feel good. Just... shameful.

He gets out, putting his clothes on before stopping on the way out. Chase's locker is right in front of him. A fellow left a stethoscope on the bench. Perfect. He puts on the stethoscope and listens at the lock, cranking it open as he looks through. He shuffles between scrubs, shirts, ties, and underwear, before finding a sweat-soaked, cologne-clad hoodie. He looks around before tying it around his waist, pretending it's his, shutting the locker and leaving like he'd never entered.

He remembers the whiteboard. On his way to the lab, Adam runs over what he figured to be House's thought process. Acute Intermittent Porphyria. Of course, he's probably having the others chase invisible seizure disorders or environmental stuff, meanwhile he knows the answer. He asks a nurse for a single sticky note and a pen, taking a written note - his handwriting similar to his father's -, and slowly enters the dimly lit lab.

"Hello..?" Chase calls out, hearing the door creak open and closed. "Cameron..?"

Adam's heart nearly jumps out, realizing what he was doing. Luckily, it was dark. He scurries to the opposite side of the room, knocking a tower of boxes containing gloves and masks over.

"What the hell?!" Chase jumps, running over as Adam maneuvers the opposite direction.

He drops the note next to Chase's workstation, leaving as soon as he came.

He re-enters the office. Cameron left. A sticky note on his backpack read 'off to lunch, I'll get you a Reuben, just how you like it. -Cameron <3'. Adam huffs, sitting down and opening his laptop. He eyeballs the remnants of Chase's coffee, hesitantly picking it up. He hated coffee without a buttload of milk and sugar, but the thought of his lips touching the exact side of the cup that Chase's have, swallowing part of his saliva, while gross to others, seemed favorable to him. He finishes his PowerPoint due that week, eventually finishing the cold coffee and washing the cup clean. He tries to keep the coffee crust intact, since House hates his coffee cup cleaned that much, so Chase probably does as well. Besides, he wouldn't want to raise suspicion.

He finishes the project, plushie tucked in his arm, as he hears footsteps from around the corner. The direction was from the lab, causing Adam to quickly grab his stuff and run out, going the opposite way and barging into Wilson's office just in time. House makes a remark, leaving to head to the office.

"How you doing, kid?" Wilson asks.

"Are you and Julie going to divorce..?" Adam innocently asks, sitting down.

Wilson sighs, "Nobody starts a conversation like that, Adam..."

Wilson watches Adam nod, biting his nails as he plays on his laptop.

"Where is that... Zing plushie you always have..?" Wilson carefully asks.

"It's Zim... and it's not a Zim plushie, it's a Gir plushie..." Adam mumbles, slowly looking down onto the crook of his elbow, finding it empty. "...Fuck."

Wilson sighs, "Please tell me you didn't lose it..."

"N-no, I..." he starts, thinking.

The last time he saw it was in the office. Chase is in the office. He cannot let Chase meet him. Not yet. He's just a scrawny kid to Foreman and Cameron, Chase can't see him that way.

Wilson sighs again. "I'll page House to keep it safe."

Meanwhile, in the office, Chase and Cameron sits down, Foreman returning just in time for the differential. Adam, having decided to hang just outside the office, began eavesdropping. 

"Acute Intermittent Porphyria." Chase proudly calls.

"You... didn't say you were gonna test for that..." House nitpicks.

"Well, I had a hunch." Chase justifies.

House turns away, "It fits..." he murmurs. "Cameron, Foreman, put her on hemin and pray we haven't missed the window."

Chase shifts his feet, feeling something soft on the floor. It's a Gir plush. He reaches down and grabs it, a soft hum leaving his lips.

"Got me a gift for the good differential?" Chase teases.

House looks at the plush in his hands, swiftly grabbing it away.

"You're too old for it." House snarks, snatching it away. "Your reward is sitting on your ass and looking pretty."

House limps out, leaving Chase to himself. He finds Adam just outside the office, who smiles at him.

"Stop leaving your stuff all over the place." House lectures. "Still shy around the blondie?"

Adam shamefully nods, taking the plush.

"You came up with the AIP?" House questions. "Why not tell me? Why would you... I dunno, do some spiritual voodoo shit to transfer the idea to Chase?"

"It's not voodoo, dad, you're thinking of tarot and it doesn't work like tha-"

"You came up with the differential?" House cuts him off.

Adam sighs, "Yes... but I-I don't even work here or have a doctorate yet, so..."

"So you had Chase test it so that you can be right and get off on him getting the praise." House deciphers.

Adam shrugs, "Chase deserves praise..."

House rolls his eyes. "Of course he does. Kisses and headpats too."

"Yes." Adam nods.

"That was sarcasm, Addy." House lectures.

"I know."

"Hey House so can I ha-" Chase starts, having exited the office, Adam running away and turning the corner immediately. "Uhh, who were you..."

"I was talking to myself. I'm the best company." House snarks.

"Can I have the rest of the day off?" Chase asks, brushing past his remark.

"No. Not unless you want to get paid." House sternly states.

Chase just groans, heading back to the office. House heads back to Wilson's, while Adam peeks through the blinds, camera recording, watching Chase stare off into the distance, thinking. He reaches down to grab his mug and try to take a sip of his coffee.

"What the fuck?" Chase exclaims, seeing his mug empty and rinsed.

Eventually, Chase leans his head down, disappointed by the lack of coffee. As his breathing gets slower, Adam stops the recording and heads inside, shaking. He grabs Chase's mug, making him a cup of coffee, hoping he doesn't wake up. Setting the coffee beside him, Adam notices Chase snoring, like a bear cub. He sets down his voice recording phone, sitting beside him, softly staring at his sleeping face.

Adam lets out a soft, shuddered breath. He was face to face with his crush of two years, and if he plays his cards right, he may get away with it. He lays onto the table next to him, nose just inches from Chase's. He stares, wide-eyed, breaths shuddered. Suddenly, Chase, still snoring, wraps an arm around Adam's shoulder, almost as a reflex.

Adam's eyes wide even more as he freezes, staring at how close Chase's face was to him. This is when it occurs to him that the only consequence isn't Chase finding out he exists, gets weirded out, and leaves, but a whole load of legal jargon he doesn't quite understand. He was playing with fire with no sense of temperature. But of course, why would he? Stacy next door can deal with the legal crap.

He reluctantly presses a kiss onto Chase's cheek, to which he shudders, as if the mere idea of non-sexual intimacy was foreign to him. Adam then licks his lips, trying to savor the moment, yet it tastes sour. He stares at the way his hair fell into his eyes perfectly before realizing that maybe, if he does want Chase to love him someday, it's best if he continues doing what he's always done the past two years. Stay far away.

Adam, his expression somber, crawls out from under Chase's arm, swiftly placing his palm onto the table as he sees Chase's head fall. He softens the blow, sliding his head onto the table as he grabs his stuff. Chase mumbles something in his sleep, wrapping his arms around his head reflexively.

Adam shares a last look with him, then stares at the clock. It's five, time to go. 'Two more years...' he mumbles, leaving.

Just as he's about to enter Wilson's, a bunch of nurses scurry by. An traffic accident occurred nearby, and they need everyone. Adam's heart shatters, knowing Chase would have to wake up. House informs him to take his car - having gotten his license recently -, and somberly mumbles a "Drive safe. I don't want to see you here."

Adam rolls his eyes, hugging House. "Let Chase sleep?" he bargains.

"...No."

"Wake him up gently?" Adam continues.

"Chase would rather be shaken awake. It's familiar. You try to be gentle, you just get a rude, hateful Aussie. And only I get to be rude and hateful." House monologues. "You try and pet a rabid dog, you get bit. You yank the collar, it submits."

Adam nods, saddened. He is about to head out before stopping at Stacy's. Not like a lawyer is gonna be called to a code blue, right?

"Hey Stacy..." he greets.

"Hello, Adam..." Stacy greets back, buried under papers. "Who are you suing..?"

Adam sits down. "Okay, hypothetically, if I like someone older..."

"How much older?" Stacy interrupts. "Adam, you're 16 in high school. You can find a cute girl your age."

"Hypothetically, if I'm into a doc in their late twenties..." Adam continues.

"Much older, authority figure. You better hate her because that means corruption of a minor and statutory rape on their part." Stacy rambles, still shuffling through papers.

'Her.' Adam repeats in his mind. Of course. How dare he like a man. He recalls Stacy moving in briefly before the infarction, and the way she'd look at him for spilling a drink or interrupting an intimate moment gave him the idea that coming out would mean certain death.

"Would it make a difference if I never approached... her... until I turn 18? Would the age gap suddenly not matter?" Adam meekly asks.

"How old is she right now?" Stacy asks.

"24..." Adam confesses, recalling the nurses' names who are also 24, making sure Stacy won't see through him.

"18 and 26... Might raise some eyebrows but it's clean game." Stacy states. "Anything else?"

"Just this..." Adam says, standing up. "Thanks..."

Getting out of the office, he maneuvers his way around rushed nurses and gurneys, finding himself in the parking lot. He leans onto the side of House's old car he used to drive before the infarction, now out of the garage after 5 years for him to have - despite his liking towards borrowing Wilson's nicer, better smelling car.

"Damn it!" he exclaims, slamming his fist on the top of the car. He was scrawny, so the damage was minimal.

He paces up and down a bit, sitting in the car before breaking down. He'd just come out of that thing with David, initiated the band idea to Abel, Paul and Muel, sent flirty looks Abel's way for the sake of getting over Chase... Hell, he even sat beside Abel 24/7 during the time his heart almost crapped out. He'd tried everything, yet seeing Chase never got any less exciting. He sighs, silently driving home.

Chapter Text

Adam wakes up from the dream - or shall we say, memory -, staring down at Chase in his arms. He did it. After four years, he did it. There will probably never be a morning where he wakes up with him and isn't grateful. Whether it was fate, karma, manifestation, tarot, or one of the patron saints he'd pray to - yes, he got that desperate, praying to saints ranging from St. Jude through St. Dymphna to St. Xenia* -, someone or something out there decided to take pity and fulfill his one big wish.

His eyes feast on the sight of the man's relaxed face, a soft bear cub snore leaving his nose as his bare chest falls and drops. A hand consistently grasps Adam's collarbone, as if letting go would mean falling to his death. A firmer grasp convinced Adam that Chase was actually dreaming about such thing, a sharp flinch causing Adam to hold onto him tighter. A tense frown shows on his face before relaxing again.

He leans down to kiss Chase's forehead before slithering his way out from under him. He decides to head to the store, craving the beef beet borscht Wilson would make him during sad times. He could even recall the first time he made it for him. He burnt the beets and started over.

"You ever had this?" he asked, sliding the bowl over. "Borscht. Russian. Your kind of thing, maybe?"
Adam shrugged. It smelled like boiled roots and something tender beneath it all.
"It’s blood-colored." he muttered.
"Yeah," Wilson said softly. "But it’s meant to heal."

He leaves a note, saying 'be back soon' as he heads out. He comes back home with two full grocery bags, finding Chase sitting on the couch.

"Good morning, sunshine." Adam greets. "You barely have any proper foods."

"I got so scared you left me..." Chase admits, nearing tears.

Adam drops his backs, kicking the door closed as he kneels in front of Chase, a hand on his cheek.

"I'm so sorry I made you feel that way..." Adam coos.

"It's fine..." Chase sighs.

"No, it's not..." he says, leaning up for a hug. "I just didn't want to wake you, you were so... peaceful..."

Chase whines, hugging him close.

"Want some beet soup?" Adam then asks.

Chase responds with another whine.

"Okay." Adam says, softly letting go.

He hands Chase his phone so he can play Pou sudoku again, who unlocks it with his fingerprint. He sees the missed call notif from when he called him frantically upon his absence. His phone was on vibrate and probably left in the car while shopping, figured.

"Why is your contact name 'Buksi' for me..?" Chase softly asks, looking up like a sad, soggy dog.

"It means something like 'Fluffy' or 'Chubby' in Hungarian, like a dog's name. Suits you." Adam explains, sauteing the veggies and beets.

Chase just groans, seeing a messenger pop-up for the band groupchat, "Mean."

"Hey, better than dad's. He has you saved as 'The blonde one.' With an e, like the feminine form."

Chase rolls his eyes. Figures.

"The band messaged." Chase informs.

"Oh, yeah, can you check it for me?" Adam requests.

Chase stammers, not used to Adam's trust. "Sure."

Muel: sum1 add chase to the gc

Paul Grześkiewicz added Robert Chase to the group.

Carl: sometimes i forget you have that long ass gibberish name

Paul: It's the polish form of Gregory.

Muel: so if i keybord smash i get a polish last name

Paul: Fuck off.

Abel: wait this guys name is robert?

Carl Ardelean set Robert Chase's nickname to 'bob'

Adam: Oh, come on.

Abel: hi chase

Adam: How'd you know?

Abel: adam doesny text like a corprate email

Samuel Bancroft set Robert Chase's nickname to 'soggy bob'

Paul: I sometimes forget your last name is Bancroft.

Paul: It means small bean field, right?

Muel: mmm beans

Paul: Yes... Muel... Beans...

Abel: why does muel call everyone sofgy

Muel: its a funny word :D

Paul: How'd I not know nicknames exist here..?

Abel Walker set Carl Ardelean's nickname to 'cumshot'

cumshot: WOOHOO

Paul Grześkiewicz set Samuel Bancroft's nickname to 'soggy beans'

soggy beans: mmm beans :p

cumshot set Abel Walker's nickname to 'paraplegic'

paraplegic: ???

cumshot: youre no longer an able walker

paraplegic: my legs are fine its my heart thats crap

Paul: Not after Carl is done with you :]

cumshot: paul you asshole

soggy beans set Paul Grześkiewicz's nickname to 'greg'

greg: ...Really?

paraplegic set Adam Cain House's nickname to 'homosexual'

soggy bob: i stole chases phone dont tell him

homosexual: Oh dear

A beat passes, they exchange phones.

homosexual: aw man

soggy bob: That's for trying to send my nudes.

cumshot: make a sextape

paraplegic: gross

cumshot: okay how bout we make one

paraplegic: ...shut up

soggy beans: i thought of something stupid

greg: Of course you did.

soggy beans: paul you're a pole

greg: yep

soggy beans: heh funny

homosexual: muel i dare you to eat the pole's pole. i bet a fifty

soggy beans: paul lets do it i will split the money

homosexual: only with video proof

soggy bob: Adam you're burning the garlic I think

homosexual: OH GOD OH FUCK

With this, they put down their phones as the boys talk about, most likely, trading sex tapes. It's not prostitution if it's amongst friends, right?

Adam brings a bowl of freshly made beet soup to Chase, who tastes it, and is delighted.

"You were so cute last night..." Adam abruptly starts, "The way you were crying and whining..."

Chase's face gets redder than the soup.

"Not the time..." Chase mutters.

"It's always the time." Adam quips, taking a bite. "Because I always love you."

Chase gets even redder, but it stops as he sees Adam's hoodie's sleeve roll up. He lets out a grieving sigh.

"What..?" Adam asks, mouth full.

"I should've called 911..." Chase mutters.

"Robert, it's been weeks, I'm fine." Adam sternly says. "Five Vicodin isn't even enough, even for an opioid virgin."

Chase tears up a bit. "I almost lost you..."

Adam swiftly pulls his sleeve down, putting an arm around him.

"Don't lock up the butter knives again, now..." Adam pats his back. "And don't worry, you're never getting rid of me..." he reminds.

Chase nods, sighing. He turns back to his food.

"No kiss?" Adam pouts.

"Your beard is scratchy..." Chase mumbles.

"Am I allowed to use a razorblade agai-"

"Adam." Chase sternly says.

Adam freezes, simply nodding and heading to the bathroom. He comes back with a clean shave, his skin shining.

"Ever tried a vanilla scented moisturizer?" Adam quips, sitting back down. "Smells and feels nice. Beat that."

Chase simply looks ahead of himself, eyes defocused.

"You don't know how much you mean to me..."

Adam's spoon stops at his mouth, a drop of soup spilling onto his chin. He slowly wipes it, the other hand slowly lowering the spoon.

"And yet you can't even own up to me..." Adam shudders. "Stop bringing that night up and pretend to care when you can't even-"

"You make me feel happier than I've ever felt..." Chase interrupts. "You love me more than I love myself... You stalked me for years for fuck's sake, and you can still find a way to respect my boundaries... You're fucking insane but also the best thing that's happened to me... That's one of the many reasons I can't lose you..."

Adam slowly nods.

"Did last night change anything..?" he timidly asks, taking a bite.

Chase sighs, clicking his lips. "I let you slowly fuck me for an hour straight. I'm eight years older and a licensed doctor and you still topped me. I can never come back from that."

"...Remember what I told you..?" Adam asks, "I told you about my rules, and how I'll give you time to think if you want this..."

Chase nods, recalling all the rules; letting him track him, always tell him everything, classic controlling behaviours, but this time with the ability -or illusion - to choose.

"I think it's time..." Adam declares. "I mean, I fucked you, cooked for you, bought you stuff, helped you dress in stuff besides those hideous shirts and ties..."

Chase nods, silently finishing his bowl.

"Either you want this and let us... just be us... no secrecy, no shame... or I leave you alone forever..." Adam states, slapping his lips lightly as soon as he stops talking.

"W-what do yo-"

Adam stands up, pacing, his breathing nervous. "I-I didn't mean like- Not forever, but like-"

Chase drops his spoon, standing up to embrace him.

"I didn't mean to say I would kill myself!" Adam breaks, "I meant like-"

"I know what you mean..." Chase soothes.

"I don't want to be something to hide anymore..." Adam pants, "but that shouldn't mean you owe me anything... I'm sorry..."

Chase hugs him tighter.

"You're right... I shouldn't have to hide you... but I don't do it out of pleasure either..." he starts, "You gave me time and got fed up. That's it. Now let's talk about this."

Adam freezes, sniffling as he simply lays his head onto Chase's. He hunches his back, Chase standing on tip-toes so that this time, Adam is the one with his face to Chase's chest. Adam begins to sob violently. He falls to his knees, Chase embracing him on the floor.

"You made your terms clear and gave me time." Chase repeats. "Despite being a psychotic stalker, you treat me better than anyone else has..."

Adam buries his face in Chase's shoulder, hiccuping.

"I want this..." Chase proclaims. "I want you."

Adam lets out a shaky breath, pulling away, eyes red and puffy. He wipes his tear with his sleeve as Chase wipes the other with his thumb.

"I gave you an ultimatum." Adam argues. "If I were you I would leave myself."

"If I were you I would shut the fuck up and accept the fact that I forgive you." Chase argues back, kissing Adam on the lips.

The kiss is soft, yearning, slow, almost like a soft massage, a warm embrace. As Adam reluctantly pulls away, he presses his lips together, savoring the taste. For once, it didn't taste sour.

"Do I not scare you..?" Adam asks, voice shaky, reflexively reaching for his weed kit. "I'm impulsive, blatantly manipulative, obsessive..."

"You treat me better than I deserve." Chase argues, watching him roll a blunt.

"...Even I'm scared of myself..." he says, lighting up and taking a hit as Chase settles next to him. "Dating me is a form of self harm."

"We have something in common, then." Chase states, taking a hit.

Adam stays silent for a bit, the blunt making its turns inbetween them.

"...You know what this means, right?" Adam abruptly starts. "Coming out, admitting you're with me... I hope you're confident about this because, as you said, you can't come back from this."

Chase nods. "This feels normal..."

"So normal you no longer imagine me as a flat tomboy chick?" Adam asks, sardonic.

"It was one time." Chase corrects. "And after last night..."

Adam simply nods.

"Once people know you're with a man, you're gay. Once you're gay, you're gay. Period." Adam monologues.

"...I still like women, though." Chase guiltily mumbles.

"That's an option too..." Adam mutters. "But you know how people are..."

Chase nods. A beat passes.

"If I wasn't-" Adam blurts out, a low groan leaving his nostrils, as a last ditch effort for self discipline. "If I wasn't... gay, and- and autistic and the rape baby of an illegal..."

Chase flinches, knowing the anger, while it hurts, is coming from frustration, not Adam's inner truth.

"If I wasn't..." Adam mumbles, angrily shaking his head. "I don't deserve you... I don't... If I wasn't..."

Chase slowly takes the blunt, less so to take a hit, but more so to prevent Adam from having more.

"Bad trip?" Chase simply asks.

Adam curls into a ball, scratching his arm, almost like an animal mauling something raw. Chase puts out the blunt and softly grabs his wrists.

"I'm fine..." he mutters once, then twice, then multiple times, as Chase just silently holds him.

"I love you..." Chase confesses.

"I..." Adam starts, zoned out. "Numb..."

Chase hugs tighter, now concerned.

"Wanna take a nap?" Chase softly asks.

"It's... only... 2PM..." Adam calls out.

"Does that matter..?" Chase asks, slowly standing up and helping Adam stumble his way inside.

They lay down, tangled together like squirrels. Adam curls himself inside Chase's arms, like a child. Chase gets an idea, slowly standing up.

"No..." Adam whines, heartbroken.

Chase simply opens his closet, taking something out from a hidden crevice.

"This is yours, right?" he asks, taking out a Gir plush - the same one Adam eventually lost at around six months ago, one that Chase kept and realized was his when looking through his gallery, seeing selfies with it.

"Gir..." Adam coos, relieved, like seeing an old friend again.

Chase hands him the plush, laying back down. Adam hugs both Chase and the plush tight, sucking his thumb.

"You were a thumbsucker too?" Chase asks, "Why'd you tease me on it?"

Adam simply whines in response. Chase nods.

He kisses Adam's forehead, a pleasant smile building on his stoned face upon the realization that how he's feeling right now is how Adam usually feels, considering their roles are usually reversed. With a last tuck of the blanket and a squeeze around his torso, Chase continues kissing Adam's face until he falls asleep. This is when he finally allows himself to sleep as well.

Chapter Text

Chase blinks his eyes awake, finding Adam wrapped around himself like a thing of velcro. His grip tightens, as if he was just about to stir awake, or was in a dream state where everything is the same, but different. The squeeze of his arms with no regard to his comfort convinces Chase that Adam was dreaming about him being a big plushtoy. Despite the pressure, he takes a moment to admire Adam's bicep, getting the sudden urge to bite him. And bite him he does.

"Ow..." Adam whines, looking up to see Chase lightly nip his bicep.

He slowly lets go, looking like a timid child who just broke a vase.

"Sorry..." he mumbles.

"God, I feel like shit..." Adam mumbles, looking at the clock. "We just slept... 16 hours... what the hell..."

Indeed, it was 6 AM.

"You're so chubby" Adam continues out of the blue. "Little chubby boy."

Chase blushes, embarrassed.

"Little chubster, you're like a plushie." Adam continues, squeezing harder.

"I have work today..." Chase mumbles, wrapping his arm back around Adam.

"Can I come?" Adam asks like an excited puppy.

"...Sure." Chase mumbles.

He then yelps as Adam begins to poking his belly, muttering a 'boobooboobooboop'.

"Asshole." Chase calls out.

"Love you too, chubby."

Chase groans, getting up, dizzy.

"I'm making breakfast." he proclaims, leaving the room as Adam lowers his head, letting out an 'mmmh'.

After a hearty breakfast and coffee, Adam argues with his teacher on why he can't attend classes again. The teacher had gotten more and more lenient with him ever since the shooting and the tumor type news. Yet he'd still try and lecture him regardless. 

"Yeah, no, we're on our way to the hospital right now..." Adam states to Mr. Willis "yes, we, me and, um, my dad's coworker. Dad took the car so I asked him for a ride... Yes, I'll get a note, signed and personally commentated on by Dr. Gregory House... he hung up, okay."

"I'll write you a note..." Chase offers, parking.

"Benefits of a doctor boyfriend. I get to have all the doc notes I need. Like having a doctor father but with slightly less lecturing." Adam quips.

Chase rolls his eyes as they head inside.

"I'm not gonna make a huge proclamation." Chase states, the two of them alone in the elevator, referring to their relationship. "But I'm not gonna hide it, either."

They enter the office, sitting down, waiting for the others. House is first to enter.

"Your mother's having the surgery." he proclaims.

Adam nods. "Aight."

"You're not... scared, worried..?" House teases.

"Why would I?" Adam scoffs. "The only good memories I have of her were either faked by her fictitious coddling or my deranged mind. It's probably some trauma response I remember her pushing me on the swing in an age she wasn't around at all."

House nods. "Right..."

House limps over to the whiteboard, wiping off the symptoms of last week's case - a young couple who turned out to be half siblings.

"Well, then... We'll have Wolff from radiology perform the surgery this afternoon..." House recalls. "Speaking of afternoons, ain't it a bit early for you to be out of school, young man?"

Adam leans his head down, faking the mannerism of a sad, soggy puppy.

"My daddy was shot and my mommy's got a brain tumor. I can't go to school, Mr. Willis!" he mockingly says in a childish tone.

"Look at you, corrupted by your new boytoy. What, the British are colonizing upstanding young men's brains now?" House snarks.

"I'm not Briti-" Chase starts.

"You put the Queen on your money, you're British. Got the union flag in the corner, you're British."

Chase scoffs, leaning his head down in unison with Adam. He turns to him, to which Adam leans forward. Chase expects a kiss, only for Adam to touch their noses together, muttering a 'boop', to which Chase turns his head down, like an embarrassed puppy. Adam straightens up - in posture, he's still gayer than ever -, right as Foreman and Cameron enter.

"There's an itch left of my spine, can you get it..?" Adam asks.

Chase softly sighs, his eyes darting between the two of them and Adam. He then, with a shaky hand, reaches up Adam's shirt to scratch his back, the other two simply minding their own business, making coffee and handling House's paperwork. Cameron glances over, discreetly standing up from the papers to pour herself some coffee, inconspicuously mumbling to Foreman.

"Are my eyes sparkling, or..." she starts. "Are they..."

"I... think so..?" Foreman raises a brow.

"Adam's a kid..." Cameron worriedly mentions.

This catches Adam's attention, "Massage me?" he mutters to Chase, who rolls his eyes and turns to him.

Adam turns away, letting Chase reach up and rub his shoulders.

"Needy bitch..." Chase murmurs.

"You love me though." Adam argues.

Chase groans a bit, suppressing a blush, lowering his hand and taking it out from under his shirt.

"Oh, that felt good." Adam mentions, intrigued, "The little- little thing, that-"

He stammers, not even caring about House's Gameboy on full blast in the other room or the utter confusion of the other two, his focus now shifted onto trying to phrase the nice sensation he felt just now.

"That thing where you softly ran your fingers over my back." Adam says, his voice quiet enough not to draw attention, but loud enough to give eavesdroppers a listen, followed by a guilty feeling. "Do it again."

"Adam..." Chase whispers.

"What? Don't you love me..?" Adam teases, trying to get the man to break.

Chase lets out a low growl from his nostrils, "I do..."

Adam smiles, satisfied, letting Chase run his fingers down his back repeatedly, watching House leave for clinic duty. Foreman and Cameron share a look, deciding to investigate.

"Adam, a word." Cameron comments sternly.

"I'm about to have a back-gasm." Adam whines.

"Pretty sure anything that ends in 'gasm' is publicly inappropriate. C'mon." Cameron urges.

"Sounding like someone who hasn't had any 'gasms' in years." Adam snarks, abruptly getting up, leaving Chase's hand floating in the air from the fear paralysis.

Cameron exits the room, Adam meekly following.

"Is this about the weed, or skipping school, or..." Adam tries to guess.

"Are you in love with Chase?" Cameron asks.

"What?"

"You're clearly trying to get him fallen for you." Cameron argues. "Adam, he's eight years older than you."

Adam squints his eyes, trying to scope out a reaction. She seems worried, less so jealous. Regardless, he had to ask.

"You jealous?"

"No!" Cameron scoffs, incredulous. "I'm just- worried! Chase is..."

"What? Not gay?" Adam asks.

"Well- yeah! And older!" Cameron exclaims, "I'm sure you can find a... guy... more closer to your age..."

"I'm not a kid!" Adam yells, at this point reflexively.

"Adam!" Cameron scolds. "If you like Chase, that's okay... but I just don't want you to get hurt..."

Adam looks at her, his expression a mix between the type of incredulous look clinic patients tend to give House, and an innocent, holier-than-thou look to try and ween her off himself somehow.

"Chase? Hurt me? I'll have him screaming of pain before he could as much as prick my finger." Adam argues. "Sure, you think he's this big, tough, mean man, but can you guess why?"

Cameron shakes her head, confused.

"The man's a sad, sad, pathetic little man. Like some sort of... wet, soggy dog." Adam proclaims before lowering his voice and leaning closer. "He just wants love, and as long as you're not willing to give it to him if he asked, you don't get to dictate what I want to do with him. I've loved him ever since I laid eyes on him; you only want him to fuck you."

"I-I don't-" Cameron starts.

"Yes you do. You could never love him half as much as I do. You just need a replacement for dad, who you needed as a replacement for Bob."

Cameron shoots up, pointing an accusing finger. "Don't bring him into this!"

Adam shoves her hand away like it was a knife held to his throat.

"Just because you have issues with unresolved grief, that doesn't mean-"

"I don't have issues with unresolved grief!" Cameron interrupts. "I made a promise..."

Adam sighs, "Let me guess, turkey baster?"

"What?" Cameron shakes her head, confused.

"Nevermind." Adam facepalms. "Just..."

"Just what?!" Cameron begins to break.

Adam drops his arms and yells. "Just get off Chase's ass, alright??"

"Alright! Alright!" Cameron raises her hands defensively.

Adam sighs out of anger, his eyes welling with tears, which he quickly wipes with a sniffle.

"So... for the past year... you've been all... mean, hostile... threatening..." Cameron starts. "All because you like Chase..?"

Adam shamefully nods.

"Well why didn't you tell me?!" Cameron squeals, her expression incredulous.

"Because!" Adam argues back. "Because... two guys? Two- two faggots?"

Cameron flinches at the bold wording.

"What about it..? I mean... that doesn't affect me and if you'd be happy... I'd be fine with it." Cameron says, now awkwardly gesturing with her hands before crossing her arms.

A tear almost rolls down Adam's cheek, only for him to wipe it away.

"I-I just... I saw you two getting close... the moment you got hired, and..." Adam starts, his voice shaky. "I never liked you, okay?! I was only ever pretending to be friends with you so that you'd tell me if you and Chase were going steady..."

Cameron gasps, stammering.

"Oh, don't pretend you care." Adam says with a sardonic squint, as if trying to read her emotions and taunt her at the same time. "You probably only put up with me because you pitied me..."

Cameron stays silent, staring at Adam.

"Oh, poor little House Jr. is sad. Let me get him a Reuben. Let me be the mother he never had." Adam taunts. "Let me pretend I care so he can see what a saint I am and make me the auntie of his firstborn."

Cameron shakes her head. "Adam..."

He stays silent, looking down like a rejected child. "Sorry..."

A silent beat passes.

"Why did you blackmail me..?" Cameron finally asks.

Adam shrugs. "Walked by a random house, saw your car out front, saw a spare key in a plant pot soil..."

Cameron gives him an incredulous, almost maternal look. Adam sighs.

"When you and Chase got even closer..." Adam starts, shaking his head, almost in disbelief at the fact he was actually spilling the truth. "I needed a new strategy. Get dirt on you. Have something against you if you ever got too close..."

"Adam, that really hurt me..." She says, her expression sincere. "Even if you can't accept it... I felt honored to be your friend... I was so- so happy when I noticed you didn't run away from me..."

Adam raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean run away..? Like, figuratively..?"

"Literally." Cameron specifies. "I saw you run away from Chase all the time... I figured since you have anxiety issues, you only ran away from Chase because he was scary... You stayed with me because you felt safe with me and didn't mind Foreman because you didn't want to give off a... wrong message."

"Because he's black, you figured if I run away, I'd treat him like the boogeyman..?" Adam chuckles, before his voice gets quieter. "I only ran away from Chase because I was in love... I didn't want him to know me as the annoying kid, but a legal adult who can smoke and drive and shit..."

"So you... avoided him until you turned 18? Just so he could 'safely' love you..?" Cameron raises her eyebrows, "You planned the whole thing out..."

"N-not the whole thing, I mean-" Adam stammers, "Only, like, the first meeting... the first conversation..."

Cameron's expression softens. "Oh, Adam..."

He takes a deep sigh, looking away before meeting her eyes again.

"I'm, uhh... I'm sorry for hurting you... It was childish... which makes sense because I was a child" he sighs again, "but still..."

Cameron laughs a smile softly, "I'm over it... Thank you..."

Adam nods. "And you're not wrong..."

She shakes her head a bit, by reflex.

"I did feel safe with you... Y'know Id vs. Superego... All the times I called you 'Cam-Cam' or 'Cammie', I meant it..."

Cameron chuckles, "I do miss that..."

The hallway falls silent again for a brief second

"So... you treated me like a tool for your plan, but..." Cameron slowly tries to understand, "to some extent, you still felt something internally."

Adam nods, a faint smile appearing on his face, "Yep..." he mutters, feeling understood - a feeling he felt so seldom, it felt strange.

"Well... I could maybe try and open up Chase's mind a bit... Set you guys up..." Cameron offers.

Adam is about to speak, his mouth hanging open instead, head tilted. "How so..?"

"I see you're trying to get close to him, you feel ready, maybe I could be a reference..." Cameron explains, "He'll find it weird, he'll get defensive, but... I think you'd do him good..."

Adam slowly nods, swallowing every word of his along the lines of 'we're dating' or 'we've fucked before', instead saying "Didn't you want to sleep with him?"

"He told you..?" Cameron asks before getting even closer. "You guys are already that close?"

Adam nods, "Can I say something harsh with no intent to hurt you and full intent to get some frustration out?"

Cameron blinks, not having expected the blunt request, nodding and giving a silent go-ahead.

Adam sighs, raising his voice "It makes me so upset how you only treat him as some sort of blow-up fuckdoll, like- like something disposable, unlovable, when I could give him so much more..."

She nods, considering his words.

"And- And sure, no string attached, but that's actually so insulting to both him and me that you'd think he would want that!" Adam argues, taking another deep sigh, "God, that felt good."

"I'm glad." Cameron faintly smiles, trying to stomach it.

Then, Adam abruptly wraps his arms around Cameron, whose arms raise defensively, surprised.

"But in your defense... Chase is the type of idiot to accept casual sex... even if it's because he doesn't think he deserves more..." Adam starts, "You really are nice... it's self-serving sometimes, sure, but..." he nuzzles closer, like a clingy toddler, "It's still nice..."

"You're very... honest..." Cameron calls out.

"Thanks." Adam quips.

He then pulls away, letting out an awkward sigh. He pulls out his phone, sending Chase a quick text explaining the situation, so their story is consistent. He just excuses himself saying he's messaging House. They head back inside, pretending nothing ever happened.

Chapter Text

"So." Foreman starts. "You and Adam?"

Chase stammers, still looking in the direction of the door that Adam and Cameron had passed through.

"Out of all the women in this hospital, or even beyond." Foreman shoots up again, upon his silence, "You go for House's 18 year old son."

Chase continues stammering, "I'm not... with him." he eventually just says, immediately eaten by guilt.

"Either you are, or you're a dumbass." Foreman remarks. "What do you think he was doing when he asked you to massage him, and... give him a 'back-gasm', whatever that means."

Chase stands up, walking over to the darker man to get himself a cup of coffee.

"Flirting. Like when he stole my coffee, took all my pens..." Chase remarks, putting two sugars in his cup, "And I let him. Doesn't mean we're together."

He looks eye to eye with Foreman, standing close, as if to enunciate his point.

"Why don't you tell him that..? That you're just enduring him if anything?" Foreman raises a brow.

Chase shrugs, settling back down with his hot coffee.

"You jealous?" He defensively asks.

Foreman pauses, then lets out a sardonic chuckle. "Of course, that's why I have a problem with you dating a guy who is not only the boss's own child, but also ten years younger."

"Eight years." Chase corrects. "And we're not dating."

He then pauses, defensively straightening himself with a thoughtful grimace.

"Are you saying it's wrong of me to be with a guy..?"

Foreman sighs, covering his eyes before dragging it down his face and wiping his chin.

"I don't care who you do, as long as the doing doesn't involve a power imbalance." he declares, throwing hands before placing them on his hips.

"Sure, sure..." Chase nods, sarcastic, "Thanks for being worried about me, then. He's clearly the one more powerful. Sure, he's a kid to you, but I'm pretty sure he was an undercover Russian assassin in his past life."

Foreman scoffs. "After the nine year old..."

"That wasn't- sick!" He defensively points his finger, standing up and walking over. "And neither is this. He's just a friend."

Foreman shoves his hand away, as if it was contaminated with radiation (like me :3c).

"Whatever, man, just..." Foreman sighs, "Just- make sure you know what you're doing..."

Chase nods, "I do know..."

Then, he gets a text, the other two returning shortly after. Sitting down, he texts back, despite Adam sitting next to him.

Adam: i told cam cam were not a thing yet she wants to set us up

Buksi: Please text normally, for fuck's sake.

Buksi: ...And thanks... I may have told Foreman you're just flirting... He doesn't buy it.

Adam: ...

Adam: you told him we werent a thing.

Buksi: Yeah.

Adam: thats okay im not mad

Chase glances over to Adam before typing.

Buksi: You look mad.

Adam grumbles a bit, only for Chase to brush his fingers lightly along the side of Adam's thigh under the table.

Adam: are you trying to console me or give me a boner

Adam: ...why are you entering google translate

Buksi set Adam Cain House's nickname to Moya lyubov'

Moya lyubov': idiot

Moya lyubov': its lyubimyy

Buksi: ...

Buksi set Moya lyubov''s nickname to Lyubimyy.

Lyubimyy set Buksi's nickname to Mishka

Mishka: ???

Lyubimyy: you snore like a bear cub so im calling you tgat

Mishka: You're blushing.

Chase jokingly places a hand on Adam's thigh, keeping it there.

"So I'm thinking we could go to that cafe-bar a few blocks away after work" Cameron shoots up, focused at Chase. "Nothing wrong with a consult. Adam, you wanna come?"

"Whoa" Foreman interrupts, "Am- I invited..?"

Cameron awkwardly chuckles, "Course, we're all House's ducklings, right?"

"And you ask the white boys first." Foreman rolls his eyes with a slight chuckle.

"I'm technically Slavic and this idiot is on a green card, we're not all perfect." Adam snarks. "He has to get his naughty place checked every once in a while."

Chase clicks his tongue at him, which he obviously ignores, his grin growing wider.

Foreman sighs, "Yes, I'm down for a cafe-bar. Thanks for asking."

"It's a date!" Cameron exclaims, her voice then awkwardly softening, "Work-date, y'know."

They all agree, deciding to do rounds the rest of the day. With enough string pulling, Adam was granted permission to accompany Chase - House mentioning his previous mistakes as back-up, only to warm them not to fuck on the exam table right after.

"Good morning, I'm Dr. Robert Chase..." He starts, entering the exam room, Adam following behind. "What seems to be the problem today, miss?"

"I can't feel my fingers..." the girl starts, glancing at Adam briefly. "Why is he here?"

"Uhm. Student." Chase responds as Adam sits down, conspicuously staring at them in the background.

"Uh-huh..." The girl slowly hums, shuddering a bit as Chase takes her hand, "So... I'm, like, a teaching tool now?"

"Just a bit." Chase frankly responds. "When did it start?"

"Yesterday." She responds, "It was my pinky at first... thought it just went numb from me sleeping on it weird before my ring finger also went numb randomly."

"Any repetitive movements? Typed a few essays, played a few rounds of a shooter, anything like that?" Chase continues, ignoring how the girl looked up at him in a sultry fashion.

Adam scoffs out loud with intention, "She never turns in any homeworks so essays less likely."

"Shut up, you fag." the girl abruptly shoots back.

Adam's eyes widen a bit, his face then going numb.

The girl puts on an apologetic look, turning back to Chase "Sorry... I meant to say-"

"You two know each other?" Chase asks, the condescending look on Adam's face making sense now.

"Vera's sidebitch. Jess. Manhater." Adam proclaims. "While not diagnostically relevant, it should be noted she only hates men who won't date her. She heard I was gay and... that's that."

"What's it to you?" She nitpicks, "You on your period?"

Adam rolls his eyes at her sour giggle, walking up to Jess, grabbing her wrist and a nearby scalpel.

"Whoa!" Chase exclaims, grabbing Adam's wrist.

"I know what I'm doing..." Adam says, cutting off Jess's bracelet, 'accidentally' nicking her just a bit.

"Ow! What the hell?!" She exclaims. "That bracelet was a gift from Vera!"

"It was constricting your ulnar nerve, hence the numbness, you're welcome. Goodbye." Adam snarks, leaving.

Chase stammers, muttering a "Sorry..." before rushing out.

Adam paces out, breathing heavy, before slowing down and putting his hands on the nape of his neck, looking up with a gritted sigh.

"I'm going for a smoke." Adam declares, not caring who hears, turning slowly to Chase, "You keep doing your doctor stuff."

Chase checks his watch, reluctantly following. "I have ten minutes to spare."

"Don't bother." Adam simply says, Chase following anyway.

He heads out, lighting up a joint.

"We were in the same middle school" Adam starts, looking ahead, seeing as Chase was unwilling to leave. "She was dating a football linebacker, the same one that always knocked me over in PE and stole my lunchbox."

Chase nods, refusing the blunt about to be passed to him. Adam hums, taking another hit.

"She was Vera's sworn enemy, but when they got in the same class, they became best buddies. She'd claim to be a feminist, like them, which makes sense since these types of feminists stopped their ideology at men."

Adam scoffs.

"Whatever, it's just petty high school drama. The year'll be over in a flash, then I'll get the fuck out of here and go to Trenton for college."

The day follows as usual, Chase driving Adam and dropping him off at home for a fit change before doing an outfit change himself. They are all to meet at the cafe-bar, looking more casual. Chase, wearing a shirt and a blazer with regular jeans and a messenger bag, knocks at House's door.

"What's with the hat?" House immediately asks, referring to his beret, opening the door. "It makes you look Irish."

"Adam's ready, right?" he condescendingly asks back.

"Adam!!" House yells back. "Should be."

He then limps off, Adam running up to the door.

"What's with the hat?"

Chase rolls his eyes.

"Ready to go?" He asks.

Adam takes the hat off and tosses it aside, somehow landing it semi-perfectly on Wilson's head, who'd come over for a 'bro's night'.

"What the-" Wilson asks, confused.

"It makes you look like an angry Irishman." Adam comments.

"Ready to go??" Chase angrily repeats.

Adam chuckles, nodding. On the way to the car, he observes Adam's sweatpants, a plain, fitted shirt, and a jean jacket. An outfit he'd never expect to see him in. They hop in, arriving to find a casually dressed Cameron - in a flowery shirt, a matching jean jacket, and low-rise jeans -, and a full-black, basic outfitted Foreman.

They all take a seat at the bar, Adam and Chase sticking close by. They start off discussing work stuff, only for Cameron to steer the conversation to Chase.

"So... Chase..." Cameron starts, "Your girlfriend..."

He freezes momentarily, confused, only to remember the conversation.

"What about her..?" Chase raises an eyebrow.

"How long have you been dating..?" She gently asks.

"You jealous, Allison?" Foreman chuckles.

"What? It's a harmless question, I just-" Cameron complains.

"We broke up." Chase states, matter-of-fact. "I had it coming."

Cameron shrugs, "You ever think maybe you’ve been dating the wrong type? I mean... someone a little more chaotic might do you good." She swirls her coffee with a smirk.

Chase takes a sip of his tea, nodding. "Maybe, I mean" he nervously starts, "They say you have to keep trying until you find the One, right?"

Adam smirks, amused.

"Well, usually the One is the person you'd least expect... Different type, different personality... different... allignment. Y'know." She shrugs.

"Alignment? Like gender or something?" Foreman raises a brow, placing down his coffee.

"Sure, yeah." Cameron says, her voice high and slightly nervous. "I mean, Wilson has 3 alimonies but he gets along with House like an old married couple."

Adam scoffs out loud. "Get along with is a bold statement. They endure each other."

"Fair enough, I mean, you'd know it." Cameron nods, taking a sip of her drink.

Adam stirs his cocktail, taking an initial sip with an 'ahh'.

"Since when do you drink cocktails?" Chase asks.

"It looks pretty." Adam smiles.

"Is that alcoholic?" Foreman raises a brow. "You're not 21."

"I know the owner. He's German. They drink from 16 onwards. He can make an exception." Adam grins.

"It's... only 6" Foreman states, deadpan.

"Never a bad time for a good time, right?" Adam chuckles.

Meanwhile, Cameron sends House a sneaky text.

The woman.: Hey, can you page me and Foreman so I can set your son up with Chase?

The woman.: Weird, I know, but trust me.

Boss: sure idc

The woman.: Since when do you use abbreviations?

Boss: idk

Then, the two of them get a page.

"Oh, for God's sake." Foreman groans. "Hey, why didn't Chase get one?"

"Left mine at work..." Chase mutters, eyes wide.

Foreman just shakes his head in disbelief.

"Don't worry, I'll drive you." Cameron cheerily offers, leading Foreman out with a consoling pat on the back.

The two watch them walk off, turning back to each other.

"Why are you acting so... different..?" Chase tilts his head, suspicious.

Adam shrugs, "I like change."

"You hate change. Your father hates change." Chase sternly states.

"What's your point? I'm not allowed to change?" Adam pipes up.

"You are, it's just... unexpected." Chase softly says.

Adam sighs, glancing around aimlessly.

"I'm hungry" he says, calling the bartender. "Got any snacks to eat?"

"Yeah. Chips, nachos, popcorn..." She starts to list.

"Sunflower seeds?" Adam asks.

"Too much mess. You'll just throw the shells everywhere." She rolls her eyes, the valley accent obvious.

"With a separate bowl and a stern eye, you can do wonders." Adam states with a false tone of whimsy. "Just gimme some damn seeds."

The girl rolls her eyes and goes to the back.

"Anything for you?" Adam asks.

"Not hungry." Chase says, "Had a big lunch."

Adam squints, "You barely ate."

"I ate a salad." Chase argues. "I'm not a glutton like you."

Adam rolls his eyes. "And a chips" he mumbles to the bartender, hearing her return.

He takes a seed and cracks it open, tossing the shell into the separate bowl.

"I didn't ask for chips." Chase complains.

"My treat." Adam quips. "We can half and half if you want to try the seeds."

Chase just huffs, looking away as he continues drinking his tea. Adam squints his eyes again.

"You're anorexic." Adam states, unwilling to argue.

"No I'm not" Chase huffs.

"You had a salad. You're drinking tea. You only eat junk with me and even that is after complaining about the calories and the cholesterol." Adam lists.

"I'm not a chick, I'm not underweight, I'm just trying to eat healthy." Chase reasons. 

Adam tilts his head. "Not all anorexics are underweight chicks." he states, meanwhile his mind is decoding something else.

"Well-" Chase sighs, "I don't starve or purge or anything. It's called being healthy."

"You're right..." Adam pipes up, getting an 'epiphany look', "Orthorexia, a lesser known eating disorder, characterized by-"

"I don't have an eating disorder." Chase states, his expression stern.

"...characterized by an obsession with 'clean eating'." Adam finishes his sentence, "The line between being healthy and being orthorexic is incredibly thin, pun intended."

Chase rolls his eyes, turning towards the bar and stirring his tea.

"You're just deflecting..." he numbly says, "You're hiding something. You're different and you won't tell me why."

"Aren't you..?" Adam softly asks.

"Stop trying to diagnose me!" Chase raises his voice slightly.

Adam's eyes widen a bit before going numb - similar to his reaction in the clinic -, silently nodding.

"Is it because I called you chubby..?" he finally asks, looking back up at him. "I meant it as a joke, but... I'm sorry..."

Chase huffs, "I am chubby." he states. "But I don't have an eating disorder."

Adam nods, deciding to drop it for now.