Usually, Chase hated the whole conceit of aftercare. Usually. But tonight wasn't usual. Not in the stimulus that had triggered this, not in how things had gone with House and him, not in the fact that it was House at all. He craved the contact. Something to hold on, something to anchor him when he was still reeling. He felt lightheaded, knew driving was as out of the question as if he'd gone through a bottle of whiskey back at the bar. Things were too soft, too insubstantial, he'd be liable to end up through his windshield.
The words hang on are a comfort, in that when House pulls away, he's expecting it. It doesn't entirely feel like the world falling out from underneath his feet. He notices how heavy House's limp is, but he's still too out of it for it to really connect to what they'd just done, to feel bad for it. He cuddles into the blanket, and toward House's body as the man places a blanket over him. He's almost feverishly warm, but he knows it wont stay that way. There's something uncertain in his body, even as he leans toward House.
This is strange, makes his heart race, because Chase usually gets out and away as soon as possible. He should be putting his clothes on, heading outside, letting the cold air make his head stop spinning, and then taking a cab back home, pretending this didn't mean anything at all. Most of the time it didn't. But after years of wanting House, there was no way to pretend this didn't mean anything. It showed the cracks between Allison and him that he wasn't talking about, that he had spent two years trying to ignore. House had been the thing between them they couldn't address without falling apart. He knows that even if he walks away now, it wont stop House from holding this over his head. In fact, it just might make it worse. But that's not why he's staying.
It's because he needs this. So eventually the tension calms a little and he shifts, dragging his legs gently against House's as he leans in against his chest, an invisible smile against his skin. His hands are clinging to him again, against his sides, trembling fingers against skin, and a low murmur on his lips that he shyly kisses into House's flesh. He's still reeling, and having House holding him makes it feel better, makes it okay.
The shift out of subspace is always slow for Chase, and he usually doesn't like to let anyone else see it.
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The words hang on are a comfort, in that when House pulls away, he's expecting it. It doesn't entirely feel like the world falling out from underneath his feet. He notices how heavy House's limp is, but he's still too out of it for it to really connect to what they'd just done, to feel bad for it. He cuddles into the blanket, and toward House's body as the man places a blanket over him. He's almost feverishly warm, but he knows it wont stay that way. There's something uncertain in his body, even as he leans toward House.
This is strange, makes his heart race, because Chase usually gets out and away as soon as possible. He should be putting his clothes on, heading outside, letting the cold air make his head stop spinning, and then taking a cab back home, pretending this didn't mean anything at all. Most of the time it didn't. But after years of wanting House, there was no way to pretend this didn't mean anything. It showed the cracks between Allison and him that he wasn't talking about, that he had spent two years trying to ignore. House had been the thing between them they couldn't address without falling apart. He knows that even if he walks away now, it wont stop House from holding this over his head. In fact, it just might make it worse. But that's not why he's staying.
It's because he needs this. So eventually the tension calms a little and he shifts, dragging his legs gently against House's as he leans in against his chest, an invisible smile against his skin. His hands are clinging to him again, against his sides, trembling fingers against skin, and a low murmur on his lips that he shyly kisses into House's flesh. He's still reeling, and having House holding him makes it feel better, makes it okay.
The shift out of subspace is always slow for Chase, and he usually doesn't like to let anyone else see it.