House sees the moment that Chase switches from just listening to what he’s saying to really digging beneath. It’s when he leans in a little closer, head tipped to the side like he’s an inquisitive, floppy haired puppy trying to work out what language the people speak and figuring it out with alarming precision. He’s right this time, too. House knew. He’d known for a long time. But there’s a difference between wanting and thinking it’s a good idea. A big difference between desire and indulging that desire at the probably cost of a marriage. But then, House also knew that marriage wasn’t going to last anyway. He’d never tried to do anything to break them up because he knew he didn’t need to, and he’s not, here, either. He’s only pushing at the fact that he knows Chase wants to punish himself, and now, now he’s asking if he’s sure. If Chase gets in the car, that’s all on him. Hell, he hadn’t even offered to hurt him. Chase had asked.

House isn’t leading him into a goddamn thing. He’s just giving him what he’s asking for, and even offering him an out. An out he’s not taking.

House smiles, slow and almost predatory. Proud. More than a little smug. There’s a nod, agreement. Yes, he knows what Chase wants. He knows this is what he needs.

“Good. Get in the car,” he says with a nod and one last sliding look over Chase’s body as he gets in the driver’s seat and shuts the door.