House isn't just good, maybe not even great, he's special, something else. And Chase is captivated, fascinated, can't stop watching him, his eyes drawn in by the lines of his movement. He had a boyfriend. Or, well, something like it. They'd been dating for only a couple months and already things had started to go flat. It was something that Chase didn't know how to articulate, fix, or really react to. He knew that not dealing with it wasn't an answer, but he didn't know what the answer was. So he stayed. They went out, touched, kissed, and Chase tried to ignore his misgivings. Tried to not stare at House, not to track his movements with his eyes so that his heart pounded in his chest. It didn't help. If it did, he wouldn't be standing here, vaguely confused as to how he'd allowed himself to make that mistake.
He flushes when House tells him that he meant it. And he's not wrong, and Chase can't quite find the words to deny it. He just shifts uncertainly, not a lot of movement, but the way his weight transferred from foot to foot. Then his body tenses, tightens up, so he's standing up on the balls of his feet a little, as House walks over to him, snatching the towel back and Chase's hand jerks back, but he stands his ground, doesn't pull away even when House is pressing into his space, even though it feels like the very air crackles over his skin. The towel brushes against the bare skin of his stomach and it makes him shiver, the chill running down his spine as his breath catches in his throat. He doesn't pull away, doesn't turn, walk away, walk out the door, and he can't really explain the reason why. He blinks at House's statement, though, tilts his head like something doesn't quite make sense.
"Oh, I- I'm.. not a girl."
He says it slowly, but not defensively. It's a statement of fact, but said with that quiet edge of correction, like he honestly thought that House had somehow mistaken him for one of the ballerinas.
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He flushes when House tells him that he meant it. And he's not wrong, and Chase can't quite find the words to deny it. He just shifts uncertainly, not a lot of movement, but the way his weight transferred from foot to foot. Then his body tenses, tightens up, so he's standing up on the balls of his feet a little, as House walks over to him, snatching the towel back and Chase's hand jerks back, but he stands his ground, doesn't pull away even when House is pressing into his space, even though it feels like the very air crackles over his skin. The towel brushes against the bare skin of his stomach and it makes him shiver, the chill running down his spine as his breath catches in his throat. He doesn't pull away, doesn't turn, walk away, walk out the door, and he can't really explain the reason why. He blinks at House's statement, though, tilts his head like something doesn't quite make sense.
"Oh, I- I'm.. not a girl."
He says it slowly, but not defensively. It's a statement of fact, but said with that quiet edge of correction, like he honestly thought that House had somehow mistaken him for one of the ballerinas.