Work Text:
Chase’s fingers tapped without rhythm against their common desk. The room was chilled, lacking the humidity of midday Jersey summer sticking to their fourth floor windows, and had been set to maintain the strict 69°F regiment that House so meticulously set some indeterminate number of years ago.
Cameron coughed.
“So… Think he’ll turn up today?” Cameron tone was laced with a lovely, biting curiosity.
“Unlikely. Cuddy made it seem like he’d be out all week,” Foreman replied, still preparing a cup of coffee near the sink. “Not sure I believe the medical conference story. Would he even go without Wilson?”
Cuddy claimed that House, ever-so-complacent in such matters, was attending a conference (sans Wilson), and wouldn’t return until well… the end of the week at least. I have to get to a meeting. Find something to occupy your time with.
“Her insistence on remaining vague is weird, yeah, but if she doesn’t want us to know, we probably don’t want to know,” Chase sighed. “Any cases?”
Both Foreman and Cameron shook their heads.
“ER’s been quiet,” Foreman began.
“House might have a message on his office phone.” Chase offered.
Cameron raised a brow. “You wanna check his office?”
Chase shrugged.
Foreman looked lightly appalled, but the expression wore off quickly once he’d considered who it was they were talking about.
The trio made their way into House’s unlocked office, which smelled faintly of their scruffy, off putting superior. His desk was clean, not that he frequently drove it to ruin, but had probably been tidied before he left for his “conference”.
Chase led the way to the phone, pressing the extension to play his messages.
You have 2 new messages.
It pinged twice before playing the earlier of the two.
“House, hey, it’s stupid of me to call. If you turn up before morning, just… let me know. Answer your damn phone.”
They shot questioning glances between themselves as Wilson’s voice filled the room. He sounded more annoyed than anything, so House probably hadn’t been kidnapped. Probably.
The second message began to play shortly.
“Doctor House, this is Marlene calling about my prescription refill… Doctor Cuddy gave me your number, and I really wanted to thank you for seeing me the other day. You - “ she was cut off by Foreman’s finger on the receiver, sending both messages to the trash.
“Okay, so no one has anything.” Chase arms were crossed.
“And House is missing?”
“What do you suppose he did? Ran off with all of his Vicodin to Mexico?” Foreman brow twitched.
“Vicodin… good point. You think he’s…?” Chase began, rusting through his drawers. Before long, she produced an orange prescription bottle, holding its half-empty contents up to the light. “Gotcha. So he probably didn’t run off for good.”
“Obviously he wouldn’t. Not without taking Wilson with him.” Foreman thought back to some of his more recent accidental encounters with the pair and shuddered internally. There’s no way House would take off and not forcibly drag Wilson along.
“So, you think he’s playing hooky?” Cameron chimed in, looking casually around House’s bookshelf for other clues.
“No way. If anything, he’s probably passed out in the alley behind his favorite strip club. He’ll turn up today.” Chase said, resting her free hand on her hip, still holding House’s Vicodin.
“Doubtful. Seems more likely that he’d be at home.” Foreman countered.
“Should we, then? Go to his apartment?” Chase suggested with a bit too much brevity, taunting Foreman’s lazy hypothesis.
Cameron shot her a questioning glance. “Breaking into our boss’ house probably isn’t the best way to get on his good side.”
“Good side?” Foreman barked out a laugh. “Sitting around is probably more irritating to him than us breaking into his place.”
Chase smirked, making her way back to their conference room to grab her bag. “What are we waiting for?”
-
Chase fiddled with House’s apartment lock. She was hunched over, making careful use of her new lock picking kit that, yes, she had purchased last month, thank you very much. Foreman leaned on the doorframe above her, crotch uncomfortably close to Chase’s face. She had better things to think about than Foreman’s subtle play at dominance.
“Want me to try?” He offered, grinning down at her.
Chase made a disgruntled noise, looking back to Cameron. “A little help here?”
Cameron shook her head. “Foreman, if you’re done trying to encroach upon Chase’s personal space, maybe you could be quiet.”
Foreman laughed, shuffling back slightly, continuing to watch Chase’s efforts.
Click.
“Aha! Suck it, Foreman!”
She haphazardly returned the tools to their case, stuffing it in her satchel and moving to open the door. Cameron lingered, but entered behind her, letting Foreman close the door behind them.
House’s apartment was lofty, smelling mostly of dust. Foreman had expected more of a rancid, burning smell, and Chase was anticipating more dead animals, but it was relatively clean.
Sure, empty Chinese takeout boxes stained with the sauce of its former inhabitants littered his coffee table and couch, but there weren’t more than half a dozen, and they didn’t seem rotten.
Cameron figured it was a symptom of his limited mobility, and strongly considered the idea of sneaking a trash can into his living room for future ease.
“Houuusee!” Chase called out, heading deeper into the cavernous confines of her boss’ apartment. She went in the direction of his room, unconvinced that he’d be there at all. Proving Foreman wrong would be far more rewarding than finding a drunken House, asleep next to a hooker in his bed.
House’s bedroom was barren, all things considered, and reeked of him. His cologne, his leather, and faintly, his sweat. It wasn’t offputting, but Chase was momentarily taken aback, regaining her momentum as she pressed further inside.
He certainly wasn’t in his room, she concluded, having poked around every inch of the place. All things considered, House would’ve taken pride in her thoroughness.
“Houuse,” Cameron called out at slightly more respectable volume, poking around his kitchen with Foreman.
“He’s not here,” Chase said, joining them.
“Did you find anything useful?” Foreman asked, glossing over the fact that his hypothesis was wrong.
Chase let it slide.
“Nope. Looks like he didn’t leave in a hurry. His phone, keys, and wallet are all gone. Bed was half-made, too, so his leg probably wasn’t giving him much grief today.”
“There was a breakfast sandwich wrapper in the trash and a full case of beer in the fridge, so he’s been taking care of himself,” Cameron added to their metaphorical pile of evidence.
The pair raised their brows.
“Well, for House standards,” Cameron added.
“We’re back to square one, then,” Foreman sighed, leaning on the counter.
“Are we sure we didn’t miss him on his way out? Maybe he’s headed to the hospital now!” Cameron was certainly optimistic today.
“No, we would’ve seen his bike in the parking lot.” Foreman paused. “How to think like House…”
Chase smirked, fiddling with something in her purse.
Cameron and Foreman both watched her suspiciously.
“What’s most consistent about House?”
“How do you mean?” Cameron asked.
“Well, what can we always count on him to do?” Chase waited for the punchline.
“Vicodin,” both Foreman and Cameron said.
“Yeah. Well, it just so happens that I’ve got a half bottle right here,” Chase brandished the medication with pride. She held the bottle by its neck, daintily presenting it to the group.
“You can’t be serious.” Foreman deadpanned.
“Think about it! How else are we meant to get into his mind! Besides, not like we’ve got much to do back at the hospital,” Chase shrugged innocently.
“House will notice they’re missing. He needs those pills,” Cameron offered.
“House is an addict,” Chase said flatly. “He’s got a dozen bottles just like this one hidden around his office. I’m sure he’s got more than triple that in here,” she motioned to the room around them. “Come on, it’s not that serious. We’ll be back to normal by EOD.”
Foreman’s stoic expression was wrinkled with nervousness, and Cameron’s brows furrowed in thought.
They were actually considering it.
“If Cuddy calls - “ Cameron began.
“We’ll deal with it. Three Vicodin-addled brains can come up with some coherent solution if she needs something. But she won’t.”
Chase opened the bottle.
“I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention how illegal this is,” Foreman said.
“Yeah, yeah, you can save the morality dilemma for House. Who wouldn’t give a damn, by the way.”
She distributed three pills between them, placing the near-empty bottle on the countertop behind them.
Cameron gulped quietly as Foreman grabbed them a trio of water glasses, because unlike House, they didn’t favor dry-swallowing chalky pills.
They took them on three - whoever started the count, they weren’t sure - and sighed separate reliefs.
“What now?” Cameron asked, concern replaced with newfound excitement that she attempted to mask respectfully.
“We wait.” Chase closed her eyes.
“It’ll be twenty minutes at least before it kicks in,” Foreman said, as if either of them wouldn’t know.
Cameron was first to take to tidying House’s living room. She began with the takeout boxes, and after being joined (begrudgingly) by both Foreman and Chase, they’d started to fluff up pillows and rearrange the slightly off-kilter coffee tables and various trinkets.
House was not a sentimental person. He did not have keepsakes, but he kept his home more decorated than expected. There were metal spheres without apparent application, a fake plant or two, and unopened books on topical subjects that House would never read up on around the apartment. Against all odds, Gregory House gave half a shit about his living space.
Foreman sat on the freshly tidied couch with a sigh. His arms folded over his chest.
“You ever wonder if he really has hookers over?” Chase asked.
“What?” Foreman said and Cameron thought.
“Like, you think he actually has sex with them? Or they just… hang out?”
“What makes you ask that?” Foreman furrowed his brows.
“No, I get it. I’m not sure… I’d be surprised if he did have regular sex.” Cameron plopped down next to Foreman.
“He puts up a front, makes us all think he’s some degenerate weirdo, but then he has home decor and I… dunno,” Chase settled in one of House’s armchairs, tapping her fingers along its side.
She turned to Cameron and Foreman, watching them as her brain buzzed. Images of House playing cards or making dinner with hookers came to mind. It all made her a bit sad.
“Foreman, how often do you shave?” Cameron asked, unbridled by societal norms, apparently.
He raised a brow.
“Once or twice a week.”
Chase blinked a few times. She watched the interaction unfold with pointed fascination.
“It’s just… it looks so…!” Cameron said, reaching out to touch his face.
He swatted her hand away lazily, dashing her hopes of caressing her coworker’s face. (For God’s sake Allison, get a hold of yourself).
“Sorry.”
Foreman shrugged.
“Are you guys…?” Chase asked, trailing off.
“I - uh - I’m not sure yet… I guess my head feels a bit light?” Foreman said with a grin.
A grin. He was smiling. Cameron would’ve brought herself to be more horrified if she weren’t so unfocused, just happy to be in the company of others.
Chase closed her eyes, watching sparkly phosphenes dance around her field of view. It was like she’d been placed under a pile of blankets, muffled sounds of Cameron and Foreman’s ongoing conversation filtering through her brain.
She hummed softly, nerve endings buzzing contentedly as she opened her eyes again. Her companions seemed unbothered by the brief lapse in attention, preferring, instead, to discuss how House’s apartment air felt on their skin.
“Whazza?” Chase asked, furrowing her brows.
“Foreman says that House’s AC is on. I don’t think so,” Cameron replied, significantly less quippy than usual.
“It feels kind of chilly.”
“Well, there’s one easy way to know,” Chase said, standing up and walking to the thermostat. She felt remarkably light on her feet.
She stared at the digital monitor for far too long. This wasn’t a blood pressure screen, right? Oh, shit, yeah, nope. Thermostat.
“The AC is on, yup,” she said, popping the p and meandering back to her seat, which felt farther than she’d wanted to be from Cameron and Foreman.
“Damn,” Cameron sighed. “Maybe I’m too high to feel the breeze. It’s getting kinda hot.”
Foreman shook his head silently, retaining his newfound smile.
“Do you two mind if I take off my top? I’m a little sweaty,” Cameron said sheepishly.
Foreman shrugged and Chase hid a thick swallow.
“Sure,” she replied, maintaining a nonchalant air (or as close as one can when under the influence).
Cameron peeled off her purple sweater, placing it on House’s couch armrest. She still had on a skin-colored camisole, which felt decent enough.
“So what now?” Cameron leaned her chin on her palms playfully.
“Do either of you feel more like House? What would he get up to…?” Foreman asked in response.
Chase thought for a moment. “Not really, I guess. I feel… ah… good?” She didn’t know how to describe the ease in her bones or quiet in her brain. It was smooth, calm, and above all else, simple.
Foreman was about to respond, but the words got caught in his throat as he stared at Chase. Cameron raised a brow, following his line of sight before she got her own brand of shock on her face.
“Chase you…” Cameron started.
“You’re rock hard.” Foreman wasn’t in the habit of pulling punches.
She nearly laughed at the accusation before looking down. The tent in her pants left little to one’s imagination, and gave explanation to the strange aching she’d been having in her groin the last few minutes. Fuck.
“I - oh, shit, sorry, I’m not sure why… uh?” She stuttered, moving to a rise and making her way to the bathroom.
Cameron stood, blocking her way.
“Wait. Is it the Vicodin?” She asked with a distinct air of medical professional.
“Your kindness knows no bounds.” Chase rolled her eyes sarcastically, trying to make her way around the woman. Foreman had stood, too, and lingered behind Chase.
“I’m serious. Just want to make sure you’re okay,” she replied, withholding something. Chase could see it in her painstakingly pretty eyes. What?
“Yes, I’m fine. These things happen.” She was horribly flushed and on the verge of seeing double. She needed to be alone. Go get some air. Shit, even taking a cold shower sounded like a relief. She’d never recover from this embarrassment. They’d all sober up soon enough and -
Cameron’s lips were on Chase’s before she realized the shorter woman had stepped closer at all.
She tasted like tropical chapstick and clean laundry. It lingered on her tongue as Cameron pulled back. Chase ran her fingers over her lips, quietly trying to reconcile the situation.
Foreman watched with rapt attention, eyes fixated on Chase’s hesitant figure, which still contorted slightly to minimize the visible outline in her jeans.
“Sorry. I couldn’t stop myself,” Cameron said, looking for forgiveness as she stepped back. “That was inappropriate.”
“No, I… I liked it.”
The world had stopped spinning as she grinned down at Cameron, but the sparkles in the margins of her vision remained. A wayward glance in Foreman’s direction indicated that he didn’t mind this one bit either.
“This feels like something House would do,” Chase said, making her way back to the couch. Justifying this under the pretense that it was in the name of understanding House worked enough for the trio, and she was soon joined by both Cameron and Foreman on House’s ratty couch.
Foreman caressed Chase’s thigh as she began kissing Cameron again. Soon enough, his mouth was on Chase’s neck, then her chest, hands slowly unbuttoning her blouse.
She let out a squeak of contentment, shivering under the contact of her two coworkers.
The trio readjusted as Chase pulled back, Cameron and Foreman making eye contact. Foreman approached her, moving from his spot on the couch to above Cameron, leaning in at an awkward angle.
They kissed more out of obligation than anything, tasting Chase’s dull, earthy scent on each other. They were both warm, and complimented each other nicely, but pulled back with equally displeased expressions.
“Yeah, no,” Foreman laughed.
Cameron chuckled too. “I’m still a lesbian. But having you here is fun. Clearly she’s enjoying it.” She motioned to Chase, who was mesmerized by Cameron and Foreman’s contact.
Chase was blushing profusely as Foreman took his place back on her right, Cameron’s fingers now working off the blouse Foreman had neglected. The cotton slipped off her shoulders with a bit of shimmying, leaving her in a red lace bralette that had somehow been undetectable under her white clothes.
“Fuck, Chase,” Foreman said, nipping at her exposed shoulder before capturing Chase in a kiss.
Cameron licked a thin line along Chase’s left collarbone, wrapping her arm around the woman’s abdomen. Her fingers travelled down Chase’s thighs, dancing along her femoral artery. She felt it pulse, pulling back from Chase’s chest.
“Can I touch you?” She asked. Her voice held a distinguished sort of politeness that made Foreman slip his tongue out of Chase’s mouth, if only to be respectful.
“Uh - yeah,” she replied breathily.
Cameron smiled, positioning herself between Chase’s knees. She spread them, hands gently holding them in place before snaking up to her buttoned pants. She struggled with the zipper for longer than necessary (blame the Vicodin), but had eventually taken Chase’s pants off.
Foreman, who had been watching the interaction unfold, snickered quietly.
“What?!” Chase asked with her standard degree of aggressive.
“Of course you’re clean shaven,” Foreman replied simply, shaking his head. “Did you know this was gonna happen?”
“Shut up!”
Chase grabbed Foreman’s face and kissed him again, if only to distract him from the growing red tint in her neck and cheeks.
Cameron slowly worked Chase out of her panties, giving her a few slow, experimental pumps, which were returned with a sputtering moan into Foreman’s mouth. She was at full mast now, and certainly well-endowed enough to have made a sober Cameron a bit nervous.
Vicodin Cameron, however, was entranced by the sight of her coworker’s flushed, swollen cock. She made momentary eye contact with Chase as Foreman slipped her bralette off, caressing her with clumsy hands. Cameron moved closer between Chase’s spread legs and breathed on her exposed skin before taking Chase in her mouth.
Cameron heard a gasp as she swirled her tongue around Chase’s slit. Foreman, who had previously wanted to muffle her incessant moans, pulled away with a wet noise.
Chase’s lips were swollen, and her lip gloss had long since been smeared away. Sweat beaded along her hairline and in the valley of her chest. Her eyes were wide, desperate, but tentative. She was holding back.
“You trying to keep quiet, Chase?” Foreman asked, flicking one of her nipples between his fingers.
She winced.
“Well, we don’t, ah…” she stuttered, finding it hard to ignore Cameron’s delightfully warm mouth around her.
“Don’t hold out on us now.” Foreman urged, moving to work on Chase’s neck.
She let out a choked noise, stiffening under the stimulation. Cameron had taken her deeper, and she could feel the roof of her mouth with every gentle bob of her head.
Chase whined as Cameron popped off and took a breath.
“Foreman’s right. House isn’t here,” she shrugged.
“Bring up House again and I’ll e-end you,” she threatened, flexing under Foreman, who had just started working on a terribly placed hickey on her neck. Fantastic.
Cameron returned to the task at hand, but had taken to kitten-licking along Chase’s shaft.
It was getting increasingly difficult to suppress moans, especially now that Foreman was actively taking one of her nipples between his teeth, licking her sensitive, swollen skin.
Cameron switched tactics, rubbing mindless circles into Chase’s thigh as she traced a protruding vein along her dick with her tongue. Chase bucked into the contact, earning a light scoff from Cameron, who resigned from teasing and sank down on Chase again, tasting the precome that had leaked out over the last thirty seconds.
Foreman left two more hickeys on Chase’s chest before bringing their mouths back together, holding her breast in one hand and her cheek in the other.
As Cameron picked up her pace, Chase found it impossible to maintain pressurized contact with Foreman’s mouth, instead, moaning into his lips every few seconds. She’d throw out the occasional cuss, distracted and thoughtless, but Foreman moved with it, taking the interruptions in stride. He’d breathe in Chase’s exhales, dragging fingers along her torso through the vocal crests and troughs.
Despite the fuzzy glow along Chase’s skin, every touch was pleasant and much, too much. Cameron’s hands on her thighs, mouth on her cock, Foreman’s hand on her chest and on her back, his tongue down her throat, his breath on her lips; she felt like a livewire.
Cameron’s eyes watered as she deepened her pace ever-so-slightly. Chase desperately tried to not buck too hard into her, twitching urgently as she climaxed.
Cameron watched Chase with unblinking eyes as she swallowed twice, keeping Chase’s over sensitive cock positioned just beyond the transition from mouth to throat.
Once satisfied, she pulled back, watching as Chase’s spent, ruddy dick twitched lazily. Foreman, who had felt the ordeal in Chase’s quickened breathing, was now endowing her with another hickey just above her collarbone.
Chase made a sort of contented groan, petting Cameron’s head.
“Was perfect,” she drawled out, raising both brows with half-lidded eyes.
Cameron smiled and returned to her side, kissing her with reserved fervor. She tasted like Chase, which sent a buzz down the latter’s spine.
Foreman, who had apparently decided that one round wasn’t enough, snaked his hand down to Chase’s cock, using Cameron’s lingering saliva to work her back to attention.
She cussed into Cameron’s mouth, hissing under the re-upped contact. After a moment, the sensitivity had dulled, but still felt marginally uncomfortable.
“Good girl,” Foreman said, taunting, which would’ve pissed Chase off if she weren’t so occupied with Cameron’s relentless tongue.
Chase huffed, catching her breath. Cameron worked down her neck, sucking along her jugular, which left a near-identical mark to Foreman’s first. She mirrored his work with half the effort, painting Chase’s chest with splotches of uneven crimson.
She came again, making a terrible mess of Foreman’s hand. He beamed with pride and brought his hand to his mouth, licking the remnants off.
Cameron and Foreman both admired the sight between them: Chase, fully disheveled and exposed, gleaming with sweat, and shaking ever-so-slightly. Her hair had miraculously retained its well-groomed form, falling just below her shoulders in blond waves.
The trio fell back into the couch, exhausted and pleasant.
-
House’s apartment was put back in place neater than they’d found it. Chase, who’d insisted upon calling a cab instead of taking the bus back to PPTH, gradually regained her biting edge as the Vicodin dulled in her system.
Choosing to fully disregard what had happened, the three returned to work an hour before they needed to head out for the day. Paperwork was completed, cases were filed, and clinic duties were scheduled. Tomorrow, House would turn up and present them with a case and they’d never speak of the mishap again, even if the marks on Chase’s chest would linger for another week.