Chase always tries to start his day with a dose of House. It's a bit like coffee -- bitter and bracing but with something underlying it that really wakes you up and gets you thinking, with a finish that makes you remember why you do it in the first place. It gets him off, if not on the right foot, then at least forced to hit the ground running just to keep up. He also appreciates the irony of using these metaphors about House, who uses his leg and his pain as excuses to be as unpleasant as he always was, at least according to Wilson.

Of course, once you've found House, Wilson is never far behind. Wilson is like the antidote to House, and fortunately he's always hanging around so Chase doesn't have to be obvious about basking in the soothing warmth of him. Of course, there's where you get into the real problem with Wilson. He's just as intelligent as House, but also has a mean streak that's actually a little sharper-edged for being a hidden one.

Which is how all three of House's staff ended up getting roped into dressing up for Halloween, with costumes chosen in secret by the two of them and accompanied by much chuckling and a lot of Significant Looks.

It's not until Chase's costume is revealed that he suddenly wonders if some of House's "consultations" with Wilson aren't just an excuse to get Wilson alone in a room that isn't entirely made of windows; this makes Chase confusingly jealous -- not that he's surprised to be jealous, but that he can't decide which of them he's actually jealous of.

"I thought a little role playing would be good for you kids today," says House in his usual sarcastic tone, a little smile hiding in his eyes as they all stare at the three costumes laid out on the table. For Cameron, they'd gone for the sort of construction worker's costume that would have fit in well with the Village People, including mud-caked boots and a tool belt heavy enough to give her the attendant plumber's crack if she hadn't also been provided with overalls. Foreman's, too, would fit right in in a performance of YMCA; House and his infinite sense of irony had acquired a motorcycle cop's uniform, complete with knee-high boots and water pistols.

Chase, on the other hand, was going to fit in better in the drag bar across the street. They'd managed to find one of the stereotypical "slutty nurse" outfits for him, complete with zipper all the way down the front, a hemline that would make a hooker blush, high heels, stockings and even a little name badge that said "Nurse Chase."

"All right," says Foreman, picking up his costume and the attendant bag of accessories. "I'll play your little game, if only because I got the best costume."

"Do I really have to haul around all this stuff?" Cameron asks, hefting the tools.

Chase rolls his eyes at her and says, "Trade you," though of course he knows she won't, not that House would allow it anyway.

"Fine," she says, grabbing her gear and following Foreman out of the fishbowl and presumably somewhere more private to change.

"And how do you like your costume?" House asks pointedly, nudging one of the obscenely -- or at least uncomfortably -- high heels with his cane.

Of course, it's not really House's bullying that's interesting, but the intent look in Wilson's eyes as they wait to see if Chase will take the bait.

"I'll wear it," Chase replies, standing up and gathering all the pieces back into the shopping bag from whence they came. "But you're paying the fees if I get sued for sexual harassment."

"Deal," Wilson says, fast enough that Chase has to raise an eyebrow. "Do you need any help getting into it?"

Chase looks at the bag and back up at Wilson, and he can't help but wonder if perhaps it wasn't House who chose this particular costume after all. "I think I'll be all right," he says, hefting the embarrassingly light bundle. "If I can do vascular surgery, I can figure out a garter belt."

It's House who takes the bait this time, giving Chase an exaggerated leer that just might be hiding some real interest. "If you get your panties in a twist, give us a call."

"I'll be sure to," Chase says dubiously, getting out of there before he manages to build an entire sexual fantasy around the idea that the two older men have been planning ways to seduce him, like a couple of chicken hawks and a particularly juicy little bit of cock.

Which is entirely the wrong metaphor to be using, and Chase is grateful to see the other two already mostly dressed when he gets to the locker room. Cameron is adjusting the tool belt and complaining about the bruises she'll have in the morning, and Foreman's stamping his feet to get those disturbingly sexy boots settled on his muscular legs. Damn, Chase has never noticed before how built Foreman is, and seeing his arse as he bends over to adjust the boots one last time gives Chase another little epiphany about just who sees what in whom in their office, and makes him think that perhaps Cameron isn't the only one who was hired for her physical attributes.

"We'll leave you some privacy for that," says Cameron, pocketing her pager and other random paraphernalia and looking, Chase thinks privately, the least sexy he's ever seen her.

Foreman looks up from where he'd been wiping a bit of Cameron's mud off of his own spit-shined boots and says, "Oh, yeah. You, um. Have fun with that."

Chase can't be all that sad as they make their hasty retreat and he lays the outfit out all over again, shaking his head as he hangs his lab coat up in his locker and toes off his shoes. He's not quite sure if he should do it piecemeal or just strip off and start from the ground up, because he has no idea which would be less embarrassing, were someone to walk in on him. He ends up going for the latter just because it's easier and, he hopes, will make it more obvious it's a costume and not what he normally wears under his street clothes, and vows one more time to someday find a way to get back at the clever bastards.

Knickers first, and the attendant wriggling about and trying to get his cock and balls to stay inside and keep the back from riding up where no man -- well, okay, not many men -- has gone before. He gives up after a few moments when a noise makes him nearly go into cardiac arrest, and decides to hurry the process along. The stockings come next and he's really glad there's no seams to try and get straight, though the white lace tops and matching garter belt are making his cheeks pink anyway with they way they look on his annoyingly masculine legs.

He's not sure what it says about him that he wishes he'd been given warning so he could have shaved, but there you are. He puts that out of his mind figuring out the bra, which seems to mostly exist to torment him as the cups are mere crescent-shaped wisps of that same white lace, attached to devilishly uncomfortable underwires that somehow give him the illusion of cleavage. Then it's on with the dress, one zip and bam, he's a slut. He keeps trying to tug the hem down to no avail, and it barely even touches the tops of his stockings when he moves more than an inch. Sitting down is going to be out of the question, and he's going to sue House himself if there's any bending over in his near future.

"Right, nearly done," he says to himself and fishes out the penultimate bit of the costume, black eyeliner and whore-red lipstick. He tries to pretend he's never done this before as he puts the liner on smoothly, then smears the red stuff on his lips, sulking for a moment that they couldn't even be arsed to buy him a decent brand. He's just pinning on the ridiculous little white hat when the door swings open and he spins around, cheeks redder than any blush could have made them.

"See, he doesn't need our help!" says House in that way that tells Chase that it was all his idea to come down here. "Our little Chase is a woman now," he adds, feigning a little sniffle.

Chase has always wondered how people manage to allow the cane House carries around to eclipse certain other attributes, and he feels doom coming down upon him as his own eyes are drawn inexorably to House's crotch, and the really obvious erection there. "Yes, yes," snarls Chase. He slams the locker door shut and tries to pretend he hadn't been preening. "Too bad nothing will make you a man."

"Remember," says Wilson, in that amused voice he uses when he's warning House not to do something they all know House is going to do anyway, "If you're the one harassing him, then that doubles the attorney's fees."

"If Chase was going to get me for sexual harassment," says House, limping his way over in that way that's almost like stalking, "he'd have done it a long time ago, when I made that comment about his short shorts."

"Or that time you tried to fix me up with the night guy in the Morgue," Chase replies with a roll of his eyes, giving in to the look of curiosity hiding in Wilson's face. He pushes away from the lockers and struts past House, just a little wobble in the ankles betraying just how long it's been since he wore heels like these.

He's rewarded with a flare of appreciation in Wilson's eyes and a certain swelling that he's really really not going to stare at in Wilson's trousers, and that's enough to make all the rest of the mortification that he's going to experience today worthwhile.

House, of course, wolf whistles and claps. "If it were any shorter," he says, stumping back over to the two of them, "then you'd have to call him into your office for uniform violations, Dr. Wilson."

Wilson reaches out with one of those warm, soft-looking hands and gives the zipper a tug, though of course it's designed not to go up remotely all the way and the generous chest is gaping to show Chase's nipples to anyone who takes a moment to try. "I don't know, I think he ought to come to my office anyway, Dr. House," says Wilson dangerously, and Chase is suddenly having everything turned upside-down.

His mouth is dry and he can't quite figure out if he wants this more than his self-respect or not, because there are no secrets with House and if he does this the whole hospital will know in about three seconds. It's not the hand on his arse that does it, though House's grip is surprisingly gentle, but the little bit of hope that he can see playing around Wilson's mouth, as though this is a treat he's worked very hard for and is now hoping House won't screw up for them both. "I have been a very naughty girl," says Chase, glancing down, and he knows he's blushing again just from saying it. "Perhaps you two could teach me what a proper nurse's duties are?"

Yeah, it's going to be worth it, and that's all Chase can think when the smile breaks over Wilson's face and the little clouds of doubt are chased away by eager lust and anticipatory wickedness. "Well, you'd better march yourself on up to my office, then."

"And thank your stars and garters one of us has a door that's not made of glass," House says, giving Chase's arse a particularly hard squeeze before letting it go and adding a little swat to the other cheek. "I think you're going to need some tough love."

Chase glances over and is surprised to see, not House's usual exaggerated sarcasm, but something akin to the wicked lust that lights up Wilson's eyes. Chase is beginning to think House hires all his staff based on the pushing of a very specific button. He shoves that thought aside and puts on his best sexy stride as he heads for Wilson's office, nametag clipped in place and pretending with all his might that it's perfectly normal for him to be walking around the hospital like this.

House and Wilson trail along behind him, far back enough he can pretend he can't hear them commenting on his shapely legs and girlish arse. He knows he's a little soft around the edges but apparently that works in this dress, the tight fabric giving him illusory curves at the waist, loosening at his chest to allow for a bust he's never going to have. They even stand behind him in the elevator, though thankfully the only other person in the car seems smart enough to realize that keeping quiet would keep the crazy doctors from focusing on her.

"I expect I'd end up on charges if I started quoting Deliverance at him in the hallways," says House, loud enough for everyone to hear, "but I'm not sure I can resist."

Chase can just picture Wilson's not-quite-eyeroll, and he smiles to himself when Wilson replies nonchalantly, "How can you care about his mouth when you've got the view from back here?"

Chase can't help but feel they're really negotiating who will get to do what to which end of him, which is disconcerting on so many levels but especially the one where it's making him start to sprout wood in knickers that have absolutely no room for it. He turns around and says, in as snide of a Cameron-imitation as he can muster, "Don't we have a patient to discuss with Dr. Wilson?"

"I have the chart in my office," says Wilson unflappably as the elevator doors slide open. They all step out into a crowded corridor and of course he chooses then to add, "You wore it, you can't really blame us for enjoying it."

"Your mouth says no, but your skirt says yes," House quips, though it's not entirely as sarcastic as his usual. Apparently imminent unpaid sex throws him off his stride, which Chase can't quite believe he's filing away for later.

Still, with House, any advantage is a good one. Maybe he'll keep the outfit, if it's not a rental, which is a horrible thought in and of itself with the panties crawling their way right up his arse. He nearly trips in his relief to finally reach Wilson's office, and he finds himself blushing at the feel of Wilson's soft hand on his waist, steadying him. "Those heels'll kill you if you don't watch where you're going," Wilson says with a wink, unlocking his office and ushering them all inside.

The lock clicks right back shut and thankfully the blinds are already closed, making this "consultation" marginally less suspicious, though Chase has already seen a few knowing looks tossed their way. Chase stops halfway to the desk and watches as Wilson clears his desk of files and knickknacks with an outward calm Chase has no hope of matching, and House leans against the door and uses his cane to encourage Chase to spread his legs, teasing the cool wood up between his thighs and lifting the skirt up just enough. "You've been a very naughty girl," says House, with a breathiness to his voice that Chase has never, ever heard before.

"I'm sorry, Doctor," says Chase, playing along because he left all his other choices behind in the locker room. "I'll do anything to keep you from reporting me." He spreads his legs a little wider and arches forward just enough to raise the skirt another half inch. "I just love my job," he adds, his voice hitching a bit as a shameful rush of lust hardens him fully, and he can feel the satin and lace rubbing against his prick like a caress.

Wilson's gotten the desk free just in time because House stumps his way around to the front, then hops up onto it, spreading his legs and hooking his cane over one edge. "Why don't you come here and show me if that lipstick is smudge-proof," says House, and somehow Chase can picture him using that line successfully on dozens of hookers in the past. It works on Chase, too, and he goes forward just enough that a long, slow bend at the waist not only bares most of his arse, but puts him face-to-trousers with House's crotch.

"Nurse Chase is very eager to please," says Wilson, walking back around with supplies in hand, lube and a pair of condoms, one of which gets passed to House with such smoothness that Chase can't help but wonder what else has gone on in here that he's not heard about. "Do you need a little spanking to remind you of your place, you naughty girl?"

The line would be totally absurd if it wasn't so hot, and Chase finds himself saying, "Yes, please," before he knows it. House's hand has entered his field of view, followed in short order by House's cock, which is thick and veined and just as inexplicably attractive as House himself. Chase is still staring at it, mesmerized, when House does that little strange hop-shove to get his trousers and pants down around his ankles, thus freeing his whole package to Chase's hungry gaze.

Chase licks his lips, then looks up at House's face; he knows that House is the sort of man who appreciates thoroughness, so he starts by lowering his face into the wiry curls and nuzzling around the base of House's cock.

He's quickly grateful that his hands are still braced on the edge of the desk, because Wilson's first swat lands right across the center of his satin-clad arse, and he nearly bites House in his surprise. Instead he lets out a completely undignified squeak and spreads his legs wider, arches his back like a complete whore and tries not to think about what House will have to say about this later.

"That obviously didn't hurt nearly enough," says House, and Chase spares a moment to rethink the idea of biting him. "Take off the panties."

Biting once again abandoned, Chase lets out a little moan of eagerness and Wilson doesn't hesitate for a moment. "We wouldn't want all our effort to go to waste," Wilson says, hands sliding the panties down as far as they'll go without making Chase close his legs and leaving them there, stretched out obscenely between his thighs.

Chase keeps his opinion to himself, mostly because his body is speaking it for him. His cock and balls are heavy and full where they swing below him, though he suspects they won't get the sort of attention they crave. He doesn't mind so much, because he knows his arse will be well-spanked and well-fucked, so he sucks House's balls and tries to concentrate on the telltale sounds that will tell him when to brace for impact.

Chase barely has time to remind himself to open his mouth instead of closing it on the gasp that comes out of his full mouth as Wilson's hand descends again, this time hitting just one cheek with a resounding smack. Chase moans and House echoes it and says, "Do that again," to Wilson, his voice rougher than usual and just what Chase needs to hear.

Wilson does, and Chase lets House's tender bits fall from his tongue so he can enjoy the moment, and moan without a full mouth. He's quick to get back to sucking when a hand threads none-too-gently into his hair, knocking the little hat off onto the floor where it lies forlornly. He starts licking his way up House's cock, and Wilson seems to take that as a cue to start spanking him steadily. Chase isn't quite as mortified as he feels he ought to be at the plethora of whimpers, squeals and moans that escape his red-smeared lips even past the barrier of House's substantial assets, but perhaps that's because they are, upon reflection, one of the least embarrassing things about the situation.

Chase gets to the head and spends a long time lavishing attention on it, mostly because he thinks he'll choke if he tries to take House's entire cock in while Wilson's still spanking him. "I think our little nurse has done this before a time or two," says House, and Chase almost stops to protest that no, he's never done this particular thing before, nurse uniform or not.

"I think perhaps it's time for the rest of Nurse Chase's punishment," Wilson replies, and Chase shudders with undisguised anticipation. "Have you done this before, dear?" Wilson asks with a little caress to Chase's opening, his voice that same mild tone he uses with patients.

"Yes, sir," says Chase, though he has to pull his mouth off House's cock to do it. House barely allows the motion, shoving him back down before his lips can close and sliding into his throat in one smooth motion. Chase is really, really glad he knows how to do this because otherwise he would be choking, but instead he swallows and breathes through his nose and starts bobbing his head obediently in time to the insistent tugs on his hair.

"Excellent," says House, and Chase doesn't know if he's commenting on Chase's answer or his actions.

Wilson distracts him from the question with two cold, slick fingers, and Chase gasps as his entrance flares obediently open around them. He's always surprised by how easily this comes to him, as though his body knows what it wants and is happy to be accommodating. "Nice," is Wilson's only comment at the easy preparation, his fingers thrusting a few more times before a third one is added and Chase has to close his eyes from the sensation of it, cold gel and hot burning stretch so very perfect, especially as a prelude to everything Chase couldn't admit before that he wanted.

Chase has his nose buried in House's musky curls and his throat filled with House's fat cock when Wilson pulls his fingers out, so it's not quite so much of a loss as it might have been. Still, he's much happier when Wilson's latex-coated prick rubs itself against his opening and even more so when it begins to push its way in, shoving his face into House's groin enough to completely muffle the moan that wants to escape.

"Tight," says Wilson shortly, pausing as they always do once they're in when all Chase wants is for him to move. "Better put that raincoat on," he adds, and Chase realizes the pause wasn't so much for his benefit as to give House a moment to remember that it's hard to ask for protection with your mouth full. Chase is grateful on some level, though of course there's another that regrets losing the taste of House's skin to the far less pleasant flavor of cheap mint and latex.

As soon as they're back where they were with the barrier in place, House leans back on his hands and Wilson begins to pull out with a slowness that can only be deliberately designed to tease. "It's so nice to see a nurse enjoy her work," says House, and when Chase looks up those blue, blue eyes are staring back down at him with hot intent.

Chase lets his gaze slip away and sucks House's cock in again, his timing perfect since Wilson chooses that moment to thrust forward, hard. Wilson's hands are bracing his hips but he's got no kind of balance in the damned heels, and his face is shoved forward into House once again. Fortunately, it doesn't take Chase long to figure out the trick of it once Wilson starts fucking him in earnest, using Wilson's rhythm to propel his own and bracing against the desk a bit more carefully so he doesn't choke even when Wilson surprises him.

House's composure is unraveling deliciously, and when Chase glances up he's thrown his head back and is panting and rocking, hands tense against the expensive wood of Wilson's desk. Wilson has begun to swear as he thrusts, a litany of filth that would seem far more at home in House's mouth and makes Chase wonder if this little party wasn't at Wilson's instigation after all. He'd been assuming House had dragged Wilson along as usual, but after the fifth or sixth creative variation calling him a naughty, dirty, syringe-riding little slut, Chase begins to think it was the opposite.

Not that he minds; the only thing he minds at this point is the way his cock is bouncing untouched against his belly, his balls colliding with Wilson's at the height of each stroke in a wonderfully obscene manner that only makes him more desperate for any kind of touch. He sucks and clenches and swallows his need, though, because he can't imagine that Wilson would do this to him and not let him come and that's enough to give him the very small extra motivation he needs to want to see House's face as he's coming. If nothing else, Chase will be able to picture it next time House is being a prat.

As if some part of House knows just what Chase was thinking, he suddenly thrusts up off the desk and into Chase's throat, and Chase looks up to see the pleasure wash over his face. It's a far more primal look than House's "drugs good" expression, and Chase wonders if he and Wilson couldn't manage an intervention if these were the sort of rewards House could expect for switching out his pills to something less addictive.

That thought is washed quite thoroughly away when Wilson's hand finally leaves Chase's hip and wraps itself around his cock, and Chase suckles forlornly at the hot latex before letting it slip from his mouth and laying his head on House's thigh. Wilson's monologue tapers off and his thrusts are erratic and rough, which is just what Chase needs after the smoothness of House's shuddered orgasm. House's hand comes back to stroke his hair with surprising tenderness, and Chase would be nearly purring if he wasn't also nearly coming.

Chase gasps and moans and lets himself go, spilling his seed all over Wilson's nice carpeting and getting fucked even harder for his troubles. It doesn't take much longer for Wilson and that typical guy reaction of thrust in, moan, shudder, done. Chase whimpers when Wilson pulls out, and he stays right where he is while Wilson cleans him up with a wet nap and pulls up the panties. Chase barely even winces when Wilson gives him a resounding final swat and says, "That's my girl."

"Now, you'll remember what you've learned here today, won't you, Nurse Chase?" says House, bringing them all back around to the little fantasy they'd been playing out.

Chase nods and stands, wobbly on the heels with the afterglow still thrumming through him. "I can't imagine how I could forget," he says, tucking himself properly into the panties, adjusting the stockings and then bending over to snag the little hat. "Will I have to wear the costume next time, or can we just skip straight to the fucking?" he asks boldly, his way of telling them he won't scream sexual harassment or even regret things in the morning.

Wilson turns from where's he's been disposing of the evidence in one of the biohazard waste bins and smiles at Chase with that same hopeful, wicked grin he'd gotten when he first realized their plan had worked. "We'll have a different costume for you next time," he says, sidling up to House who's still unabashedly half naked on his desk. "Right, Gregory?"

"Right, James," says House, nuzzling up to Wilson and giving him the sort of kiss that makes it suddenly, blindingly obvious why all of Wilson's marriages have failed. "And next time, we'll do it at my place." He turns to look at Chase as if daring him to comment. Chase is too filled with something suspiciously like hope to say anything, but there must have been something in his face because House adds sardonically, "More comfortable furniture."

"You wanted the desk," says Wilson, looking a bit like a deer in the headlights when Chase straightens the stupid little dress and steps forward.

"There's no way people won't know," says Chase, crowding into their space in a way that he hopes makes it clear that he won't just be some disposable toy to them. He leans forward and catches Wilson's mouth in a kiss that must taste awful and feel pretty good, judging from the sound Wilson makes and the curl of his warm fingers around Chase's hip.

House makes a disparaging sound and tugs Chase over for a kiss of his own. "We've got more lipstick in the drawer, and an actual patient to see once you're all tarted up again," he says, with a little peck to Chase's lips that feels like the end of this discussion.

"All right," says Chase, used to rearranging his thinking around House though he must admit the visual aid of House and Wilson kissing helps a lot. "You'd better clean that up before someone thinks you've got an STD, though," Chase adds, pointing to House's red-smeared crotch.

They all laugh, and Chase feels they've come to something very like an understanding. He can only hope it lasts once the lock clicks and the door opens, because he's starting to understand how House could break someone's heart by making them leave and he's not even all that attached.

Yet.