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lovely_ambitionTitle: Finder’s Keepers
Fandom: House MD/Fantastic Four
Characters: Robert Chase, Johnny Storm
Prompt: 083. Lost
Word Count: 3,397
Rating: R
Author's Notes: Part of a universe in which Chase/Johnny Storm will happen. This takes part long before House MD begins.
Slamming the door shut of his car, Chase drove off, the professor's voice still echoing in his head. "Well, that'll be all for cardiology. This week, we'll look into rheumatology and we'll be using the book of Australia's very own Dr. Rowan Chase to teach us." Followed by applause and an hour-fifty lecture about how none could match Dr. Chase's prowess in terms of the medical field. All the while, Robert Chase (pre-MD) had to sit in the back of a classroom and pretend like he didn't care.
The road back to the Chase home was blissfully empty. He passed a small nondescript car about a mile from the house, but other than that, nothing. Just sandy beaches and tropical vegetation. All this surrounded his home -- and yeah, his; his mother had left it to him in the will and the day he turned eighteen, he inherited it for himself. He parked the silver BMW convertible in the garage with the Jeep and the crap mustang he'd bought used when he was sixteen. He didn't want to go do the work, but he knew he had to. Med school was all about beating the other guy. Chase was just twenty-three and wanting to do well as he went from internship to residency, graduation in two years if he aced this year.
Adjusting his shoulder bag against his hip, he frowned when he saw something foreign in the private beach behind the house. The only help that Chase kept still employed was a maid and a gardener and he doubted either of them would possess a surfboard quite like the one sticking out of the sand. Brushing a long hair out of his eyes, he headed for the ocean instead of the house, noting that there was a strange man in the water, swimming idly to the shore. Chase arched an eyebrow, draping an arm around the surfboard. "This is private property, you know," he called out, over the crashing roar of the waves.
The guy in the water glanced up at him. "Is it? Sorry. Tourist from America." He stood in the calf-deep water and gave Chase a sheepish grin, shrugging as if to say 'what're you gonna do?' "You going to call the cops?"
Chase hesitated, glancing down to his bag. He had assignments to do, paperwork to read, but he was just sizing up the man in the waves -- looked a bit younger than him -- and kept the surfboard snug in his grasp. It was still drying, like it had just been used.
"You like rugby?" Chase asked, noncommittally to a man he didn't even know.
The guy nodded, looking sort of wary. "Sure."
"You can stay and watch the game. And I won't call the cops on you."
Chase turned, not waiting to see if his offer would be accepted or not.
*
Six days of the week, the Chase home lay empty save for Chase. On Sunday, both the maid and the gardener came by and Chase would go out on the pull that evening and always return with company, whether male or female. This week, he had the Stranger From America in his home as Chase set a platter of nachos on the table in front of the flatscreen television that he was ogling.
"Dude, are you like, royalty?" he asked, gaping at the screen and flipping through channels. Rheumatology royalty had a nice ring to it, but he hated admitting to it.
Chase set down a few beers. "Inheritance." He claimed one corner of the couch for himself, relaxing out and kicking up his feet. "I'm Rob Chase," he introduced himself finally.
"Johnny Storm," was the answer, but it was directed at the television. Chase was sure the LCD was pleased to make Mr. Storm's acquaintance. Chase reached forward, glancing up at Johnny through a veil of his hair, while grabbing the remote.
"Grab a seat," Chase urged, flipping the channel to rugby. Johnny Storm sat on the opposite end of the couch and neither of them said much of anything as they sat there, watching the game progress. Johnny, though, seemed to be watching Chase as much as he did the game. "What?"
"How come you didn't call the cops?" he asked curiously. "Private property. I was trespassing."
Chase sipped at his beer slowly, shrugging. "Gave you a lien."
"Lien-enient of you," Johnny smirked.
Chase just stared.
"Bad pun," he admitted. "But seriously, rich guy like you just invites a trespasser up to his place? What's with that?" Chase was quickly deciding that Johnny asked far too many questions. They had a sort of plaintive sound, like this was the first conversation Johnny had had in a while as well. "Not that I'm complaining," Johnny added, grabbing a plate of food.
"You were surfing," Chase said simply, like that explained everything.
Obviously, it didn't. "So?"
"So, tomorrow, you're going surfing with me. I haven't surfed in years. No one else knows how. And I miss it." Chase said, sounding very quiet and young.
Johnny set the plate down, watching Chase watching the game. "I get to crash here too?" he asked dubiously. "When's the secret service coming to kill me?"
Chase just grinned at that, settling in. Maybe Johnny Storm wasn't so bad.
They watched rugby until it ended, then a Bond movie on television, and only crashed when two AM rolled around and they had finished comparing Bond girls and their attributes.
*
Chase gave Johnny the newest of the guest rooms. It used to be his room when he was younger, but when his father had remarried, Chase had finally moved into the master bedroom. That morning, Chase wandered by the guest room and leaned in the doorway, sunlight spilling over his hair and causing the dark dirty blonde strands to appear blonder than ever. He was clutching a cup of coffee in his hand and watching Johnny sleep, wondering still why he invited him back instead of calling the cops. "Tide's up," he announced loudly, loud enough to wake Johnny up. Chase offered him a small smile. "And coffee's on." He had a night class to get to later, but there was still plenty of time.
Chase wandered back down the hallway, hair falling in his eyes. He was wearing swim trunks already and a tight-fitting t-shirt, ready to head out into the sun. October was great for surfing, just enough to the waves to make them a challenge. A glance over his shoulder gave him a good look at Johnny as he rose.
He'd never even picked up a hitchhiker before, but he was letting a stranger roam around his home. And why? On the sole basis that he was attractive?
Apparently.
Chase lurked by the coffee machine, letting it slowly warm him and get him a little more alert. Johnny traipsed downstairs a good twenty minutes later, dressed in the same clothes as the day before and grinning. "You this nice to every stranger you find on your property?" he asked, taking the cup of coffee that Chase offered him.
"Only the prettiest," he teased, sipping at his mug. "So what's your story? Why are you in Australia?"
Johnny's smile faded slightly at that and he turned his attention to the mug. "You ever been booted from NASA?"
"Can't say I have."
"Yeah," Johnny said, somewhat darkly. "Didn't really want to stay in the States after that, so I caught the first flight to the first place that looked worth a stay. Here I am."
"Here you are," Chase agreed. "NASA, huh? Overrated," he said, with a half-grin, trying to cheer Johnny up at least a little.
Everyone had a story to them.
Chase just didn't want to tell his just yet. If he could keep on Johnny's story, they wouldn't ever get around to asking why Chase lived all alone in his little palace.
*
The waves were tranquil as they crashed to shore, the only other sound the gulls above them, clamouring for food. The nearest neighbours were two miles away and Chase had long enjoyed having a private beach. Today, he was enjoying it all the more, carrying the surfboards towards the water and watching Johnny stretching the whole time.
"You're going to kick my ass, aren't you?" Chase asked good-naturedly above the sound of the water, slipping on a pair of sunglasses to ward away the sun. He and Johnny's gaze met and they both grinned for a moment. "Should have known. NASA might have been idiotic enough to dump you, but I can tell you're going to wipe my ass on the boards."
Johnny's grin had widened by the second. "You're good for my ego. Think I'll keep you." He was stretching out his hamstrings and wobbling slightly. Chase wasted no time in heading over, resting a hand on Johnny's back and stomach by his core. "Hey, Rob?"
"Yeah?"
"What're you doing?"
Chase kept his hands firm. "Your core balance. You're wobbling," Chase murmured, lips precariously close to Johnny's ear. "Keep stretching." He didn't move and Johnny did keep stretching, Chase's hands warm against his bare skin. Johnny had showed up wearing horribly obnoxious surfer shorts with flames up and down the sides. Chase nearly leaned in and pressed his lips to Johnny's bare shoulder, but he didn't, he just stood there and inhaled the smell of day-old cologne and sunscreen.
After a moment of stretching, Chase eased away and grasped his surfboard from the sand, heading to the ocean and beckoning Johnny to follow. "Last one in..."
"Yeah, yeah, rotten egg," Johnny cut him off, picking up his own board and sprinting past Chase into the water. Chase sent the surfboard out, swimming after it quickly and slowly sliding atop, paddling out past the breakers, Johnny at his side the whole time. Chase's heart had been beating faster and there was a dry taste in his mouth, slowly turning into something more bitter, more like adrenaline. He watched Johnny and his lack of hesitation as he took to the biggest wave he could find, riding it in easily, letting out a triumphant cry when he reached shore. Chase just watched him, his own plan forming a little clearer. Chase slowly straddled his board, catching the next wave in and riding it easily, practice making perfect.
Johnny was breathing harder by the shore, watching Chase surf in. "Not bad," he observed.
Chase gave the board a bit of a kick to the sand and gave Johnny a once-over. "You flew?"
"Yeah. Dreamt of NASA since I was little," Johnny nodded, wiping the back of his hand across his lips. "And what do you want to be when you grow up?"
"What makes you think I'm ever growing up?" Chase teased instead of giving a straight answer.
He leaned over, flicking a stray piece of seaweed off of Johnny's shoulder, hand brushing there. Chase didn't move his hand, staring at Johnny, his hair half-wet and the sun beating down on him.
"Johnny," he began, voice sounding young and hoarse. He leaned in a little and brushed his lips against Johnny's jaw, feeling the other man seemingly freeze up against him. "Come back to my room," he suggested, the slightest yearning note in his tone. He eased back and stared at Johnny for a moment, their eyes meeting and between them, everything faded away into minor inconveniences. Chase gave a nervous half-smile as he turned and picked up his surfboard, retreating to the house. Now, it was up to Johnny. He'd come all the way to Melbourne, now he had to decide whether to go just a little bit further.
*
Chase had changed the moment upon returning, back into a pair of boxers and normal jeans and his favourite rugby shirt -- green and white stripes -- and had settled into his room, organizing textbooks on his desk. He'd pushed too soon, too fast. He should have known it would be a mistake.
"I'll have you know," Johnny's voice interrupted his reverie. He was still wearing those damn tacky shorts, "I'm not usually this kind of girl." He didn't sound that confident about it, but he closed the door and approached the bed, not sitting, not moving, but just standing there.
Chase could work with that. "Okay," he agreed quietly, leaning in and cupping Johnny's cheek with a hand, leaning in and kissing him slowly, giving Johnny plenty of chances to pull away and decide to run. But he didn't run and he didn't do anything except kiss back. He eased away and stared at Johnny for a moment and something kicked in that pushed them both into overdrive. Maybe the moment, maybe the sheer need, but Johnny pushed Chase down on the bed and Chase yanked Johnny down with him.
Chase straddled Johnny and stared down at him.
“This my punishment?” Johnny asked, sounding far too eager.
Chase just stared down, unsure of what the hell he was doing. “Johnny…”
“Hey, Rob,” Johnny warned. “You started this. Don’t back out on me now.”
Chase nodded, leaning in and slowly kissing Johnny properly, hand stroking lower as he found the hem of his own shirt, yanking it off and disheveling his hair in the process. He leaned down, kissing up Johnny’s bare chest, lips lingering and traversing up his neck, meeting his lips for a kiss.
The rest of their clothes fell by the wayside and Chase swallowed hard, mouth dry. Johnny had to be new to this, but he wasn’t protesting. He let Chase touch him gently, hand stroking anywhere he could while he struggled to find the lube and a condom, accidentally sending half the contents of the nighttable to the ground, but he finally had everything, and in no time, he was prepared and parting Johnny’s legs.
This was new. This was so new, but god, it felt right.
Chase brought Johnny to a quick climax, their noise echoing against the soundproof walls and Chase hissed when he climaxed, exhaling Johnny’s name and slumping against his body, both of them sweating, both of them in a new place, both of them slightly anxious about what came next.
But for the moment, Chase just enjoyed touching Johnny’s skin.
*
Chase skipped his class that night, taking his texts into the kitchen and sitting cross-legged in a chair, tapping his pencil against his cheek and studying his father’s text on rheumatology with a keen eye, fidgeting with his notes and reaching over for a mess of papers. He had a mountain of paperwork, really, and it seemed he got something new for every worried thought he had of Johnny.
He’d pried himself away from the warm body and changed into a t-shirt and pair of sweats, heading downstairs for a distraction. And distraction came by way of his work.
The moon shone in and he had turned on every light in the kitchen
“Got enough papers?” Johnny’s lazy voice interrupted his thoughts and Chase turned, chewing on the end of his pencil and giving him a nervous smile. Johnny looked…well, amazing was the only word for it, standing there in a pair of boxers and looking decidedly sated.
Chase turned back to his texts. “Skipped class,” he explained. “Trying to keep ahead before I get kicked out.”
Johnny wandered closer, hand running through Chase’s hair and leaning down to kiss by his ear. “Come to bed,” he urged, in the lowest, softest whisper Chase had ever heard in his life. “That stuff’ll be there in the morning.”
Chase turned to look at Johnny, curious as to his demeanor. But as he was turned, he leaned up and stole a kiss from Johnny’s lips, pencil clattering to the table as he moved both hands to Johnny’s face and kissed him harder, standing up and following the kiss every inch of the way. He draped one leg around Johnny’s hip and let himself be dragged forward while he managed to get the other around Johnny’s waist, arms draped around his neck as he kissed him properly, letting himself get carried towards the bedroom.
“You,” he murmured, kissing Johnny’s jaw, “okay with this?”
“Hey, Rob? Shut up,” Johnny demanded, kissing him full on the lips and taking him to bed for the second time that day. He muttered something like, ‘heavy bastard’ before dropping him on the bed and crawling atop him that time.
*
Weeks passed and for all of Chase’s hints that Johnny could leave any day, any time, he never did. Chase went back to classes and Johnny seemed to enjoy kicking around his place, watching the television and surfing on the private beach and enjoying the nightly sex.
Which, yeah…continued to be pretty damn good.
Except for the fact that Chase found himself getting far too attached to Johnny, to this stranger he had barely known and had only invited in to keep from being lonely. He had figured it would be a one-time pull, but five weeks had passed and Johnny was making a place for himself in that guest room.
Chase arrived home from his practical exam with a passing grade in hand, residency guaranteed and done and that was the day that he found Johnny packing up his suitcase, beaming like a kid on a massive sugar-high. “Johnny?” he asked curiously, standing still in the middle of the room while Hurricane Johnny whirled around him, packing up. “You going somewhere?”
“New York,” he announced eagerly, kissing Chase’s hair firmly. “God, you smell good. You always smell good. I should get that shampoo of yours, what is it?”
Chase stared at Johnny, still confused. “Johnny?”
“I got a job,” he said with a grin. “Sue found a job, she wants me there. Von Doom wants to hire me! Hey, it’s not NASA, but it isn’t…”
“Bumming around on an Australian beach,” Chase interrupted, giving him a perfunctory smile. He nodded. “Okay. I’m making steaks on the Barbie,” he said, dryly accenting the slang. He didn’t hold eye contact for very long before turning around and heading for the patio. He forced the stung feelings to go the hell away, because this was never supposed to be anything anyway.
He also didn’t expect the hand on his arm, yanking him around and into another demanding kiss.
“Johnny!” Chase protested, pulling away, eyes wide. “You’re going to America.”
“Come with,” Johnny argued stubbornly, like he’d never been said no to in all his life.
Chase, for his part, laughed at the insanity of that. “Amer…the States? Johnny, are you mad?” He laughed at that, but there was vulnerability on his face and he shook his head. “I…can’t, you know that. Right? I mean, congratulations. Johnny, congratulations, I’m glad. I am.” He swallowed hard and realized that he really was pleased for him.
“Rob,” he said, very seriously. “Come with me.”
Chase stared at Johnny and realized that he was being very serious. “I have residency to finish. Two years.”
“Come do it in the States,” Johnny insisted stubbornly. “Come on. We’ll have great sex. We’ll hang out. Do our thing.” His eyes glanced down towards the rheumatology text in Chase’s hands and then back up to Chase’s unsure face. “Don’t have to listen to your Dad anymore. This is your call.”
No more hanging on Daddy’s coattails, Robbie.
Chase stared at Johnny, remembering what his oncology professor had told him about the States and about Dr. House, who was based out of Jersey and who was, according to him, the very best in all the world. Chase could get in, he knew it. He was young, he was smart for his age, he had a famous father that he wanted to escape from. And even if he didn’t, there were hundreds of hospitals in the States and he had a thick wallet to keep himself from going bankrupt. Worst case scenario, he’d move back home.
Johnny eased his arms around Chase’s hips. “Rob?”
Could be he was about to find himself a place where he belonged.
Chase nodded. “Okay,” he agreed, unable to believe what the hell he was saying. “Yeah. I’ll come…I’ll go States-side. Provided we still get to have sex.”
“Scout’s honor,” Johnny swore and kissed Chase’s cheek before easing away to continue his packing.
Time to start a whole new life.
THE END
Fandom: House MD/Fantastic Four
Characters: Robert Chase, Johnny Storm
Prompt: 083. Lost
Word Count: 3,397
Rating: R
Author's Notes: Part of a universe in which Chase/Johnny Storm will happen. This takes part long before House MD begins.
Slamming the door shut of his car, Chase drove off, the professor's voice still echoing in his head. "Well, that'll be all for cardiology. This week, we'll look into rheumatology and we'll be using the book of Australia's very own Dr. Rowan Chase to teach us." Followed by applause and an hour-fifty lecture about how none could match Dr. Chase's prowess in terms of the medical field. All the while, Robert Chase (pre-MD) had to sit in the back of a classroom and pretend like he didn't care.
The road back to the Chase home was blissfully empty. He passed a small nondescript car about a mile from the house, but other than that, nothing. Just sandy beaches and tropical vegetation. All this surrounded his home -- and yeah, his; his mother had left it to him in the will and the day he turned eighteen, he inherited it for himself. He parked the silver BMW convertible in the garage with the Jeep and the crap mustang he'd bought used when he was sixteen. He didn't want to go do the work, but he knew he had to. Med school was all about beating the other guy. Chase was just twenty-three and wanting to do well as he went from internship to residency, graduation in two years if he aced this year.
Adjusting his shoulder bag against his hip, he frowned when he saw something foreign in the private beach behind the house. The only help that Chase kept still employed was a maid and a gardener and he doubted either of them would possess a surfboard quite like the one sticking out of the sand. Brushing a long hair out of his eyes, he headed for the ocean instead of the house, noting that there was a strange man in the water, swimming idly to the shore. Chase arched an eyebrow, draping an arm around the surfboard. "This is private property, you know," he called out, over the crashing roar of the waves.
The guy in the water glanced up at him. "Is it? Sorry. Tourist from America." He stood in the calf-deep water and gave Chase a sheepish grin, shrugging as if to say 'what're you gonna do?' "You going to call the cops?"
Chase hesitated, glancing down to his bag. He had assignments to do, paperwork to read, but he was just sizing up the man in the waves -- looked a bit younger than him -- and kept the surfboard snug in his grasp. It was still drying, like it had just been used.
"You like rugby?" Chase asked, noncommittally to a man he didn't even know.
The guy nodded, looking sort of wary. "Sure."
"You can stay and watch the game. And I won't call the cops on you."
Chase turned, not waiting to see if his offer would be accepted or not.
*
Six days of the week, the Chase home lay empty save for Chase. On Sunday, both the maid and the gardener came by and Chase would go out on the pull that evening and always return with company, whether male or female. This week, he had the Stranger From America in his home as Chase set a platter of nachos on the table in front of the flatscreen television that he was ogling.
"Dude, are you like, royalty?" he asked, gaping at the screen and flipping through channels. Rheumatology royalty had a nice ring to it, but he hated admitting to it.
Chase set down a few beers. "Inheritance." He claimed one corner of the couch for himself, relaxing out and kicking up his feet. "I'm Rob Chase," he introduced himself finally.
"Johnny Storm," was the answer, but it was directed at the television. Chase was sure the LCD was pleased to make Mr. Storm's acquaintance. Chase reached forward, glancing up at Johnny through a veil of his hair, while grabbing the remote.
"Grab a seat," Chase urged, flipping the channel to rugby. Johnny Storm sat on the opposite end of the couch and neither of them said much of anything as they sat there, watching the game progress. Johnny, though, seemed to be watching Chase as much as he did the game. "What?"
"How come you didn't call the cops?" he asked curiously. "Private property. I was trespassing."
Chase sipped at his beer slowly, shrugging. "Gave you a lien."
"Lien-enient of you," Johnny smirked.
Chase just stared.
"Bad pun," he admitted. "But seriously, rich guy like you just invites a trespasser up to his place? What's with that?" Chase was quickly deciding that Johnny asked far too many questions. They had a sort of plaintive sound, like this was the first conversation Johnny had had in a while as well. "Not that I'm complaining," Johnny added, grabbing a plate of food.
"You were surfing," Chase said simply, like that explained everything.
Obviously, it didn't. "So?"
"So, tomorrow, you're going surfing with me. I haven't surfed in years. No one else knows how. And I miss it." Chase said, sounding very quiet and young.
Johnny set the plate down, watching Chase watching the game. "I get to crash here too?" he asked dubiously. "When's the secret service coming to kill me?"
Chase just grinned at that, settling in. Maybe Johnny Storm wasn't so bad.
They watched rugby until it ended, then a Bond movie on television, and only crashed when two AM rolled around and they had finished comparing Bond girls and their attributes.
*
Chase gave Johnny the newest of the guest rooms. It used to be his room when he was younger, but when his father had remarried, Chase had finally moved into the master bedroom. That morning, Chase wandered by the guest room and leaned in the doorway, sunlight spilling over his hair and causing the dark dirty blonde strands to appear blonder than ever. He was clutching a cup of coffee in his hand and watching Johnny sleep, wondering still why he invited him back instead of calling the cops. "Tide's up," he announced loudly, loud enough to wake Johnny up. Chase offered him a small smile. "And coffee's on." He had a night class to get to later, but there was still plenty of time.
Chase wandered back down the hallway, hair falling in his eyes. He was wearing swim trunks already and a tight-fitting t-shirt, ready to head out into the sun. October was great for surfing, just enough to the waves to make them a challenge. A glance over his shoulder gave him a good look at Johnny as he rose.
He'd never even picked up a hitchhiker before, but he was letting a stranger roam around his home. And why? On the sole basis that he was attractive?
Apparently.
Chase lurked by the coffee machine, letting it slowly warm him and get him a little more alert. Johnny traipsed downstairs a good twenty minutes later, dressed in the same clothes as the day before and grinning. "You this nice to every stranger you find on your property?" he asked, taking the cup of coffee that Chase offered him.
"Only the prettiest," he teased, sipping at his mug. "So what's your story? Why are you in Australia?"
Johnny's smile faded slightly at that and he turned his attention to the mug. "You ever been booted from NASA?"
"Can't say I have."
"Yeah," Johnny said, somewhat darkly. "Didn't really want to stay in the States after that, so I caught the first flight to the first place that looked worth a stay. Here I am."
"Here you are," Chase agreed. "NASA, huh? Overrated," he said, with a half-grin, trying to cheer Johnny up at least a little.
Everyone had a story to them.
Chase just didn't want to tell his just yet. If he could keep on Johnny's story, they wouldn't ever get around to asking why Chase lived all alone in his little palace.
*
The waves were tranquil as they crashed to shore, the only other sound the gulls above them, clamouring for food. The nearest neighbours were two miles away and Chase had long enjoyed having a private beach. Today, he was enjoying it all the more, carrying the surfboards towards the water and watching Johnny stretching the whole time.
"You're going to kick my ass, aren't you?" Chase asked good-naturedly above the sound of the water, slipping on a pair of sunglasses to ward away the sun. He and Johnny's gaze met and they both grinned for a moment. "Should have known. NASA might have been idiotic enough to dump you, but I can tell you're going to wipe my ass on the boards."
Johnny's grin had widened by the second. "You're good for my ego. Think I'll keep you." He was stretching out his hamstrings and wobbling slightly. Chase wasted no time in heading over, resting a hand on Johnny's back and stomach by his core. "Hey, Rob?"
"Yeah?"
"What're you doing?"
Chase kept his hands firm. "Your core balance. You're wobbling," Chase murmured, lips precariously close to Johnny's ear. "Keep stretching." He didn't move and Johnny did keep stretching, Chase's hands warm against his bare skin. Johnny had showed up wearing horribly obnoxious surfer shorts with flames up and down the sides. Chase nearly leaned in and pressed his lips to Johnny's bare shoulder, but he didn't, he just stood there and inhaled the smell of day-old cologne and sunscreen.
After a moment of stretching, Chase eased away and grasped his surfboard from the sand, heading to the ocean and beckoning Johnny to follow. "Last one in..."
"Yeah, yeah, rotten egg," Johnny cut him off, picking up his own board and sprinting past Chase into the water. Chase sent the surfboard out, swimming after it quickly and slowly sliding atop, paddling out past the breakers, Johnny at his side the whole time. Chase's heart had been beating faster and there was a dry taste in his mouth, slowly turning into something more bitter, more like adrenaline. He watched Johnny and his lack of hesitation as he took to the biggest wave he could find, riding it in easily, letting out a triumphant cry when he reached shore. Chase just watched him, his own plan forming a little clearer. Chase slowly straddled his board, catching the next wave in and riding it easily, practice making perfect.
Johnny was breathing harder by the shore, watching Chase surf in. "Not bad," he observed.
Chase gave the board a bit of a kick to the sand and gave Johnny a once-over. "You flew?"
"Yeah. Dreamt of NASA since I was little," Johnny nodded, wiping the back of his hand across his lips. "And what do you want to be when you grow up?"
"What makes you think I'm ever growing up?" Chase teased instead of giving a straight answer.
He leaned over, flicking a stray piece of seaweed off of Johnny's shoulder, hand brushing there. Chase didn't move his hand, staring at Johnny, his hair half-wet and the sun beating down on him.
"Johnny," he began, voice sounding young and hoarse. He leaned in a little and brushed his lips against Johnny's jaw, feeling the other man seemingly freeze up against him. "Come back to my room," he suggested, the slightest yearning note in his tone. He eased back and stared at Johnny for a moment, their eyes meeting and between them, everything faded away into minor inconveniences. Chase gave a nervous half-smile as he turned and picked up his surfboard, retreating to the house. Now, it was up to Johnny. He'd come all the way to Melbourne, now he had to decide whether to go just a little bit further.
*
Chase had changed the moment upon returning, back into a pair of boxers and normal jeans and his favourite rugby shirt -- green and white stripes -- and had settled into his room, organizing textbooks on his desk. He'd pushed too soon, too fast. He should have known it would be a mistake.
"I'll have you know," Johnny's voice interrupted his reverie. He was still wearing those damn tacky shorts, "I'm not usually this kind of girl." He didn't sound that confident about it, but he closed the door and approached the bed, not sitting, not moving, but just standing there.
Chase could work with that. "Okay," he agreed quietly, leaning in and cupping Johnny's cheek with a hand, leaning in and kissing him slowly, giving Johnny plenty of chances to pull away and decide to run. But he didn't run and he didn't do anything except kiss back. He eased away and stared at Johnny for a moment and something kicked in that pushed them both into overdrive. Maybe the moment, maybe the sheer need, but Johnny pushed Chase down on the bed and Chase yanked Johnny down with him.
Chase straddled Johnny and stared down at him.
“This my punishment?” Johnny asked, sounding far too eager.
Chase just stared down, unsure of what the hell he was doing. “Johnny…”
“Hey, Rob,” Johnny warned. “You started this. Don’t back out on me now.”
Chase nodded, leaning in and slowly kissing Johnny properly, hand stroking lower as he found the hem of his own shirt, yanking it off and disheveling his hair in the process. He leaned down, kissing up Johnny’s bare chest, lips lingering and traversing up his neck, meeting his lips for a kiss.
The rest of their clothes fell by the wayside and Chase swallowed hard, mouth dry. Johnny had to be new to this, but he wasn’t protesting. He let Chase touch him gently, hand stroking anywhere he could while he struggled to find the lube and a condom, accidentally sending half the contents of the nighttable to the ground, but he finally had everything, and in no time, he was prepared and parting Johnny’s legs.
This was new. This was so new, but god, it felt right.
Chase brought Johnny to a quick climax, their noise echoing against the soundproof walls and Chase hissed when he climaxed, exhaling Johnny’s name and slumping against his body, both of them sweating, both of them in a new place, both of them slightly anxious about what came next.
But for the moment, Chase just enjoyed touching Johnny’s skin.
*
Chase skipped his class that night, taking his texts into the kitchen and sitting cross-legged in a chair, tapping his pencil against his cheek and studying his father’s text on rheumatology with a keen eye, fidgeting with his notes and reaching over for a mess of papers. He had a mountain of paperwork, really, and it seemed he got something new for every worried thought he had of Johnny.
He’d pried himself away from the warm body and changed into a t-shirt and pair of sweats, heading downstairs for a distraction. And distraction came by way of his work.
The moon shone in and he had turned on every light in the kitchen
“Got enough papers?” Johnny’s lazy voice interrupted his thoughts and Chase turned, chewing on the end of his pencil and giving him a nervous smile. Johnny looked…well, amazing was the only word for it, standing there in a pair of boxers and looking decidedly sated.
Chase turned back to his texts. “Skipped class,” he explained. “Trying to keep ahead before I get kicked out.”
Johnny wandered closer, hand running through Chase’s hair and leaning down to kiss by his ear. “Come to bed,” he urged, in the lowest, softest whisper Chase had ever heard in his life. “That stuff’ll be there in the morning.”
Chase turned to look at Johnny, curious as to his demeanor. But as he was turned, he leaned up and stole a kiss from Johnny’s lips, pencil clattering to the table as he moved both hands to Johnny’s face and kissed him harder, standing up and following the kiss every inch of the way. He draped one leg around Johnny’s hip and let himself be dragged forward while he managed to get the other around Johnny’s waist, arms draped around his neck as he kissed him properly, letting himself get carried towards the bedroom.
“You,” he murmured, kissing Johnny’s jaw, “okay with this?”
“Hey, Rob? Shut up,” Johnny demanded, kissing him full on the lips and taking him to bed for the second time that day. He muttered something like, ‘heavy bastard’ before dropping him on the bed and crawling atop him that time.
*
Weeks passed and for all of Chase’s hints that Johnny could leave any day, any time, he never did. Chase went back to classes and Johnny seemed to enjoy kicking around his place, watching the television and surfing on the private beach and enjoying the nightly sex.
Which, yeah…continued to be pretty damn good.
Except for the fact that Chase found himself getting far too attached to Johnny, to this stranger he had barely known and had only invited in to keep from being lonely. He had figured it would be a one-time pull, but five weeks had passed and Johnny was making a place for himself in that guest room.
Chase arrived home from his practical exam with a passing grade in hand, residency guaranteed and done and that was the day that he found Johnny packing up his suitcase, beaming like a kid on a massive sugar-high. “Johnny?” he asked curiously, standing still in the middle of the room while Hurricane Johnny whirled around him, packing up. “You going somewhere?”
“New York,” he announced eagerly, kissing Chase’s hair firmly. “God, you smell good. You always smell good. I should get that shampoo of yours, what is it?”
Chase stared at Johnny, still confused. “Johnny?”
“I got a job,” he said with a grin. “Sue found a job, she wants me there. Von Doom wants to hire me! Hey, it’s not NASA, but it isn’t…”
“Bumming around on an Australian beach,” Chase interrupted, giving him a perfunctory smile. He nodded. “Okay. I’m making steaks on the Barbie,” he said, dryly accenting the slang. He didn’t hold eye contact for very long before turning around and heading for the patio. He forced the stung feelings to go the hell away, because this was never supposed to be anything anyway.
He also didn’t expect the hand on his arm, yanking him around and into another demanding kiss.
“Johnny!” Chase protested, pulling away, eyes wide. “You’re going to America.”
“Come with,” Johnny argued stubbornly, like he’d never been said no to in all his life.
Chase, for his part, laughed at the insanity of that. “Amer…the States? Johnny, are you mad?” He laughed at that, but there was vulnerability on his face and he shook his head. “I…can’t, you know that. Right? I mean, congratulations. Johnny, congratulations, I’m glad. I am.” He swallowed hard and realized that he really was pleased for him.
“Rob,” he said, very seriously. “Come with me.”
Chase stared at Johnny and realized that he was being very serious. “I have residency to finish. Two years.”
“Come do it in the States,” Johnny insisted stubbornly. “Come on. We’ll have great sex. We’ll hang out. Do our thing.” His eyes glanced down towards the rheumatology text in Chase’s hands and then back up to Chase’s unsure face. “Don’t have to listen to your Dad anymore. This is your call.”
No more hanging on Daddy’s coattails, Robbie.
Chase stared at Johnny, remembering what his oncology professor had told him about the States and about Dr. House, who was based out of Jersey and who was, according to him, the very best in all the world. Chase could get in, he knew it. He was young, he was smart for his age, he had a famous father that he wanted to escape from. And even if he didn’t, there were hundreds of hospitals in the States and he had a thick wallet to keep himself from going bankrupt. Worst case scenario, he’d move back home.
Johnny eased his arms around Chase’s hips. “Rob?”
Could be he was about to find himself a place where he belonged.
Chase nodded. “Okay,” he agreed, unable to believe what the hell he was saying. “Yeah. I’ll come…I’ll go States-side. Provided we still get to have sex.”
“Scout’s honor,” Johnny swore and kissed Chase’s cheek before easing away to continue his packing.
Time to start a whole new life.
THE END
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