I is for Ineluctable

Author: sheikah

Title: Deny, Deny, Deny

Word Count: 1231

Rating: R/NC-17

Pairing: Chase/Foreman

Disclaimer: I don't own them, FOX does.

Summary: He didn't want to admit it, didn't want to feel the pull. Written for I is for Ineluctable on alphabetasoup: Not to be avoided or escaped; inevitable.



He hadn't always felt this way. He hadn't always this inexplicable pull toward his male friends and coworkers. It had started innocently enough, a little fun to spice up his sex life. His first time had been in university, a lithe and athletic girlfriend named Sharon suggesting that it would be "fun" to invite his friend Kevin along for a little extra fun. He'd consented in an attempt to keep her satisfied and found himself, plied with tequila and secondhand smoke from Kevin's joint, going much further than expected.

They got together a few more times and he felt more confident and sought to take over from Sharon when she was going down on Kevin and tipped his head back in ecstasy when he returned the favor. Under her encouragement, he allowed Kevin to slide into him while he was fucking her, a set of tandem rhythms that left him helpless and boneless afterward.

Encounters got more and more frequent, almost to the point where he rarely had sex with Sharon when Kevin wasn't around. The relationship was on the rocks and the final straw had been Sharon coming into his apartment, back from Christmas break earlier than expected, to find Kevin driving into him and calling out his name in a ragged and especially vocal moan.

He and Kevin continued for a while, neither truly admitting what they had. They both continued to date women, occasionally coming home with one and having sex, but it wasn't the same. Finals came and went four more times and it was graduation, time for new beginnings not marked with the easy mile markers of finals, papers and projects. Both promised to stay in touch, neither did.

***

Flash to six months later, full in the throes of medical school and rotations. Kevin had called once, three weeks prior. He offered a quick fuck in a penthouse suite paid for by the accounting firm he worked for and the call wasn't returned. Calls no longer came after that, the only sign of life from Kevin in the form of a small, ivory envelope containing a wedding invitation. He sent a gravy boat, silver and engraved with the bride and groom's names. A thank you note came in a spidery, feminine script. He laughed and wondered if the bride had any inkling what her husband propositioned his university buddy with, what he probably propositioned his work buddies with.

He was busy, studying well into the wee hours of the morning and surviving mainly on coffee and adrenaline, but he still found time to go to a bar well known for being a discreet place to pick up partners of a different sort. He always approached a man sitting alone, one that did not attend classes with him. He laid down the ground rules, never wanting and never needing a relationship. The men understood for the most part. It was the women he had a problem with.

Two girlfriends, one quite serious. Elizabeth was almost enough to make him settle down, make him stop wanting the man at the newsstand or the man at the coffee shop and have a wife, have a family, have a goal. He dated her and spoiled her, hoping against hopes that she would be the one to change it. A year came and went and, without a proposal or even an invitation to move in, she was gone. She was engaged within six months, yet another small, ivory envelope winging its way to his mailbox, carefully-scripted and oozing with the joy of a young couple so very much wanting to be tied together permanently. Another piece of silver, this time a platter, winged its way back, the surface engraved with the names and date of the wedding. He did not attend.

***

He finished, obtained a medical degree and a residency at a fine hospital nearby. He worked hard, specializing and impressing his bosses, hoping that his love for the career would stamp out that part of him that kept his personal life from progressing. He dated, a few women here and there. A banker, a lawyer, an advertising executive: all professional women with sensible shoes and even more sensible ideas. All left him within six months after getting dissatisfied with waiting for a ring that was never coming, a wedding that would never get planned. All married. All were sent crystal vases engraved with their names, their husbands' names and the dates of the wedding. He kept each small, ivory envelope, the names and dates and even the scripts different, but the messages all the same: He'd failed. He'd not put it from his mind.

There were more men, lawyers and bankers and advertising executives to match his taste in women. All wanted commitments he wasn't willing to give and all left, happily settling down with other men, stable men. Men who were doctors, but didn't care the way he did. Men who weren't conflicted. Men who didn't deny.

***

He was offered a fellowship with House, a renowned diagnostician. He worked hard, loved his job. He didn't date, focused solely on the diagnoses, the patients and the puzzles. He thought it was over, the conflicting pull and the denial when he told himself he didn't want him whoever he might have been. It changed. His coworker was bright, sharp and sarcastic when he needed to be. Other times, he was patient, steady and wonderful with patients. The duality thrilled him, pulled him, forced him to pay attention to how he made his coffee (cream and sugar), how he did his charting (with a careful, looping script) and how he answered House's questions.

He denied, denied and denied until he could deny no longer. He didn't know if he was straight, gay or even incredibly confused like himself but he knew he wanted him. Knew he needed to feel those soft lips on his own and needed to bruise those hips with finger-shaped bruises. He cornered him one day, lips attached to his neck and a question out into the open whether he'd wanted to ask or not.

"You don't tell. You don't stay over. You don't tell." His coworker nodded, returned the kisses with fervor and slipped a phone number into his pocket. He called the number, gave him directions, fucked him on the cool wood of his foyer before sending him home with bruises and a smile.

True to his word, it was never mentioned. The floor soon progressed into the couch, a pullout with a mattress that groaned under the weight of two grown men. Thirty minute quickies in exam room two turned into hour long makeout sessions in his bed, his hand wrapped around the other man's cock as he kissed him, the duvet tossed over both their heads.

He thought he controlled it. He thought he was in charge. However, one fall day when the sunlight was streaming in and the clock read 9:23 AM, instead of kicking him out and getting ready for a day alone, he pulled the man closer and kissed a sensitive spot behind his left ear, voice softly rumbling.

"Let's stay in today, Chase. Let's stay in."

Chase, to his credit, merely mumbled in agreement and pressed closer, breathing deep and even. Foreman knew, then, that it was unavoidable. He loved him.

There would be no more wedding gifts.