Strawberry Fields Forever (The Beatles)
Title: Strawberry Fields Forever
Characters/Pairings: House, Chase
Word Count: 1068
Warnings: None
Summary: Chase has an allergic reaction to strawberries. House cares. Pre-slash if you want it to be. Before Cam and Foreman joined the team
House walked into the diagnostics office at gone eleven in the morning, a box in his hands. He dumped it on the glass table in front of Chase, making the blond jump - he’d had his head in his arms, taking a little nap. “Wake up, Sunshine,” House said loudly. “I brought cake.”
Chase lifted his head, blinking rapidly. “Wha?”
“Okay, I stole cake. It’s one of the nurses’ birthday. Again.”
“Huh,” Chase said, managing to wake up slightly.
“How long have you been here?” House asked, taking in the bags underneath his employee’s eyes.
“Since yesterday sometime,” Chase said vaguely. “Did a shift in the ICU for Dr Cuddy.”
House rolled his eyes. “Maybe you should go shower and change.”
“Uh huh. Cake first. And coffee.”
House snorted a little, but moved over to the coffee machine to start a jug brewing. He still didn’t trust his employee to make the coffee how he liked it.
Chase had almost fallen asleep again by the time House banged a mug of coffee down in front of him and he jumped at the loud noise by his ear. “Thanks,” he mumbled, a little surprised at House doing something… nice.
The diagnostician snorted again. “Whatever. You’re no use to me when you can’t stay awake for two minutes.”
Chase sipped at his coffee, the hot liquid warming him, and by the time he was done he felt like he could function again. House was already opening the box he’d brought with him and shoved it over to the blond once he’d taken a slice of cake. The blond took a slice for himself and scooped a finger full of the frosting, popping it in his mouth and sucking it clean.
House rolled his eyes. “Are you not capable of eating like a normal person?”
Chase shrugged, repeating his actions unapologetically until the frosting was all gone. He took a bite of the cake, surprised at how good it was, and chewed. It wasn’t until he swallowed that he realised something was wrong. His throat was tight as he asked “What’s in this?”
“Uh… Sugar, eggs, flour…?”
“The filling,” Chase choked, already rising from his seat to find his bag.
“Strawberry,” House said slowly, then jumped up. “You’re allergic?”
“Bag,” Chase wheezed, falling to his knees despite his best efforts to remain upright. House rushed to the side of the room where Chase had dumped his bag. “Front… pocket…”
House unzipped the front pocket and dug around, his fingers closing on the EpiPen stored there and pulled it out. He limped over to Chase, uncapped the syringe and unceremoniously plunged it into the blond’s thigh. Chase gasped and House quickly pulled his pager out of his pocket, sending a message for a gurney to be brought to diagnostics, and then returned his full attention to Chase, holding him as upright as he could.
Chase coughed as he tried to take a breath, but he could breathe again - just about. “House,” he wheezed, fists clenched in the older man’s shirt. “Hurts…” Chase was shaking from the adrenaline and he was holding onto House tighter than the diagnostician would have liked but House held on, keeping him upright until an orderly arrived with the gurney.
*
Chase came to slowly, trying to lift his hand up to push away whatever it was on his face. Oxygen mask, his sluggish brain told him, but he still tried to move it off until someone gently grabbed his hand, stopping him.
“Dr Chase, how are you feeling?” a female voice asked him.
Chase blinked several times until the nurse came into focus, then shrugged. His throat was sore and still swollen.
“Are you in pain?” the nurse pressed, and he shook his head. He was fine - a sore throat was nothing he hadn’t had to deal with before. “Okay, good. We’re going to keep you in overnight for observation.”
Chase shook his head, frowning - he was fine, he didn’t need to stay in the hospital that long.
The nurse smiled slightly. “Sorry, I’m under orders. Dr House said we should… restrain you, if necessary.”
Chase rolled his eyes. Stupid bastard of a man. Yet Chase couldn’t help but like him. He enjoyed working for the disagreeable doctor. He resigned himself to a long stay - if House had ordered the nurses to make sure Chase stayed, the blond knew there was no chance of escape. Everyone was too scared of the diagnostician. He got the nurse’s attention and tapped his left wrist where he would be wearing a watch if he owned one.
“You want to know the time?” Chase nodded. “It’s half past two. Afternoon,” she added when Chase continued to look at her inquisitively. “Dr House was here up ‘til about half an hour ago. Dr Cuddy sent him to do some work.”
Chase frowned a little again - his boss had stayed with him? That was definitely not something Chase expected from House. He shrugged it off - House had probably just been storing away any potential mocking information for later use. Chase closed his eyes again and almost immediately began drifting off to sleep. If he was going to be stuck in the hospital he might as well try and catch up on sleep.
*
When Chase went back to work he found the office empty. That wasn’t unusual - he was virtually always in before House - but it was the item on the table which made him stop in his tracks for a few moments. He dumped his bag on a chair and sat in the one beside it, looking down at the large cupcake in front of him. He read the short note that was propped against it, written in looping handwriting:
No strawberries this time.
Chase smiled slightly and picked up the cake, scooping up some of the thick frosting and putting it in his mouth, sucking on his finger lazily. He jumped as a voice came from behind him.
“That really is quite obscene,” House said, smirking as his employee turned around to look at him.
Chase shrugged. “You’re the one who bought a cake with an inch of frosting on it,” he said around a mouthful of cake.
“Feel better now?”
“Uh huh. Thanks.”
“Good. We have a case,” he said, tossing a file onto the table in front of Chase and opening his own as he sat down opposite the blond.
Characters/Pairings: House, Chase
Word Count: 1068
Warnings: None
Summary: Chase has an allergic reaction to strawberries. House cares. Pre-slash if you want it to be. Before Cam and Foreman joined the team
House walked into the diagnostics office at gone eleven in the morning, a box in his hands. He dumped it on the glass table in front of Chase, making the blond jump - he’d had his head in his arms, taking a little nap. “Wake up, Sunshine,” House said loudly. “I brought cake.”
Chase lifted his head, blinking rapidly. “Wha?”
“Okay, I stole cake. It’s one of the nurses’ birthday. Again.”
“Huh,” Chase said, managing to wake up slightly.
“How long have you been here?” House asked, taking in the bags underneath his employee’s eyes.
“Since yesterday sometime,” Chase said vaguely. “Did a shift in the ICU for Dr Cuddy.”
House rolled his eyes. “Maybe you should go shower and change.”
“Uh huh. Cake first. And coffee.”
House snorted a little, but moved over to the coffee machine to start a jug brewing. He still didn’t trust his employee to make the coffee how he liked it.
Chase had almost fallen asleep again by the time House banged a mug of coffee down in front of him and he jumped at the loud noise by his ear. “Thanks,” he mumbled, a little surprised at House doing something… nice.
The diagnostician snorted again. “Whatever. You’re no use to me when you can’t stay awake for two minutes.”
Chase sipped at his coffee, the hot liquid warming him, and by the time he was done he felt like he could function again. House was already opening the box he’d brought with him and shoved it over to the blond once he’d taken a slice of cake. The blond took a slice for himself and scooped a finger full of the frosting, popping it in his mouth and sucking it clean.
House rolled his eyes. “Are you not capable of eating like a normal person?”
Chase shrugged, repeating his actions unapologetically until the frosting was all gone. He took a bite of the cake, surprised at how good it was, and chewed. It wasn’t until he swallowed that he realised something was wrong. His throat was tight as he asked “What’s in this?”
“Uh… Sugar, eggs, flour…?”
“The filling,” Chase choked, already rising from his seat to find his bag.
“Strawberry,” House said slowly, then jumped up. “You’re allergic?”
“Bag,” Chase wheezed, falling to his knees despite his best efforts to remain upright. House rushed to the side of the room where Chase had dumped his bag. “Front… pocket…”
House unzipped the front pocket and dug around, his fingers closing on the EpiPen stored there and pulled it out. He limped over to Chase, uncapped the syringe and unceremoniously plunged it into the blond’s thigh. Chase gasped and House quickly pulled his pager out of his pocket, sending a message for a gurney to be brought to diagnostics, and then returned his full attention to Chase, holding him as upright as he could.
Chase coughed as he tried to take a breath, but he could breathe again - just about. “House,” he wheezed, fists clenched in the older man’s shirt. “Hurts…” Chase was shaking from the adrenaline and he was holding onto House tighter than the diagnostician would have liked but House held on, keeping him upright until an orderly arrived with the gurney.
*
Chase came to slowly, trying to lift his hand up to push away whatever it was on his face. Oxygen mask, his sluggish brain told him, but he still tried to move it off until someone gently grabbed his hand, stopping him.
“Dr Chase, how are you feeling?” a female voice asked him.
Chase blinked several times until the nurse came into focus, then shrugged. His throat was sore and still swollen.
“Are you in pain?” the nurse pressed, and he shook his head. He was fine - a sore throat was nothing he hadn’t had to deal with before. “Okay, good. We’re going to keep you in overnight for observation.”
Chase shook his head, frowning - he was fine, he didn’t need to stay in the hospital that long.
The nurse smiled slightly. “Sorry, I’m under orders. Dr House said we should… restrain you, if necessary.”
Chase rolled his eyes. Stupid bastard of a man. Yet Chase couldn’t help but like him. He enjoyed working for the disagreeable doctor. He resigned himself to a long stay - if House had ordered the nurses to make sure Chase stayed, the blond knew there was no chance of escape. Everyone was too scared of the diagnostician. He got the nurse’s attention and tapped his left wrist where he would be wearing a watch if he owned one.
“You want to know the time?” Chase nodded. “It’s half past two. Afternoon,” she added when Chase continued to look at her inquisitively. “Dr House was here up ‘til about half an hour ago. Dr Cuddy sent him to do some work.”
Chase frowned a little again - his boss had stayed with him? That was definitely not something Chase expected from House. He shrugged it off - House had probably just been storing away any potential mocking information for later use. Chase closed his eyes again and almost immediately began drifting off to sleep. If he was going to be stuck in the hospital he might as well try and catch up on sleep.
*
When Chase went back to work he found the office empty. That wasn’t unusual - he was virtually always in before House - but it was the item on the table which made him stop in his tracks for a few moments. He dumped his bag on a chair and sat in the one beside it, looking down at the large cupcake in front of him. He read the short note that was propped against it, written in looping handwriting:
No strawberries this time.
Chase smiled slightly and picked up the cake, scooping up some of the thick frosting and putting it in his mouth, sucking on his finger lazily. He jumped as a voice came from behind him.
“That really is quite obscene,” House said, smirking as his employee turned around to look at him.
Chase shrugged. “You’re the one who bought a cake with an inch of frosting on it,” he said around a mouthful of cake.
“Feel better now?”
“Uh huh. Thanks.”
“Good. We have a case,” he said, tossing a file onto the table in front of Chase and opening his own as he sat down opposite the blond.