Chapter Text
Chase was late.
Not that Foreman cared if he was late or not, but... it was still simply... disappointing to come into the office and not see him there.
They were in that early stage of dating when he just... couldn't get enough of him. Not that he'd ever admit it, he was as far from the whole 'lovesick' stereoype as possible, a complete opposite of it. It would be completely pathetic.
Yet, there was something about the way his heart would flutter anytime the Intensivist appeared in the same room as him.
Which was exactly what happened today either.
Chase walked in almost an hour late. "Sorry, I overslept" he muttered to House.
The diagnostician looked up. "Whoa, you look rough" he said.
Foreman almost scoffed.
Rough? Chase looked as perfect as always. Okay, maybe his hair was a tiny bit messy, but so what? It suited him. Maybe his cheeks were red, but if anything, they actually looked cute, they were perfectly rosy, almost in the same way as he blushed when Foreman complimented him on their first day. And his eyes looked so... glossy, they enhanced the sky blueness he always drowned in. And okay, his clothes weren't ironed so they were a bit creased, but what did it change? He still looked good. Oh God, how he'd love to rip these clothes off and—
"I'm fine" Chase said shortly.
House raised his eyebrows. "Doesn't seem so. Bad night? Or maybe too good of a night actually?" he smirked. "Is it true what they say about black men? Did Foreman ride you a bit too hard, you poor thing?"
Chase's cheeks turned pure crimson now. "W— what? No— We didn't— No, we— We didn't even—" he sputtered.
Foreman could feel his own cheeks burning and he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh, the tox screen is back" he updated Chase, handing him the file.
Chase took it hesitantly, then sat down and the discussion—thankfully—moved back to the case.
Foreman kept watching Chase like a lovesick puppy the whole day.
At least that's how House felt he should call it.
Which was why he found it so unbelievably hard to believe he didn't notice anything. Was he blind or jut stupid?
See, he was watching Chase today, but unlike the neurologist—who apparently abandoned his brain the second he fell for the Aussie—he watched him in a completely different manner — not with dreamy haze, but rather with clinical obsession.
Because, no matter how objectively attractive anyone could say Chase was, today he was a walking whiteborad of symptoms written all over him.
First, the lateness itself — while it wasn't a symptom on its own, as someone with chronic pain too, House knew what it could mean. It could easily translate into mix of 'I didn't have the energy to get out of the bed as early as normally so I stayed longer' and 'moving hurts so everything in my morning routine took way longer than usual'.
Then his appearance tipped him off immediately too. The messy hair and the crumpled shirt could indicate he didn't have the energy to waste too much time on appearances that morning. Then the more obvious signs — the rosy cheeks and the glossy eyes — classing telltale signs of fever, of sickness. Foreman would've definitely realised it in a heartbeat if he looked at Chase like he was a patient and not the object of his affection. Because Chase didn't seem to be glowing — he was suffering.
So House continued watching. To see if he was right, because maybe if he kept watching, maybe he'd notice there was nothing more, that he was wrong.
Because, God, how he wanted to be wrong.
But of course, he couldn't.
As he kept observing Chase throught the day, he could see way more.
The way his movements kept getting more slow and sluggish. He also avoided doing anything unnecessary. To anyone it could seem like a sudden onset of incredible laziness. But House saw the bigger picture.
He also saw the mental delay. It was tiny, just a few seconds of hesitation before answering anything. But then it got more serious, he started lagging like a computer his age probably would (if a computer could have even reached 25 years without dying).
And there the winces. Tiny and well hidden, but he could see them anyway. They happened at any big movement.
House sighed, before getting up and walking to his desk, grabbing his prescription pad.
"So... any plans for today's evening?" Foreman asked, not looking up from the file, taking advantage of the fact that they were the only people in the office currently. "Because I was thinking we could do on another date, I mean, there's this new restaurant and—"
"Busy" Chase said immediately, his voice sharp. He sighed. "Sorry, going to be busy, House gave me this whole box of his paperwork and—"
"If you're gonna use me to dodge your date, at least come up with some different task that I've given you, not some dreadful paperwork. It sounds pathetic"
Chase's head immediately snapped towards the door. "House—"
"What are you on, by the way?"
Chase frowned. "What? What do you mean? I'm not taking anything..." he said, confused.
"Yeah, I know. You're obviously too lame for drugs. And the neurologist you're currently dating would bore you to death with lecture about what they do to your brain when you take them. Although, since you two date, you must be into his boring grumpiness" House said with a smirk. "But I was asking what meds are you on. You know, for the illness that I'm going to fire you for having one day, considering you messed up the whole 'It's never lupus' thing"
Chase frowned. "Uh, what?"
House rolled his eyes. "Right, you need simpler sentences today, otherwise your inflamed brain is going to explode. What. Meds. Are you. On?" he asked, emphasing every word, as if trying to make Chase feel like an idiot.
Chase blinked a few times. "Um, hydroxychloroquine" he said.
"And...?" House waited for him to go on. "That's it? Ah, that explains it" he commented.
Foreman looked up. "Wait... You're flaring up?" he asked, shocked.
"Wow! You should be a doctor or something!" House said sarcastically, but Foreman didn't even glance at him.
"I'm fine. House is just... being House, as always" the younger doctor said.
"Wow, such an eloquent sentence. You're clearly at your absolute best"
Chase rolled his eyes. "I'm fine" he said, getting up. "By the way, turns out the patient has failed to mention he's epileptic. Cameron just found out. He's on prednisone which would explain some of his symptoms"
Foreman frowned. "You mean primidone, right?"
"That's what I said"
"No, you said prednisone"
"No, I didn't" Chase said immediately, his tone a bit defensive.
"Awh. A hungry man has only bread on his mind, huh?" House commented with a smirk.
"Shut up, I'm fine" Chase muttered. "I'm not flaring" he added to both of them, before leaving.
Foreman tilted his head.
Was he... limping a bit?
Or was he just imagining it?
But soon House confirmed his suspicions. In his own way. "Awww" the diagnostician said, wiping the non-existent tear. "Look how much he looks up to me, he even starts to walk like me. Like father like son, huh?"