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Chase stared at the patient file in his hand, absentmindedly sipping on the straw to his smoothie. He only half paid attention as Foreman started suggesting what was wrong with the patient, Cameron was downstairs doing House’s clinic hours.
Hmmm… the patient has a rash on her arm, but the ER ruled out allergies when she didn’t react to the antihistamines. Maybe Lupus? No, no… House would murder him just for suggesting that. Maybe it’s an autoimmune disease…
Suddenly, it - the smoothie, not the patient file - was snatched from his hands. Looking upwards with a upset expression, his eyes locked with House’s, who was giving him a look that all-too-clearly said What are you gonna do about it?
“Hey! I was drinking that, you know.”
“Oh trust me, your oral fixation was very noticeable with how you kept sucking on your straw.” House responded, Chase going red and rolling his eyes while Foreman muttered “ Gross…”
House smirked at Chase’s expression while bringing the smoothie up to his lips, swallowing half of it in one go. Chase groaned, he really liked that smoothie.
House frowned, moving his arm to look at the cup closer. He smacked his lips.
“Is this mango?”
“Uh… yeah?”
“Huh. Well, shit. ”
Foreman and Chase gave each other a confused look, before watching House set the cup down and limp quickly towards his bag.
“Uh, House? We’re in the middle of a DDX, what’re you doing?” Foreman asked.
“Page Wilson.”
“What, why? Are you alright?”
“No, no I am not.”
The tall, grayed man stood up with something in his hands. Chase and Foreman’s eyes both widened as they took in how he was suddenly covered in red hives
“Would now be a good time to mention I have a moderate to severe allergy to mango?” House sarcastically asked, well, gasped, the man was starting to go into anaphylactic shock.
House just barely managed to toss whatever was in his hand to Chase before collapsing into a chair and gasping for air.
Chase looked at the item he caught. An Epipen. Good thing House comes prepared. He thought, crossing the distance of the table and taking the cap off of it. Orange to the thigh, blue to the sky. He quietly recounted, stabbing the pen into House’s good thigh and pressing the button on it. He would’ve been tortured, murdered, revived, then tortured again if he made the mistake of jamming it into the scar tissue full of messed-up nerve endings on House’s leg.
“Wilson’s on his way, let’s get you onto a gurney.” Foreman said, putting his pager away in his coat while Chase saw movement in the oncologist’s office through the glass windows.
“Wilson. Huh. Good.” House murmured, slurring his words from exhaustion. “Time for his mama-hen act.”
The office-door opened. “ HOUSE! ”