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Robert Chase had spent the better part of the morning trying to keep up with House’s relentless pace. Between rounds, clinic duty, and a morning full of House’s increasingly bizarre tests on a complex case, Chase hadn’t had a moment to himself. Now, as he perched on the edge of a chair in House’s office, he was regretting the two coffees he’d gulped down during their first meeting of the day.
The pressure in his bladder had been a mild discomfort at first, something Chase figured he’d deal with once House was occupied elsewhere. But House, in his usual unpredictable manner, had abruptly left to harass a patient and decided—because he could—to lock Chase in his office on his way out.
"Don't go anywhere, wombat," House had said with a grin, twirling the key in his hand before slipping it into his pocket. "You’re in charge of guarding my stuff. Back in ten.”
That had been forty minutes ago.
At first, Chase had tried to ignore the mounting urgency. He paced the office, flipping through patient files and occasionally shooting annoyed glances at the locked door. But with each passing minute, his desperation grew. Sitting still was out of the question; he alternated between pacing and standing at the window, shifting his weight from foot to foot in a futile attempt to ease the pressure.
By the time an hour had passed, Chase was sweating. His legs trembled as he pressed his thighs tightly together, his body screaming for relief. He glanced at the office door again, contemplating whether yelling for help or trying to force it open was worth the embarrassment. He’d rather House didn’t find out about this little predicament, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on.
“Come on,” Chase muttered under his breath, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. “Where the hell are you, House?”
Another ten minutes dragged by, each one worse than the last. Chase’s bladder felt like it was going to explode, the ache in his abdomen so intense it brought tears to his eyes. He stood hunched over near House’s desk, one hand gripping the edge for support, the other pressed against his thigh as though the pressure might somehow help.
He felt the first leak escape and froze, panic flashing through him. “No, no, no,” he whispered, his face flushing hot with humiliation. He clenched every muscle he could, forcing himself to regain control. It worked—barely—but he knew it was only a matter of time before he lost the battle completely.
When the door finally opened, Chase didn’t even look up. He was bent over near the chair, trembling with the effort of holding back the inevitable. House’s cheerful whistle came to an abrupt halt as he took in the scene.
“Chase?” House’s voice was laced with confusion, though his usual mocking tone wasn’t far behind. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Did I interrupt a personal crisis?”
Chase’s head shot up, his face red and eyes wide. “House, I—” His voice broke off, and he grimaced, another spurt escaping into his trousers. He clamped his legs together, his hands clutching at his crotch, squeezing to try and hold on for longer.
House frowned, the humour in his expression fading as he registered Chase’s obvious distress. “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice softening for once.
“I—I need to go,” Chase stammered, his accent thick with panic. “Badly. You locked me in here, and I—”
“Wait, that was a joke,” House interrupted, looking genuinely surprised. “I didn’t think—” He broke off, glancing down at Chase’s trembling legs and the darkening stain spreading across the front of his trousers.
“Crap,” House muttered, guilt flashing across his face. “Alright, let’s get you to the bathroom. Come on.”
House moved to Chase’s side, gripping his arm to steady him. Chase tried to stand upright, but the effort of moving sent another warm trickle down his leg. He gasped, his face twisting in humiliation.
“I—I can’t—” Chase started, but the words died as he froze again, a soft whimper escaping his lips. His body had reached its limit, and no amount of clenching or willing himself to hold on could stop what was happening. The floodgates opened, and Chase felt hot wetness pour down his legs, soaking his trousers and pooling on the floor.
For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the faint sound of liquid hitting the tile. Chase stood frozen, his face burning with shame as tears pricked the corners of his eyes.
“Hey,” House said softly, his voice unusually gentle. “It’s okay.”
Chase shook his head, unable to meet House’s gaze. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
“Stop apologizing,” House said firmly. He reached out, giving Chase’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “This one’s on me. I didn’t think you’d actually stay locked in here without calling for help. You’re way too polite.”
Chase let out a shaky breath, his cheeks still flushed with embarrassment. He glanced down at the mess, his mortification growing. “I—I’ll clean it up,” he mumbled.
“No, you won’t,” House replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Go get cleaned up. I’ll handle this.”
Chase hesitated, but House gave him a nudge toward the door. “Go,” he said, his voice gentle but insistent. “I’ll have Wilson bring you some scrubs.”
Chase nodded mutely, shuffling out of the office with his head down.
By the time Chase returned, dressed in borrowed scrubs, he still felt the weight of his humiliation. He hesitated in the doorway, unsure of how to face House after what had happened.
“Feeling better?” House asked, glancing up from his desk.
Chase nodded, though his face was still red. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Thanks.”
House leaned back in his chair, studying him for a moment. “Look, Chase,” he said finally. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I thought you’d bang on the door or yell at someone to let you out. You know, normal behaviour.”
“I didn’t want to bother anyone,” Chase admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
House rolled his eyes but didn’t comment. “Lesson learned,” he said instead. “Next time, speak up. I’m an ass, but I’m not a sadist.”
Chase managed a small smile at that, though his face was still pink with embarrassment.
As Chase left the office later that day, he couldn’t help but reflect on the strange, humiliating experience. House was infuriating, unpredictable, and utterly impossible—but maybe, just maybe, there was a shred of humanity buried under all that sarcasm.