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The clinic had been busy. Chase had spent hours running between patients, double-checking tests, and fielding the aftermath of House's typically caustic bedside manner. By the time the day wound down, House had grudgingly demanded Chase accompany him on a late errand—a pharmacy run, of all things.
Chase didn’t argue. It was easier not to.
House was already irritated, muttering complaints as he steered the car through the maze of Princeton's evening traffic. Chase sat stiffly in the passenger seat, hands resting in his lap, trying to ignore the increasingly persistent signal from his bladder.
He’d had a coffee in the morning. And water. And more coffee. Then, a soda from the vending machine during his brief lunch break. Chase bit the inside of his cheek. He should have gone to the bathroom before they left. But he hadn’t wanted to slow House down any further—or give him ammunition for a scathing remark.
The car jerked forward as House braked suddenly, then accelerated, weaving around a slow-moving SUV.
“Idiot drivers everywhere,” House muttered, gripping his cane in one hand and the wheel in the other. He didn’t glance at Chase, whose knee bounced slightly as he clenched his thighs together.
Fifteen minutes into the drive, Chase's discomfort had grown to a persistent, gnawing ache. He shifted in his seat, subtly adjusting his posture to alleviate the pressure. But every bump in the road and jolt of the car seemed to amplify his need. He risked a glance at House, whose expression was a blend of irritation and focus as he tapped impatiently at the wheel.
“Traffic’s terrible tonight,” Chase offered, hoping to distract himself.
House’s eyes flicked to him briefly. “Brilliant observation, Dr. Watson. You gonna solve the case of the missing highway lane next?”
Chase’s cheeks flushed, and he looked out the window. The car slowed again, this time to a complete stop. Brake lights stretched in an endless, crimson sea ahead. House groaned.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Chase swallowed hard. The pressure was becoming harder to ignore. He crossed his legs, his fingers drumming against his thigh as he tried to think of anything else—anything other than how badly he needed relief.
Minutes crawled by, and the cars didn’t move. Chase pressed his lips together, discreetly leaning forward as though adjusting the air vent. The shift in position helped briefly, but the relief was fleeting. His bladder throbbed, insistent and relentless.
“Something on your mind, Chase?” House’s voice broke through his concentration.
“What?” Chase straightened quickly, his heart skipping.
“You’re fidgeting like a kid waiting for Santa.” House's tone was casual, but his eyes narrowed, taking in Chase’s tense posture. “What’s your deal?”
“Nothing,” Chase said, too quickly. His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat. “Just… long day.”
House snorted, unconvinced, but didn’t press further. He turned his attention back to the traffic jam, now muttering sarcastic commentary at the stalled cars. Chase exhaled, willing himself to keep still, to keep calm.
But his body betrayed him. His legs bounced uncontrollably, and before he realized it, his hand drifted to his lap, pressing down in an instinctive attempt to stave off the inevitable. House’s sharp eyes caught the movement instantly.
House raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
Chase’s face burned. He couldn’t meet House’s gaze, mortified.
“You’ve got to pee, don’t you?” House said bluntly, a note of amusement creeping into his voice.
Chase didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. His flushed face and panicked expression said everything.
House chuckled. “What, too shy to say anything? You’re a doctor, Chase. It’s not like you’ve never seen someone wet themselves.”
“House,” Chase said, his voice strained as he felt a small burst of warmth leak into his boxers, “please—”
“Relax, we’ll be out of here soon,” House interrupted, though the smirk on his face suggested he wasn’t feeling nearly as sympathetic as Chase had hoped. “Or, you know, not. Looks like they’re setting up tents out there.”
Chase shifted again, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he fought to hold on. His thighs pressed together tightly, his fingers gripping the seat’s edge. He could feel his control slipping, the pressure building beyond what he could handle. He leaked again, squeezing tighter with his hands as he felt the warmth against his fingers.
And then it happened. A warmth spread across his lap, slow at first, and he managed to stop it for a few moments before it became unstoppable. Chase froze, horrified, as the wetness seeped through his trousers, pooling beneath him on the leather seat.
House’s voice cut through the silence. “Oh my god.”
Chase wanted to sink through the floor. He couldn’t bring himself to look at House, couldn’t bear to see the expression on his face.
“Well, that’s one way to break up the monotony,” House said, his tone maddeningly nonchalant. “Guess the clinic’s gonna smell like eucalyptus and regret tomorrow.”
Chase groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Just drive.”
House’s laughter echoed in the car. “Not like we’re going anywhere, mate. But hey, on the bright side, at least you’re hydrated.”