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House had been watching them all for the past few hours, and frankly, it was getting pathetic.
Cameron was slumped at her desk, one hand buried in her hair, her eyes drooping closed between each attempt to refocus on the medical journal in front of her. Foreman had his head propped up on one hand, pretending to be deep in thought over an MRI scan when, in reality, he hadn’t moved in ten minutes. And Chase—Chase was leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed, blinking slowly like his body was actively trying to shut down despite his best efforts to keep going.
It was like watching a group of overworked interns who had long since surpassed their limit but were too damn stubborn to admit it.
House sighed dramatically and planted his cane firmly on the floor. “Go home.”
Three pairs of eyes flickered toward him, exhausted but determined.
“No,” Cameron said first, rubbing at her face. “We’ve still got to run the latest labs.”
Foreman grunted his agreement. “We’re fine.”
Chase just blinked blearily and said nothing. He was too tired to argue, which meant things were really bad.
House let out a slow breath, considering his options. He could argue. He could bark orders. He could make some snide remark about how utterly useless they’d be if they passed out in the middle of their rounds. But he knew them. They’d dig in, insist they were capable of pushing through, and in the end, they’d just make more mistakes and drive him insane.
So, instead, he turned on his heel and walked out without another word.
Ten minutes later, he returned, struggling slightly as he shoved through the office doors, arms overloaded with colourful foam nap mats, a couple of thin blankets, and—because he was feeling particularly generous—a small selection of snacks from the paediatrics department’s stash.
The team blinked at him in confusion.
Chase, who had finally let his head drop onto his desk, lifted it sluggishly. “What… the hell?”
House tossed one of the rolled-up mats at him. It bounced off Chase’s shoulder and flopped onto the floor.
“This,” House said, dumping the rest in the middle of the room, “is your only alternative to going home. You can pass out here, or you can get out of my sight. Either way, you’re done for the night.”
Cameron frowned, sitting up straighter. “House, we have work—”
“You think you’re working in this state?” House scoffed, pointing his cane at her. “Last time I checked, I wasn’t running a department for zombies.”
Foreman gave him a suspicious look. “You really expect us to sleep here?”
House shrugged. “I expect you to stop being stupid and listen to the one person here who hasn’t been awake for thirty hours straight.”
The three of them exchanged glances, clearly debating whether or not they could fight him on this.
Cameron exhaled sharply. “This is ridiculous.”
“And yet,” House said, smirking, “I don’t see you getting up to leave.”
Chase sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before reluctantly reaching for a mat. He unrolled it, his exhaustion finally beating out his stubbornness. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
Foreman and Cameron followed, muttering complaints under their breath but ultimately giving in.
House leaned against his desk, watching as his team—his idiot, exhausted, utterly useless team—begrudgingly made themselves comfortable.
Cameron curled up on her side, pulling a blanket up over herself. Foreman lay flat on his back, one arm resting over his eyes. Chase stretched out on his stomach, arms folded under his head, already half-asleep before his body had fully settled.
House snorted. “You’re all embarrassing.”
No one responded.
Within minutes, their breathing had evened out, their bodies finally surrendering to the sleep they’d been desperately avoiding.
House let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head.
They looked... young like this. Too young to be shouldering the kind of pressure he put on them every day. He was so used to seeing them fighting him, pushing themselves beyond their limits, but now—now they just looked like exhausted kids who had given up play-pretending being doctors.
And, because he was feeling unusually sentimental (or maybe just bored), he stayed. He sat at his desk, pretending to work, occasionally glancing up to check that none of them had woken up. He told himself it was just to make sure they didn’t start snoring or something equally obnoxious.
But really, he just… didn’t want to leave them alone.
A few minutes later, the door creaked open, and House turned to see Wilson step inside, pausing when he caught sight of the scene in front of him.
His eyebrows lifted. “Did you kill them?”
House rolled his eyes. “Yes, Wilson, I murdered my entire team and then thoughtfully provided them with sleeping mats to rest their corpses on.”
Wilson stepped closer, taking in the sight of Chase, Cameron, and Foreman sleeping soundly. His expression softened slightly. “You’re keeping an eye on them.”
House scoffed. “I’m keeping an eye on my own office. They just happen to be in it.”
Wilson smirked knowingly. “Right.”
House glared at him. “Say anything, and I’ll put laxatives in your coffee for a week.”
Wilson held up his hands in surrender. “Not saying a word.” He paused, then added, “But it’s kind of nice. Seeing you actually take care of them.”
House made a disgusted face. “Ugh. Leave before you make it worse.”
Wilson chuckled. He gave the sleeping team one last glance before heading for the door. “You’re a good guy, House. Even if you’d rather die than admit it.”
House rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his desk, ignoring the warmth in his chest that he absolutely refused to acknowledge.
As Wilson left, House let himself take one last look at his team, their breathing slow, their faces peaceful for the first time in what felt like weeks.
He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Bunch of idiots.”
And then, finally, he let them sleep.