Title: An Aussie Scorned

Summary: House pulls a prank. Chase wants to retaliate. Retaliation vs. SWS (Scared Wombat Syndrome)

Disclaimer: I don't own House M.D. or any of the characters, which is really a shame. For me, at least.

Author's Note: Comments are always welcome. At least one more chapter should be on the way. :)

"You told her I'm gay!"

"You'll have to be more specific," House answered simply, though he had an idea what the Aussie in front of him was currently huffing about. Chase clenched his jaw and rolled his eyes before continuing on his rant.

"Nicole, from radiology."

The smugness was so potent it was almost tangible as deft, practiced hands casually tossed an oversized tennis ball back and forth. House pretended to put a great deal of thought into the matter, as if he couldn't quite remember the woman in question. "Nicole... leggy blonde with the tight shirts, come hither breasts, and a nice ass? Good choice - a bit out of your reach, but points for being ambitious. I didn't tell her you were gay."

"She said you did!"

"Well, obviously her perception is skewed. She overheard Wilson complaining about you missing your date. Naturally she was concerned... I guess that means she wasn't out of your reach after all. Bummer. Too bad you're gay."

"I'm not!"

"She said you were."

"You said I was!" The intensivist's voice had raised in volume and pitch. His frustration leaked through as he noted that his boss was enjoying this far more than he should be (but not unexpectedly).

"Why would I care that you're gay?"

"I'm not."

"Strange then, you making rendevous plans with Wilson when you're straight... Even stranger though, that he would accept. Remind me to interrogate him later." He couldn't help smirking as Chase tossed his hair as would a horse tossing its mane. If he hadn't been scowling so intensely, House would have assumed that his underling was auditioning for a shampoo comercial. Such a girlish frustrated tick, he noted.

"What date?" the Australian questioned, altogether worried over the tangled path he would likely be wound down because of a supposedly simple and harmless question. Give a House an inch and he'll chase you for a mile, all the while rapping on your shoulder with his cane just to annoy you.

"Yesterday, two o'clock. You were late. For shame. I've always taught you the value of punctuality."

"Yesterday? That was a consult!"

Here comes that cane poking... "So the soft glow of the MRI machine instead of candles, and the hum of the monitors instead of Mr. Marvin Gaye. You could see how Nicole would misunderstand." Right on time.

"Especially when you feed it to her. She's spread it all over the hospital."

There was more eye-rolling and annoyed hair-tossing. Right on time. "Oh boy, now so that's the icing on the cake that proverb quoting soaps characters are always talking about. You know, you can't TiVo this kind of entertainment."

There was no explanation in House's mind for why he would let the woman believe that Chase was riding the hobby-horse. Except, of course, for the fact that the opportunity had presented itself so beautifully. Really, it had been like a work of art. An especially welcome one after a particularly grueling day of boredom in the clinic. He may not believe in fate but he would gladly - temporarily - reform for the sake of amusement at the Dingo's expense. Especially when his embarrassed and annoyed shuffle to the door expressed a million times over that quiet moping would be all the retaliation to be expected. Getting away with it so easily almost took the fun out of it. Almost.