Summary: House caves.

Pairings: None.

Category: General.

Timeline: Right after the Tritter arc.

Rated: K

Give

He'd started smoking in rehab specifically because they'd told him not to. It wasn't until his world realigned itself, until Tritter was gone and they'd all moved on, that he remembered why he hadn't smoked a cigarette since he was a kid.

"You're gonna get addicted to those." His best friend the Oncologist stood with his hands on his hips and a frown on his face.

"Too late," House said in a monotone voice as he blew smoke out an open window.

"Do you know how many kinds of cancers cigarettes cause?"

"No..." House drawled. "I skipped that seminar in med school."

"You're gonna kill yourself." Which hit a little too close to home given the events of late, but House didn't care much.

"You said that about the bike." He pointed out. "But I haven't crashed yet."

Wilson just shook his head back and forth slowly. "Doesn't mean you won't."

House finished his cigarette as he watched Wilson walk away. Who knew all it ever took was nicotine to get his Saint-like friend to give up on him? He filed that away for later use.

Two days later Foreman walked into his office as he was lighting up. "Tests came back negative."

House took a deep drag and exhaled slowly, rolling his chair over so he was by the window again. "That's good then."

"No," Foreman didn't take a step closer, which House smirked at. His tone and posture all screamed confrontation, but he wouldn't invade House's personal space. Because his personal space now smelled like an ashtray. He smirked quietly as Foreman laid out his strategy for treating their newest patient.

"Sounds good to me." House was smiling as the black man stormed out the door.

They kept Foreman from 'gettin' all up in his grill' and they could make Jimmy and his caring, compassionate speeches go away with a puff of smoke and a well placed cough.

House was beginning to think that rehab might have been good for something after all.

A day after that, House sat with his feet propped up on his desk and his head lulled back on his chair, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He was halfway through his second pack in a week.

Wilson hadn't stopped by his office once in the past two days, Foreman stayed as far away as possible and his other two ducklings were following his lead.

House hadn't smoked like this since he'd been a kid, and when you're a kid - smoking is a much more acceptable pastime. He didn't know why he'd never thought about incorporating this into his everyday antics to get people to leave him the hell alone.

It was going great.

Even Cameron was openly repulsed. "That's disgusting." She'd crinkled her nose for affect.

"Then go away." House blew smoke and watched lazily the patterns it made above him. He didn't bother aiming towards the window anymore - he'd disabled all the smoke alarms in his office days ago.

"I wanted to talk to you about our patient..." she went to take a step closer but stopped herself. "I don't think the mother was lying when she said-"

"In three seconds," House interrupted, "I'm going to put out this cigarette and light another one. Then I'm gonna light another one, and I'm going to keep doing this until you leave and go talk to the step-mother like I told you to ten minutes ago."

"But..."

She watched as House did as he promised and used the still smoking butt of his last cigarette to light the one he'd pulled out of his pack. He vaguely saw Cameron's face turn a lively green color as he stuck the pack back into the front pocket of his jeans right before she walked away.

It was nearing ten before House told his team to go home for the night - that all they had left to do was wait six hours and see if the meds started working. Cameron and Foreman were practically racing each other to the door when House stepped into his office to gather his own belongings.

He had a lit cigarette in his mouth by the time his bag was half-packed and he honestly couldn't recall getting it out or lighting it. Sighing to himself he rolled his eyes and began looking around for the case file he needed.

When the door to his office opened he was genuinely surprised. "Chase,"

The younger man nodded at him. Without the doctor's coat and his hair perfectly styled, he could almost remember that Chase was a normal human being. "You're still smoking."

House rolled his eyes again, "Go bitch to Foreman and Cameron. Or Wilson." He went back to shoving his ipod and PSP into his book bag. "I look cool and I know it."

Chase smiled a little at that, before biting his lip and rubbing his nose anxiously. "You don't smoke lights." He commented absently.

House narrowed his eyes. "Lights are for wimps. 100's are alright."

"I always liked menthols." Chase surprised him by saying this, but House didn't let it show.

"No flavor."

"Newports." Chase pointed out and House tilted his head to one side, allowing that. "The ones in Australia are way too strong."

"Like home-rolled," House nodded.

"Worse." The younger man debated. "You got full's right?" He added, "Full flavor?"

"Newports, actually," and House grinned at the absurdity of this. "They were most expensive ones I could find."

"My mum smoked," he threw it out there casually, only House knew it was anything but, so he closed his mouth and narrowed his eyes, smoking cigarette dangling between two fingers. "All the time while she drank. I picked it up because I thought if she saw me doing it, she might stop."

"Never works like that." House said in a neutral tone, licking his lips and balancing his weight on his desk with his left hand – the hand with the ashing Newport in it.

"Learned that the hard way." Chase shrugged, still sounding as casual as one could when discussing things of this nature. "You smell like...our old place." House knew he'd chosen his words carefully there.

House nodded. Chase nodded back and left it at that. He handed House the patient file he'd been looking for, before walking out.

If he were one to keep score, Dr. Chase would have just received a point in his favor.

Shaking his head at his own decision, he finished the cigarette he was smoking and opened the balcony door wide, so the smell that had accumulated over the past week or so would creep out overnight.

House never smoked in the Diagnostic office again.

Fin.