Hello, everyone. A warning: House is going to be mean for this chapter. Next one, too. There is a reason for that, though. Fearlee and koralina, thank you! Pallada, you

inspired me, I hadn't even planned on a prank again so soon... :)

For House, the evening had been a pleasant one, despite the lack of Wilson. Before leaving, the diagnostician had stolen a container of lasagne from the

nurses' lounge, so dinner was taken care of...and he was more than happy to spend several hours in front of the television, snacking and relaxing. Cuddy

seemed to not have noticed her most annoying employee missing, which was unusual. She had probably been to the department to yell at him by now, House

thought, deciding that the ducklings must have distracted her somehow. He smiled, thinking of the kids, so well-trained they covered for him without even

being told. Then, the diagnostician's smile vanished. He'd realised that smiling while thinking of his team was not his style.

Chase, meanwhile, was getting ready for bed. It was eleven p.m. and there was a good chance he'd be paged during the night. Once patients made it to

House, they tended to be unstable even if it didn't seem like it. Hoping his night would be a quiet one, the intensivist crept under the covers and yawned,

snuggling down.

Just two hours later, Chase shot up and, after a second, tumbled onto the floor in a tangle of sheets. Slowly, he sat up, trying to determine what had woken

him.

"Open up!" he heard someone banging on the door and, rubbing his forehead, got to his feet. Shortly after, his eyes widened in shock when he heard two

voices discussing the breaking down of his door.

"I'm coming, just a sec!"

Chase had been incredulous when the intruders turned out to be cops, barging in and searching his apartment after flashing him a permit. He didn't protest,

though, realising the officers were just looking for an excuse to manhandle him.

"Sorry, but...may I ask what you're looking for?" he enquired politely once the search had been going on for a couple of minutes.

"You'd do well to keep your trap shut." one of the policemen advised, pulling open his bedroom drawer.

"Yeah, it's just – I'm pretty tired, and there really is nothing – "

"Listen to this," the larger one of the cops called out to his colleague, "the English chap's sleepy."

"I'm not English, actual – " Suddenly, it dawned on him. House. Chase sighed. "You got a phone-call, didn't you?"

"I said shut your mouth."

Trying not to grin, Chase shut his mouth.

Seven hours later, Chase was sitting at the conference table, a mug of coffee in front of him. It had taken almost three hours until the cops were ready to

accept there was nothing even remotely interesting in his apartment. And by the time they were gone, Chase was so annoyed that the little sleep he got was

less than restful. Now, he was trying to keep his eyes from shutting as he leafed through one of House's old magazines...

Cameron and Foreman found their colleague sprawled across the table, fast asleep. They shared a grin and went right back out again after dropping off their

things. They were late for their clinic duty, and both suspected that Chase had been called in sometime during the night as payback for the prank he'd pulled on

House. And that, while expected and even fair, was still something that merited a nap in the office.

It was nearly nine when House arrived, and discovering his wombat sleeping didn't amuse him at all. After taking one look at the kid, the diagnostician limped

to the sink and filled a glass with water. Then, he unceremoniously dumped it over his minion's head. Chase woke up with a strangled, spluttering yelp.

"House!" he protested angrily, jumping up and wiping the water out of his eyes. His boss wasn't in the mood for any discussions, though. "Your shift started an

hour ago. Done anything productive?" His eyes were flashing dangerously, and Chase forgot his indignation, feeling nervous more than anything else.

"Uh..."

"I thought so." Without further ado, House grabbed his employee by the collar, spun him around and gave him a shove in the direction of the door. "Breakfast."

he commanded. Chase was out like a flash.

9:15 a.m.

"Took you long enough." House scolded when Chase returned with bagels, cream cheese and chocolate muffins. The intensivist had almost recovered from his

abrupt awakening, and thinking about the cause of his tiredness had helped him regain his confidence. So, when House declared he wouldn't pay Chase back

because sleeping on the job had to be punished, the young doctor clenched his fists. House hadn't ever paid him back before, but that wasn't the point. The

Australian narrowed his eyes angrily.

"You do realise it's your fault I fell asleep, right?" he demanded.

"Quit your whining. And get the hell out of here."

"Why?"

House fixed him with a look.

"Because I said so, Chase." It took a few seconds, but eventually, the diagnostician's threatening body language presented too good an argument. Chase,

completely confused, stumbled out.

9:45 a.m.

House had sent Chase away thinking he needed some peace and quiet. However, as soon as he'd finished his breakfast, the diagnostician got bored. Deciding

there was no reason to endure boredom when you had three employees to amuse yourself, House paged his team to the office. Chase was the first to arrive,

looking apprehensive.

"You paged me?" he asked. His boss nodded.

"Yeah." He didn't elaborate, so Chase simply sat down at the table, far away from his superior, and waited. It didn't take long for Foreman and Cameron to

arrive.

"What d'you want?" the neurologist asked as soon as he'd entered. He didn't like being pulled out of clinic duty, and never hid his annoyance when he was.

Chase bit his lip. With House in as bad a mood as he was in today, Foreman would be torn to shreds.

"What I want is for you guys to explain to me why no-one is giving me any news on the patient." House said sharply.

Cameron frowned. "Well, because there are none." she stated.

"Really?" House asked, rounding on the immunologist. "Might've been interesting to know he's not eating, don't you think?"

"I didn't know that." Cameron defended herself.

"Don't give me the little-girl-act. You're all grown-up now, daddy's not here to protect you from the big kids. It's your responsibility to make our patients talk."

'Responsibility' was just the word to use with Cameron. She knew the team counted on her to make patients feel cared-for, though House would never admit

that. Biting her lip, the immunologist turned away and started to make coffee. She'd be thinking about House's comment for weeks.

With Foreman, on the other hand, you had to be blunter. House pounced on his neurologist next, using a different tactic.

"Wanna guess what Cuddy told me about, Dr. Foreman?" he asked, seemingly innocent. The younger doctor sighed.

"Her nose job? The fact I only got hired to fill some kind of minority quota? What, House?"

"None of the above. She said you'd like to co-author an article with Dr. Bernacre."

"Right. Yeah. I was going to let you know, just didn't get a chance – "

"Answer's no."

"What?"

"You're not doing it."

"I...I wasn't going to ask for permission..." Foreman explained, utterly bewildered. Chase grimaced.

"I see your name on any articles," House threatened, "and I'll make sure you're sitting on your ass doing paperwork for a month." Foreman stared for a couple

of seconds, then visibly deflated. In his mind, the neurologist was a physician well-respected by everyone. In the real world, he was well-respected by

everyone but House. And House took pleasure in demonstrating exactly how little he cared about what Foreman wanted.

"Go take blood." House ordered, daring the younger man to refuse. Fuming, Foreman left.