There was always something so peaceful about the early mornings in the office. The domesticity of making a fresh pot of coffee and listening to it brew while you sat and opened up your newspaper to the crossword section, mindlessly scribbling in the answers until you stop hearing the liquid pour, indicating your beverage was hot and ready.

There were no coworkers pestering him—namely Cameron, who'd see the light bags under his eyes and try to console him when really he just wanted to be left alone. No boss throwing insults at them left and right, demanding either a case, a diagnosis, or for them to do his clinic duty. And this particular morning, there was no patient that needed to be checked on.

Mornings like this were Chase's favorites, always so calm and quiet, something that rarely ever happened not only in the hospital, but in the diagnostic office. It was always chaos, though Chase sort of loved those times, too.

This was the first day that he'd actually felt sort of good, so used to waking up with a stiff neck feeling restless after only getting three hours at most. That's how his previous two weeks had been like, but last night, he'd managed a full eight hours! And his neck wasn't killing him, nor was his head, so he was feeling rather good about the day.

Chase was pouring himself a cup of coffee when Foreman walked in, barely mumbling a 'morning' as he slumped down in the chair furthest from the door. With a small smile, Chase handed over his coffee to Foreman, figuring the man needed it more.

"Thanks," Foreman said, taking a small sip. Chase only nodded in response, grabbing another cup to actually make his own now. Once he finished, he settled back down into the seat opposite the table of his colleague.

"Good morning," Cameron walked in two minutes later, looking over at the coffee maker, "Chase?" She questioned, earing a small nod from Foreman. Chase didn't look up from his newspaper though he did lift his one hand in a wave to the woman as she walked by, mouth preoccupied with a pencil.

"Do you think we'll get a case today?" Cameron settled down in a seat somewhere in the middle of the table, back to the window. They hadn't actually had a case in a few days, apparently everyone just knew what was wrong with them, so there was no need for a team to figure it out.

"I hope so," Foreman replied, "I hate House handing off his clinic duty, or his paperwork."

Chase laughed in agreement, finally setting the paper down onto the table, though he continued chewing on the already destroyed pencil.

"One of us should go to the clinic though," Chase said as he took the pencil out, now twirling it with his fingers, "or the ER, actually search for a case. Cuddy probably won't have anything."

There was a comfortable silence for a while before Cameron elected herself to search out a case. It was usually her job, anyway, so naturally neither men made a move to go. They remained in their seats, becoming engrossed in their respective entertainment again.

By ten thirty, they could hear the familiar thump-thumpthump, thump-thumpthump of a cane stepping in tune with the footsteps walking closer to the conference room. The second he walked in, his eyes were locking onto the coffee pot that was just remade ten minutes ago.

"Please tell me not Cameron." Getting a head shake from Foreman along with a pointed look at Chase, House deemed the coffee safe enough to consume.

"You know, for a woman, she's really bad at making coffee," House remarked as he filled his cup, "Chase is more of a woman than she is. And that's a compliment," he turned to Chase, "because making coffee seems to be your only strong suit."

Chase made no retort, made no move to even acknowledge the insult. It made House frown, he was trying to rile the man up yet he was getting ignored.

"Hey, goldilocks!" He called out, but Chase kept his eyes glued to his crossword. The only indication that he'd even heard House was the slight upturn of his lips, so small that it was barely noticed if House hadn't been paying so much attention.

"This isn't fun unless you react," he tried, but still nothing. Letting out a sigh, he took a sip of his coffee, coming up with a fantastic idea the second he realized the liquid was only a little hotter than room temperature.

House gripped his cane, limping over to where Chase sat, still ignoring him. Without any hesitation, House turned his cup upside down overtop the intensivist, watching coffee drench Chase.

"Oops, must've slipped." Now that definitely caught Chase's attention, and he watched as the doctor rose to his feet, disbelief on his face.

He turned, face to face with his boss, staring him dead in the eyes. House couldn't help but get excited, hoping that maybe Chase would tell him off—maybe the boy finally grew a backbone!

But instead of screaming or pushing or even slugging House, Chase just huffed and walked away, going to the locker room to shower and change.

"Seriously? What the hell was that for?" Foreman spoke up. He didn't particularly care for the other man all that much, but he knew that was uncalled for. He'd seen how down Chase had been for weeks, and on the day he finally didn't look him he'd just crawled out of his own grave, House had to be a dick and ruin it.

"What? You defending your boyfriend now?" That was all it took for Foreman to just roll his eyes and go back to reading the medical journal that was open in front of him, effectively ignoring his boss and what he'd just said.

Chase stormed into the locker room, thankful he was all alone. He hoped he'd have a spare set of clothes in his locker, but as he opened it, he discovered that he didn't. He'd used his spare when a patient bled all over him last week.

Though, he did notice something new, something he hadn't put there.

It was a post-it note.

Grabbing it, he pulled it close to his face and read what the messy handwriting said.

'You look better today, beautiful. So happy you smiled again.'

There was no signature and the handwriting didn't look familiar, so there was no way for Chase to know who wrote it. There wasn't anyone in the room with him, and there hadn't been anyone who walked out when he got here. Plus, whoever had left this knew his locker combination, or at least knew how to break open those kinds of locks without actually destroying it.

Chase couldn't deal with this. Not today.

He shoved the note back in his locker, setting a mental reminder to grab it after his shower to see if he could ask around about it.

Right now, he just wanted the coffee off of him.