A/N: Hey! My first House M.D. fic! Man, House is hard to write! I'm sorry if this sucks! I didn't mean to make this Chase centred, it just turned out that way. Well, I hope you enjoy! It's just a short one-shot, but I hope you like! I know the Aussie slang is a bit overdone, but I figured that Chase is stressed and anxious, so it comes out stronger. It also seems a bit stronger because I tried to write it phonetically - something I really have to work on. I have a friend who actually speaks like this all the time (I'm Aussie), so I'm sorta basing it off her.

Disclaimer: If I owned House, it'd be set in Australia. And there would be footy involved.

Things had gotten too dull around the hospital lately. At least, in the opinion of one Gregory House. His ducklings needed some cheering up - some motivation. Now, a speech was out of the question - who in their right mind got all happy and giddy from listening to a pompous doctor blather on about their achievements for half an hour? Cameron might, but that was Cameron. The girl could sympathise with a toaster. So... what to do? What to do? What to...

House smiled as he noticed a sickeningly sweet Get Well Card on his piano he had neglected to shred. Quickly, he picked up the phone and began to dial.

House entered the conference room the next day, carrying a large cardboard box. It was somewhat difficult to manoeuvre both a box and a cane at the same time, providing shameful amusement for others, but he managed it, dropping the box down onto the desk triumphantly, jolting his team out of their calm, peaceful ponderings.

"What's this?"

"Our new interns. They get your jobs if one of you screws up. Move." He gently lowered the box to the floor and opened a flap on the side, causing his team to lean in, curious, hoping for the first glance at the contents of the mystery box, but ensuring they were far enough from the entrance to be relatively safe in case someting jumped out at them.

One my one they waddled out, looking dazed, confused, and just downright adorable. A confident, dark black one lead the party, followed by a little mottled brown one with huge eyes. Last came a bright yellow one, looking somewhat confused, as it he didn't quite know where he was.

"Meet Eric, Ally and Robbie."

If ever there was a moment for dropped jaws and bulging eyeballs, this was it.

"Why do you have ducklings?" questioned Cameron, voicing the entire team's opinions (albeit, omitting a few expletives.)

"Why not?" There was not answer to that.

"Where did you get them?" she ignored the question, kneeling down next to the yellow one, who scuttled away to hide.

"Where I get all my other ducklings. Wilson."

Foreman scoffed, remembering the 'interview' he was required to partake in to secure this job. "You do realise that this is a hospital."

House looked appropriately shocked. "Really? I had no idea. I thought I was showing up for work at a gay bar."

"Animals should not be allowed in a hospital."

House was about to reply, when Chase interrupted, engaged in a intense staring competition with the yellow one.

"Is this supposed to be me?"

House sighed. They just didn't get the subtle poetry of it.

"No, it's a duckling. I named it Robbie. Read into it what you will. And quit staring at it, any more exposure from those pretty blue eyes of yours and it'll follow you home."

"Why don't we get back to the case?" Foreman stared at his fluffy double, unsure of how to handle this unusual upheaval of the regular day, so he desperately tried to pull the conversation and focus back to what he knew - which was not ducklings. Cameron obliged, ignoring the ducklings as they explored the conference room.

"Fifty two year old female suffering from frequent spasms, memory loss and seizures."

"Could be a tumour."

"Hands up who's tired of hearing that?" House obnoxiously threw an arm in the air.

"Just because you're tired of hearing that, it doesn't rule it out as a possibility."

"It does if you take into account her oestrogen levels." What her oestrogen levels indicated was unfortunately left a mystery, as House's speil was brought to a crashing halt by a somewhat effeminate squeak coming from the corner.

Don't ask anyone how, but Chase had somehow managed to get Ally tangled in his hair, while Eric balanced on his nose (forcing him to tilt his neck at an uncomfortable angle) while Robbie explored his right ear, almost forcing his little head into it.

"Get them off! Please!"

He seemed to have developed a fear of moving, speaking through clenched teeth, so as not to jostle Eric, who was observing his left eye in an unsettling, shrewd manner.

Foreman wasn't much help – he just stood there and smirked. House was less help – he had a digital camera on him. Cameron, though, was a surprise. She didn't even try to help, thinking tears of mirth were better suited to the situation.

"This isn't funny!" He then started addressing the ducklings themselves. "Oi! Get offa me! Go on! Get!"

His greatest mistake in that scenario would probably be slipping back into colloquial Australian language. Now he was guaranteed no help from any of his colleagues.

"Aw, bloody… if the bird shits up my snoz, you gonna be in for it, you hear me?"

Chase glared at House, trying to look as intimidating as one could when they had a fuzzy baby duck perched on their face.

House smiled. If he had known that bringing them in would cause this much entertainment, he would have done it a long time ago.

"Just move them yourself."

"If I move at all, at least one of them's gonna fall." Robbie was now nibbling Chase's ear. "Now you stop that, hear? Quit it – ow!"

Wilson now found it an appropriate time to appear.

"What's going on?" He didn't really want to know, because it looked scary and damaging towards people's health. But if he was to consult, he had to be at least a bit informed.

"We're playing 'Pin the Duckling on the Wombat'. Only we've run out of pins. Wait, check his hair, I think there might be a few in there."

Chase growled. His neck was seriously starting to hurt, and he suspected that Robbie wouldn't stop until he drew blood.

"I suggest you move the ducks so we can get back to work." Wilson was, like Foreman, having difficulty stifling his laughter, but they had work to do, and Chase really did look pained.

Chase attempted a minuscule nod, aborting when Ally slipped down to his forehead. "Yeah, we have patients to cure. Listen to this bloke. Thanks, mate. And you!" he returned to addressing the ducks, going cross-eyed as he attempted to bring Eric into focus, who was now pecking at his bangs. "You go off and eat some proper duck food, you hear me? Don't you gnaw on some bloke just 'cause House hasn't fed you nuthin' but booze."

Oh. Now he saw the crippling humour.

"… Chase… are you allergic to ducks?"

"… no."

"Good. Dr House, Dr Foreman, Dr Cameron? We have a dying patient that requires immediate attention."

The three doctors nodded, understanding immediately. House set down his digital camera, facing the duckling covered wombat, and set it to record a video. The four doctors then filed out, smirking as a confused, scared Chase sat on the floor, yelling after them.

"What? Youze can't just leave! I got stuff to do too! You can't just leave me sittn' 'ere! Oi! Oi! Come back 'ere!"

He growled, realising that he was all alone.

It was then that he felt something warm and wet slide down his left nostril.

"… bugger."

A/N: Hope you like! Review please! Thank you for reading! And to clear up any confusion, yes, there were ducklings (or some other fluffy baby animal) on the get well card. And I have no idea what the fifty two year old has.