Title: soaping together is sacred to us
Fandom: House MD
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Robert Chase/Greg House
Wordcount: 1k
Content notes: Sickfic, sappiness.
Author notes: For![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
transbingo with the square "Getting Physical: Touching, Hugging and Cuddling", allbingo with the square "Odd Couple", creativechallenges Shippy Building with the prompt "Preparing a bath for them" and ![[tumblr.com profile]](https://www.tumblr.com/favicon.ico)
badthingshappenbingo with the square "Common Cold". Inspired by the phrase 'under the weather', as much as it's not mentioned in the text of my fic.
Summary: Chase has a cold, so House runs him a bath.
Fandom: House MD
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Robert Chase/Greg House
Wordcount: 1k
Content notes: Sickfic, sappiness.
Author notes: For
transbingo with the square "Getting Physical: Touching, Hugging and Cuddling", allbingo with the square "Odd Couple", creativechallenges Shippy Building with the prompt "Preparing a bath for them" and Summary: Chase has a cold, so House runs him a bath.
Chase sneezed for the eleventh time that day, the sound echoing through the differential diagnosis room.
House huffed and grabbed his marker again, pointing it at Chase accusingly. "You've got a cold."
He looked up at him. His eyes were a little red, itchy, his nose stuffed. He looked exhausted. "No shit, Sherlock."
"And also a backbone! Interesting." He smiled at him, tilted his head. "You should get colds more often, if it'll mean a little bite from my lapdog."
"I'm not your lapdog," he spat out, before sniffling a little.
"Look, you've got paid sick leave," House said. Foreman stared at him as if he had grown a second head; he payed him no mind. "I don't want my entire team getting a cold because of you."
He sighed. "Fine." He stood up, got his bearings. "I'll go home."
"Great," he said. "You'd probably only bother during differentials, anyway."
Chase gave him a look. *Not the time, House.* He nodded apologetically, hoping he understood that he'd drop by as soon as he could ditch clinic duty, that he'd take care of him while he was sick.
He did as he promised with a single glance. They worked through being secretly dating, with the same quips of always, some of them having changed one way or another— but the fact remained: they teased each other, hoped Cameron and Foreman didn't notice anything was different.
He used his key to get into Chase's place.
"I haven't felt this awful since top surgery," was the first thing Chase said when he walked into his room. He was huddled up in his bed, with as many blankets as he possibly could have.
(House had known Chase when he had top surgery; it was during his first year working under House. He had come to check on him twice during his paid leave, sitting at the corner of his bed, talking, trying not to get closer. They grew closer, but it was only by the two and a half year mark of Chase working under him that he decided to break the barrier between them.)
"That bad, huh?" House said, going to Chase's bathroom and turning the water on. He made sure it was just as warm as Chase liked it; not too warm, not too cold, just lukewarm enough that it wouldn't cool off in mere minutes.
Chase groaned. "Yeah." He looked up for a second, hearing the sound of the bath running. "Are you really—"
"It'll make you feel better," House said, not looking at him. "Lukewarm but not too lukewarm. I could add some bubbles?"
"No," Chase quickly shut it down. "I'm good with it as it is." He paused. "Are you going to, like, bathe with me?"
He cleared his throat. "If you'd be comfortable with that."
"You're the one that's going to catch a cold, not Cameron and Foreman."
He shrugged. "Eh. I'll deal. Cripple, remember?"
He rolled his eyes and slowly crawled out of bed, sliding off his clothes. House limped up to him almost on instinct, put a hand on his side, leaned down to catch his lips on a kiss. He crooned, let out a sweet noise and kissed back. They were both smiling, pulling away only when they had to.
"You kissed me," Chase started, "so don't come to me when you're sneezing your brains out."
"Wilson will bring me soup, don't worry."
He laughed a little, and he couldn't help but lean up on his tiptoes (being nearly a foot shorter than his boyfriend was only cute in theory) and kiss him. "Undress, c'mon."
"Don't look at my scar too much," he said, out of habit.
Chase hummed. "Don't look at mine too much, then."
They gave each other knowing, almost shit-eating grins, before House started shimmying out of his clothes. Soon enough, he sank down onto the bathtub, sighing at the feeling of water engulfing his lower half.
And then, Chase did the same, settling against him, leaning onto his chest.
"Thank you," he said, leaning up to kiss him again. Neither of them cared much about House catching a cold anymore (they couldn't go a day without kissing, to be honest). "This is nice."
House leaned forward and grabbed a bar of soap. "No problem. Just to speed up the healing process."
"Yes, I'm sure that's the only reason," Chase deadpanned, smiling as he started cleaning him up, going through the motions of washing his boyfriend. It was too intimate, one of those stupid things either of them craved throughout the day as they kept acting as boss and employee and nothing more.
No one had said anything to them— House hoped no one would.. He hoped no one could tell. They had been as careful as they could; no kissing throughout the work day (it was torture, that rule was *torture*), no touching if they could help it, nothing that could give anyone ideas. Sometimes he even quipped more at Chase, was a little meaner, in hopes that it'd throw anyone off the hypothetical trail they were leaving behind.
He didn't want Cuddy to claim he was abusing his authority over Chase. He didn't want her to insist it wasn't good for either of them.
No one knew him like how he was around Chase, except maybe for Wilson. Wilson knew how he acted when he was a lovesick fool, so this wasn't any different. Wilson was the only one who knew, and if he knew what was good for him, he wouldn't snitch on them to Cuddy or Cameron or whomever.
"I love you," Chase told him, the silence stretching thin until he broke it.
House didn't answer, as much as he would like to. The words were hard to come by. He just kept going, threading his fingers through Chase's blonde locks, and pressed a kiss to his temple.
Those actions were more than enough for him, more than a parroting of Chase's words would ever be worth. He hoped that was enough for Chase himself, too.
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