Work Text:
It was winter in the hospital and a nasty flu was making its rounds. Staff was getting shorthanded, but only after it wiped out half the pediatric nurses did admin decide to do something about it. It became mandatory for any personnel to be vaccinated as soon as possible, a tyrannical move House actually approved off for once.
Generally people complied, hospital workers were more likely to stay on top of vacines anyway. He had already received both Cameron’s and Foreman’s updated status days ago, but one little piggy did not go to the doctor.
A scheme formed in House’s mind quicker than someone could say Trypanophobia.
Chase was already getting annoyed with today, it seemed like House was extra bossy this week. Being send to the clinic might be a blessing in disguise just to evade him.
He grabbed the nearest room’s patient file and entered just to find Wilson sitting there, instead of Ruby Jones.
“Oh, hi Wilson. Isn’t there supposed to be a patient here?”
Chase was honestly pretty confused. Wilson didn’t answer him, instead shooting him an apologetic look, panic eraptued in his mind, a Wilson who was sorry was never far away from House doing something crazy. Before he had time to react, the door behind him was shut close.
“Yes, you.”
He spun around to see House coming towards him.
“Wait no,” he baked away from House, but quickly realized with him blocking the door he was a mouse in a trap and House was the cat.
It was easy for House to take the file from his hands, tossing it aside. He gripped his bicep, Chase tried to wiggle out of the holb, but it was futile. He got sat in the exam table, having his coat taken off him by House.
By the time he spotted the medical equipment laid out by Wilson it was far too late.
“I’m not getting a shot.”
House gave him an overly sympathetic look, petting his hair in pure condescension. “Yes you are.”
He tried to move up, but was quickly pushed down again by House—trapped.
There was nothing he could do against House unbuttoning his shirt, exposing his arm. House was stronger than him. Chase turned to pleading, sounding pretty desperate too as Wilson applied the cool disinfect to the upper arm muscle. “Please.”
“You work in a hospital. It’s a quick pinch, you will be fine.”
Chase wasn’t convinced.
House sat down next to him, sighing in exasperation. “You can hold my hand.”
In any other situation House would have been joking, making fun of Chase, but true enough he put his hand into his own, peeling it off the table padding he was white-knuckling.
House’s hand was warm and big—encapsulating his own. It distracted him long enough not to notice Wilson prepping the actual needle. Hell no. He really started sweating now, he was sure House could feel it. Every fiber in his being was calling out for him to run and hide.
But then House was there, rubbing circles into his hand with his thumb. “It’s okay. Close your eyes. I’m serious, close them. Good.”
Chase gave up fighting this, it was futile.
“Squeeze my hand when it hurts.”
“You mean if it hurts, right?”
House snorted, “It’s a needle going into your skin, of course it’s gonna—“
“House!”
The first time that Wilson spoke at all. But it did work in relaxing him, he was taking deep breaths, bracing himself. He was an adult, he needed this to keep his job. “Okay, I think I’m ready.”
“And I’m done. Firetruck or butterfly on your bandaid.”
Surprised Chase opened his eyes to indeed see Wilson holding out different packages of bandaids. He pointed at the firetruck, not because he liked it more, but because it felt like the obvious choice.
As Wilson put it on, House leaned over to him whispering loudly, “You actually wanted the other one, didn’t you?”
“No.”
After Wilson was done, Chase was happy to put his shirt back on. He expected his arm to hurt, but it felt completely fine, Wilson must have magic hands.
“Chase, can I ask you, what’s all the fuss with needles?”
Chase shrugged, feeling both pairs of eyes on him. “I guess I was never a fan. Nurses always had to hold me down for everything.”
House and Wilson shared a look, that Chase didn’t even bother with. Understanding these two required more than a medical degree.
“Are we done now?”
“Yes, you’re free to go.”
Chase made it a point to pick up the file and straighten out the spine. Before leaving through the door he did turn back one last time, “Thank you. Both of you.”
“You’re welcome. Now get back to work.”