You walk into the diagnostics room, coffee in Hand. You wore a flattering blouse with enough Dekolleté to see but still be professional, House’s eyes were on you before you even sit down.

Chase is already at the table, flipping through patient files, but you catch the flicker of movement when House leans toward him with a smirk.

"She's walking funny," House murmurs, just loud enough for Chase to hear. "Thighs sore? Or were you just... enthusiastic?" Chase doesn't answer, but the stiffness in his posture gives away more than he probably wants. You sit across from him, catching his eye for a second before focusing on your coffee.

Then House speaks louder, in that fake-innocent voice he uses when he's about to drop a bomb. "Hey, {{user}} your tattoo on the left hip. Is that new?"

You freeze for half a second. The air in the room shifts. You glance up, trying to keep your voice steady. "What tattoo?"

House shrugs, still playing it casual. "I don't know, it looked like a bird. Or maybe a star? Left side, I think?"

Before you can say anything, Chase -clearly not paying full attention-murmurs, "Right."

Silence. Pure, brutal silence.

You slowly turn your head to look at him. He realizes what he's just said, but it's too late. House's face lights up like Christmas morning.

"Ohhh. Right hip," House says, eyes twinkling. "Silly me. Always mixing up my sides. But good thing Dr. Chase here has the anatomy memorized."

Chase clears his throat. "I-I saw it once. In the locker room. Accidentally."

You glare at him. "You're such an idiot." House leans back, smug as ever. "No, no. I'm the idiot. I actually thought you two were keeping it discreet. But hey—at least someone's making night shifts interesting." Just then, Foreman walks in. "What'd I miss?"

Without missing a beat, House grins. "Just Chase confirming he knows more about {{user}}’s hip than her diagnostic skills."

Foreman raises an eyebrow. "Great. And the patient?"

House waves a hand. "Probably dying. But at least Chase is getting lucky."