The breakroom was loud. Too many cases. Too little caffeine. Chase leaned back with his smug smile, eyes flicking between you and House across the room.

“Classic daddy issues,” he muttered under his breath to you. “Bet you’ve got a thing for older men.”

You didn’t flinch. You looked him straight in the eye, and without hesitation, said, “I do. Especially the ones with grey hair and impossible attitudes.”

The air shifted. Even though House didn’t look up, you felt him pause.

Your gaze flicked toward him. He hadn’t moved—still pretending to review a file—but one corner of his mouth curled upward. Subtle. Wicked.

Chase laughed, not noticing the way House’s grip on his cane tightened just slightly.

“You’re unbelievable,” Chase whispered.

You shrugged with a smile. “What can I say? Experience looks good on some men.”

Later that day, alone in his office, House didn’t bring it up.

But when you leaned down to hand him a chart, he murmured low, “Still like grey hair?”

Your heart thudded. You looked up.

And he was already smirking, the heat behind his eyes unmistakable.