Foreman scoffed at the idea that the male nurses would start hitting on him--he could just picture House dropping one of them a twenty on the condition that he ask Foreman out. House wanted front row seats? "I'll bet you do," he said under his breath. Foreman wasn't about to indulge him, but it stroked his ego to know that House was interested in watching, joke or not.
House did seem distracted. Maybe it was the sheer boring emanating from Kutner's recitation of symptoms. Out of the corner of his eye, Foreman caught House's frown when he looked down, the tightening of his lips. And there was the slightest hint of a flush warming his ears. Not enough that the fellows would notice. Foreman barely did, except that he was looking for it. He turned back to his book, wondering what it meant, what House was thinking about. There was no way he should be this concerned in whether House was having regrets. If House's last two days had been anything like his.
He got his answer when House completely missed the point of his question. Foreman wanted to know why they were being saddled with the dullest cases he could remember in three years, and House was dwelling on everything explicit they'd done. That would explain the distraction, the reddening of House's ears. Foreman swallowed and stared down at his book, none of the words making sense. "Don't bother," he said, aiming for indifferent. He had enough trouble keeping his mind on the job. He didn't need to think about the slow hitch in House's movement when he eased his way down to his knees, the clutch of House's hands on his ass when Foreman forced his cock deeper into his mouth. Fuck. If House was having the same problem concentrating, then... There was no then. Once should have been enough to teach Foreman his damn lesson about inviting House into his life. House could damn well suffer through his own blue balls. Foreman tried to listen to Cole, but the case sounded like simple barotrauma. He needed something more interesting than that to occupy him.
"You think because I'm cranky, you're driving me away?" Foreman asked, matching House's quiet tone and keeping his gaze straight ahead. He still hadn't replied to Marty, although it seemed from his email that he might actually have a position for Foreman. Foreman didn't know if it was stubbornness or a feeling that things weren't going to improve for him no matter where he went that kept him from answering. It sure as hell wasn't House.
Taub was frankly watching him--probably wondering if he'd turn out like Foreman, if he got the job--and Volakis' eyes were narrowed as she tried to read the subtext between them. Foreman snorted. If House did start laying bets, Foreman wouldn't mind putting some money on their reactions. "I'm not that easy to chase off," he said. Unlike you. "Do you have any patients that the ER doctors couldn't diagnose with their eyes shut?"
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House did seem distracted. Maybe it was the sheer boring emanating from Kutner's recitation of symptoms. Out of the corner of his eye, Foreman caught House's frown when he looked down, the tightening of his lips. And there was the slightest hint of a flush warming his ears. Not enough that the fellows would notice. Foreman barely did, except that he was looking for it. He turned back to his book, wondering what it meant, what House was thinking about. There was no way he should be this concerned in whether House was having regrets. If House's last two days had been anything like his.
He got his answer when House completely missed the point of his question. Foreman wanted to know why they were being saddled with the dullest cases he could remember in three years, and House was dwelling on everything explicit they'd done. That would explain the distraction, the reddening of House's ears. Foreman swallowed and stared down at his book, none of the words making sense. "Don't bother," he said, aiming for indifferent. He had enough trouble keeping his mind on the job. He didn't need to think about the slow hitch in House's movement when he eased his way down to his knees, the clutch of House's hands on his ass when Foreman forced his cock deeper into his mouth. Fuck. If House was having the same problem concentrating, then... There was no then. Once should have been enough to teach Foreman his damn lesson about inviting House into his life. House could damn well suffer through his own blue balls. Foreman tried to listen to Cole, but the case sounded like simple barotrauma. He needed something more interesting than that to occupy him.
"You think because I'm cranky, you're driving me away?" Foreman asked, matching House's quiet tone and keeping his gaze straight ahead. He still hadn't replied to Marty, although it seemed from his email that he might actually have a position for Foreman. Foreman didn't know if it was stubbornness or a feeling that things weren't going to improve for him no matter where he went that kept him from answering. It sure as hell wasn't House.
Taub was frankly watching him--probably wondering if he'd turn out like Foreman, if he got the job--and Volakis' eyes were narrowed as she tried to read the subtext between them. Foreman snorted. If House did start laying bets, Foreman wouldn't mind putting some money on their reactions. "I'm not that easy to chase off," he said. Unlike you. "Do you have any patients that the ER doctors couldn't diagnose with their eyes shut?"