Foreman wanted to throw House's words back in his face--if he wasn't important enough to avoid, if he meant that little, then where had House been for the last two days? It was pointless, though, as long as House was sticking to his story. And he wasn't about to spout off about how he felt. House's dismissal didn't hurt. It was exactly what he'd expected. Foreman swallowed hard, trying to resuscitate his anger, sure that it would have worked for him if only he weren't so damn tired.
House couldn't meet his eyes when Foreman actually said the word kiss to him. He hunched even further away from Foreman, frowning ferociously. Foreman waited for the onslaught of insults, or even House saying, out loud for Christ's sake, that he didn't want Foreman to kiss him, that he'd never wanted that, that Foreman had forced it on him. Foreman almost believed that himself. The only thing that kept him from feeling like a complete asshole about Saturday night was that when House wasn't running his mouth off, he'd looked exactly the way he did now. Cornered, in more ways than one. Eyes darting away as he searched for an escape route. Lifting his chin and swallowing defiantly, even as he couldn't meet Foreman's gaze, even as he looked more turned on than pissed off.
Silence wasn't an answer. The only way to get at the truth was the same way Foreman had done it before, every single time he'd wanted it. He stepped deliberately closer, catching House's left hand against the back-wall railing, trusting that House would keep his right on his cane for balance. Foreman was close enough to breathe House's air, close enough that he could feel his own respirations speeding up, close enough to stare up at him and try to read his thoughts. Push me away, he thought. Say no. Say something.
"Just because you liked it," Foreman said. He wanted to kiss House, wanted the proof that he knew he'd find in House's mouth, either angry or tentative or simply slack and permissive against his. He licked his lips. "Just because you forgot to be a miserable bastard for a few hours." Foreman felt the elevator come to a stop, and he glanced over his shoulder at the floor indicator before stepping back. He put enough space between them that nobody waiting for the elevator would mistake his clinch with House for something it probably wasn't. The doors rolled open, but Foreman didn't turn away from House for another moment. "Is it really so bad to want that?" he asked quietly, answering his own question with the slightest shrug, stuffing his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders as he headed for Diagnostics.
no subject
House couldn't meet his eyes when Foreman actually said the word kiss to him. He hunched even further away from Foreman, frowning ferociously. Foreman waited for the onslaught of insults, or even House saying, out loud for Christ's sake, that he didn't want Foreman to kiss him, that he'd never wanted that, that Foreman had forced it on him. Foreman almost believed that himself. The only thing that kept him from feeling like a complete asshole about Saturday night was that when House wasn't running his mouth off, he'd looked exactly the way he did now. Cornered, in more ways than one. Eyes darting away as he searched for an escape route. Lifting his chin and swallowing defiantly, even as he couldn't meet Foreman's gaze, even as he looked more turned on than pissed off.
Silence wasn't an answer. The only way to get at the truth was the same way Foreman had done it before, every single time he'd wanted it. He stepped deliberately closer, catching House's left hand against the back-wall railing, trusting that House would keep his right on his cane for balance. Foreman was close enough to breathe House's air, close enough that he could feel his own respirations speeding up, close enough to stare up at him and try to read his thoughts. Push me away, he thought. Say no. Say something.
"Just because you liked it," Foreman said. He wanted to kiss House, wanted the proof that he knew he'd find in House's mouth, either angry or tentative or simply slack and permissive against his. He licked his lips. "Just because you forgot to be a miserable bastard for a few hours." Foreman felt the elevator come to a stop, and he glanced over his shoulder at the floor indicator before stepping back. He put enough space between them that nobody waiting for the elevator would mistake his clinch with House for something it probably wasn't. The doors rolled open, but Foreman didn't turn away from House for another moment. "Is it really so bad to want that?" he asked quietly, answering his own question with the slightest shrug, stuffing his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders as he headed for Diagnostics.