Foreman hated being so out of control. He fucking despised himself for being that guy, that possessive prick, or worse, the woman who expected her one night stand to call the next day, when nobody had made any promises. The opposite, in fact, since Foreman had been telling himself even as he'd taken House back to his place that he'd kick him out in the morning without a backwards glance. And here he was, buying in to every one of House's damn games. Letting House get to him. Following after him even though he fucking knew that House was laughing at him, getting a big goddamn kick out of Foreman's anger.
They were alone in the dark parking lot, the lights around the clinic doorway and a few streetlights providing most of the illumination, both their breaths steaming in the cold air. The only thing that was stopping House from shivering was his damn pride, Foreman was sure. House didn't answer a single one of Foreman's concerns, which pretty much proved that he had no clue about whether Terzi had any aptitude at all for diagnostics. He seemed more interested in using her to piss Foreman off, just to watch what he'd do.
"I don't have a problem with Dr. Terzi, just with your insane hiring procedures," Foreman said. "And since Cuddy has seen fit to let you do whatever the hell you want, I can't complain." Foreman let House keep talking, telling him it was personal--no kidding, he'd already gotten that memo--and looked away for a moment before turning to stare at House thoughtfully. House was using Terzi to get to him. Not focusing on how hot she was, or what she might offer him to get the job--no, House was more interested in Foreman's reaction. In what Foreman would do.
Another fucking mixed message. Foreman shook his head, even worked up a breath of laughter, although it sounded more angry than amused. "My problem with you is that you seem to be acting under the assumption that I'm just going to give up," he said. He stepped in, feeling like he was moving under House's guard. As close as they'd been in the elevator, and then closer, raising his hands--warm from being in his pockets--to cup House's jaw and haul him down into a kiss. House's lips were dry, chapped and cold, but Foreman didn't care; he'd thought this would happen a lot fucking sooner--in the elevator, in the office--if House hadn't tried to run away, and he felt all his impatience translating into wanting this contact, this touch. Foreman licked his way across House's lips, and insisted, deepening the kiss. House's cheeks were cold against his fingers, but Foreman felt more than warm enough for both of them, his face warming, heat pushing through his body despite the chilly air. He pulled back to breathe, dropping his hands but staying close enough that his coat brushed House's chest. "You're not telling me no, House, so I'm not seeing much reason to back off."
no subject
They were alone in the dark parking lot, the lights around the clinic doorway and a few streetlights providing most of the illumination, both their breaths steaming in the cold air. The only thing that was stopping House from shivering was his damn pride, Foreman was sure. House didn't answer a single one of Foreman's concerns, which pretty much proved that he had no clue about whether Terzi had any aptitude at all for diagnostics. He seemed more interested in using her to piss Foreman off, just to watch what he'd do.
"I don't have a problem with Dr. Terzi, just with your insane hiring procedures," Foreman said. "And since Cuddy has seen fit to let you do whatever the hell you want, I can't complain." Foreman let House keep talking, telling him it was personal--no kidding, he'd already gotten that memo--and looked away for a moment before turning to stare at House thoughtfully. House was using Terzi to get to him. Not focusing on how hot she was, or what she might offer him to get the job--no, House was more interested in Foreman's reaction. In what Foreman would do.
Another fucking mixed message. Foreman shook his head, even worked up a breath of laughter, although it sounded more angry than amused. "My problem with you is that you seem to be acting under the assumption that I'm just going to give up," he said. He stepped in, feeling like he was moving under House's guard. As close as they'd been in the elevator, and then closer, raising his hands--warm from being in his pockets--to cup House's jaw and haul him down into a kiss. House's lips were dry, chapped and cold, but Foreman didn't care; he'd thought this would happen a lot fucking sooner--in the elevator, in the office--if House hadn't tried to run away, and he felt all his impatience translating into wanting this contact, this touch. Foreman licked his way across House's lips, and insisted, deepening the kiss. House's cheeks were cold against his fingers, but Foreman felt more than warm enough for both of them, his face warming, heat pushing through his body despite the chilly air. He pulled back to breathe, dropping his hands but staying close enough that his coat brushed House's chest. "You're not telling me no, House, so I'm not seeing much reason to back off."