Foreman watched House leave the living room, feeling frustrated for no real reason. Despite House's smartass comment about messing with any good thing that came into his life, Foreman didn't see any sign that House disagreed with him. They weren't dating, they weren't going to make a big deal out of this, and the last thing in the world it could be called was romantic. After how they'd been kissing in the kitchen, Foreman thought House had gotten over himself enough that they might actually do this again without all the dramatics. Or, he thought, raising an eyebrow, maybe it would just be a matter of cornering House and pressuring him until he gave in. Foreman took a quick breath at that thought, enjoying the image. They could come back to Foreman's place, or maybe even end up at House's at some point, and fuck; because, Christ, the sex was hot, so why wouldn't they? As much as House might be self-destructive, even he wasn't obstinate enough to turn down what Foreman was offering him. No strings, no commitment. Just something simple, that could work for both of them.
Foreman picked up his plate again, stabbing at the lettuce. House had left his plate on his seat, and Foreman rolled his eyes. Well, it might work if he could get House to stop treating Foreman's space like it was his to do with as he pleased. He took a bite and let his head back against the couch, frowning lightly, realizing that he'd been watching the news and hadn't taken in any of it. If he and House agreed--and probably House walking out of the room without laughing in his face was the closest he was going to get to a serious answer--then there shouldn't be a problem. But the frustration lingered, like House was pulling an end run around him in a way he couldn't anticipate.
When House came back into the room, Foreman couldn't help looking him up and down again, a trace of arousal making him adjust his position. He parted his knees and slouched down against the couch, the leather sticking to his back. There was no way in hell House could have predicted how seeing him in Foreman's clothes would affect him. And Foreman's own promise, to strip House naked, probably crawl on top of him and hold him down in order to do it...he was so distracted by the thought that he didn't notice at first that House was standing there offering him a beer.
Foreman had forgotten to grab himself a drink, and he was thirsty, but 'bringing him a beer' was another item on his list of things he didn't trust House to do. Foreman gave him a searching look, his eyebrows lifting in a really? look, but he doubted House had had the time, or had bothered to invest the effort, in ruining his beer. "Thanks," he said, taking one of the bottles. He took a drink, and it tasted fine. Good. Foreman let out an amused breath. He really couldn't have imagined eating dinner with House, but it was actually working. "I'd take a shower now, if I didn't think you'd dig through the rest of my stuff while I was gone," he said, only mildly peeved. At this point he was assuming House would stay, and somehow it didn't bother him that he was organizing his life around House's curiosity.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-12-29 04:04 am (UTC)Foreman picked up his plate again, stabbing at the lettuce. House had left his plate on his seat, and Foreman rolled his eyes. Well, it might work if he could get House to stop treating Foreman's space like it was his to do with as he pleased. He took a bite and let his head back against the couch, frowning lightly, realizing that he'd been watching the news and hadn't taken in any of it. If he and House agreed--and probably House walking out of the room without laughing in his face was the closest he was going to get to a serious answer--then there shouldn't be a problem. But the frustration lingered, like House was pulling an end run around him in a way he couldn't anticipate.
When House came back into the room, Foreman couldn't help looking him up and down again, a trace of arousal making him adjust his position. He parted his knees and slouched down against the couch, the leather sticking to his back. There was no way in hell House could have predicted how seeing him in Foreman's clothes would affect him. And Foreman's own promise, to strip House naked, probably crawl on top of him and hold him down in order to do it...he was so distracted by the thought that he didn't notice at first that House was standing there offering him a beer.
Foreman had forgotten to grab himself a drink, and he was thirsty, but 'bringing him a beer' was another item on his list of things he didn't trust House to do. Foreman gave him a searching look, his eyebrows lifting in a really? look, but he doubted House had had the time, or had bothered to invest the effort, in ruining his beer. "Thanks," he said, taking one of the bottles. He took a drink, and it tasted fine. Good. Foreman let out an amused breath. He really couldn't have imagined eating dinner with House, but it was actually working. "I'd take a shower now, if I didn't think you'd dig through the rest of my stuff while I was gone," he said, only mildly peeved. At this point he was assuming House would stay, and somehow it didn't bother him that he was organizing his life around House's curiosity.