Judging by Foreman's questioning look, House wasn't sure if Foreman would buy it, but, as soon as Foreman stood up, still eyeing him, House couldn't beat down his amusement. It was satisfying enough that Foreman actually had to check, that he couldn't see through the lie. Foreman probably wasn't fully awake, if he couldn't tell, if he hadn't caught on to something so blatantly designed to mess with him, but it still made him smug, even though he was still fighting off the remnants of sleep himself. He took another sip of Foreman's coffee, even though it tasted like shit, canceling out the minty-freshness he'd acquired when he'd brushed his teeth, the taste on his tongue bitter and heavy. It would probably help wake him up, and would serve to further annoy Foreman, which were the only two reasons he kept raising the mug to his mouth.
He froze for a half-second at Foreman's words before forcing himself back into action, taking another sip of coffee--nearly gone now. His brain swam, trying to remember if Foreman had, at some point last night, sucked hard enough at his neck to give him a hickey. He couldn't have. He'd remember, and he didn't remember. Foreman was screwing with him. Had to be. He probably suspected that House was screwing with him and was launching a retaliation, an attempt to make him react the same way. House squinted at Foreman, refusing to let his suspicions show on his face, never even making a move to take a look at his neck for signs of a hickey that he knew wasn't there. Had a few red marks, maybe, scrapes from Foreman's facial hair or the rougher kisses, but not a hickey.
"Yeah," House said, scoffing, and swallowed the last of Foreman's coffee. "Maybe, if you could suck hard enough to give me a hickey." He set the mug back on the table, leaning against the edge nonchalantly and added smugly, "You're out of coffee."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2009-01-06 10:42 am (UTC)He froze for a half-second at Foreman's words before forcing himself back into action, taking another sip of coffee--nearly gone now. His brain swam, trying to remember if Foreman had, at some point last night, sucked hard enough at his neck to give him a hickey. He couldn't have. He'd remember, and he didn't remember. Foreman was screwing with him. Had to be. He probably suspected that House was screwing with him and was launching a retaliation, an attempt to make him react the same way. House squinted at Foreman, refusing to let his suspicions show on his face, never even making a move to take a look at his neck for signs of a hickey that he knew wasn't there. Had a few red marks, maybe, scrapes from Foreman's facial hair or the rougher kisses, but not a hickey.
"Yeah," House said, scoffing, and swallowed the last of Foreman's coffee. "Maybe, if you could suck hard enough to give me a hickey." He set the mug back on the table, leaning against the edge nonchalantly and added smugly, "You're out of coffee."