Foreman clamped his lips together as soon as the words left his mouth. Fuck, he must have sounded like an idiot. Of course House cared about what he did--cared enough to interfere with his business, to screw with him, or try to poke holes in everything Foreman did and prove how worthless his entire life and anything he wanted to accomplish was. That wasn't what he'd meant but he was sure that House would take it that way, as if he'd just said something blindingly obvious. He glanced over and, just like he'd expected, House was staring at him like he was a moron. Christ. He'd let a crack show by asking if House cared, and House would probably aim for it with all guns blazing.
"I don't do whatever I want--that's you," he spat. "You don't care what anybody thinks, so it doesn't matter what you do." Except it mattered to him. House was acting like Foreman was an inconvenience, like he was getting in the way of House flirting with other people. Meaningless meant not getting complicated, not letting feelings get in the way; it didn't mean that he didn't care that he was being treated as second-best. "You're sure doing a hell of a good job of changing my mind, since you think I'd rather hire a hooker than be with you."
Shit. Shit. Foreman just couldn't keep his fucking mouth shut. His heart was racing--because he was pissed off, not because he was afraid of what he'd just said. He fucking hated how House could get him angry enough to blurt out a stream of words that had nothing to do with what he really meant.
They were approaching the hospital. Foreman was probably lucky that he hadn't been pulled over for speeding. God, even parking was going to be a nightmare--his space wasn't far from the doors and last night he hadn't cared in the least that they'd left together because the lot had been nearly empty. Foreman had been more intent on House than on what anyone might see. He'd even kissed him, right out in the open, without even thinking about it. If House wanted to analyze his actions then that one was way too telling to be comfortable. Foreman wasn't going to be a jackass about it. If he was, he'd probably make House get out and walk, and the only other option--getting out and walking himself--was even worse, for different reasons. Mainly, House's delight at rooting around in Foreman's glove box and finding his condoms. Foreman's face heated when he thought about exactly how he'd used that condom. Hell, how he'd pushed House back in his seat and kissed him. How did he still want that?
It didn't matter now, anyway. Foreman parked the car and switched it off, but he didn't make a move to get out. He slumped back against the headrest, hoping House would just take a damn hint already and go without him, give him a minute to collect his thoughts.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2009-01-09 12:23 am (UTC)"I don't do whatever I want--that's you," he spat. "You don't care what anybody thinks, so it doesn't matter what you do." Except it mattered to him. House was acting like Foreman was an inconvenience, like he was getting in the way of House flirting with other people. Meaningless meant not getting complicated, not letting feelings get in the way; it didn't mean that he didn't care that he was being treated as second-best. "You're sure doing a hell of a good job of changing my mind, since you think I'd rather hire a hooker than be with you."
Shit. Shit. Foreman just couldn't keep his fucking mouth shut. His heart was racing--because he was pissed off, not because he was afraid of what he'd just said. He fucking hated how House could get him angry enough to blurt out a stream of words that had nothing to do with what he really meant.
They were approaching the hospital. Foreman was probably lucky that he hadn't been pulled over for speeding. God, even parking was going to be a nightmare--his space wasn't far from the doors and last night he hadn't cared in the least that they'd left together because the lot had been nearly empty. Foreman had been more intent on House than on what anyone might see. He'd even kissed him, right out in the open, without even thinking about it. If House wanted to analyze his actions then that one was way too telling to be comfortable. Foreman wasn't going to be a jackass about it. If he was, he'd probably make House get out and walk, and the only other option--getting out and walking himself--was even worse, for different reasons. Mainly, House's delight at rooting around in Foreman's glove box and finding his condoms. Foreman's face heated when he thought about exactly how he'd used that condom. Hell, how he'd pushed House back in his seat and kissed him. How did he still want that?
It didn't matter now, anyway. Foreman parked the car and switched it off, but he didn't make a move to get out. He slumped back against the headrest, hoping House would just take a damn hint already and go without him, give him a minute to collect his thoughts.