November 12, 2007 - Evening

[house-greg-md.livejournal.com]

House stood outside Foreman's apartment door. He'd slipped into the building, following a resident inside and saving himself the trouble of trying to get Foreman to let him in. The day had been a fucking disaster, between the blowjob in the shower, the case itself, Terzi, and Foreman's pointed disappearance for most of the day.

He wasn't sure exactly what had brought him here. A mix of things. He wouldn't admit that he was actually interested in what Foreman had to say, beyond the inevitable condescension and 'I told you so's and 'you're such a fucking moron'--which, he had to acknowledge, at least in his own head, he deserved. He was a moron. He'd been reminded of it all damn day, every time Terzi was around, every time she said something stupid, and every time he couldn't catch it. He'd had to ask Foreman for verification. He was practically useless in differentials. It was ridiculous, and embarrassing, and he still thought Terzi was hot despite it all. Any genuine interest he had in her had disappeared, leaving purely sexual interest, as soon as she'd proved herself almost completely inept, just a pretty face. And a nice pair of breasts, and sexy, long legs that would feel so damn good wrapped around his--

No. Jesus, he had to stop thinking about this. Fucking idiot. He shook his head as if to clear away the thought, staring at Foreman's door. Wilson had been hardly any help at all, encouraging him to enjoy the whole situation, and House had bit his tongue at that advice. Wilson didn't know, and didn't need to know, the whole situation, and there was no way House could enjoy this while he was the one being an idiot. If it was Foreman who was being an idiot, he would have been having much more fun. But this, this was not fun. Seeing Foreman, besides actually getting an honest opinion--House knew that he could count on Foreman to tell him exactly what he thought, without hesitation, and that it would probably be useful--might help him forget about Terzi. It might put the images and memories of the aborted shower blowjob into his head--he couldn't seem to forget about that either, despite Terzi's presence, whenever Foreman was around, which, now that House thought of it, wasn't often. He wasn't sure if Foreman had been avoiding him or avoiding Terzi, or avoiding both of them, or what, but he put that on his list of questions to ask Foreman before he left tonight.

Tonight. God, he wasn't sure how long he was hoping to stay, but the longer he stood there, outside Foreman's door, the more he wanted to plant himself inside the apartment, say everything he wanted to say, get Foreman to respond, and kiss the hell out of him. That urge bugged him the most, and it refused to fade. House was beginning to imagine trying to argue between kisses, between tearing each other's clothes off. House breathed a small laugh to himself. He really was pathetic. He'd taken Foreman's advice and worn less layers. He'd taken another shower once he'd gone home, jerked off before he got dressed, hoping it would ease his frustration he'd felt lingering throughout the day, but it hadn't done much. He'd had a weak orgasm and had gotten dressed huffing to himself, his mind recalling the events of the whole day, making up his mind that he had to go and see Foreman. Foreman's words echoed in his head as he considered putting his t-shirt on, but he waived it and slipped into another button-down, the first several buttons left undone. Pathetic. Even more pathetic when he wondered if Foreman would notice. Wanted Foreman to notice. Something whispered in his head that he wasn't just here for a distraction from the day; he wanted to be here. Damn it. He shook his head again, frustrated that he couldn't let his thoughts go.

Raising his cane, he knocked loudly on the door with the handle. He waited a few seconds before tapping again, this time refusing to stop until Foreman opened the door.