House was trying not to let his panic get the better of him, but it was a challenge when Foreman sounded just as frantic as he felt. God damn Wilson for having a fucking key. God damn Wilson's stupid need to come over and check that he wasn't passed out on the floor again. He was probably feet away from the bedroom door. Inches. Fuck. They didn't have time for this. House grimaced when Foreman pulled out, but adrenaline was keeping him from feeling too much discomfort, too much of anything besides the frenzied need to get Foreman out of sight. House managed to sit up by the time Foreman thrust his cane at him, heart pounding, blood roaring in his head. He grabbed it, hooked his boxers up with the cane and squirmed into them before standing up. "Shut up!" House hissed, trying to keep his voice down so Wilson wouldn't hear what was going on. Normally he'd argue, but he'd save it for later. He didn't exactly have the time right now. God, he probably looked ridiculous, wriggling and hurrying. He felt ridiculous. Jesus Christ, he was going to strangle Wilson for showing up, ruining a lazy morning and awesome sex, and probably making him stress his leg more than he needed to right now to cover it all.
But he knew that he had to play this cool, or he'd tip Wilson off immediately, and if he couldn't keep it together, he might as well let Wilson walk in and see them with their pants down. House wasn't sure how much time had passed, but he wasn't about to wait for Foreman to get dressed and amble into the bathroom, or wherever he picked for his hiding place. So House, lunging forward and grabbing Foreman by the arm, decided to pick for him. If Foreman fought him on this then he'd be caught here, hardly dressed, and he knew Foreman didn't want that to happen. House opened his closet and, glaring at Foreman as threateningly as possible, shoved him inside with as much strength as he could muster. Or, at least, tried to shove him inside, hoping Foreman would take the hint and cooperate.
Wilson's voice sounded from the hall. Oh, fucking Christ. House whipped his head around to glance at the door, then looked back at Foreman. "Just shut up," he said and swung the door in Foreman's face, moving back over toward the bed, frantically hiding Foreman's clothes under the covers. He had to get this under control. His brain whirled, trying to think of a cover. Pain. Bad pain. Bad pain morning. Couldn't make it in. Just got out of bed. Good enough. Breathing hard, House turned and plopped down onto the bed, leaning over to grab his leg, scrunching his face to try to exaggerate how bad the pain was at the moment, hoping like hell Foreman would keep quiet until Wilson left.
no subject
But he knew that he had to play this cool, or he'd tip Wilson off immediately, and if he couldn't keep it together, he might as well let Wilson walk in and see them with their pants down. House wasn't sure how much time had passed, but he wasn't about to wait for Foreman to get dressed and amble into the bathroom, or wherever he picked for his hiding place. So House, lunging forward and grabbing Foreman by the arm, decided to pick for him. If Foreman fought him on this then he'd be caught here, hardly dressed, and he knew Foreman didn't want that to happen. House opened his closet and, glaring at Foreman as threateningly as possible, shoved him inside with as much strength as he could muster. Or, at least, tried to shove him inside, hoping Foreman would take the hint and cooperate.
Wilson's voice sounded from the hall. Oh, fucking Christ. House whipped his head around to glance at the door, then looked back at Foreman. "Just shut up," he said and swung the door in Foreman's face, moving back over toward the bed, frantically hiding Foreman's clothes under the covers. He had to get this under control. His brain whirled, trying to think of a cover. Pain. Bad pain. Bad pain morning. Couldn't make it in. Just got out of bed. Good enough. Breathing hard, House turned and plopped down onto the bed, leaning over to grab his leg, scrunching his face to try to exaggerate how bad the pain was at the moment, hoping like hell Foreman would keep quiet until Wilson left.