Jesus, he wished that Wilson would just let it go. He led Wilson out into the living room. He'd lead him out into the street and straight into his car if he thought he could, but--no, of course--Wilson wanted to linger. Stick his nose into his business. Like he always did. In fact, House seemed to notice it even more when House wanted a little damn privacy. He felt some of the tension ease out of his body when Wilson surprised him and headed for the door. It all came right back as soon as Wilson turned, though, and looked down. Right at Foreman's briefcase. It took about every fiber of self-control to keep his face from showing the panic that flew through him. The only way this could be worse was if Foreman had the pretentiousness to have his initials stamped into the leather. Christ. And House wouldn't even put it past him.
House glared at Wilson when he spoke, seeming only casually interested, but House knew that he was prying. Digging. "No, but I will tell you that now you don't get anything for the last night of Hanukkah," House said, bending over--he didn't care how much it contradicted his pain argument--to snatch up Foreman's briefcase. He carried it far enough down the hall to launch it into his bedroom, hearing its thud against the floor. Foreman was probably cringing in the closet. House didn't stick around to check, but walked back into the living room.
"I have no other would-be presents for you, here, so"--House stepped past Wilson and swung open the door of the apartment--"you can leave now." House knew that kind of behavior wasn't out of the ordinary if House didn't want Wilson around, so he didn't feel like he was giving anything away. He hoped Wilson wouldn't try to play some kind of good Samaritan and wait until he finished his shower to give him a lift to the hospital. He hoped Wilson wouldn't notice Foreman's car outside, or that he hadn't already and was just fucking with him. God, that would be even more embarrassing. House raised his eyebrows, staring at Wilson as he waited for him to leave, simultaneously working on getting his heart to settle the fuck down. He really didn't need to have a damn heart attack over this.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2009-03-01 06:58 am (UTC)House glared at Wilson when he spoke, seeming only casually interested, but House knew that he was prying. Digging. "No, but I will tell you that now you don't get anything for the last night of Hanukkah," House said, bending over--he didn't care how much it contradicted his pain argument--to snatch up Foreman's briefcase. He carried it far enough down the hall to launch it into his bedroom, hearing its thud against the floor. Foreman was probably cringing in the closet. House didn't stick around to check, but walked back into the living room.
"I have no other would-be presents for you, here, so"--House stepped past Wilson and swung open the door of the apartment--"you can leave now." House knew that kind of behavior wasn't out of the ordinary if House didn't want Wilson around, so he didn't feel like he was giving anything away. He hoped Wilson wouldn't try to play some kind of good Samaritan and wait until he finished his shower to give him a lift to the hospital. He hoped Wilson wouldn't notice Foreman's car outside, or that he hadn't already and was just fucking with him. God, that would be even more embarrassing. House raised his eyebrows, staring at Wilson as he waited for him to leave, simultaneously working on getting his heart to settle the fuck down. He really didn't need to have a damn heart attack over this.