House booked it for the door, scooping up his backpack on the way, and couldn't hold back a grin when he heard Foreman scrambling to catch up. House made sure to set the lock on the door before he made his way out to the hallway, Foreman right on his heels. He didn't reply to Foreman's demand, keeping hold of the keys, feeling a small tinge of satisfaction that it had been this easy to drag Foreman out of his place. The smirk, though, made him uneasy, and House eyed him. He had a feeling he wouldn't like whatever was about to come out of Foreman's mouth, but he waited, not stopping on his way toward Foreman's car.
The second Foreman spoke, House made up his mind; now, there wasn't even a chance he'd give up these keys. No way. Not if Foreman was going to play like that. "Now I'm definitely driving," House said, closing his fist tightly around Foreman's keys--the metal started to dig into his hand, but he didn't want to risk losing them--as he rounded the car. He tried to cover the hot frustration making its way to his face, refusing to acknowledge the flush that crept up his neck and into his ears. A part of him hated that Foreman already knew things like that about him, but hated even more that he was using them against him. If Foreman didn't know where to start drawing the line, then House would feign ignorance, too. See how he liked it. Shove his damn smug straight back down his throat. House shielded the door as he unlocked it and practically threw himself inside the car.
With the door hanging open, House turned the key in the ignition and said, "Sure, go ahead. If you do that"--he was not about to say the words 'tickle me'--"it'll be your fault when we run off the road." He didn't wait for Foreman to reply before he slammed the door--if Foreman tried to reach in, he'd spare no fingers--and thought about locking Foreman out of his own damn car, giving him a scare by threatening to rip up some of the upholstery, but he left the passenger door unlocked. He tossed his backpack and cane into the backseat as he waited for Foreman to give up and get the hell in the car for what House was planning on making a nice, panic-inducing car ride.
no subject
The second Foreman spoke, House made up his mind; now, there wasn't even a chance he'd give up these keys. No way. Not if Foreman was going to play like that. "Now I'm definitely driving," House said, closing his fist tightly around Foreman's keys--the metal started to dig into his hand, but he didn't want to risk losing them--as he rounded the car. He tried to cover the hot frustration making its way to his face, refusing to acknowledge the flush that crept up his neck and into his ears. A part of him hated that Foreman already knew things like that about him, but hated even more that he was using them against him. If Foreman didn't know where to start drawing the line, then House would feign ignorance, too. See how he liked it. Shove his damn smug straight back down his throat. House shielded the door as he unlocked it and practically threw himself inside the car.
With the door hanging open, House turned the key in the ignition and said, "Sure, go ahead. If you do that"--he was not about to say the words 'tickle me'--"it'll be your fault when we run off the road." He didn't wait for Foreman to reply before he slammed the door--if Foreman tried to reach in, he'd spare no fingers--and thought about locking Foreman out of his own damn car, giving him a scare by threatening to rip up some of the upholstery, but he left the passenger door unlocked. He tossed his backpack and cane into the backseat as he waited for Foreman to give up and get the hell in the car for what House was planning on making a nice, panic-inducing car ride.