Cornering Foreman while he was in the shower was convenient, even if Foreman could--and would, if he felt like it--brush him off. Foreman seemed angry enough to spout the truth, though, and even though House always preferred it--reality over a soothing lie--Foreman's reply still jolted him enough to make him stare hard at Foreman through the frosted shower doors. He felt the furrow of his brow as he thought about that response. Foreman wanted hide this solely because House was involved, and House was certain that it had everything to do with his professional reputation. Foreman barely had any friends to worry about, if he had any at all, and his family never seemed high on his list of priorities. A guy who doesn't return home for that long wouldn't care about curbing his behavior to parental expectations. His career was all that was left. Respect. Foreman wouldn't get respect if people heard about this particular personal relationship, no matter how good of a doctor he was, and House, personally, didn't give a damn.
He did, however, care about the fact that Foreman knew all of this, but was taking the risk. It was more flattering than House would admit to Foreman, and it was a risk he probably didn't deserve. Foreman wouldn't risk his career for somebody he thought was a worthless asshole and a decent lay. He met Foreman's eyes when Foreman got out of the shower, reaching for a towel. He still leaned against the door, making no move to hand Foreman his towel or get out of the way. Foreman's question was stupid; House was sure he already knew the answer, or maybe he already forgot about being shoved inside his closet.
House rolled his eyes. "I was thinking a Mexican fiesta in the lobby. Think Cuddy would foot the bill for a mariachi band?" House knew that, at some point, people would find out. Hound him. Both of them. Not leave it alone. He could wait for that day; he wasn't about to help it arrive any faster. He was still trying to work through this himself. The entire situation, what he wanted, what Foreman wanted. It was still intriguing that Foreman seemed to want him enough to risk his reputation, and House couldn't quite get that implied confession out of his head. He studied Foreman, waiting until he was mostly dried off, just before he'd probably want to leave the room, and said, "You know I'm a danger to your reputation, but you're with me anyway."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2009-03-22 06:52 am (UTC)He did, however, care about the fact that Foreman knew all of this, but was taking the risk. It was more flattering than House would admit to Foreman, and it was a risk he probably didn't deserve. Foreman wouldn't risk his career for somebody he thought was a worthless asshole and a decent lay. He met Foreman's eyes when Foreman got out of the shower, reaching for a towel. He still leaned against the door, making no move to hand Foreman his towel or get out of the way. Foreman's question was stupid; House was sure he already knew the answer, or maybe he already forgot about being shoved inside his closet.
House rolled his eyes. "I was thinking a Mexican fiesta in the lobby. Think Cuddy would foot the bill for a mariachi band?" House knew that, at some point, people would find out. Hound him. Both of them. Not leave it alone. He could wait for that day; he wasn't about to help it arrive any faster. He was still trying to work through this himself. The entire situation, what he wanted, what Foreman wanted. It was still intriguing that Foreman seemed to want him enough to risk his reputation, and House couldn't quite get that implied confession out of his head. He studied Foreman, waiting until he was mostly dried off, just before he'd probably want to leave the room, and said, "You know I'm a danger to your reputation, but you're with me anyway."