Foreman opened his mouth to cut Marty short--he and Nathan were anything but close now--but House took the words out of his mouth. Foreman glanced at him, half of him wondering if House was saying that only because he'd happily prove Marty wrong in any way he could, or because he really believed it--was really making some assertion about their relationship. Either way, this was getting out of hand. Marty had been the one who'd shaken his head when Foreman told him that he and Nathan weren't together anymore. He'd offered his couch, for fuck's sake. Foreman hadn't taken him up on it; he and Nathan had managed to find other arrangements. The point was, Marty had commiserated. Had actually seemed to care. There'd never been a hint that if Foreman hooked up with someone Marty disliked, that he'd use Nathan against him, as if his sympathy before had been nothing but an act. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded. Marty only shrugged and produced Nathan's card, setting it in front of Foreman without a care.
Foreman stared at the card without picking it up. If he picked it up, he'd be ending whatever the hell he was doing with House. House was insecure enough, jealous enough, that for Foreman to even look like he was willing to talk with Nathan, that would mean in House's eyes that Foreman was hoping to revive a relationship that had been dead for five years. Foreman could call Nathan, or email him, any time he wanted. It wasn't like he'd lost the ability to use a phonebook, and as far as he knew, Nathan hadn't left his firm; his email would be the same. Marty should know he didn't want to call Nathan. Their breakup had been icy and civilized. Both of them had agreed that they were moving on to different things. If, five years later, Nathan was interested in hearing from him, Foreman could only imagine that it was because they had enough distance that they knew they'd never be getting back together.
No, Marty had no interest in playing matchmaker, and Foreman wouldn't be surprised if he was holding back the fact that Nathan had gone and gotten married, or something just as momentous, and wanted to share the news. Marty wanted to sabotage his relationship with House. He might think it was amusing to watch House explode, but he didn't seem to notice, or care, that Foreman had made a choice, whether Marty approved or not, and Marty was doing his best to ruin it. Some fucking friend. On the other hand, Foreman didn't want House to think that Foreman wouldn't talk to people from his past, would cut them entirely out of his life, just because House couldn't handle it. He wanted House to fucking trust him. But since that was too much to ask at work, it seemed even less likely now.
Before Foreman had made the decision--still staring at the card like it would poison him if he touched it--their waiter arrived and started setting plates in front of them. House's steak was still sizzling; the waiter asked Marty if he wanted ground pepper on his salmon, and Marty nodded enthusiastically, so that the waiter leaned between Foreman and House to twist the peppermill over Marty's plate. Foreman let his head slump back against the booth, turning to face away from House's stare. When the waiter was finally gone, Foreman met House's eyes and picked up the card. "I don't need this," he said, and dropped it back in front of Marty.
Marty looked more amused than ever, smirking as he picked up his wine and took a sip. "You're a lucky man, Greg."
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Foreman stared at the card without picking it up. If he picked it up, he'd be ending whatever the hell he was doing with House. House was insecure enough, jealous enough, that for Foreman to even look like he was willing to talk with Nathan, that would mean in House's eyes that Foreman was hoping to revive a relationship that had been dead for five years. Foreman could call Nathan, or email him, any time he wanted. It wasn't like he'd lost the ability to use a phonebook, and as far as he knew, Nathan hadn't left his firm; his email would be the same. Marty should know he didn't want to call Nathan. Their breakup had been icy and civilized. Both of them had agreed that they were moving on to different things. If, five years later, Nathan was interested in hearing from him, Foreman could only imagine that it was because they had enough distance that they knew they'd never be getting back together.
No, Marty had no interest in playing matchmaker, and Foreman wouldn't be surprised if he was holding back the fact that Nathan had gone and gotten married, or something just as momentous, and wanted to share the news. Marty wanted to sabotage his relationship with House. He might think it was amusing to watch House explode, but he didn't seem to notice, or care, that Foreman had made a choice, whether Marty approved or not, and Marty was doing his best to ruin it. Some fucking friend. On the other hand, Foreman didn't want House to think that Foreman wouldn't talk to people from his past, would cut them entirely out of his life, just because House couldn't handle it. He wanted House to fucking trust him. But since that was too much to ask at work, it seemed even less likely now.
Before Foreman had made the decision--still staring at the card like it would poison him if he touched it--their waiter arrived and started setting plates in front of them. House's steak was still sizzling; the waiter asked Marty if he wanted ground pepper on his salmon, and Marty nodded enthusiastically, so that the waiter leaned between Foreman and House to twist the peppermill over Marty's plate. Foreman let his head slump back against the booth, turning to face away from House's stare. When the waiter was finally gone, Foreman met House's eyes and picked up the card. "I don't need this," he said, and dropped it back in front of Marty.
Marty looked more amused than ever, smirking as he picked up his wine and took a sip. "You're a lucky man, Greg."