Foreman's heart thudded once, almost painfully hard, when House met his eyes and told him it was important. That he was important. It was practically panic, a rush of adrenaline, and Foreman barely managed to stand his ground, or take a breath. He didn't know what he'd gotten himself into. He really didn't. And if it mattered to House, and he already knew it mattered to him--he wouldn't be acting like this, making declarations, if it didn't--then they were both monumentally screwed.
He couldn't believe that House wanted to pin the blame for tonight on him, though. As though if he'd just stayed home, and acted as boring as House liked to accuse him of being, then House wouldn't have been forced to break in, and hunt him down, and storm through the restaurant like a tornado. House's goddamn curiosity was his own fault.
"You haven't talked to me in a week!" Foreman tried to yank back his control, but he'd already looked away before turning back to House, as if there might be someone else in the room he could turn to who'd back him up. "I had to follow Taub to find out where you were doing the differentials." That wasn't what bothered him the most, although it still stung that he'd given House his medical opinion and House had told him to his face that since they didn't agree, House didn't need him around. But that wasn't the worst. House played games at work and Foreman knew that. It was House jerking off in his car. Not the jerking off--which had turned him on, every word out of House's mouth only making him hornier--but the fact that House had walked away from him afterwards. Left him to get himself off, left him like he wasn't worth the time of day, like it wasn't House's fault that he was hard in the first place. Foreman wasn't going to say that. He'd been pathetic, masturbating alone in his car, for all he knew being laughed at by whoever sat at the other side of the security cameras. Losing control for House and House hadn't cared. "How was I supposed to know that you'd give up the silent treatment tonight?" he asked instead, repressing an eye-roll. "I'm not going to wait around for your convenience."
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He couldn't believe that House wanted to pin the blame for tonight on him, though. As though if he'd just stayed home, and acted as boring as House liked to accuse him of being, then House wouldn't have been forced to break in, and hunt him down, and storm through the restaurant like a tornado. House's goddamn curiosity was his own fault.
"You haven't talked to me in a week!" Foreman tried to yank back his control, but he'd already looked away before turning back to House, as if there might be someone else in the room he could turn to who'd back him up. "I had to follow Taub to find out where you were doing the differentials." That wasn't what bothered him the most, although it still stung that he'd given House his medical opinion and House had told him to his face that since they didn't agree, House didn't need him around. But that wasn't the worst. House played games at work and Foreman knew that. It was House jerking off in his car. Not the jerking off--which had turned him on, every word out of House's mouth only making him hornier--but the fact that House had walked away from him afterwards. Left him to get himself off, left him like he wasn't worth the time of day, like it wasn't House's fault that he was hard in the first place. Foreman wasn't going to say that. He'd been pathetic, masturbating alone in his car, for all he knew being laughed at by whoever sat at the other side of the security cameras. Losing control for House and House hadn't cared. "How was I supposed to know that you'd give up the silent treatment tonight?" he asked instead, repressing an eye-roll. "I'm not going to wait around for your convenience."