For a second, House felt a sense of victory. He was right. This was about Jake. This was about Foreman's damn insecurities over a fantasy. At least House had been concerned about something concrete, a person still in Foreman's circle, or could easily be reinstated. It didn't take long for that victory to go away. House's posture stiffened, his hand gripping onto his cane tightly, knuckles aching, when Foreman reacted. House could feel his anger rising, his defenses rising with it. His body stayed still, only following Foreman with his eyes when Foreman moved. He swallowed, processing the words, and trying to work up a cool, collected response, something that would leave Foreman with his mouth hanging open as House made for the door. But cool and collected really wasn't happening, and House felt his thoughts ricocheting inside his brain, bouncing down, into his mouth, ready to burst. And House couldn't hold back, not after the way the night--the whole damn week--had gone.
"I am interested!" House blurted out, starting to breathe fast, feel himself getting even more worked up but couldn't stop it. He took another step forward, not to take advantage of the space Foreman left, but to put himself in Foreman's way, trap him against the counter and make him admit what he wanted to say, what House knew he was holding back. "I haven't seen Jake in over a decade, but I came looking for you. Twice." House was so close to Foreman he could lean an inch forward and kiss him; he could barely focus on Foreman's face, glaring at one eye at a time. "I know you care about my boyfriend, because you're it, and if there's one person you care about it's yourself. Or I thought you were. Maybe I'm employing that 'first-class logic' again." House couldn't resist the opportunity to mock, throw those words back in Foreman's face, his anger and frustration, and things he'd wanted to say leaping out between hard breaths. He didn't care if he was breathing fast. Hot air all over Foreman's face. He could fucking move if he wanted to, shove House out of the way. "But I don't know, Foreman. You tell me. Give me a lesson about logic from the guy who can't tell the difference between a fantasy and something real."
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"I am interested!" House blurted out, starting to breathe fast, feel himself getting even more worked up but couldn't stop it. He took another step forward, not to take advantage of the space Foreman left, but to put himself in Foreman's way, trap him against the counter and make him admit what he wanted to say, what House knew he was holding back. "I haven't seen Jake in over a decade, but I came looking for you. Twice." House was so close to Foreman he could lean an inch forward and kiss him; he could barely focus on Foreman's face, glaring at one eye at a time. "I know you care about my boyfriend, because you're it, and if there's one person you care about it's yourself. Or I thought you were. Maybe I'm employing that 'first-class logic' again." House couldn't resist the opportunity to mock, throw those words back in Foreman's face, his anger and frustration, and things he'd wanted to say leaping out between hard breaths. He didn't care if he was breathing fast. Hot air all over Foreman's face. He could fucking move if he wanted to, shove House out of the way. "But I don't know, Foreman. You tell me. Give me a lesson about logic from the guy who can't tell the difference between a fantasy and something real."