Foreman adjusted quickly when House grabbed him, reaching for the wall to stay steady on his feet. He'd been scrubbing down as quickly as he could, hoping to grab the soap before House took over the spray again. He stopped and met House's eyes evenly, tension tightening in his back as soon as House talked about fucking him, even though House only cared about his leg.
There were times when, against all logic, Foreman wanted to help House, do what he could to make his life easier. He knew it was pointless and mostly futile, not only because of the nerve damage in House's leg but because House wouldn't let him. He knew he shouldn't feel like House was pushing him away. How many times had he seen other people feel exactly that? Cameron, Cuddy, Wilson, they'd all made efforts and House had thrown them back in his face. Especially last year. Still, his immediate reaction was that House was accusing him of being like them, of trying to control him, and Foreman didn't like it. Didn't like the implications that he was caring too much and House was calling him on it. But he'd already decided that the only way he could be with House at all was to set aside his defensiveness about House's leg, since House wasn't going to. Foreman had already managed to get through one bad night with House, and he didn't doubt there would be others. House might appreciate some help then, and he still wouldn't want to ask for it. Foreman would just have to work on ignoring him more, and since he was already pretty damned practiced at that, it shouldn't be hard. "Fine," he said shortly. "You're right."
He wasn't about to let House get away that easily, though. He stepped forward, widening his stance to make sure he could catch House if he slipped, and pushed him back against the tiles, winding one hand up around House's neck to force him to look at him. Foreman lifted his chin, not quite initiating a kiss. "And I was paying attention," he said, keeping his voice low and serious, wondering if House would bolt if he could. I don't let someone do that and not pay attention.
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There were times when, against all logic, Foreman wanted to help House, do what he could to make his life easier. He knew it was pointless and mostly futile, not only because of the nerve damage in House's leg but because House wouldn't let him. He knew he shouldn't feel like House was pushing him away. How many times had he seen other people feel exactly that? Cameron, Cuddy, Wilson, they'd all made efforts and House had thrown them back in his face. Especially last year. Still, his immediate reaction was that House was accusing him of being like them, of trying to control him, and Foreman didn't like it. Didn't like the implications that he was caring too much and House was calling him on it. But he'd already decided that the only way he could be with House at all was to set aside his defensiveness about House's leg, since House wasn't going to. Foreman had already managed to get through one bad night with House, and he didn't doubt there would be others. House might appreciate some help then, and he still wouldn't want to ask for it. Foreman would just have to work on ignoring him more, and since he was already pretty damned practiced at that, it shouldn't be hard. "Fine," he said shortly. "You're right."
He wasn't about to let House get away that easily, though. He stepped forward, widening his stance to make sure he could catch House if he slipped, and pushed him back against the tiles, winding one hand up around House's neck to force him to look at him. Foreman lifted his chin, not quite initiating a kiss. "And I was paying attention," he said, keeping his voice low and serious, wondering if House would bolt if he could. I don't let someone do that and not pay attention.