It didn't take more than a minute to get the fitted sheet on the bed, and Foreman was tucking in the top sheet when House came out of the bathroom. The fruity scent wafted out with the steam from the shower, and Foreman pressed his lips together to stop himself from laughing. He couldn't tell if House's hair had more beautiful movement than ever before, since it was towel-dried and standing up in damp spikes, but he'd be sure to compliment House on it anyway. House went straight for his dresser, and Foreman couldn't even find it in himself to be annoyed. He'd let House fuck him. Letting him wear Foreman's boxers hardly held the same uneasy connotations that it had the first time. Besides, it was hot to see House in his clothes, in ways that didn't quite make sense. There was nothing new about seeing House naked at this point, but it was different, seeing the matter-of-fact way he dug through Foreman's dresser, the stubborn I'm not doing anything out of the ordinary tilt to his shoulders. Well, fine. They shared clothes. It would be weirder if Foreman let himself think about it, so he threw the comforter on the bed and concentrated on making hospital corners instead.
When the bed was made, Foreman took a step or two closer to where House was sitting and thoughtfully sniffed the air just above his head, then shrugged, as though it was a complete puzzler to him how his bedroom suddenly smelled like a produce aisle. With another half-smothered grin, Foreman left the room, laughter catching in his chest. Saying nothing would probably be worse than making comments that House could shoot back at him. When he got to the kitchen, he scooped House's clothes off the floor--another thing he wasn't going to think about, the meaning behind what they'd done--and stepped into the living room long enough to toss them onto the couch.
Foreman opened the fridge and then the freezer, to see what he had on hand. He'd managed a grocery run yesterday, but only for beer and snacks. He'd planned to spend Sunday parked in front of the game. As usual, there were some vegetables he'd have to use before they went off, that he'd ignored for a week because of the case. That and a couple of pork chops would make a reasonable stir fry. He picked out what he needed and started getting things ready.
no subject
When the bed was made, Foreman took a step or two closer to where House was sitting and thoughtfully sniffed the air just above his head, then shrugged, as though it was a complete puzzler to him how his bedroom suddenly smelled like a produce aisle. With another half-smothered grin, Foreman left the room, laughter catching in his chest. Saying nothing would probably be worse than making comments that House could shoot back at him. When he got to the kitchen, he scooped House's clothes off the floor--another thing he wasn't going to think about, the meaning behind what they'd done--and stepped into the living room long enough to toss them onto the couch.
Foreman opened the fridge and then the freezer, to see what he had on hand. He'd managed a grocery run yesterday, but only for beer and snacks. He'd planned to spend Sunday parked in front of the game. As usual, there were some vegetables he'd have to use before they went off, that he'd ignored for a week because of the case. That and a couple of pork chops would make a reasonable stir fry. He picked out what he needed and started getting things ready.