Foreman raised an eyebrow at the TV show House had picked, even though he wasn't really surprised that House's first choice would be people apparently trying to kill themselves with sporting vehicles--House fit in that category himself. Foreman didn't really care; he concentrated on eating instead, shifting slightly to make himself comfortable and pushing House's jeans over to his side of the couch. The first few bites only made Foreman realize how hungry he was. He glanced at House once or twice. House wasn't making a dive for his food, but he wasn't making any moves to get his own, either. Well, it wasn't Foreman's problem.
No sooner had he thought that than House struck with his cane, dumping Foreman's meal in his lap. "Jesus, House--" That's the second dinner you've ruined for me tonight came to his lips, but he clamped them shut before he could say it. He didn't need House getting huffy again when House was the one flinging food around. Foreman scraped as much of the mess as he could from his lap and from the couch back onto his plate. His hoodie was probably going to stain from the sauce, and it was one he actually liked, that he'd had since undergrad. So he wasn't going to be left to eat in peace unless House was fed. Foreman threw his fork down on his plate with a clatter and banged the plate down in front of House on the coffee table. "Did you want some? Here. Let me know if you need help getting the fork in your mouth, too."
Foreman stood up and started for the kitchen, pulling his hoodie off as he went to check the stain. The sweatpants he didn't care about, and he could throw them in the wash later, but he took a second to get out a cloth and blot the sauce off the hoodie. He cleaned it as best he could, fuming in frustration over how obnoxious House was being--first the jab when Foreman was cooking, and now this. Foreman expected it at work, or when they were arguing, or even during sex, but he didn't see the point of it now. When the hoodie was as clean as he could get it, Foreman pulled it back on, still damp. He was still hungry, so he filled the second plate with food, leaving hardly any in the frying pan, and headed back to the living room. This time he stayed standing, and well out of House's reach, even with the cane. Giving House a mild glare, Foreman took a bite. Still not serving you, he thought, and waited for House's reaction instead of immediately heading for the dining room, where he'd probably be safe.
no subject
No sooner had he thought that than House struck with his cane, dumping Foreman's meal in his lap. "Jesus, House--" That's the second dinner you've ruined for me tonight came to his lips, but he clamped them shut before he could say it. He didn't need House getting huffy again when House was the one flinging food around. Foreman scraped as much of the mess as he could from his lap and from the couch back onto his plate. His hoodie was probably going to stain from the sauce, and it was one he actually liked, that he'd had since undergrad. So he wasn't going to be left to eat in peace unless House was fed. Foreman threw his fork down on his plate with a clatter and banged the plate down in front of House on the coffee table. "Did you want some? Here. Let me know if you need help getting the fork in your mouth, too."
Foreman stood up and started for the kitchen, pulling his hoodie off as he went to check the stain. The sweatpants he didn't care about, and he could throw them in the wash later, but he took a second to get out a cloth and blot the sauce off the hoodie. He cleaned it as best he could, fuming in frustration over how obnoxious House was being--first the jab when Foreman was cooking, and now this. Foreman expected it at work, or when they were arguing, or even during sex, but he didn't see the point of it now. When the hoodie was as clean as he could get it, Foreman pulled it back on, still damp. He was still hungry, so he filled the second plate with food, leaving hardly any in the frying pan, and headed back to the living room. This time he stayed standing, and well out of House's reach, even with the cane. Giving House a mild glare, Foreman took a bite. Still not serving you, he thought, and waited for House's reaction instead of immediately heading for the dining room, where he'd probably be safe.