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wooedforyears2009-03-28 02:11 am
house-greg-md.livejournal.com) wrote in wooedforyears2009-03-28 02:11 am
November 24, 2007 -- Late Afternoon
For the past week, all during their case, Foreman had been trying to rein House in, demand he pick fellows, try to tell him how to conduct the case, look for a diagnosis, as if he'd respect his Cuddy-given-powers and listen. House had brushed him off (well, until he'd actually been right and his advice actually made sense), thinking that if this was Foreman's idea of retaliation--boss him around in front of his team--then it was pathetic. House wasn't even going to acknowledge it. He intentionally avoided Foreman any other time. After the car ride, and the forced avoidance that followed once they got to work, House realized that it was a tactic he could use. He felt smug about it, imagining Foreman brooding, fuming with possessive jealousy because he'd jerked off to memories of an ex-boyfriend that he didn't even know anymore, hadn't seen since his residency had ended decades ago. But apparently it was enough to get to Foreman; he already felt that possessive over him to get pissed off over something like that, as if people didn't fantasize about ex-partners, or even strangers.
Secretly pleased with himself--it helped that he conned Cuddy into getting the fellows he wanted, too--he'd made Foreman sweat it out. He'd resisted the temptation to knock on Foreman's door and get him so turned on he wouldn't be able to turn him away. He'd masturbated instead, certain that Foreman had jerked off to images of what he'd done in the car. Foreman had gotten so hard then, so horny that he hadn't been able to control himself, and House doubted he'd exercised much control when he was alone. It was all too good.
He sat around for most of Saturday, passing most of the afternoon, considering dropping by Foreman's place just out of curiosity, just to see what the hell Foreman would do. Why not, he thought. He had nothing better to do for the next day and a half and he hadn't had a chance to rub this in Foreman's face at work. He still had a grin on his face when he arrived at Foreman's door, sneaking in with a building resident--the cripple card really came in handy sometimes--and knocked on the door, waiting for Foreman to swing it open.
Secretly pleased with himself--it helped that he conned Cuddy into getting the fellows he wanted, too--he'd made Foreman sweat it out. He'd resisted the temptation to knock on Foreman's door and get him so turned on he wouldn't be able to turn him away. He'd masturbated instead, certain that Foreman had jerked off to images of what he'd done in the car. Foreman had gotten so hard then, so horny that he hadn't been able to control himself, and House doubted he'd exercised much control when he was alone. It was all too good.
He sat around for most of Saturday, passing most of the afternoon, considering dropping by Foreman's place just out of curiosity, just to see what the hell Foreman would do. Why not, he thought. He had nothing better to do for the next day and a half and he hadn't had a chance to rub this in Foreman's face at work. He still had a grin on his face when he arrived at Foreman's door, sneaking in with a building resident--the cripple card really came in handy sometimes--and knocked on the door, waiting for Foreman to swing it open.
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Foreman. Or Foreman's briefcase. Wow. It had to have been Foreman's. It sure as hell hadn't been House's, or House's pathetic attempt at a gift for him. Wilson almost laughed out loud. Foreman had probably been there. No wonder House had been trying to kick him back out as quickly as possible. Jesus. He really hadn't expected this, of all the things that could have possibly happened. Of all the things he could have possibly seen. He'd had his suspicions for a while now that House was bisexual. Wilson had never said anything, but he'd wondered. Raised an eyebrow and filed away times when House would make a comment that seemed to reveal that House knew about...certain things, or when Wilson would catch House leering at a man's ass almost the same way he leered at Cuddy's. House had never said anything one way or the other, and Wilson never brought it up, but he hadn't really put it out of his mind. You couldn't put anything out of your mind, when it came to House, or you'd end up being blindsided and knocked on your ass. But as much as he'd suspected about House--and nothing against Foreman--he'd never really suspected this. Wilson leaned forward, holding on to the steering wheel, squinting to try to get a better look, nearly throwing himself back in an irrational attempt to hide when House abruptly shoved Foreman away.