26 October 2007 - Morning

  • Jun. 12th, 2009 at 7:29 PM
Amber slept soundly. The previous night had taken its toll on her, what with all the physical activity from the sex marathon and, perhaps even more draining, the unexpected emotional intensity she'd felt for Eric. It'd been a lot to take in, and in so brief a period. But she slept better than she had since before she could remember, smooth and tranquil like a night sky in the wilderness.

Her alarm clock’s strident buzzing struck her from sleep and, fuzzy on everything, including her own name, Amber groped in the darkness to grab the noise and shut it up. A warm, large barrier got in her way and she had to sit up, thinking with all her might about where she was and what was happening. She was Amber. This was her bed. The thing she was pressing buttons on was her alarm clock.

And, her expression softening as she remembered, this person next to her was Eric, the guy she’d taken home, on a whim, and fucked. And liked. How strange it was to reflect on last night, with the distance of a few hours’ worth of sleep. It seemed so far away, like it’d all happened to someone else; it certainly didn’t seem like something she’d do. The one-night stand part was more than usual for her, but waking up the next morning caring about the stranger in her bed, that was new. Weird. But nice, too. Much better than the annoyance she normally felt, the same one that made her kick her partners out of her apartment as soon as she could.

Her alarm clock read 6:31. Amber clicked a few more buttons before sliding back down over Eric and giving him a light good-morning kiss. His breath stank, as did hers, but she couldn’t care less. “Woke up yet?” she teased. “My alarm clock will go off in nine minutes, and then I’ll have to go get ready for work. Until then—“ She kissed him again, licking his lips this time. She was too tired be horny, but there couldn’t possibly be a better way to start the day than with a bit of kissing and fondling.

October 25, 2007

  • May. 14th, 2009 at 10:31 PM
Foreman stepped out of Cuddy's office, closing the door softly behind him, and paused for a moment to look down at the floor, letting out a heavy sigh. Even if Cuddy didn't let it be generally known that she was rescuing from his own fuck-up, House would know just looking at him, and from there it was only a matter of time before the entire hospital knew his business. It wasn't much of an auspicious start for controlling House. Foreman didn't believe for a minute Cuddy's words when she'd still been trying to suck up to him that he was the only one on the team who House respected. Whether it was true or not, Foreman had missed his window of opportunity to actually squeeze something worthwhile out of Cuddy, and he was stuck with unenviable task of reining House in when House definitely didn't want it.

Foreman had had a shitty summer. No job, no relationship after he'd broken up with Wendy. He'd taken the opportunity of some time off to write articles and work on his contacts--he'd even gone to a conference in August, combining it with some long-overdue vacation--but mostly he'd been hitting the pavement, looking for the perfect job. Mercy had been it. He'd only been there a month, and he'd already felt so goddamn confident. This was his in. His chance to make his mark on the field. And he'd had an amazing catch with his lymphoma patient. One glance at her lactic acid level and he'd immediately felt like he'd been struck by lightning. He was so damn sure he was as good as House, able to synthesize the answer from one lab result. And he'd been right--but that wasn't good enough.

The weather outside tonight seemed to echo his feelings. Long, grumbling rolls of thunder accompanied the downpour. Foreman pulled on his overcoat and got his umbrella. On Monday morning he'd be back here, shoved into House's insane little game for hiring a team that Cuddy had explained to him, and he wouldn't want to be here, nor would he be wanted. Until then all he had to do was stew over the situation. Any distraction would be more than welcome, but Foreman couldn't think of much to fill his time with. He headed for the doors, but he didn't walk out right away. He waited just inside the doors, staring out at the weather as if he hoped for some break in the storm. Probably about as likely as a change in his own luck.


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