October 30, 2007 - Midmorning

[eric_foreman]

Going to the lecture theatre was out of the question. Foreman didn't care if House was waiting there with a case, bright-eyed and eager to work. His job had changed, and he'd act like it. He took the elevator up to the Diagnostics office instead, hanging up his coat carefully. Standing there, with it still in his hands, he remembered the dry-cleaning and fresh shirt he'd left in the back of his car. What a wonderful idea, to go straight to Amber's place after work, to spend time with her and ignore distractions...Jesus, maybe they were kidding themselves. If they couldn't make it through a car ride without arguing, what chance did they have to spend a whole evening together? It couldn't possibly work out if they switched between sex, no matter how fantastic, and fights that didn't have any resolution. He grimaced and spun on his heel, determined not to think about it. He'd make a pot of coffee, read the paper, scrounge for breakfast. He'd ignore House until Diagnostics had a case. He'd check in with Cameron, work his clinic hours, and he'd organize the department. He wouldn't get ahead of himself and start thinking about tonight.

Yet Foreman still wanted to go. He felt safer with Amber when his two worlds, the personal and the professional, weren't intersecting. They'd had a real conversation at the restaurant, both before and after the situation had devolved to something more shameless. They could talk. Just not about work. The most important thing in both their lives--leaving it aside wouldn't give them much of a range to discuss.

Time. That's what it took. Foreman opened a packet of coffee grounds and started the machine. Time was unlikely to fix the things he and Amber were arguing about, or soften either of their positions. So Amber was the cut-throat bitch? Foreman had been called his share of names for being ambitious. He'd thrown friends to the wolves before, too...he'd known, he'd known all along that Cameron would wait for House to read her article, while Foreman just shoved the papers under his nose and barked, "Sign this." House had glanced up, eyebrows raised, gaze turning evaluating, about to start picking. "It's an article," Foreman said. "I'm submitting it. You're signing off on it, because you know that I wouldn't send in anything sub-standard, and if you wanted to peer-review you would, so no, you don't need to read it first."

House had actually--for one moment in his fucking life--not said anything, but reached for the pen Foreman thrust at him. He signed with a flourish, offering the pages back to Foreman with a mimed air of wounded innocence, but Foreman hadn't missed his smirk. House had known, just as well as Foreman had, that Cameron's article was still sitting on his desk. House had signed because it was a joke to him to play them off each other. Foreman had won; Cameron had tried to scold him, as if that made him a bad little boy. No. Not going to happen. He wasn't guilty. It didn't matter. He'd won.

Wasn't that what Amber did? Wasn't that the side of herself she put out for the whole world to see? Foreman had told Cameron they weren't friends. They weren't friends. But that made it easier, didn't it? That mitigated his responsibility.

I don't hide myself behind false niceties, opening doors just to make people like me.

Foreman didn't either. Amber just didn't know that yet.

Shaking his head, Foreman poured himself a cup of coffee, fixing it the way he liked it. He'd promised he'd ask Cameron for cases. He still wanted Amber to trust him, and this was part of his job. There was probably nothing. After he'd confirmed that, he could retreat to the conference room and work on House's backlog of paperwork all he wanted, and avoid the candidates as long as he liked. He left the office on the way to the elevator, coffee in one hand, stomach rumbling.

Comments

[eric_foreman]

Foreman barely noticed Chase falling into step with him. His answer--that of course he and Cameron fought--was no help at all. Foreman grunted. What was he supposed to do with that? It hadn't stopped them from getting together, great. That was because Chase could be spineless and Cameron could rationalize her way out of a minotaur's maze. It wasn't the same. Amber could cut him with a glance, freeze up and throw the worst things she could say at him. This soon, and she already knew what weapons hurt the most. Being with her put him in the line of fire, and that wasn't what Foreman wanted to be thinking about when he was with her. So much of the time, it wasn't--it was only when something came between them, a medical opinion or anything else--that he felt the enormity of being that target. The more they got to know each other, the more ammunition Amber would have. They'd both have. Foreman had said his share of things that he shouldn't have, and he knew that.

"No," he said, pushing open the cafeteria door and stepping into the line. This was a stupid place to talk. He didn't know why he'd agreed to come here. Having the nurses whispering about him and Amber would hardly help her to trust him. Maybe the promise not to tell anyone about what they'd done was implicit, but Foreman wanted to honour it. He moved to the coffee and poured himself another cup, and grabbed a bagel too. At least he'd eat. And push the conversation back on to Chase. "So that's it? You fought and made up and you've settled down together?" House would probably vomit at the saccharine thought. Foreman could already feel himself gagging. The perfect couple. He tossed a couple of bills at the cashier and waited for his change.

[robert_chase]

Chase would sleep more than okay at night, not knowing what was bothering Foreman this much. But if they'd come this far-- and it was pretty far, for Foreman to even consider venting at him-- then they might as well go all the way. "Okay, spit it out, your bad mood is getting to me. What is this about? Did you fight with that Amber girl and now she won't give you the time of day? Or are you scared of asking her out again, seeing the dark future where you two end up unhappily ever after?" Either way, he was worrying too damn much. If she didn't like him, that sucked; Chase had some experience in just how much. Cameron had taken a long while before coming round to admitting that she liked him, too. If Foreman was coward, then his misery right now was his own fault.

He served himself, setting up his own breakfast on a tray. He and Cameron never cooked; they had neither the time nor the interest. Dinner and weekends were take-out, breakfasts and lunches were at the hospital. Chase grabbed his own cup of coffee and a sandwich. Spending as many hours as he did on his feet, he needed all the energy he could get in the morning.

Foreman would probably try to bite his head for giving unasked for advice, but whatever. He hadn't cared what Foreman thought of him when they were working together, and now he had even less to worry about. "If you want to be with her, and if you can make it happen, then I say do it." Foreman had to stop over thinking things and just live. “I’m pretty sure Cameron would tell you the same thing.” Actually, she might very well take Foreman's side, or Amber's, and decide that it was just too complicated for either one of them to get into. But since he and Cameron had ended up so great, Chase hoped she'd be a bigger advocate of difficult love.

[eric_foreman]

Foreman bristled when Chase ignored his question and acted like Foreman had left the door open for Chase to continue interrogating Foreman's life. He hated the sound of Chase drawling out 'that Amber girl', dismissing her without a thought. Grabbing his change, Foreman gave Chase another dark look and headed into the seating area. Chase was all too happy to throw more facile advice at his head. "Yeah, I figured that out, thanks," he said. It was the if you can make it happen that was so easy for Chase to say and apparently impossible for Foreman to pull off.

He led the way to a table and set his tray down only just short of a slam. Instead of sitting down immediately, he rested his hands on the table and stared at Chase. "I like her," he said, defying Chase to say anything about how fast it had happened or that it had happened at all. "And if House hears that, we'll probably be in for worse than you and Cameron ever got."

He slumped down into his chair at last. He stirred his coffee, spoon clinking against the sides of the mug. That wasn't the worst of it, by far. "And I don't know how to tell her." He'd fucked it up every time he tried. When he'd tried to be supportive, and when he'd tried to assert himself as separate from her without implicating both their personalities in some duel to the death. He glowered at Chase again, because if he suggested that Foreman set up a weekly schedule of announcing it, Foreman was going to walk out on him. He shook his head, feeling the tension drain out of him, replaced by hopelessness. He felt like a fucking idiot even admitting this out loud. At least there wasn't anybody nearby to overhear them. "Every time I throw myself back in I make it worse."

[robert_chase]

Chase passed a crumpled bill to the cashier and nodded in thanks when she returned the change in coins. He'd barely caught Foreman's scowl, as if his turmoil were Chase's fault, but even if Chase had missed it, he'd had known it was there. Foreman had never taken well to having his errors pointed out; of course he'd get uglier when it was about his personal life.

Sliding his tray onto the table and sitting down, Chase wondered if Foreman could hear himself and just how ridiculous he sounded. Though he was amusing, too. Not even when he'd been with Wendy had Chase seen him this affected. He didn’t have to say a word; Chase could tell how much he liked her from his levels of pissiness. He couldn't wait to tell Cameron that Foreman was making a fool of himself in love. Her expression would be priceless. "I don't know, you made it pretty clear to me. Have you tried telling her that way?" Chase had. He frowned into his sandwich, remembering. For weeks and weeks, past his own embarrassment threshold, he'd told Cameron he liked her. Wanted to be with her. At first it'd been liberating, fun, finally admitting to the feelings that, in retrospect, he'd nursed from the beginning. By the end it was agonizing, her refusals growing crueler and colder. He wouldn't take back a single one of those I Like Yous, but they'd been hard.

"And what makes you think House would be harder on you?" Admittedly, when House had revealed that he knew Chase and Cameron were sleeping together, he hadn't even had the decency to pretend to care. Probably thought it was funnier that way, making Cameron go crazy figuring out why he wasn't bothered, and Chase lovesick that the girl he was into wanted someone else. The worst House had ever done to them was be the object of Cameron's years-long crush, and Chase doubted that was Amber's case. Far as Chase could tell, nothing House did to Foreman would be as bad. Not that Chase would admit that. Foreman was the one spilling his guts, not him. Instead, Chase bit into his sandwich, listening to the rest of Foreman’s tale of woe.

By the end, Forman looked more miserable than a dog stuck in the rain. Chase had no idea what the details were-- from the sound of it, Foreman had been following after Amber forlornly wagging his tail, to no avail-- but they didn't matter. The end result was the same. He was fighting with the girl he liked and he didn't know what to do about it. "You asked if Cameron and I just made up and settled down. The answer is no." This much he didn't mind saying, since these problems felt more surmountable. "She won't move in with me, last week we fought whether or not I should operate on a guy that didn't have a chance in hell of living, and I can't stand the music she listens to." Chase shrugged. "More like we keep making up."

[eric_foreman]

Foreman rolled his eyes. Just like he'd thought: Chase wasn't any more imaginative that to suggest the same technique that he'd used until he'd...Foreman didn't even know. Humiliated himself enough in front of Cameron? Worn down her patience? He didn't know how repetition could finally uncover hidden feelings that had been there all along. Either you felt them or you didn't. But then, he didn't understand Cameron. That wasn't new. He'd thought he understood Chase, at least a little better, but he wasn't sure about that when Chase claimed not to get why House would possibly want to play cat and mouse with him.

"He's House," he said. "And Cuddy just put me in charge of the department without telling him. You think he's going to pat me on the head, congratulate me, and hope that we'll be happy?" A headache throbbed in his temples. The pain spiked higher when Foreman clenched his jaw. "He's going to want to jerk me around to see if I'll quit. And he doesn't have to do anything outside the parameters of his psychopathic little game. He only has to tell Amber it's the job or me." The cafeteria table was scratched. Foreman leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, not taking his eyes off its surface. It was the first time he'd said it out loud, and it sounded even more damning, more true, when he heard his own voice saying the words. If Chase had met Amber, or new enough about her to set the odds in yesterday's pool, then he'd know why Foreman wouldn't even get a chance.

"Keep making up, right," he said dully. "That doesn't work if I'm not what she wants." She'd pushed him aside last night... Foreman let out a breath. No. That had been over sex, over her feeling comfortable. She'd curled up with him afterward. Close, and feeling so goddamn good against him. She'd said long-term. She'd implied that she wanted this. Foreman simply didn't know how much he could trust that, how much Amber would want that now that he'd said the wrong thing today. "I don't want her to change," he muttered, not really even talking to Chase anymore. That was the problem. He wasn't always comfortable with her decisions, but he didn't want to demand that she do anything differently. She'd be different, then. And he wanted her as she was. He liked her as she was.

[robert_chase]

Were they having different conversations? Probably. Foreman didn't seem to need Chase as an audience, half-hearing his remarks and going on tangents without explaining their source. Chase leaned back, resting his arm along the back of the chair, and let Foreman rant unfettered.

"He's House, of course he's gonna try to make you miserable," Chase said once Foreman fell into a moody silence. "Just don't challenge him too much, and he won't try harder than before." A pointless suggestion, since power struggles were a red flag to Foreman. Wave one at him and charging he went.

Amber was another question; from what he'd heard and seen, she'd be perfectly willing to feed babies to alligators if it suited her purposes. The first real conversation they'd had, Amber had been and was trying to get Chase to do the work that might get her back on the staff; Foreman was probably right she'd take the job over him. That sucked. But that was Foreman's problem to deal with, falling for a female House.

And now Foreman was mumbling things Chase couldn’t even make out. Chase rolled his eyes, grabbing his half-full cup. He'd rather drink the rest at the OR lounge, where sulking ex-colleagues wouldn't put him off his coffee. “Good luck with that.” Getting up, Chase patted Foreman on the back before he walked off, fully aware of how much that’d annoy him. He still had no idea if Foreman had any kind of shot with Amber, but if he did— the world would be a scarier place, with them as a couple.

Swinging out of the cafeteria, Chase pulled out his cell phone and dialed Cameron. “Guess what.”