October 30, 2007 - Midmorning (Amber)

[amber_v]

Just another day at work, Amber reminded herself. Just another day.

She strode through the entrance hallway, her clacking heels contrasting satisfyingly against the soft morning noises. She stepped all the harder, to be louder than the coughs, casual chats, and wheelchair squeaks. But as much as she tried, Amber couldn't keep Eric's last sentence from echoing in her mind: I do want this.

What a joke. He wanted whatever false image he'd carefully built of her, of a woman that wasn't a bitch through and through. She'd show him. She'd prove beyond the shadow of a doubt who she was and what she stood for. Then if he decided to repeat stupid phrases, I like what I've gotten into, he'd be saying them fully informed. He'd know what he was talking about. She’d be able to believe him.

And this had nothing to do with making him hate her. Nothing.

To top it off, her stomach was killing her and she hadn't gotten her coffee.

She was late as it was. House wouldn't be there, he never was, but the others could and would report her tardiness. She'd do them the same favor. So this was one strike against her-- unless House decided to interpret it as proof she had the balls to work for him, whatever. Amber preferred not to push her luck, which meant not stopping by the cafeteria. There were other ways of getting what she needed, though.

Tons of interns hung around the classroom area, scuttling around like bugs just waiting for god to finally get around to crushing them out of their miserable existences. Amber scanned the lot streaming along: a little miss perfect who'd probably suffer a nervous breakdown before the end of the week, a butt-ugly boy who looked like he'd been shoved into med school by his overbearing parents, instantly forgettable members of both sexes, and... Amber grinned. Perfect.

The red-head had been eyeing her since the day she'd gotten here, from behind his clipboard. He'd have never deigned approach her, and with good reason; she'd have torn him apart. But today was his lucky day. She let her grin mold itself into an alluring smile as she approached him, laughing at how his incredulity grew in direct proportion to their proximity. "Hey there."

For a moment he seemed to forget the appropriate response. "Um, uh, hi. Hi!"

He was almost cute, in that excruciatingly awkward way. At any rate, she didn't need to butter him up much. She sighed. "I don't know about you, but my day's been awful so far."

His eyes widened. Probably didn't know if he should talk about himself, or if he was just meant to sympathize. He tried both. "Me too, I've got all these--"

Amber could care less, and she had no time for whatever it was he had. She touched his shoulder; his jaw dropped. "But I think you could help me out."

"I-- me?"

"If I could just get a coffee, or a bagel..."

He stared at her hand on his shoulder, and then her face. Amber knew he saw all kinds of promises there; she'd practiced a damn good sincere expression. "I-- I could pick up--"

Amber beamed, though not just for the reasons he might've thought. "Could you? That'd save my day, I swear." Before he could reconsider, she pointed to the doorway she was about to go through. "Bring it to me there, okay?" The kid nodded and skedaddled, trying to hold on to his papers as he ran off. She hoped House would be there to see him make the delivery; it'd probably impress him.

Considerably cheered by the prospect of breakfast and the fun of screwing around with someone, Amber opened the theater doors. She was just getting started.

Comments

[eric_foreman]

Foreman narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out what Amber's sarcasm meant. It seemed brittle, like she was hiding behind it. He had to admit, he felt a clench of discomfort at the idea of what personal gossip she might have shared around as if it was a bargaining chip. His life wasn't part of a poker hand, to be judged and discarded as part of some 'master plan'. His instinctive reaction certainly wasn't positive. But it still wasn't the deep, twisting aversion that he'd thought he'd have, either. The kind of embarrassment that he felt when Amber waived good manners in public just to get a better seat or a better bottle of wine. Amber obviously knew what she was doing, knew what she was working towards, and she was pleased that she'd succeeded.

It helped, too, that she'd thought he'd be angry. If that was why she'd asked to talk with him, then Foreman could understand a bit better. She'd acted against what they'd agreed on, deliberately; she could have hurt him. But she knew it, too. Her cool silence when he'd approached her could have been the way she'd show herself worried about his reaction. "I'm not," he said quietly, trying to work through what he was feeling. He matched Amber's step, getting closer, still not certain enough--of her or of himself--to reach out and touch her. "But I don't want...how I am with you...to get used against you in the same way." And, to be fully honest: "Or against me. You're playing with them like they don't matter, but--" He hesitated, his heart leaping up to block his throat for what felt like too long. Chase had said he should be direct. God, he couldn't possibly be taking romantic advice from Chase. On the other hand, he was also repeating what he'd said in the car, at least nearly: that he didn't really approve, but that he wouldn't stop her. Not when it didn't involve him. "But I want to matter to you. I don't want to be a game piece."

He sighed, his gaze softening. Amber's voice was almost meek, despite her proud posture. Foreman could see more of her now, including the times when she was trying to hide from him and it wasn't fully working. He had no doubt that there were a million things he was missing about what she'd thought, or attempted, or felt, but it seemed clear to him now that she was uncertain. Just like he'd been, coming in here. "Yeah. We will." She'd gotten nearer to him, and Foreman, at last, couldn't help but take that for an invitation. He closed the space between them, enough to wrap his arms around her waist. Cautious, but comforting, waiting for her signal to go farther and use his strength to pull her into a deeper hug.

[amber_v]

Eric’s answers were coming more slowly, as if he were now shifting them through a sieve, thinking about what to say, and how to phrase it. Thinking about all the implications of recent events. That comforted Amber. He wasn’t taking lightly what she’d told him. He was giving what she’d done due consideration; whatever understanding he reached, she’d know it was truer than his initial glib ‘so what?’. Her heart beat harder as he approached. But I want to matter to you. I don't want to be a game piece. Less than a week ago, she’d have told him without a moment’s hesitation that he was no game piece; that he meant so much more. Now she didn’t know how to begin to tell him how much more. Didn’t know how not to fear what would happen if she did.

Having nothing but words, Amber spoke. “You do. You’re not,” she said, quiet. He wasn’t. She’d never meant him to be. If she’d used him against Thirteen, it had only been to prove a point.

Hugging was so much better. Words had been failing them left and right, but like this, they could say so much more. Amber sighed, relaxing at last. It was the first time they’d touched since she’d told him, They call me Cutthroat Bitch. Amber drew her arms around his shoulders, resting the side of her face against his, and closed her eyes. Eric felt so damn good against her. Solid and firm and here.

She was so dumb with him. Did idiot things she didn’t even want to, just to see his reaction. Got all insecure. God knew why she so hated the idea of not being with him; if she weren’t, she wouldn’t be this way. She was grateful he couldn’t see her expression, the way they were standing. “I was being stupid.” Amber held him tighter, one arm across his back, the other round his waist. She never wanted to test him like this again, because one day, she might—it might not be this easy to solve. “I’m scared I’ll find your limit.” The point where she went too far. As much as she wanted, needed, to know where that limit lay, she didn’t want to risk crossing it.

[eric_foreman]

Foreman tightened his hold on Amber as soon as she spoke. He wanted to transmit reassurance through his body, give her as much as he could. He could feel it mirrored in her when she moved her arms around to his back, hugging him back. Foreman dipped his head, enough to press closer to the scent of Amber's hair and skin, pressing his lips against her shoulder. For the first time since getting to work, he felt the same relaxation that had stolen over him when they'd been in the shower together. It meant something to him that they didn't need to be having sex in order to feel close. These moments, just holding each other, counted for so much more. And even better was everything Amber had reassured him of in turn. He'd come in here half expecting to leave with one more hope broken, and instead, he felt better than he had all day.

He shook his head, not refuting out loud that Amber had been stupid, but hoping she'd feel his disagreement. He squeezed her tighter for a moment when her voice reached his ear. "I don't want to let you go," he said. How could he know what his limit was? Amber might find it, someday. But Foreman might just as easily find hers. All they could do was hope for the best. Foreman wasn't good at that--he wanted to plan, he wanted to work out a course of action and then do the right thing to the best of his ability. Trusting to fate sounded like rank stupidity, but... So far they'd managed to talk through their problems--argue through them. But as long as they came back to this, the moment when they could agree enough to step into each other's arms, it felt like they could solve whatever the hell they'd gotten themselves into. "I trust you," he said. It was more true each time he said it. Foreman closed his eyes for a moment, filling his lungs with a deep breath and then letting it go.

"But I also have to tell you to go to work," he said, pulling back slightly. He wasn't encouraging her to go--not yet. One arm was still hooked around her waist, and with the other, Foreman reached up to cup Amber's cheek, brushing his thumb along her cheekbone, then tucking her hair back. "Before anyone comes looking for us."

[amber_v]

Amber shivered into Eric, shoulders hunching as his lips pressed against her. Even through her blouse, even in so innocent a place, his touch had the power to go straight through her. She leaned into that contact, her hand curling over the nape of his neck. "Me neither," Amber said, voice raw. If he’d said it, so could she.

He didn't want their feelings for each other to be used as gambling chips in her manipulations, that much was clear. And Amber agreed. This was too precious to throw away, if she had other means to reach her goals. Which she did. The rest of their tenuous understanding was far more ambiguous. He'd mentioned how she treated the others like they didn't matter, but he hadn't explicitly said that he disapproved of that. He'd protested only against Amber hurting them both. Did that mean the rest were fair game? Eric wasn't holding her like this expecting her to turn a new leaf, was he?

Amber breathed in deep, pulling him in closer. I trust you. God. What a relief, what a responsibility. She rubbed her cheek against the side of his head. She hoped she could trust his trust. As long as he didn't have any fantasies that were completely divorced from reality, she thought they could both live up to their expectations.

Her lips tugged into a slight smile. "What about you, boss? Got a pile of paperwork to sit through?" Licking her lips, Amber tilted her face towards him, eyeing his mouth suggestively. "Or are you going to join us in the clinic?"

Amber let a beat pass, just long enough for him to react to her near-kiss, before laughing and pulling away, taking a couple of steps backwards. "And that's for this morning!" A delayed, but no less gratifying, payback.

[eric_foreman]

The promise of Amber's intent stare, the slight parting of her lips as she looked at his mouth, combined with the feel of her body tucked in a closely as possible to his, all had Foreman leaning in, instinct responding to guide him into the kiss he expected. He barely heard her question--only enough to think that if she was there, the clinic was far more appealing than it ever had been before--and then, at the last moment, Amber danced backwards, her eyes lighting up with amusement.

Foreman opened his mouth to protest, and snapped it shut again at Amber's taunt. He put on his dignity, straightening his back and admonishing her with a disgruntled look. Then, with a laugh, he gave in. He could take his revenge in a different form. He already liked it a little too much that she'd called him boss, even if she had been teasing. "Yeah, I have paperwork. Consult requests from around the country on their weird cases. Guess I'll just have to suffer my way through." He tilted his head, offering Amber a thoughtful pout. "But have a good time in the clinic. Isn't it flu season?"

[amber_v]

God, all those-- literally-- sniveling brats and their overbearing parents. To top it off, being a friendly, competent doctor in the clinic wouldn't even earn her brownie points with the one person who'd care, since Cuddy already suspected ever single cell in her body. She couldn’t even do a half-assed job, since that’d only lessen Cuddy’s opinion of her. Amber wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, it is. I'll be sure to pick up the worst of the germs and pass them on to you."

She came back to him just long enough to kiss his cheek, squeeze his hand with both of hers. "Find me when we can go back home." Now that they were all made up, she'd seize the chance to do some of those things she'd thought she'd no longer be able to-- it'd be a long evening and night. Amber grinned.

Mid-morning, the clinic was just starting to get busy, with everyone who wanted to come before lunch deciding to come in at the same time. Amber was at the reception, signing in and accepting patient files when a voice spoke up behind her. "I'm surprised you even showed up."

She turned around and looked down; it was Taub. "Why wouldn't I? You heard Er—Foreman. Cuddy wants us down here." If her main boss didn't want anything from her, there was no reason to piss off her other one. Or Eric, but he didn't count. There was a whole other set of complicating factors with him.

"Yes, but I'm not sleeping with her spokesman."

Amber's eyebrows shot up. Thirteen had ratted on her already? She shouldn't be surprised. At least the bomb was partially exploded, and she'd already more or less achieved her purpose in telling Thirteen. No one could blackmail her if everyone knew the information. Grabbing the patient's folders, she strode towards a clinic room. "Jealous?"

"Nah, I'll be getting into House's bed one of these days."

Now there was an image Amber would've paid to never imagine. "Then you've got it all settled." Turning to face the door and twist its handle, Amber caught sight of Thirteen on the other side of the clinic. Her brunette locks swept over her face as she made a quick note in a clipboard-attached medical record. "So did you have to drag it out of Thirteen, or did she go running to tell you?"

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Amber thought it wouldn't be constructive at this point to confirm that statement, so she kept the thought to herself. "I saw you go off with him; of course you'd take advantage of his feelings for you."

Around her "colleagues," Amber made a point of hiding her feelings from them. It was hard to keep her expression from hardening, though. He would assume she was sleeping with Eric for ulterior motives. She would do something along those lines, but at least she'd be smart enough to sleep with the person whose opinion mattered. Being with Eric was a liability, not an advantage. He couldn't even get her a better parking space. Taub must think her an idiot. "Of course," she said, and closed the door in his face.