Foreman's smile grew even warmer when Amber declared war on sleep. "You too, huh?" he said, favouring her with a longer look. It wasn't like he couldn't guess from the way she'd checked him out after his shower, but it never hurt in the least to hear directly that she'd been turned on simply by seeing him. Since she'd given up on her bread, Foreman let his hand wander over to rest in her lap. He figured her pout, and then her lofty dismissal of his plan, were both taunts, of different sorts. "Too bad," he said comfortably. "I'll be thinking about you." Making no effort to hide what he meant by 'thinking'. "About last night. You'll miss out if you're not there."
It wasn't as easy to let her remark about the week pass, or to return a teasing comment about it. Foreman wasn't upset by the idea, as such. It already felt like longer. Shit, it felt like he'd let Amber see so much of him, more than he ever let free. It was dangerous as hell and maybe he was closing his eyes to the risks, because he didn't want to slow down. He didn't want to think about how long it had been because he wanted it to be timeless: always like this, and unchanging. The last thing he wanted in any relationship was to challenge the status quo. He hated thinking about implications, about the future; as long as things were good, he wanted them to keep going without devoting himself too much to seeing that they did. He might be more invested this time, but he hadn't changed his mind on that point. Measuring time only meant putting on expectations that they might not be able to live up to.
He was damn glad that they'd made it this far, though. Despite everything. "Yeah," he said quietly, rubbing Amber's thigh. His smile was genuine, a repetition of what he'd said last night. I'll always care. That doesn't change. Even so, he was a bit glad that they weren't seeing each other on Thursday. He didn't want to mark the night or make something of it, when it was such an arbitrary length of time. Seven days. He just wanted to have Amber with him like this, without inviting catastrophe down on them. He'd had enough of that. Promise me I get at least one more before you get sick of me, he thought, but he couldn't joke about it. Maybe there'd be a way for him to tell her he remembered, tomorrow, without making a big production of it. Under House's nose, that'd be nearly impossible, but Foreman might be able to figure something out.
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It wasn't as easy to let her remark about the week pass, or to return a teasing comment about it. Foreman wasn't upset by the idea, as such. It already felt like longer. Shit, it felt like he'd let Amber see so much of him, more than he ever let free. It was dangerous as hell and maybe he was closing his eyes to the risks, because he didn't want to slow down. He didn't want to think about how long it had been because he wanted it to be timeless: always like this, and unchanging. The last thing he wanted in any relationship was to challenge the status quo. He hated thinking about implications, about the future; as long as things were good, he wanted them to keep going without devoting himself too much to seeing that they did. He might be more invested this time, but he hadn't changed his mind on that point. Measuring time only meant putting on expectations that they might not be able to live up to.
He was damn glad that they'd made it this far, though. Despite everything. "Yeah," he said quietly, rubbing Amber's thigh. His smile was genuine, a repetition of what he'd said last night. I'll always care. That doesn't change. Even so, he was a bit glad that they weren't seeing each other on Thursday. He didn't want to mark the night or make something of it, when it was such an arbitrary length of time. Seven days. He just wanted to have Amber with him like this, without inviting catastrophe down on them. He'd had enough of that. Promise me I get at least one more before you get sick of me, he thought, but he couldn't joke about it. Maybe there'd be a way for him to tell her he remembered, tomorrow, without making a big production of it. Under House's nose, that'd be nearly impossible, but Foreman might be able to figure something out.