Foreman's breath left him slowly. Not a deflation; just the easing of the tension that had been accumulating, since last night, when he'd walked out on Amber in the lab. The headache he'd been fighting all morning hadn't disappeared, but as he relaxed, he could feel how the pain had radiated from his shoulders and neck, as if he'd been hunched up, muscles cramping up, for hours. Amber's hand was cool, soft, and at first she didn't squeeze back, so that he didn't know if she wanted him this close, or touching her at all. Her nod, though, lifted even more weight from his shoulders. Foreman mirrored it, lightly. Dancing blindfolded on a tightrope they might be, but it looked like this was one more gap they'd crossed successfully. "Okay," he said, the word nearly a sigh as Amber leaned her head against him. His heart thumped hard, and he rubbed his thumb across her hand. Leaning back towards her, he tried not to get into her space too much--they were at work, after all--but pressing back, so that she'd know he wanted to be close to her.
All his resolutions nearly vanished when Amber met his eyes. "I'm glad." Damn, he wanted to kiss her. The shortest, softest breath was all there was between them. Foreman licked his lips, and let his glance fall to Amber's mouth for a second, before catching her gaze again and finally allowing himself a smile. Not here. Not now. Even if, after the night he'd had, even a light brush of their lips would feel like a renewal. Better than sleep, better than caffeine.
The door behind him slid open with an officious whoosh, and Foreman stepped back, already clearing his throat and straightening his shoulders. An orderly pushed a wheelchair through the blinds Foreman had drawn across, and frowning at them, he said, "This is Mrs. Lowachee's room."
"Consult," Foreman said, the lie coming easily and confidently to his lips. "We're with Diagnostics." He unhooked the chart from the end of the bed and glanced through it. "You know House," he said, maintaining an aloof attitude--he might not have much luck with House's candidates, but he could still boss an orderly around.
"Oh," the guy said, and shrugged. You know House was pretty much a blanket excuse throughout the hospital, for everything from stealing tongue depressors right up to stealing patients. "She's had her bloodwork done," he said, as he helped Mrs. Lowachee into the bed. Foreman smiled professionally at her. "Everything looks fine," he said, which fortunately, from his quick glance at the chart, it did. He replaced it, and shot a grin at Amber, behind the orderly's back. Heading for the door, he hoped she'd follow him--they could still talk in the hallway, as long as they looked like they were on official business. He wanted to make plans. Another case solved, with nothing but paperwork left; as long as they avoided House, they could probably get out by five tonight, and Foreman damn well wanted to leave with her.
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All his resolutions nearly vanished when Amber met his eyes. "I'm glad." Damn, he wanted to kiss her. The shortest, softest breath was all there was between them. Foreman licked his lips, and let his glance fall to Amber's mouth for a second, before catching her gaze again and finally allowing himself a smile. Not here. Not now. Even if, after the night he'd had, even a light brush of their lips would feel like a renewal. Better than sleep, better than caffeine.
The door behind him slid open with an officious whoosh, and Foreman stepped back, already clearing his throat and straightening his shoulders. An orderly pushed a wheelchair through the blinds Foreman had drawn across, and frowning at them, he said, "This is Mrs. Lowachee's room."
"Consult," Foreman said, the lie coming easily and confidently to his lips. "We're with Diagnostics." He unhooked the chart from the end of the bed and glanced through it. "You know House," he said, maintaining an aloof attitude--he might not have much luck with House's candidates, but he could still boss an orderly around.
"Oh," the guy said, and shrugged. You know House was pretty much a blanket excuse throughout the hospital, for everything from stealing tongue depressors right up to stealing patients. "She's had her bloodwork done," he said, as he helped Mrs. Lowachee into the bed. Foreman smiled professionally at her. "Everything looks fine," he said, which fortunately, from his quick glance at the chart, it did. He replaced it, and shot a grin at Amber, behind the orderly's back. Heading for the door, he hoped she'd follow him--they could still talk in the hallway, as long as they looked like they were on official business. He wanted to make plans. Another case solved, with nothing but paperwork left; as long as they avoided House, they could probably get out by five tonight, and Foreman damn well wanted to leave with her.