November 10

[amber_v]

As it turned out, House didn't comment on their tardiness or the fact that they arrived within minutes of each other. Amber barely even saw him: he didn't show up in the lecture hall nor in the clinic; she did run into him in the main lobby, but that was coincidence, catching him on his way out. He seemed distracted, gaze not focused on the people around him. Preoccupied, almost, though Amber wouldn't have known with what. He did sneer at her when he noticed her, so he couldn't have been too distraught.

It was another couple of slow days at work. Cuddy came in on Friday morning to push a case on them, but none of them were willing to hunt out House and force work on him, and anyway Kutner's guess of a diagnosis turned out to be right. Cuddy seemed miffed when she reported that fact to them and her expression was stiff with held-back anger as she reported them to the clinic, but what did Amber care? If Cuddy didn't like the situation, she could do something about it. Amber was playing by the rules.

And not having a case meant things were simple with the Dr. Foreman side of Eric. They couldn't forever avoid working together, and goodness knew how their future fights would get entangle itself in their relationship, but for now Amber was fine with being happy in love. Everything... just seemed lighter. The clouds seemed higher, the sky bluer, and sometimes, clacking along the corridors in her same heels and skirts, Amber felt like she was floating. It was impossible not to smile, to the point that one of her clinic patients asked her what was so damn funny about their eczema rash. And seeing Eric, smirking like they knew the world's best secret because they did-- that was the best.

Saturday rolled around, with them waking up together again in her bed, this time not thinking at all of time; they took their time kissing, wrestling in bed, fucking... by the time they were done, the late morning sun came in bright and strong and beautiful. Boneless and sated, Amber couldn't resist drifting off, curling in the light streaming over her bed. What harm could napping a bit do? They had the whole weekend ahead of them.

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[eric_foreman]

The breakfast Amber was making smelled both delicious and complicated. Foreman inhaled, his hunger sharpened by the scent of pancakes, sausages, and fresh coffee. He walked into the kitchen warily. Maybe Amber was still upset; Foreman could easily respect giving her some space if she was. He pulled down two mugs from one of Amber's cupboards and poured coffee for them; the pot had just finished dripping. He fixed Amber's the way she liked, and left hers on the counter beside her.

He took his mug to the table, intending to leave it there and then set the rest of the table, but setting his coffee down in the same place he'd left his note earlier about going for his run made him realize it wasn't there any more. His ears warmed in embarrassment. It'd been a stupid, sappy gesture. Amber would want to know where he was if she'd woken up while he was out, and the simple short phrases explaining that didn't need emphasis. But he'd gotten that far, squeezing the pen between his fingers, a helpless, silly smile on his face as he hesitated. Finally he'd added, love you, as if the words on paper meant as much as saying them to Amber directly. Like the time he'd called her baby and she'd asked him to say it again--he'd promised he'd tell her, when the feeling came over him. In the end he'd written the words, hastily and messily, before jogging down the block, high on a surge of happiness.

Foreman checked under the table, but he couldn't see the piece of paper--it hadn't fallen. Amber was the only one who'd been in here since then. Had she found it? Did she care? Or was it exactly the sort of thing she expected on a note, so that she'd swept it into the trash now that it'd served its function?

He laughed silently at himself for his own ridiculous assumptions. He went back into the kitchen and got out plates and cutlery. Before taking them to the table, he set them briefly on the counter, just out of the way of where Amber was cooking. Foreman leaning close to her, lightly brushing her tangled hair off her neck with one hand, and bent to leave a lingering, warm series of kisses along the side of her throat. Looking down at the frying pan over his shoulder, he sighed and wrapped his arms around her from behind. There should be something to say, but the words didn't want to come, so Foreman pressed his closed lips to her skin again, resting there, where he could breathe in the sleep-warm scent of her skin.

[amber_v]

Amber wasn't doing anything she hadn't a thousand times before and none of it was more complicated than what a day at the hospital required; flipping eggs was nothing compared to reviving a patient who'd flatlined. But keeping track of the various pans while mixing batter required precision, especially if she wanted everything to be ready at exactly the same time-- which she did. Within a few minutes Amber found herself content, pleased with her simple success and the promise of an immediate reward. She almost forgot Eric's accusations.

Eric strolled in as she was finishing up; she spared him a glance, minding the vital last minute or so of cooking. It wouldn't do to mess up now and burn the eggs. Her brief glimpse reassured her that he was looking sharp and peaceful, further brightening her own mood. She turned off the fires and slid the sausages, eggs, and pancakes onto the plates she'd left nearby. "You better be hungry," she said teasingly. "Someone's got to eat this." But between their two generous appetites, it'd be just about enough for them.

Looking over her shoulder to say this, she saw that Eric peering beneath the table: oh fuck he wanted to know where the note was. Amber casually turned back to the plates as if she hadn't noticed him looking; if he didn't ask, all the better, because what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. She imagined the way his face would twist to know the way she'd crumpled the love you; couldn't bear the thought. If he knew, he'd be more guarded, more wary. Such a stupid impulse, such a high price.

But he didn't ask; he just came to her, almost silent, and wrapped his arms about her; kissed her. Amber shivered into those light butterfly touches along her throat; leaned into his embrace, nuzzling her face against his. This. Reaffirmation. They'd been touching during their conversation and that had helped, but this was different. Caring, tender. She'd never known how much a touch could mean, before Eric. Amber folded her arms over his, swaying gently with him, and what she said came as naturally as a blush. "I love you too." Answering his note, his spontaneous and welcome affection.

[eric_foreman]

Foreman closed his eyes for a moment, as Amber turned her cheek towards his, and covered his arms with hers. She wanted him close. Whatever the hell her family did or said, he knew better than to care. Amber had been pretty clear that their opinions weren't hers, even if she wasn't going to condemn them. And she hadn't hesitated from stripping away any sort of illusions either of them might have. If Foreman ever needed to bluntly point out an issue, then he'd at least have the comfort of knowing Amber would rather confront it directly than have him keep everything to himself. When she spoke, he grinned without so much as a pause, knowing she'd feel the movement of his mouth. She'd definitely seen the note. He kissed her temple gently before slowly letting go. "Yeah," he said, and then, more strongly, "Starving."

He helped her bring breakfast to the table, sliding into his seat as soon as they were both served, and not hesitating to dig in. The flavours were rich, the food filling and satisfying. "Delicious," he said, smiling at her after clearing his mouth with a sip of coffee. He found her foot under the table with his socked one, and covered it companionably, grinning to himself at the contact. "It's cold out. Might snow soon. Do you go to that park much, the one near the river?" He'd found it near the end of his run, but if he'd known it was there earlier, he'd probably have explored more. It was close enough to Amber's apartment that she probably knew about it, and could give him a better tour, if he was going to run around here more often.

[amber_v]

It amazed Amber how simple things could be. It wasn't that her family had changed in these few minutes, or that she hadn't nearly thrown out his note—it was just that those things didn't seem to matter much compared to being with Eric like this. Still, quiet, trusting. It was for this that she'd come back to him. Strange, how a gentle kiss against her temple, no more than a brief reminder of his lips against her skin, could feel more intimate than most of the things they'd done in (and out of) bed.

Amber wasted no time grabbing food herself at the table, with it being almost noon and with nothing eaten so far. She all but stuffed a few mouthfuls of pancakes and eggs, ravenous, and chased it down with a gulp of coffee. She'd done pretty well, as always. She wasn't a gourmet cook but she could more than prove herself-- and Eric evidently thought so, tearing into his own plate with just as much enthusiasm. Amber did not hold back a wide, proud smile, and pressed back against his foot. He did so like doing that, as if he couldn’t bear not to be touching her even during a meal. Did all couples do that? Did he do it with his other women? And why did she keep coming back to that? "Washington Park, you mean?" Amber asked, bringing a sausage to her plate. "Not much, I don't really have the time. It's just a bunch of trees." It might be nice for jogging, but Amber did most of her exercise indoors, and would be doing more of it once she joined up a basketball group at her gym. "Did you go there today?"

[eric_foreman]

Foreman nodded over another swallow of coffee. "Yeah, I saw it. Didn't go far." He took a deep breath and sat back, his first hunger satisfied, now content to eat a bit slower and savour. He left most of his pancakes, although the first rush of sugar from the syrup had been exactly what he'd wanted. Too many carbohydrates would load him down, though, so he concentrated on the eggs and sausages. With a chuckle, he said, "We have all day." With that, he grinned at her, affection welling up and coming out as a tender look. They did, and that pleased him inordinately. Amber didn't seem to be rushing to get anything done, not if she'd slept most of the morning away. Of course they could spent the afternoon working, and Amber would do everything in her power to get a leg up on the other candidates. But there had to be more to life than that. "Come on, show me the trees," he said. Foreman could push off the morning's frustrations. He'd get to see Amber's cheeks and nose pink-tipped in the cold, and bring her back to help her warm up. Yeah, he thought. A break would do them good.