alwaysright | 26 October 2007

26 October 2007 - Morning

Amber slept soundly. The previous night had taken its toll on her, what with all the physical activity from the sex marathon and, perhaps even more draining, the unexpected emotional intensity she'd felt for Eric. It'd been a lot to take in, and in so brief a period. But she slept better than she had since before she could remember, smooth and tranquil like a night sky in the wilderness.

Her alarm clock’s strident buzzing struck her from sleep and, fuzzy on everything, including her own name, Amber groped in the darkness to grab the noise and shut it up. A warm, large barrier got in her way and she had to sit up, thinking with all her might about where she was and what was happening. She was Amber. This was her bed. The thing she was pressing buttons on was her alarm clock.

And, her expression softening as she remembered, this person next to her was Eric, the guy she’d taken home, on a whim, and fucked. And liked. How strange it was to reflect on last night, with the distance of a few hours’ worth of sleep. It seemed so far away, like it’d all happened to someone else; it certainly didn’t seem like something she’d do. The one-night stand part was more than usual for her, but waking up the next morning caring about the stranger in her bed, that was new. Weird. But nice, too. Much better than the annoyance she normally felt, the same one that made her kick her partners out of her apartment as soon as she could.

Her alarm clock read 6:31. Amber clicked a few more buttons before sliding back down over Eric and giving him a light good-morning kiss. His breath stank, as did hers, but she couldn’t care less. “Woke up yet?” she teased. “My alarm clock will go off in nine minutes, and then I’ll have to go get ready for work. Until then—“ She kissed him again, licking his lips this time. She was too tired be horny, but there couldn’t possibly be a better way to start the day than with a bit of kissing and fondling.

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Foreman was not ready to wake up. He frowned, eyes squeezed shut, when he heard the blare of an alarm clock. Usually he was able to get out of bed without any trouble, but somehow this morning he'd expected to have more time. No work today, so why the hell had he set the clock?

He realized a second later that he hadn't. There was a brush against him, warmth and weight, and Foreman blinked his eyes open to see Amber leaning over him. He lifted his head, meeting her kiss. "Against my better judgement," he answered. He lifted a hand to her face as she kissed him again. Apparently morning breath didn't matter to her, although Foreman's teeth felt fuzzy after he'd missed brushing last night. The kiss distracted him, though, and he relaxed again, wrapping his free arm around Amber and pulling her down. "Are you sure you have to go?" he said, grinning lightly. He hadn't meant to bring it up. He knew better than to assume anything on the morning after. He should accept what she was telling him, find his clothes, and leave quickly, so that she'd have time to get ready on her own. He knew where she lived, and he could probably get her phone number before leaving. More than that, he didn't really have the right to ask for. But the way she'd kissed him invited more familiarity than he'd usually offer. He rubbed a palm down to the crease between her ass and her thigh to tug her more firmly against him. "I don't have work today. Could spend the whole day lying around. It'd be more fun if you joined me."

"Mmmmmm," sounded from Amber's throat as Eric responded. She leaned into the palm of his hand, rubbing her cheek against it. She moaned again as he hugged her closer, and burrowed her face into the crook of his neck. She so wanted to spend the day laying around with Eric-- she wanted to fall back asleep with him and, once they’d woken up at a decent hour, enjoy his company. Have more sex, of course, and maybe even talk, if they ever got around to that. They could go out to a restaurant, or order in-- they could do whatever they liked.

But, as much as she liked him, she had bigger goals than hanging out with him. "I can't," she whined, curling up against him. She could feel his heartbeat accelerating slightly. She breathed in deep through her nose so that she could better remember his scent through the rest of the day. “If I'm late and House decides to come to work on time today, he’ll kill me. Actually, he’ll fire me, which is worse.” Amber tried to remember if they’d talked about House yesterday; they’d gone over their specialties but, come to think of it, her would-be boss hadn’t once come up in conversation. Probably because she’d needed a break from him. “You’ve heard of him, right? I don’t think it’s possible to work as a doctor in the Tri-State Region and not hear some stories. I can see you after work, though. We have strange hours, but leave me your number, and I’ll call you when I’m free.” She lazily drew circles on his chest, just for the fun of it.

Amber's reluctant, pouting response made Foreman smile all the more. It sounded like all he had to do was convince her. She wanted to spend time with him. Foreman was ready to be persuasive just because of that. "I can write you a doctor's note," he said, chuckling when she buried her face against his neck. Her breath tickled. He knew it was the wrong thing to say, again. He shouldn't seem so eager. But she drew it out of him so easily that he didn't notice until he'd already spoken.

What she said next, though, stopped Foreman short. "You work for House?" he blurted. He knew House was toying with a bunch of idiots, making promises and then firing them on a whim, working his way down to his usual three fellows, but Foreman couldn't believe Amber was one of them. Everything about her shouted that she was competent, dedicated, intelligent. And she wanted to play games with House to get hired? He'd convinced himself that only idiots could possibly want to go through that kind of humiliation. Foreman didn't even hear the rest of what she said, he was too busy reliving last spring. When he'd told House he wasn't interested in playing God with patients' lives. That he was better than that. Yeah, he was back now, but that was against his will and at least in a supervisory role. Hearing that Amber was part of that whole farce dropped his opinion of her on the spot, and he didn't want it to. He didn't want to believe that she'd put up with House's bullshit, not when she was so straightforward with him. But apparently she did.

Worse, Foreman would walk in on Monday morning as her boss--or nearly. He might not have hiring and firing power over her, but he'd be the one doing employee evaluations, keeping track of her work, and making sure she didn't think House's orders put her above the hospital's interests or the law. Christ, he couldn't do that. Not and keep seeing her. And Foreman wanted to keep seeing her. He felt dazed, realizing that, realizing that last night might be the only time they could ever spend together socially. He took her hands from his chest and set them aside, turning to sit up. "Yeah," he said, distracted. "I don't want to get in your way. I'd better get going."

Amber laughed at Eric's suggestion, her abdomen muscles aching slightly as she did so. She hadn't realized what a work-out she'd gotten; she'd likely be wincing the whole day-- with a smile, too, as she remembered why. She stretched her back by curling further into Eric, purring. "God, don't, House would get all curious! He'd come marching in here to see the ‘cold’ symptoms for himself.”

She propped herself up, leaning her elbows on his torso. "Oh, so you do know him." And, from the alarm in his voice, they'd probably had an encounter or two. Amber wished she could've been there, it must've been quite a sight! House was a stream-roller that ran over almost everyone, but Eric, she couldn't imagine him letting himself get flattened. If they got into a fight-- it'd be kind of hot, actually. "Have you met him? When, how?" Though maybe, if they'd butted heads, and House had won, Eric probably wouldn't want to talk about it, proud the way he was.

When Eric pushed her away, she didn’t understand. It wasn't time yet, the alarm hadn't gone off; a glance at the clock confirmed that they still had three minutes to enjoy each other. But though Amber didn't know the specific reason, she had her suspicions. Suddenly she felt just how grimy her mouth was, how sticky her skin was with dried sweat. She'd been stupid, hadn't she. She'd gotten into a man who didn't want anything serious and now he was blowing her off.

Or maybe not. Maybe she was making too much of his decision to get up. For all she knew, she'd offended him by mentioning House, though that was a stupid idea. Who'd get that upset over someone else's boss? It wasn't her fault the country's best diagnostician was crazy. More likely Eric's turning away meant nothing at all, or he couldn't bear to make out if he wasn't squeaky clean. He had wanted to shower after their first round of sex, and maybe he'd wanted to clean up again after the second one, but hadn't, being too tired.

Sitting up and running a hand through her hair in a self-conscious yet unaware move-- and god, how tangled it was, it must look like a bird's nest, no wonder Eric was turning tail-- "If you were in the way, I’d have booted you out by now. We can get cleaned up and have a quick breakfast. I've got the world's best blueberry bagels-- a day old, yeah, but if you heat them, they're still beat all the other bagels." As she spoke, she felt a tinge of disgust at herself. She was practically pleading. Screw that. She'd offer, yeah, but she wouldn't do more than that. Amber Volakis was not one to fucking beg.

Foreman barely heard Amber's questions about how he knew House. He reached over the side of the bed for his boxers--fortunately they hadn't gotten so carried away that he'd stripped down in the living room. His shorts were here, as well as his pants and shoes. Foreman stood up and pulled them on, trying to remember where he'd left his coat and his keys.

Christ, what a stupid turn for everything to take. If Amber worked anywhere else in the hospital then there'd be no issue. No problem. As it was, where the hell did Foreman see them going, with only a weekend to spend together?

It was more time than they'd have any other way. Amber didn't know. She'd know on Monday, the second he walked in. She'd be pissed off, royally so. And he'd deserve it. But then it wouldn't be Foreman blowing her off. Amber would know as well as he did that they couldn't keep going. If he told her now, they'd lose out on the weekend, too.

It wasn't fair to her. Hell, it wasn't fair to either of them. But Foreman didn't want to let go, not yet. Not after last night. He took a deep breath. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to--" What? Freak out, when she didn't even know the reason? "Get stressed out." He'd missed most of what she said again--breakfast. Bagels. "Breakfast sounds great." He sat down on the bed next to her, his smile threatening to return at Amber's earnest look underneath her tangled hair. Foreman covered her shoulder with his palm and leaned sideways to kiss her. He smirked a bit when he drew back. "I mostly do get kicked out the morning after," he said, confessing it easily, warmly. It wasn't the whole truth--when women came back to his place, Foreman didn't mind letting them take their time. But when he was the guest, he tried to get away. It was usually a cleaner break that way. The only problem this time was that he didn't want it to be.

Strange. Really strange. Her questions rolled off his back as if she hadn't asked them. Amber bit her lip and frowned as Eric bent over the bedside and dressing his lower half. Stupid. So, so stupid. She'd known better, and she still-- stupid.

When Eric turned around, apologizing for his distraction, Amber was only mildly appeased. Stressed out over what? Waking up next to a beautiful woman and making out with her? His abrupt behavior couldn't be explained away so easily. He was hiding something. She'd have asked what the hell had happened, but he leaned over and she accepted his touch and kiss sullenly, observing his face up close through half-lidded eyes. He looked content to be here. His grasp on her shoulder was inviting, bringing them closer. Mixed messages all over the place, and Amber didn't know how to read them.

Still, she felt a bit better as they parted. "Trust me, if I kick you, you'll feel it. I don't lie. At least, not about whom I want around." She'd have drawn him in for more kissing and petting-- she wanted to, his bizarre social anxiety attacks or not-- but just then her alarm went off. "Damn it," she muttered, turning away from him to tap it off. She glanced over her shoulder. "Duty calls."

She rose from the bed, not bothering to look for clothes; she had to clean up before getting dressed. "Make yourself at home: the bagels are in the fridge and everything else is where you'd expect to find it." Amber curved her back to kiss the top of his head, cupping his face between her hands. She'd be more careful with him; she wouldn’t let herself get carried away. But she didn't have to be so paranoid as to write him off at once. "I'll join you after I shower."

With a flip of her hair and a smirk, she strutted to the bathroom, smugly aware that he'd be watching her exit, just as she had his the night before.

Foreman felt a stab of guilt when Amber said she didn't lie. He didn't like to lie, but sometimes it was the most expedient thing. If he could protect both of them for the next few days, then he didn't mind taking that on. And he wasn't lying that he wanted to be around her, or about how he felt about her. The rest would take care of itself.

He glanced at her clock when the alarm went off again. Before he could delay her further, and try to ease away the suspicious look that had crossed her face when he'd scrambled away from any incriminating topic, Amber was already out of bed and sending him to the kitchen. Foreman sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, his elbows on his knees, grinning down at the floor. If she was determined to kick him out on her schedule, that was fine. Didn't mean he had to make it easy for her. The swing of her hips when she'd headed for the bathroom had been more than a little inviting, and after last night's good luck, who was he to deny a good opportunity? He made his way to the bathroom and tried the door.

Amber closed the bathroom door behind her, more out of habit than anything else, and pulled out make-up remover pads from the closet mirror. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen asleep without cleaning up first! But she really had been worn out by Eric; her face split into a grin as she remembered some of the previous night’s highlights. Maybe they’d have another chance and exhausting one another.

The make-up removal went quickly enough, since she hadn’t put on much in the first place. She then turned on the facet, to wash away the pads’ oiliness and remove her last traces of sleepiness. The cold water made her more alert, sharpening her awareness. So much that she heard Eric take hold of the doorknob.

She wiped away the excess water from her face, smirking at him as he came in. “You should know, I’m on a tight schedule.” It was true; she’d timed for a quick shower, getting dressed, breakfast, and then she had to be straight out the door. Despite this, she still looked on back invitingly as she stepped into the bathtub and turned on the shower; if there was a good reason, she could be flexible. Who needed to eat, anyway? “So whatever you’re thinking, it better be fast.”

The bathroom doorknob turned easily--another sign Amber wouldn't mind an interruption. Foreman padded inside and met her smirk with one of his own. Even though her words reminded him again that she was rushing to be on time for House, he could easily ignore it. She had to get to work, and he knew that. Didn't matter what the job was. But he was still sticky from their second round last night, with the uncomfortable, itchy feeling of dried sweat and lube between his thighs. It reminded him of exactly what she'd done, how she'd made him feel, and Foreman felt a warm sensation in his chest just remembering. They wouldn't have time for sex, but Foreman had ruined Amber's plan to give them a few minutes in bed, and he wanted to repay her now for his interruption. A few minutes in the shower, touching each other in the guise of washing up, would be a welcome distraction.

"I just want to get clean," he said. The words were innocent enough, but his tone wasn't. He stepped into the bathtub behind Amber. The water was still cool, but warming. Foreman wrapped his arms around Amber's waist and bent down to lick away a droplet of water rolling down from her shoulder. "Don't let me stop you."

Amber leaned the back of her head onto his shoulder, sighing happily. There were so many things to think about, like Eric’s confusing indecision and just how long they could shower before she risked being late, but whatever. Moments don’t come twice, and she wasn’t going to waste this one worrying: much better to relax against Eric, tingling at his mouth over her wet skin, reveling in the massage of the warm water. No wonder last night had been so fantastic; they fit together, somehow.

"You want to get clean? What a coincidence, so do I,” she teased. She bit her lip, grinning. He could try all he wanted to fool around with her, but that didn’t mean she had to cooperate. Let him see what he got for messing up her plans! She bent forward, slipping out of his hold, and took the bottle of the shampoo. Squeezing a generous amount onto her hand, she lathered up her hair. (Early-morning flirtation games were fine and all but she really did have to wash.) She glanced behind her shoulder at him, blinking innocently. “Want some for yourself? Or do you want the soap, first?”

Foreman hummed in the back of his throat as Amber leaned back against him. Definitely hadn't been imagining that invitation. "Soap's fine," he said. He glanced to the side and found it in the soap dish. Picking it up, Foreman worked up a lather and then set it down, before he started rubbing his hands over Amber's shoulders. Her skin was slippery and hot from the water, and Foreman smoothed his hands down Amber's back to her ass, pressing his thumbs along the line of her spine and under her shoulder blades along his way. When he reached Amber's waist, he let his touch skim lightly as he circled her waist, bringing his hands up again to cup her breasts.

It was warm, comfortable, touching her like this, not meaning to make her desperate but to turn her on enough to make tonight, or this weekend, whenever they met up again, all the more memorable. "There," he said, his voice warm, teasing. "All you have to do is rinse." With that, and grinning to himself, Foreman picked up the soap and started washing himself.

Amber closed her eyes to better sense every turn of Eric’s hands over her. So, so good. And was it her imagination, or was she the one being teased? She’d have to spend the rest of the day replaying his caresses, imagining alternative endings to the scenario if she didn’t have to leave for work. Didn’t seem fair she had to go to the hospital and face another day of Russian Roulette with House holding the pistol when she could stay here, satisfying physical and emotional impulses. Who knew, maybe after enough sex she and Eric would be able to keep their hands off each other long enough for a proper conversation.

But whatever they did end up doing together, it’d have to be later. Amber sighed again, none of the contentment she had a minute ago. She rinsed her hair, to keep the shampoo from sliding further down her forehead, and turned around. She couldn’t not smile. Day had risen and for the first time she saw Eric in natural light: he looked wonderful, all happy and playful, with his beautiful body covered in soapsuds. “Let me help you,” she said with a husky voice as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She kissed him, just a grazing touch at first, then sucking on his lower lip. It was okay, they had a bit more time. She ran her hands over his water-softened skin, gathering some of the suds and rubbing them down his back and ass.

Foreman hardly had time to finish scrubbing himself before Amber finished washing the shampoo out of her hair and turned to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Very helpful," he murmured as he returned her kiss. The light, slippery sweep of her hands down his back wasn't doing much to wash him, but it was doing a hell of a good job of turning him on. The kiss wasn't deep or serious, but it seemed all the more enticing because of how fleeting it was. Foreman's penis stirred slightly, enough that Amber would feel it against her stomach. She'd probably feel damn smug that she'd provoked a reaction.

Foreman reached up to take hold of Amber's wrists and pulled away just enough to meet her eyes and smile at her. "You'd better go before I start getting ideas," he said. He shifted past her, carefully, so that he could get at some of the spray that her body had blocked, and let the water pour over his shoulders. When he'd rinsed, he got out of the shower and took one of her towels, tucking it around his waist as he picked up his boxers and headed back for Amber's bedroom to get the rest of his clothes.

Amber might take longer to dress than he had, since she was getting ready for work, and Foreman's plan was to go home and grab his gym gear. He pulled on his pants, grinned when he found his shirt and tie in the hall. The shirt he put on; the tie he tucked into his suit jacket pocket and left near the door. He hadn't exactly helped Amber hurry along in the shower, so he went to the kitchen and looked in a few cupboards until he'd found the filters and coffee. He started a pot and then got out the bagels to toast. The least he could do was make Amber breakfast, even if they both had to run out the door with it rather than sit down to eat.

"What ideas could you possibly be getting?" She nuzzled his neck; she wouldn't let him get away again so easily this time, especially not when things were starting to get interesting. But still he moved to the front, washing off quickly. Twice in less than half an hour he'd bowed out too soon! "You're a tease!" she complained as Eric stepped out of the shower.

Still, he wasn’t wrong. She did have to get going. Amber completed soaping herself, cleaning the spots he’d ignored while giving her a “hand,” and rinsed off. Once she’d dried herself, she went back into her room and opened the closet. What to wear? A bright red blouse, because she wanted to keep her good mood going for the rest for the day. And if she was going to wear that, a white skirt, the one that came to just above her knees, would match perfectly. Red heels, her pearl necklace, and a light layer of make-up completed the outfit. Amber posed in front of the mirror to make sure she looked less nothing than fantastic and nodded to herself in approval. She couldn’t wait for Eric to see her.

The scent of coffee met her as she made her way to the kitchen. “Oh, thank god! I’m starving!” She kissed him quickly on the cheek, by way of thanks, but didn’t linger long. She really was ravenous after a skipped dinner and several rounds of sex. She took out a couple of plates and mugs, then poured herself some coffee. “You want some, too?”

Foreman paused appreciatively when Amber swept into the kitchen, ready for the day. Admittedly, he was already very fond of the sight of her in the nude, but he was impressed with the picture she put forward now, too. Professional, and not about to let anyone get in her way, and still damn striking. Foreman couldn't help but think that House would have a hard time finding a reason to fire her. If she approached medicine the way she had their night together--direct, confident, and more than competent, leaving out the bullshit entirely--had to impress House just as much as it had him.

That first impression disappeared in the moment when she thanked him exuberantly, so that she suddenly seemed younger, more carefree. "You're welcome," Foreman said, grinning, reaching up to wipe away a slight smear of lipstick. He pulled the bagels from the toaster and started buttering his.

He nodded when she offered coffee. "Sugar, if you have it." He waved the butter knife he'd been using at the second bagel. "What can I get you?"

Amber poured coffee for Eric, adding the sugar he’d requested, and passed it on to him. She then held up her mug to her face, breathing in deeply the scent through her nose. It smelled even better up close. One more reason to love sex: it made everything else seem wonderful, even a simple cup of coffee. It was good to be alive. “I’ll take the cottage cheese.” This was nice. Amber didn’t mind letting her one-night partners eat breakfast before booting them out, if it didn’t interfere with her plans, but she didn’t eat with them. Was this what it was like for couples? Probably not. More likely it’d be a lot more drab, each person doing their own serving.

Amber sipped her coffee, contemplating her day. They probably wouldn’t have a new case yet, so House would either bail out altogether or decide he’d entertain himself with them. If he bailed, she could work the clinic, earning brownie points with Cuddy. She might not have much control over House, but she was powerful in other ways; might as well suck up to her, too. And if House wanted to play with his recruits… that’d be fun. She could mess with the others. She should wait before trying anything more with the oh-so-precious Thirteen, but there was still plenty of competition to weed out. She should take care of Cole: House seemed to be really intrigued by him.

She wondered what Eric would be up to. “So why don’t you have work today? Do all neurologists get Fridays off?”

Foreman prepared Amber's bagel and slid her plate over to her. He took a bite of his own, chewing, and it turned out to be a good thing. He could shake his head and chew instead of answering her right away. It was a simple question, but one that threw a shadow over him, reminding him that none of this could last. "I start on Monday," he said when he'd swallowed. "I'm free until then." He mostly meant in terms of his time--more and more of which he was thinking of spending with Amber--but the implication was there, too. After Monday they wouldn't be able to continue like this. Eating breakfast together and talking about work. Even if Foreman wanted to go against his own common sense to date someone he worked with, and even if Amber brushed off the way he hadn't told her the whole truth, Foreman wasn't interested in dating anyone on House's watch. House couldn't stand it when Wendy had dared to ask for some of Foreman's time on Valentine's Day, not to mention the fact that House had dug into Wendy's life just because he thought she was Wilson. House had pulled the same shit on Chase and Cameron, mocking them and sneering at them for trying together. It was only of the many reasons he'd left in the first place.

He sighed. As much as he'd been dreading working for House again, now there was one more reason why it was a shitty situation. He took a sip of coffee, trying to clear those thoughts away. "Maybe you could help me put it off," he said. "Can I take you out for dinner tonight?"

She nodded; Eric had mentioned starting a new job. PPTH seemed transfer-happy, if it kept moving its employees from one section to another. Amber remembered that Cameron and Chase had originally worked for House before going on to their current departments. Then again, working long-term for House would be tough on anyone not made of nails, and the hospital probably hadn’t wanted to lose good workers.

He’d also heavily implied he was miserable about this next project he was taking on. Who knew, maybe Amber could make him less miserable while he worked that job. Not that she’d do it out of the goodness of her heart, but they’d been raising each other’s mood so far. It wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to think they could keep it up for longer. And from the way his expression fell, as if the mere thought of what was coming depressed him, he’d need someone to cheer him up.

Amber picked up her plate and bit into her bagel; it was almost, but not quite, as fantastic as the coffee. It’d be worth seeing more of Eric, if everything kept on tasting so much better after having sex with him! So she grinned when he asked her out, flattered to be invited and pleased that they were on the same wavelength. If he hadn’t done so first, she’d have asked to see him again. “Oh, that’d depend,” she teased flirtatiously, raising her eyebrows. “Where would you take me?” She had her favorite restaurants, but she was curious about his choices for their date.

Foreman couldn't help returning Amber's smile. She'd accepted his explanation and wasn't digging for more details, and in his relief, he felt even more eager to choose a place that she'd like. "What, don't you trust me?" he asked. "Last night I didn't say it depends before I followed you." Well, he sure as hell hadn't been hesitating when there'd be a chance that he could forget his problems for a night. That had turned out pretty close to perfect.

He did have a few restaurants that he picked when he had a date. It didn't happen that often--he was busy most of the time--but Foreman didn't find it hard to pick up women for a casual affair here or there, relationships that didn't affect his work or last a particularly long time. It usually worked out well; he had the chance to let go of his frustrations and work tension with someone who didn't know exactly how crazy his boss was. Foreman took dates to restaurants where he'd gone often enough to know the service and the food was good, and where he'd tipped the maitre d's well enough over the years that they discreetly provided better wine or complimentary appetizers, and picked tables for him well away from the bathrooms or the kitchen.

"How about Ma Cabane?" he asked. "Do you know it?" It was fancier than where they'd been last night, and Foreman guessed that Amber's tastes were similar enough to his--he'd enjoyed her bar last night--that she'd appreciate it. "Or," he said, grinning, "we could go to Shank's." The sports bar had greasy food and blaring televisions, but it had good beer. Sometimes Foreman went there with Cameron and Chase, but they'd never gone there much as a couple, so Foreman thought he'd be safe enough not to run into them. Amber's pick would tell him a lot about her: whether last night's quiet jazz music and subdued lighting really was her style, or if she'd jump at the chance to do something more lighthearted. Foreman could enjoy both, on occasion, and he wondered if Amber was the same way.

"My standards are higher," Amber winked. While it was true she had high standards, she also trusted him to come up with good options. If Eric hadn't already earned her interest and respect, he wouldn't be here right now to ask her out.

She bit into her bagel and chewed as he suggested a couple of places, watching him. The way he brightened as he named Shank's didn't escape her attention. "Oh, tough choice." At Ma Cabane she could dress up, using her more elegant dresses that tended to rot in the back of her closet. They had great food there, subtle and delicate. And Eric, he'd fit right in, as if he were in his own home.

But Eric fitting in was the problem. He played the gentleman too well, to the point of hiding himself. No way was Amber going to encourage that tendency! "But I’m more in the mood for Shank's. Who knows, maybe you can take me to Ma Cabane some other time." While she didn't care for sports, a laid back evening could be fun, getting lightheaded with beers and learning more about each other. Hopefully she’d get a glimpse of his relaxed, natural side.

"Wait a sec." She swallowed the last of her bagel and hurried to her desk in the living room. From there she pulled out a business card from her latest set: Amber Volakis, Diagnostics Department at Princeton-Plainsboro. Holding it out to him, “There’s my number, call me if anything happens. You should give me yours, too. House might make us pull an all-nighter swabbing the hospital rooms for mold, or whatever other project he gets into his head. If he does, we’ll have to cancel—though if you wanted to, you could join in on the swabbing.” Amber grinned at this last bit.

Foreman raised his eyebrows, surprised at Amber's choice. He'd offered Shank's as a joke, or a test, although he had no problem with the place. Amber had wider interests than he'd thought, but that was hardly a bad thing. There would be more to learn about her, more interesting things to discuss. He finished his bagel and washed it down with his coffee as she went off to the living room, so that he'd be ready to leave when she was.

When Amber came back and presented her business card to him, Foreman nearly froze again. He managed to smile at her joke, although he couldn't see anything the least bit funny about being House's lackey, ordered around to perform pointless tasks just because House was on a power trip that had nothing to do with their current case. But that wasn't the worst of the problem. Amber had given him her card, but even though Foreman had a stack of his own in his wallet, he couldn't give one back. He'd been an idiot, arrogant as hell, and he'd gone out and gotten new ones--Amber must have done the same--only his read Head of Diagnostics, Mercy General Hospital. If he handed one to Amber, the questions would start, and Foreman was sure she'd cancel tonight--probably cancel knowing him--if that was how he told her what his new job was. He wanted to do it this weekend, but Sunday would be soon enough, at some point when they were both relaxed, not about to rush out the door. "Do you have a pen?" he asked as he tucked her card into his pocket. "My home number just changed." That was true, since he'd moved back to Princeton, and Foreman would most likely be there in the afternoon, since he didn't have much planned beyond the gym and maybe getting some groceries. He'd want to clean, too, and get things ready, just in case the opportunity came to ask Amber up after their date. "I'll give you my cell, too, but that's probably where I'll be."

"Sure," Amber said, nodding to the pad and paper next to her kitchen phone. She then glanced at the microwave clock: time was up, she had to be out the door. "I get off work at five, but I'll need to come back here and change. And clean up." She glanced behind her shoulder to beyond the kitchen. She'd left her clothes all over the living room, not to mention the unchanged bed sheets. While not happy about abandoning the mess, it'd have to wait. "Pick me up here at six." They’d gone in separate cars last night, but that was because they hadn’t known what to expect from each after five minutes’ conversation. …They hadn’t talked much more since then, but now they had more to go on, and Amber was certain they’d leave Shank’s together.

“Okay, this is it, I gotta go.” Stepping right up to Eric, she held his face between her hands; his breath smelled of the breakfast they’d just had. Amber smiled grand and wide, like she’d just been announced the winner of a contest. “I had a great—no, a fantastic time. And I can’t wait to see you again.” Slowly she brought her face to his, brushing their lips at first, then kissing him lightly. It wasn’t true that she couldn’t wait—if that were the case, she wouldn’t be heading out—but it almost was.

A few seconds of very, very pleasant kissing, and then it was time. “I’ll see you later.” Amber strode to the living room, her heels clacking against the wood panels, to get her keys and wallet.

Foreman scribbled his numbers on the pad of paper Amber offered. She was already in a whirlwind, grabbing her things and starting for the door. Foreman followed her, pulling on his suit jacket--hopelessly wrinkled--and his overcoat, pulling them on. "I'll be here," he promised. If he was picking her up, and if her plans to clean meant anything, then he might want to be a bit more prepared this evening. He'd bring a change of clothes, something casual enough for a weekend, as well as his shaving gear and deodorant; a few things that he could keep in his car, but that would be there if he spent the night again. He was pretty damn sure he'd be spending the night again. Maybe as inventively as last night. Maybe just talking, if he could steer Amber away from thinking about work. With the excuse that it was the weekend, he thought that he could ensure that they picked safe topics.

The next thing he knew, Amber was reaching for him, cupping his face. Foreman let his hands fall to Amber's waist, bringing her close for a moment as they kissed. "Me too," he said. He wanted to tell her to blow House off if he started making stupid demands, but it wasn't worth the fight. Not yet. "You're amazing." The compliment dropped from his lips easily, but it was true, and Foreman smiled, stepping back so that Amber didn't have to take it too seriously if she wanted to keep things light.

He followed her to the front door, and then headed for his own car. He sat behind the wheel for a moment, taking a moment to simply breathe and realize that he'd stumbled into something--hell, if the word fit, he'd use it--amazing. Chuckling to himself, Foreman started his car and headed for home. He only hoped he could manage to keep this together long enough for Amber to forgive his lie.

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26 October 2007 - Morning

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