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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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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