Why now?

[alanwolfmoon.livejournal.com]

Title:  Why now?
Pairing: Foreman/House
Author: alanwolfmoon
Summary:  written for  foreman_fest prompt #6. Foreman/House - one of them starts to flirt outrageously with the other. Why? Where does it lead? (Hint: IT LEADS TO HOTNESS)
Disclaimer: MINE! ALL MINE! uh, no, not mine....
Notes: reviews and flames alike are welcome. (they make it look like I'm writing fast)

House sighed, rubbing the eraser over the whiteboard in a rather tired manner.

Foreman had dosed off in one of the chairs, as had Cameron.

Chase hadn’t fallen asleep in one of the chairs, he had fallen off of one, then fallen asleep on the floor.

Nobody had really had the energy to move him or even wake him up.

House tossed the eraser at Foreman’s head, knowing him to be the easiest to wake up.

Foreman raised his head off his chest, but didn’t open his eyes.

House raised an eyebrow as Foreman started mumbling to the air above House’s usual chair.

“‘nd...Nate....’s right...’m really....’n...House...”

House limped over, tilting his head.

Who the hell was Nate?

“Foreman.”

“Sorry...din’...wan’....uncomfy...kid’s....comment....made me...think...”

House rolled his eyes, getting bored by Foreman’s sleepy mumbling, although he did want to figure out who the heck “Nate” was.

House poked Foreman in the chest with the handle of his cane.

Foreman started, his eyes opening.

On the closest veiw he had ever had of House’s eyes.

House’s very, very blue eyes.

“Who’s Nate?” asked House’s rough voice from six inches away.

Foreman nearly blushed.

“The chess kid jerk patient, remember? Why?”

“Because you were talking about him in your sleep.”

Foreman couldn’t help but start at that.

“I was talking in my sleep?”

“Well, unless Chase or Cameron are sleep ventriloquists....”

Foreman snorted.

House raised an eyebrow.

“Since when do you laugh?”

Foreman really, really wished House would pull back.

He also wished House would stop following the train of thought that the mention of the kid’s name might put him on.

“Since you catch me when I’m this sleepy. What time is it anyway?”

“You have a watch.”

“Yeah, but unless I feel like smacking you in the face, there’s no room for me to look at it. Not that I’m saying I have a problem with smacking you.”

“It’s two am.” said House, pulling back and limping over to pick up his backpack.

Foreman blinked, wishing that had been something other than House being annoying.

“Wake them up, or don’t, I don’t care. I just want to be able to tell the janitor it wasn’t me that left them there this time.” said House, indicating the two slumbering ducklings.

To his surprise Foreman didn’t answer, having fallen asleep again.

And talking, again.

“Foreman.” said House, poking him with a finger this time, somewhat interested.

“Mmm?”

“What did Nate tell you that made you think?”

“Mmm....he made....me think....mmmh...”

“What?”

“House....”

“Yeahhh...?”

“Your eyes are pretty.”

House opened his mouth.

Then he closed it.

Then he stood up.

“Foreman, wake up, you are most definitely dreaming.”

“‘n blue...I like blue...”

“Foreman. Wake. Up.”

“‘n pretty...next to...silver....your hair...kinda....silver...’n shiny...’n....pretty....”

House decided he would much rather be yelled at by the janitor for leaving three unconscious doctors strewn about the room than listen to more of Foreman’s....sleep flirting, so he left.

************************************************************************

House groaned as he tried to ignore the knocking coming from outside his apartment.

After about fifteen minutes, he finally decided that either someone really, really needed a diagnosis, or he had forgotten to pay his last hooker. Or energy bill, which would explain why his power had been out for nearly a week.

“Oh, shut up! I’m coming!”

He got up, his leg throbbing, wishing he hadn’t left his cane by the door.

By the time he made it to the door, his thigh was telling him rather loudly that his last vicodin had been much to long ago for such extended travel without extra support.

He was not in a good mood as he jerked the door open, expecting to see cuddy or Cameron or a representative of the most recent “place” he had called.

Instead he found Foreman standing there, looking...asleep.


House groaned, too tired to deal with his unfortunate employee’s parasomnia.

“Foreman, I don’t really want to deal with you right now.” was about the best he could think to say at the moment.

Unfortunately, Foreman’s dream version of his boss apparently did want to deal with him, because he smiled and nodded, stepping inside.

House sighed, wishing he could just let the whole thing run itself out. It wasn’t like Foreman was actually gay....

He poked Foreman hard in the eyes.

Foreman started, reeling backwards.

“What the hell was that for!” he shouted, pushing House before he realized that it was his crippled boss, and that pushing was a rather bad idea.

Fortunately, he had woken up enough to react, and grabbed House before he hit the floor.

House just sighed, as Foreman blinked, wondering what the hell he was doing there.

“Congratulations. You have your own form of sleep disturbance.. Annoyanceomnia.” said House as Foreman pulled him back up.

“What....what was I doing?” asked Foreman, still totally disoriented.

“You really, really don’t want to know. I really, really don’t want to explain. Everybody in new jersey really, really hopes you didn’t drive.”

“House, come on, just tell me. I gotta know so I can figure out how to avoid it in the future...”

House rolled his eyes.

“Fine. In the interests of *avoiding* it, I’ll tell you. You, in your infinite, sleep induced horniness, were hitting on me. You did it earlier, in the differential room as well.”

Foreman’s mouth dropped open.

“You’re lying.”

House raised an eyebrow.

“Why would I lie about that? I just want to get back to sleep as fast as possible.”


All of a sudden, the streetlights flickered out, sending at least a thousand foot radius around House’s front door into total darkness.

House flicked his light switch, before he remembered that his power was out.

Foreman tried to find the doorway, so he didn’t fall off House’s steps, but he accidentally found House’s shoulder.

“Sorry.” he said, abruptly.

House just snorted, moving Foreman’s hand from his shoulder to the door.

Foreman slid down so that he was leaning against the doorframe.

“Did you hear a cab pull up, or anything before you opened the door?”

“No. I was asleep.”

“Oh god, I hope I didn’t drive. I could have killed myself or somebody else.”

“How far is your apartment from here?”

“Over ten miles.”

“Do your feet hurt?”

“No.”

“Then your either took a bus or a cab or drove.”

Foreman sighed.

“I don’t seem to have sleep remembered my cellphone, can I call a cab to come pick me up?”

House grumbled, but dug through his coat hung next to the door for his cell.

He found it and flipped it open, but found it was out of battery.

“Crap. No charge. Power’s been flaky for over a week.”

Foreman heard House limp off into his apartment, cursing mildly as he tripped or stubbed his toe or something.

As he waited for House to locate a phone, Foreman heard the distinct and unfriendly sound of thunder in the distance.

He shivered. He hated thunderstorms.

Instead of the odd thumping House’s footsteps usually made, Foreman heard a weather radio approaching.

“Phone lines are out too. As much as I hate it, you should probably stay inside the outer door, there’s going to be some pretty big hail and–”

House was cut off by Foreman’s frantic dash inside his apartment after a loud crack of thunder collided with their eardrums.

House raised an eyebrow.

“Are you scared of thunderstorms?”

Foreman muttered something sheepish and unintelligible, but didn’t move from where he had hunkered down in the small space between the end of the couch and the wall.

“Oh, grow up. You’re not sleeping here, that’s for sure.”

“M-m...n-not....g-g-going...out th-there.”

House glared at the dark ceiling, wondering why on earth he was stuck with his usually least problematic employee at about the worst time possible for both of them.

“Fine. Just stay there, and don’t fall asleep.” said House, giving up on getting his trembling neurologist to go anywhere but deep under a pile of covers.

Foreman said something that didn’t sound like he was unhappy with the proposal, and House went back to bed.

*********************************************************************

there hadn’t been any thunder for nearly half and hour when Foreman came back to himself and finally released his knees from his death grip of fear.

He wasn’t sure which was worse, curling up in absolute terror in a corner of House’s apartment, or hitting on House while he was asleep...

Oh, god, what was House going to do to him after they both woke up more...he had given House about the best sort of blackmail possible....

Although...if he was going to be flirting anyway, he kinda wished he had actually managed to make an impression other than being annoying. He might not be nearly ready to make any sort of outward admission of his feelings while awake, but he did recognize them....

He was thankful that House had at least not seemed really angry, just irritated and tired.
Maybe he would get away with it without months of torture....

Hmm....

If House didn’t mind....because he knew Foreman wasn’t really acting rationally while he was asleep....

An evil plan, nearly worthy of it’s object, started to form in Foreman’s mind.



House jerked as he felt something warm touch his chest.

He squinted in the dark, confirming his fears.

Foreman had somehow managed to get through the locked door, and was attempting to at least snuggle, if not openly put moves on him.

He opened his mouth to yell at Foreman and wake him up, but the yell turned into a soft groan.

Oh god that felt good....

Foreman was just rubbing his face on House’s chest, but it was so....so nice....that...uh....something....and....umm....


Ohhhhh.....that’s nice....


Niiicccee....

Good thing Foreman wouldn’t remember in the morning.



****************************************************************

Ahhhhhhh......

Wait a minute....his eyes are open....

Uh....oh well.

Too late to “back out” now....

****************************************************************

as Chase and Cameron looked up from the blue folders they were reading, they both noticed two things. One was that House was limping much heavier than usual. The other, was that Foreman was walking funnier than House.

Chase sniffed, his expression almost hopeful. Then he grinned.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve been waiting to throw this back at you for a very long time. Did you two *shower* together?”

Foreman turned as close to beet red as a black person can, while House just grinned evilly.

Cameron also turned red.

“Nope. Just in the same shower, not at the same time. Foreman has picked up a new hobby: Sleepwalking in thunderstorms. Ignoring all the possible jokes that could be made about a neurologist walking in a thunderstorm because of “aby-normal” brain function, I didn’t think that letting him get fried or drown in a gutter was going to look particularly good to legal. And the phone and power lines were out so I couldn’t call a cab.”

Cameron looked significantly less embarrassed, although she was beginning to look rather jealous.

Chase kept his eyebrows raised.

“Did you know that there was a marked surge of babies almost exactly nine months after boston experienced a massive power failure?”

House raised his eyebrows back.

“I think I’ve read that before.” he said, grinning.

Cameron resumed blushing furiously.