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Working Interest
by Nuala
Title: Working Interest
Author: Nuala
Pairing: Foreman/Chase
Rating: R
Summary: What I suspect Chase does when he's bored at work.
Warnings: Canadian spellings. Un-beta'd, and written in one day. Beware rampant typos and possible OOC-ness.
Disclaimer: If they were mine, this would be canon. They're not, and I make no money from this.
A/N: Submitted as part of the Livejournal house_slash community's Foreman Love Fest, because groovy doctors need love too. Remember, people who don't read and review make Foreman cry.
***
As soon as he was hired, Chase started evaluating his co-workers as potential lovers. It never occurred to him that this was unusual, that perhaps other people did not automatically and continually sexually assess everyone around them. It seemed like a perfectly reasonable and logical way to pursue happiness.
Case's coworkers at Princeton-Plainsboro were, for the most part, gratifyingly gorgeous. They all also passed muster for intelligence and wit - they had to, really, to keep up with House. He appraised their personalities as well, how compatible they'd be with him. He wasn't shallow, after all.
It didn't take Chase long to suss out the situation.
Dr. Gregory House. He was certainly intelligent, quite brilliant in fact. That was always a turn-on. Gorgeous eyes; in fine physical shape, despite the obvious; all in all, very attractive in a scruffy, grumpy kind of way. But a little bit of research revealed that House was a serial monogamist with a number of long-term girlfriends in his past. So, probably straight, and almost certainly not interested in no-strings sex. Pity.
Dr. James Wilson. House's friend. Married, though that never meant much, and it was on the rocks anyhow. He was undoubtedly attractive, despite the haircut and the pocket protector. Intelligent and successful - he was the youngest Head of Oncology Chase had ever heard of. But dear God the man was boring! Chase quickly realized that when Wilson wasn't bantering with House, he was so bland that he made oatmeal porridge seem like a deeply fascinating conversationalist. What House ever saw in him was beyond Chase.
Dr. Lisa Cuddy. Chase had always been an aficionado of beautiful older women. Cuddy certainly had a body and face Chase wouldn't say no to. She also had that air of authority and competence that made the whole older-woman thing so alluring. Sadly, she was far too professional to even look twice at Chase, or anyone working for her.
Dr. Allison Cameron. She was a female version of Wilson - good-looking and fairly smart, but combining an earnest blandness with a perfectly boring drive to heal the wounded. He pursued her anyway, for a while, in the hope that she was simply quiet and deep rather than boring and vapid. His hope proved fruitless, though, and the fact that she was obviously uninterested in him sealed the deal.
Dr. Eric Foreman. At first Chase thought not, just because the man seemed so morally upright. Not someone who would enter into a sordid affair with a male co-worker. But as the weeks went by and Chase had essentially eliminated everyone else in his immediate circle of acquaintances without scoring with a single one, he began to re-evaluate Foreman. Certainly, he was attractive and intelligent, though there were plenty attractive, intelligent people Chase could sleep with.
Something about Foreman fascinated him. He was always relaxed and competent, compassionate but strong. He was easygoing - Chase wondered what it would take to get a strong reaction from him. He was generally friendly with Chase, though they'd butted heads often enough. There was a kind of challenge to Foreman that became increasingly provoking as time passed.
Chase also found himself physically attracted to Foreman, more and more every day. His skin was so smooth. Chase wondered if it would be hot under his hands, or cool. At one point, he spent several days trying half-heartedly not to stare at Foreman's sensual mouth, and failing. He contemplated Foreman's face, his symmetrical features, his dark hooded eyes. The facial hair he could take or leave, but he wondered whether Foreman's chest and body where sprinkled with hair, or if he was smooth and dark everywhere....
Chase enjoyed the thrill of the hunt, the carefully calibrated increase of attention coupled with a steady decrease in average distance between bodies. He gradually insinuated himself into Foreman's personal space, apparently without Foreman really noticing. It was intoxicating, this proximity - Chase found himself becoming hyper-aware of Foreman's presence, his smooth fingers, his expressive eyes, the spicy scent of him, the body heat radiating from him.
Still, Chase moved slowly, drawing out the pleasure of seduction. Foreman was actually the best quarry he'd had in recent memory. His kindness and friendliness made approaching him relatively easy, yet added the extra challenge of making a smooth transition from "friendly co-worker" to "friend with benefits." Every day, Chase congratulated himself on being one step closer to his goal - hot, strings-free sex with Foreman. There was no doubt in his mind that he would succeed, as long as he was patient and careful.
One day during what Chase thought of as the "Prolonged-Eye-Contact-And-Deliberate-Hand-Brushing Phase" (and it occurred to him that he needed to reconsider his seduction nomenclature), his carefully laid plans took an unexpected turn. Chase and Foreman were examining a patient's test results. Chase moved in very close to Foreman, so close their bodies were almost touching. When Chase turned his head to face Foreman, their faces were inches away.
Trying to increase the intensity of the situation, Chase manoeuvred their positions until he and Foreman were completely facing each other. Foreman was looking at the chart - that would never do. Chase touched his arm, to get his attention, as he made a point.
Foreman's eyes darted up to meet Chase's. Which would have been good, but Foreman's expression was crackling with... something. Anger? Had Chase pushed too far? He withdrew his hand and leaned on the counter behind him, and beat a hasty figurative retreat.
"So... uh... the patient's white cell count might indicate that -"
"What the hell, Chase?" Foreman interrupted. His voice was quiet, but the tone was unmistakeably one of command. Chase's breath caught. "All damn month you've been all over me. What are you playing at?"
Chase blinked rapidly. He hadn't anticipated this. How long had Foreman...?
He gasped as Foreman suddenly moved in even closer, essentially pinning him against the counter. They were in an uncrowded part of the hospital, but there were enough distant passers-by the Chase probably couldn't make a break for it without attracting attention. His heart beat faster, but he tried to stay calm, tried to hide the outrageous nervousness he felt.
"I mean it, Chase," Foreman said quietly. "What is this about? You trying to intimidate me, or freak me out?"
"No," Chase said, unable to meet Foreman's eyes.
"So what is it? Some kind of freaky mind game? Or is this all some ridiculous seduction attempt?"
Chase was stunned. He tried to cover. "Listen, Foreman, whatever you think..."
Foreman's expression went from incensed to intrigued. "It was some kind of come-on, wasn't it? Man, you kids these days have no idea, do you." Chase opened his mouth to protest, but Foreman kept talking. "All that coquettishness. It's bullshit. You have to be smooth..." Foreman punctuated this instruction by caressing Chase's hand. "...Clear..." He moved his hand to Chase's hip, rubbing in small circles right above where his thigh began, dangerously close to... "And precise." He cupped Chase's groin.
Chase suppressed a groan, his eyelids fluttering. He braced himself with on hand on the counter behind him. Foreman was looking down, concentrating on what he was doing. His expression was just beautiful - his downcast eyes hidden by thick lashes, his mouth supple, his expression intent. Chase didn't look away, despite the amazing things Foreman was doing between his legs.
And what amazing things they were, caresses and strokes, teasing and coaxing and moving. Over and over again, slowly and patiently. It was above and beyond your usual over-the-trousers grope, and it was making Chase weak in the knees. He gripped the counter hard. Far too soon, Chase was embarrassingly close to the edge, and if Foreman didn't stop soon....
"Foreman," Chase said, aiming for quiet but coming out more like desperate. "Foreman, stop."
Foreman didn't even look up. His stroking became more insistent, long swooping caresses along the length of Chase's erection. Foreman leaned in close, put his mouth next to Chase's ear and said, "Come for me, baby," in a dark, commanding whisper.
Helplessly, Chase tumbled over the edge, waves of pleasure wracking his body. He shuddered through the aftershocks, trapped between the counter and Foreman's body. When he could stand on his own again, he noted that Foreman was casually perusing the chart they'd been looking at.
"So you think there's a connection with the elevated white cell count?" Foreman asked neutrally. He displayed no apparent reaction at all to what they'd just done. Chase was about to call attention to this oversight and suggest they retire to a milieu where Chase might reciprocate when they were interrupted.
"Chase! Foreman! Office!" House barked at them. Mercifully from a distance, though Chase could feel himself blushing anyway.
Foreman pulled back, holding the chart and smiling knowingly at Chase. It was a smile Chase had never seen before - seductive, confident, and shrewd. "I'll take these and talk to House. You'd better go clean yourself up. See you at the office." And he walked away, cool as anything. Chase watched in astonishment that turned to admiration for the view.
He snapped back to himself as soon as Foreman was out of sight. Well. That had been... unexpected. But not unwelcome. In fact, this little development might turn out to be entirely satisfactory.
He pushed away from the counter, grimacing at the rapidly-congealing sensation in his pants. He walked carefully to the nearest men's room and cleaned up as best he could.
House snapped at him for being late, which concerned him as much as usual, which was to say, not at all. Cameron made cow-eyes at House, who ignored her, also as usual. Foreman made his usual suggestions to counter House's, and was shot down in the typical way. Different day, same snark.
Except that Chase noticed that Foreman held a pen in his hand, toying with it during the meeting. In fact, he was running his fingers up and down the length of the pen in exactly the same way....
Chase abruptly looked away. Fuck. He risked a glance back. Foreman was gripping the pen normally, and wasn't even looking at Chase, but he had a slight smile on his face and one eyebrow was deliberately cocked in Chase's direction.
Despite himself, Chase smiled. Work had just gotten exponentially more interesting.
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of Fox Television, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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