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Untitled
by alazysod
"Is that a new tie?"
Foreman glanced up from a medical journal to see House, nonchalantly leaning against the doorframe with a bottle of Vicodin in his palm.
"No," Foreman answered. He shut the journal. If House was in the room, there was little chance he would be able to finish reading.
House swallowed two Vicodin dry, replied, "Looks nice," and left.
Foreman idly fingered the bottom of his tie.
*
"Happy birthday, Dr. Foreman," House crooned, drawing out birthday into superfluous syllables before dropping a box of chocolates onto the table.
Foreman stared. "It's not my birthday."
"You can still eat the chocolates, though," said House, taking a seat next to Foreman.
"Is this a racial thing?"
"They're delicious," House continued. He opened up the box and pushed it towards Foreman, who poked a piece of chocolate with his finger. "Delicious. And no, I'm not poisoning you, or bribing you."
Hesitantly, Foreman picked up a chocolate. House grinned.
*
House rattled off symptoms meticulously, cane tapping against the floor in rhythm with his words, and asked, "Differential diagnosis? Anyone?"
"Something viral?" Chase suggested, gnawing on a pen. Cameron nodded in agreement.
"Anyone?" continued House, ignoring the frown from Chase and pout from Cameron. "Shall we go with what the dark one says?"
Foreman loosened his tie and mentioned some rare ailment.
House pushed himself out of the chair. "Sounds good."
"You always go with what he says," Chase grumbled, tossing the pen onto the table.
"I like him better."
*
"You want to go to dinner tonight?"
Foreman glanced up from his lunch tray. House slid into the seat opposite, his cane poking Foreman's ankle, and pilfered a few chips.
Foreman said, "Excuse me?" and slapped House's hand.
"Dinner. Italian place."
"Wait, what?"
House prodded Foreman's ankle again. "We can go somewhere more preferable to your people, if you prefer." He stood, stealing more chips in the process. "I'll pick you up at seven."
*
"Chase, I think House is taking me on a date."
"...I'm sorry?"
"He invited me to dinner. No-he didn't give me much of a choice. He just told me when he was picking me up."
"So why the hell did you call me? Am I supposed to help you figure out which tie to wear?"
"Hell no."
"Just hope that he brought you an extra helmet for the motorcycle, Foreman, and don't let him put his hand up your skirt."
*
Dinner was actually a pleasant affair; good food, good wine, and House had driven Wilson's car over instead of the motorcycle.
"You can pay," said House when the bill came, "and then you're coming home with me."
"Am I?"
House nodded, and Foreman reached for his wallet.
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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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