Two Drabbles
Title: cane & everything I'm not
Author: madwriter223
Summary: two drabbles, joining into one story
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): slight Foreman/House
Feedback: yes, please
Author's Note: Answer to two prompts from the Almost Totally Random Pairing Generator. Enjoy.
If this isn't what you're looking for in this community (I'm not sure), tell me and I'll put this down.
cane
Foreman blinked, staring at the sight before him.
House was sitting against the wall, a vacant expression on his face. There were bruises forming on each bit of visible skin and the older man's cane lay in two pieces before him.
And of all the things he could have said, “What happened to your cane?” was not the first on his list.
The answer was something he had not expected though, ever.
“Wilson broke it.” it was delivered in a soft murmur, House not showing any sign he was even aware of having spoken.
Foreman knew that things hadn't been all that good between the two department heads, but this? This was no longer anger displacement, this was mindless violence. Or maybe not so mindless - a black eye on someone with a cracked skill and a broken cane to prevent escape.
This had to stop, now.
But first, he had his boss to take care of.
“Can you get up?”
A shake of the head, accompanied by a “I'd rather stay here,” in the same soft tone.
Perfect, emotional shock. Just what the man needed.
“Okay.” Foreman nodded, deciding it was best to just wait this out. He moved to sit next to the older man, leaning his back against the wall. “I'll just stay here then.”
No response.
They sat like that for a long time, House staring into space while Foreman watched him for signs of any new developments.
He blinked in surprise, but still didn't speak when the diagnostician suddenly leaned towards him, laying his head on the neurologist's shoulder. There wasn't really anything he could say, so he let the man take comfort from one of the very few people who didn't hate him.
Besides, it gave him perfect opportunity to think of ways he was going to rip Wilson to shreds.
everything I'm not
Foreman came in and sat in front of the other man, smiling pleasantly.
“Hey Wilson.” he greeted, letting his eyes roam over the other's frame. “You look good.”
“What do you want?” the older man asked, barely concealed anger obvious in his voice.
“Just wanted to see how you were doing.” Foreman gave a smirk. “And be smug for a moment.”
Wilson growled. “You bastard.”
“Actually, you're the bastard. Or to be more precise - you're a vindictive, self-absorbed bastard.”
“That's 'a very successful oncologist'.”
“Not anymore.” Foreman couldn't contain a chuckle. “Yah know, I always thought you were everything I'm not. But now...” he gave him a pointed look. “I couldn't be happier about that.”
Wilson scowled darkly. “When I get out of here-”
“Actually that's 'if you get out of here'. The jury doesn't look too kindly at beating up a cripple with his own cane. Not to mention the little fact you manipulated him into unnecessarily risking his life while he had a serious head injury.” He leaned forward. “Oh no. You're going down. Down, down and six foot deep.”
The ex-oncologists eyes widened, then he sat up, slamming his hand into the glass separating them, cursing at him.
Foreman sat back, watching with satisfaction while the guards jumped to action, pulling the orange-clad man back and out of the room.
“Enjoy your new life, bitch.”