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[madwriter223.livejournal.com]

Hey, y'all. I've spent the last six months writing drabbles for the House/Wilson ship, using prompts from the Drabble-A-Thon from cryptictac . I liked it and I decided to do something similar for the House/Foreman side of the coin.
I composed a table of prompts using the Almost Totally Random Pairing Generator, and I'm going to be writing drabbles or short stories to it. Don't know how often I'll be posting, but I promise I'll try to get them all. Eventually.
If you'd like for me to post the prompts so more people can try their luck, tell me and I'll do so.

Prompts: hurt me, scars, coping mechanisms, God complex, not by choice, damaged, all that I've got, break the rules, three simple words

Rating: PG to PG-13
Pairing(s): House/Foreman
Feedback: Yes, please
Author's Note: hurt me - after Foreman came back in Season 4; all that I've got - after Wilson left in Season 5

 

hurt me

I know why you're doing this – mocking me, humiliating me, lashing out at me. I know why.

I know you're testing me, trying to push me away, to force me into a fury and leave you. I know that. You were left behind too many times not to test each new thing. And considering I left you once also, the hurtful words and actions are more than justified.

But you don't know me that well, do you?

I know you're a stubborn bastard, not stopping until you reach your goal no matter what route you have to take. But you forget I'm stubborn too. You forget that after all those years spent working with you, I developed a patience of a saint. And you forget how similar we are also – I too have a goal.

So do whatever you want. Hurt me, mock me, humiliate me, push me away. I'm not leaving. Not this time.

 

scars

His skin was littered with scars. The largest was on his thigh, puckered and indented. The ugliest were on his back – slightly darker stripes obviously made by a belt long time ago. The most painful were on the side on his abdomen and neck – those he had seen being made. The most numerous were everywhere, memos of clumsy times caused by a higher pain spike.

Those were the ones he saw. The ones he could touch and which he could name. But at the same time he knew that the deepest and most difficult to heal ones were hidden, seen only in a rare moment when the man's guard was down.

And somehow, they were painful to them both. But Foreman kept those thoughts to himself.

 

coping mechanisms

Each person on the face of this world has a way to cope with life's hardships, a way to distance oneself from a difficult situation and stay sane. Each way is different. Some people read, some turn their heads to the other side.

Cuddy acted bossy. She needed to have everything in hand, be on top of everything happening in her life, control the uncontrollable or wrestle him into her control.

Wilson lectured and interfered. It gave him a sense that he was doing something right, that he was helping even if he was bringing his best friend down into depression.

Foreman read newspapers, ignoring the noise around him. House played his games, both with people and his PSP.

It calmed their thoughts quite well. Especially when they were doing those together while the world went nuts around them.

 

God complex

Sometimes, Foreman found it amazing.

At work (or even right outside the bedroom), House was as big as God, at least to his own standarts. He was confident, rude, self-rightous and could get a seventy-nine-year-old man to either cry or punch him in the face. Hell, he could clearly recall a day, when while seriously pissed off, he made one of the new nurses burst into tears just by looking at her. True, the stories about him had her in a near neurotic anxiety attack when she had to go near him, but the point still stands.

And despite all that, House was a whole different person in the bedroom. Oh no, he wasn't shy. He was open to nearly everything new or kinky. But anything that included showing him his scar or having it touched was out of the question.

He would cover it, hide it, turn away. Once, during a more passionate moment, Foreman had accidently brushed his finger against the puckered skin, and House had actually flinched away from him.

And no matter how many times Foreman assured him it didn't bother him, he would always avert his eyes and bite worriedly at his lip if the topic was broached. And the scar stayed covered.

He understood the reasons behind it, but he still found it amazing.

And he knew he would get the older man to forget about the damn scar someday.

 

not by choice

They had all heard that argument, time after time after time. The form often varied, but the underlaying notion stayed the same. And the fact that it was Cuddy and Wilson saying those things was what pissed him off the most. They were supposed to be House's best friends, yet even a blind man could see that this was below the belt.

He wasn't blind and he has had enough.

“He didn't have his leg screwed up by choice, so stop throwing it in his face every time you open your damn mouth!!”

He knew yelling at his boss was probably a really stupid thing to do, but he could care less. Cuddy had finally shut up, and was currently staring at him in utter shock, doing a pretty accurate imitation of a fish.

House was also speechless, but the blue eyes fixed on him in surprise where underlined with a tiny bit of gratitude that convinced Foreman it was worth it.

 

damaged

Over the years they had worked together, House had always been in pain and a pain in the ass, yet somehow it seemed that the whole world noticed only the latter. And the Vicodins.

When he looked at House, he saw the cane, the pain hidden beneath arrogance and the brilliant mind shining behind electric blue eyes. He had never limited himself to the view House was just a miserable bastard.

 

all that I've got

House sat on his chair, leaning weakly forward, his hands covering his face. He was shaking all over, shoulders slumped with the weight of his shattered world.

Earlier that day, Wilson had left.

And now Foreman could do nothing else but sit in front of him and watch him fall apart.

“All that I've got is my mind.” House whispered, the shakes intensifying momentarily. “And it wasn't enough.”

Foreman closed his eyes briefly. Sometimes, the things you did for some people, were never enough.

He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around the older man.

And sometimes, the things you did for some people were more than enough for others.

 

break the rules

To find true happiness in this world, one couldn't stick to the rules. Sure, you could, and get a sense of satisfaction. But to be really happy, grinning ear-to-ear-shit-eating-smug, you needed something more. A little spice to heat things up a little, and prove to all those around you that you're not afraid to live life as it should be lived.

Carpe Diem, and all that.

That was why Foreman walked up to House in the middle of the corridor, and in plain view of everyone present, kissed him senseless.

The fact House kissed him back, one hand curled against his scalp and the other kneeding his ass, was a perfect topping for that cake.

 

three simple words

Foreman stared at the test results. “You're-” He shook his head, then looked again. He lifted one hand to rub at his eyes, then looked again. The damn paper was still telling him the same thing.

House, to this moment sitting in a chair next to him, got heavily onto his feet and glanced over the younger man's shoulder, reading the words the other was currently not able to say for himself.

“I'm pregnant?” he said softly, then moved to sit back down. “That explain my health problems.”

Foreman blinked. Still the same. “That's not possible.” he turned his gaze onto the other man, and pursed his lips in anger. “Who did you bribe?”

“No one.” House stated, face a picture of innocence. Then he grinned. “I guess now you'll have to make an honest man out of me.”

Foreman stared at the diagnostician, long and hard, then sighed heavily. He crumpled the lying piece of paper and threw it in the trash. “We're re-doing the tests. This time I'm gonna take the blood sample myself.” He leaned down, and planted a firm kiss to the older man's lips, pushing his tongue past unresisting lips and tasting the other deeply, smirking mentally when he felt House's hand tangling in his hair.

They broke apart after long moments, and Foreman leveled a glare at the diagnostician. “You couldn't just buy a ring, could you?”

House just grinned back, and fished into his pocket, taking out two golden bands tied with a piece of material. “There's a blindfold that goes with it, actually.” he added with a wink, and the neurologist chuckled.

Who knew he'd get proposed to with a fake pregnancy test?