Title: Coffee
Summary: Foreman is quite like House. So when he's in charge, what exactly makes him better than House? That's what Cuddy wants to know.
Trigger: The word "technically"
Time Frame: Just after Failure to Communicate (it's another patient, House gets people to lie a lot)
Pairing: Cuddy/Foreman
Word Count: 618
Author's Note: I've decided to write some short experimental one-shots to investigate different pairings in House, M.D. Actually, I just want to write one-shots. It's fun. And I've kind of run a bit dry on Doppelganger. I'll work on it, I'll work on it. A dropped chapter might worm its way in here as House/Wilson later.
Disclaimer: No boy/boy yet, so that's not a problem. I don't own House or any of the characters, so please don't sue me. And if you don't like this pairing, then ignore this and come back later.
"So let me get this straight," Cuddy says, her voice full of long-suffering patience. "You want me to go against all that is ethical by lying to a patient, after asking me to do it on another occasion and hearing a whole lecture against it then, and you are better than House how?"
Foreman holds up a lidless Starbucks coffee cup, the pale curls and tendrils of steam creeping over the edges of the foam to disappear into the air inan interesting contrast to the dark skin of his hand.
"I bring you coffee?" he suggests.
Cuddy's face takes on the slightly weary but battle-ready smile that she usually reserves for House and House alone. Wondering fleetingly if the neurologist has any idea how similar to House he really is, she reaches out for the coffee cup.
"If this coffee isn't good, I won't do it," she warns.
"Only the best for you."
Cuddy eyes Foreman suspiciously over the rim of the cup. If it was supposed to be flirtatious, then it was about as subtle as letting off a klaxon in a library. She inhales the scent of coffee gratefully, then looks down at the umber-coloured liquid.
"This is a Caffè Verona," she says in surprise. "How did you know I like this?"
"A little bird told me," Foreman replies ambiguously.
"And was that little bird called Wilson?"
"Well... yes."
Cuddy laughs softly and takes a sip, a little moan of satisfaction somehow escaping her as the sweet taste spreads over her tongue. She relaxes, leaning back in her chair.
"Okay," she admits. "You are definitely better than House."
Foreman laughs.
"So you'll do it?" he asks.
"You know, technically, this bribery," Cuddy observes without actually answering the question.
"But will you do it? Please?"
Now that is a word that House would never use. A word that Cuddy really appreciates. But she is still not ready to cave in the request yet. She takes another long sip of her coffee.
"I'd also like to point out that this coffee is normally given as a Valentine's Day present," she adds. "You're a few months out, if this is a gift."
"It could be."
Cuddy raises her eyebrows.
"Are you flirting with me?" she asks.
"I might be," Foreman replies evasively. "But what are you going to do about it, Dr Cuddy?"
Cuddy seems to contemplate for a moment, then sets down her coffee cup and stands up. She walks around her desk slowly, perfectly aware of how low-cut her blouse is. Foreman's eyes follow her movement, surprisingly fixed on her face rather than her breasts. Cuddy lowers herself gently onto his lap and grasps his tie in her fingers, pulling him closer to her. Her lips touch his. Her tongue coaxes his mouth open and the kiss deepens. Foreman tastes like coffee, the cheap coffee sold in the hospital cafeteria. So he spends good money on buying Starbucks coffee for her, but gets the cheap stuff for himself. Cuddy pulls away to fiddle with the tie casually, leaning close to whisper.
"You need to buy yourself better coffee," she purrs. "The cafeteria stuff tastes terrible."
"So is that a yes?" Foreman asks, smiling with satisfaction.
"You have a one-track mind," Cuddy admonishes. "I'll do it."
She stands up and walks to her office door, pausing with her hand on the doorframe.
"So this relationship gets me intelligence, coffee perks and kisses," she says. "What does it get you?"
"You," Foreman replies simply.
Cuddy smiles and walks out. Minutes later, a slightly amazed Foreman follows her out. The coffee cup stays where Cuddy left it on the desk, still faintly steaming, a lipstick mark on the foam rim.