Title: Strike A Match
Chapter: 2 – Blow a Fuse
Rating: T – Contains content not suitable for children. Strong language. Slash.
Pairings: Wilson/Foreman
Disclaimer: 'House' is not mine – I don't even own the DVDs yet.
A/n: 'The nurses go on strike and the doctors are forced to take over their shifts. Wilson and Foreman constantly find themselves working together, and, perhaps inevitably, work leads into something a little more special.'
This is a little light, comic relief before the heaviness of Wilson/Foreman kicks in, mainly to establish the routine of Nurse Duty. Please R&R!
2. Blow a Fuse
Chase tugged futilely at the bedsheet, trying to prise it out from under the mattress.
"Fucking House…" he muttered under his breath, eventually throwing the trapped sheet onto the bed, folding his arms and pouting. He turned to Foreman, "You do it!"
"Um, no!" Foreman replied, "I fell for that tantrum act when you didn't want to give that overweight guy a sponge bath, but you can surely make a bed by yourself."
Chase glared at him, "It's hard!"
Foreman tried to resist it, but the good guy in him eventually won. He gave the patient he was attending to their glass of water, then went over to the next bed to help Chase. Naturally, Chase stood back and let Foreman do all the work.
"Can you look after Miss Lake while I take care of this?" Foreman said, folding the sheet neatly into thirds.
"Sure thing. Do you need anything, Miss Lake?" Chase asked, not moving from across the room.
"Uh, no thank you, I'm fine," the patient replied.
Chase nodded and leaned back against the wall, "These extra hours are killing me."
"Yeah, I'm sure sitting on your ass for an extra two hours every day must be torture," Foreman murmured, changing the IV drip of the third bed's patient. He checked the clipboard at the foot of the bed, "Are you feeling dizzy or nauseous at all?"
"A little," Chase replied.
Foreman rolled his eyes despairingly, "I was talking to the patient!"
"Oh. That makes more sense, actually."
Foreman put the clipboard back before he beat Chase to death with it.
"Come on," he said walking out of the door, "we've only got fifteen minutes left to cover this entire floor."
Chase's eyes widened, "Wait, we have to cover this entire floor!?"
"Yeah…"
"I thought it was just this room!"
Foreman gripped the doorframe, his knuckles tinged with the white of his bone.
"Tell you what," he said serenely, not turning around to face Chase under the fear that he might punch him if he did, "I'll sort out the final room myself. You go to Cuddy and change all your shifts so I never have to work with you again."
"We work together every day, you idiot!"
Foreman stalked out of the room, "Not if I kill you…"
.x.X.x.
The next evening, Foreman was happy to see a Chase-free room as he started his chores.
"Hey, Foreman," a bright voice chirruped from the door.
"Oh, hi, Cameron," he replied, checking the pupils of the coma patient whose room they were taking care of, "You gonna be joining me tonight?"
"Yep. I heard you and Chase didn't work out."
"Uh…no."
"Aw, well, if you need to talk it over, I've got a jumbo tub of chocolate chip ice cream with our names on it!"
Foreman forced a weak grin at Cameron's attempt at a joke. It was only polite – she didn't crack them very often, and even less often were they successful.
For ten blissful minutes, their nurse duties went smoothly, but then, of course, Cameron's morals couldn't keep their mouth shut any longer.
"You could have given him a second chance, y'know."
Foreman glanced at her, "Who?"
"Chase. I'm sure he tried his best, and you're not exactly Mr. Patience."
Foreman gritted his teeth; he'd been wondering when her lecture would start.
"It really wouldn't have succeeded," Foreman said, as calmly and conclusively as he could.
"But how do you know? People can change. All you need to do is sit him down and talk to him. Explain why you think he should modify his behaviour."
Foreman tried to slip out of the door, but it was hopeless. Wherever he went, he was followed by a barrage of "second chances" and "hidden personalities" and "how would you like its?".
"All this judgment and hatred and mistrust – you're acting like House!"
That comment made something in Foreman's brain snap.
"YOU work with him, then!"
Cameron pulled her best wounded-puppy face, "I was only saying-"
"Yeah, well, don't! It's irritating!"
He pulled the blinds on the wall and went to leave.
"Where are you going?" Cameron asked.
Foreman smiled at her and said in a cheery tone, "I'm going to jump off a cliff!" before walking as fast as he could in the direction of Cuddy's office.
.x.X.x.
Foreman made his way to room 241, safe in the knowledge that his partner would be neither Chase nor Cameron. He opened the door.
"Hey, roomie!"
Foreman blinked, "No way. I am not working an extra two hours a night with you!"
House smirked, "Love you, too."
"No, I won't do it," Foreman continued, waving his arms animatedly, "I won't do it! I won't do it!"
"That's fine by me," House said smoothly, absentmindedly getting rid of a piece of fluff on his trouser leg, "Gives me more time to watch OC repeats."
Foreman turned on his heel and swooped out of the room, his lab coat dramatically swishing behind him.
House stared at the empty doorframe for a moment before switching on his Gameboy Advance.
.x.X.x.
"Either give me shifts with someone who isn't lazy or stupid or preachy, or let me do them by myself!"
Cuddy leaned on her desk, "You really have socialising problems, don't you?"
Foreman's head jerked a little, taken aback by the question, "W…what does it matter? Can you just…sort something out? Please?"
Cuddy raised an eyebrow, "Well, there's only one other doctor who's willing to work these hours."
"And who's that?"