House was in his office, making a few notes in his Alzheimer patient's chart, when Foreman came through the door looking annoyed. House was not surprised. Foreman frequently had that look on his face when it came to dealing with House, much as Cuddy used to when she was hospital administrator and Dean of Medicine. And much as House would frequently refer to his fellows (both current and former) as idiots and morons, the truth of the matter is that he never would have hired them to begin with (with the exception of Chase) if they hadn't shown that they would be up to his own rigorous standards and stood up to him if they thought he was wrong. He watched Foreman warily as Foreman approached his desk with a single sheet of paper in hand.
"You played me," Foreman started. "This whole thing was about your ankle monitor. You weren't trying to undermine my confidence, you were trying to inflate it. You manufactured conflict with me so you could let me win. You knew it was encephalitis but you waited for me to say it because then with my ego boosted you thought I'd be in the mood to take off your monitor. Because I think I can control you."
House watched Foreman with a decided non-reaction at Foreman's little tirade. Inside, however, he was mildly amused at how Foreman must have been chewing on this for quite some time to come to his office in such a state. House took off his glasses and leaned back in his chair.
"You're right. Take off my monitor. See, the beauty of the plan is that if it works, you think you can control me. But if it fails, then you will actually have proven that you can control me. It's pretty genius." Supporting his leg, House propped his right foot on the corner of his desk, exposing the subject of the discussion. "These are your training wheels. If you think you're up to this job, it's time to lose them."
Foreman looked House in the eye, glanced down at the ankle monitor, then the petition he still held in his hand. Very deliberately he tore the sheet of paper in half, then into quarters, tossing the pieces into the wastebasket next to House's desk. House had not taken this into consideration when formulating his plan.
"The second half of my plan might need work."
House watched Foreman walk out the door. Reaching for the large red and grey tennis ball on his desk, his brain automatically began the process of trying to find a new angle that might work in his effort to get rid of the ankle monitor ahead of schedule. House rolled the ball around in his hands, deep in thought, for several minutes before his brain shifted gears and he once again found himself thinking about Wilson, wondering how far those boundaries could be pushed. He knew that Wilson was still trying to process what had happened between them and wanted to have a rational, reasonable discussion about what it meant, but House had no interest in psychoanalyzing it to death. Still stinging a bit from his interaction with Foreman and feeling the need to be anywhere but in his office, House grabbed his jacket and cane and headed for the elevator.
Wilson glanced at his watch and gathered up the lab results on Asexual Guy. As he left his office, he saw House push the call button for the elevator. He still had questions about what had happened between them, and was determined to get some answers.
They entered the elevator together, the tension palpable. As the elevator began its descent to the 1st floor, Wilson steeled his resolve.
"House…"
House turned on him then, backing Wilson into the side wall and pinning him there, their faces once again mere centimeters apart. Wilson was taken aback by the suddenness of the move and nervously licked his lips. At that moment he wasn't sure if House was going to hit him or kiss him.
"Is this what you want?" House growled, pressing his groin into Wilson's and moving his hips in that interminably slow way that drove Wilson to distraction and rendered him speechless, blue eyes burning holes into Wilson's brain. "What part of 'Stop trying to find a deeper meaning' do you not understand? It is what it is. Leave it alone. We're fine."
The elevator signaled its arrival at the 1st floor with a ding. The door opened and Wilson was alone, House having turned and walked away without another word, satisfied that he had finally made his point.