Foreman looked up from tugging his shirt on. What the hell was House's problem? He couldn't possibly still be horny, not after they'd almost been caught. Foreman had already admitted that it was a stupid idea. He was starting to feel his amusement drain away as he realized just how close a call that had been. Was House pissed off that he'd stopped? Did he really expect Foreman to keep going, when they'd nearly been discovered once already? Foreman was uncomfortably aware of just how far he'd flung himself into a crazy, stupid stunt. And why? Because he'd been thinking about House. Because he'd wanted him. That was exactly the kind of idiocy that he tried so hard to push down. That was what was so dangerous about a workplace relationship--any relationship, but at work there was always the potential to get carried away and act like a fucking teenager, and that wasn't who Foreman was, the last few minutes notwithstanding.

Foreman finished with his buttons, scowling as he tucked his shirt into his pants. Relationship. Fuck. He'd actually thought the word, in connection with House. He rolled his eyes at himself. "So now it's your turn to stop flirting with me?" he asked, when House ordered him off like a flunky. "Just because I won't blow you in the showers?"

He stopped dressing, too impatient to deal with his tie, and glared at the shower stall where House was still hiding out. Apparently he'd lost his fucking mind this morning, but he'd learned his lesson. "I'm not going to do it again, so don't bother getting pissed off."