Foreman rolled his eyes at House's impatience. "I know for you shaving counts as primping," he said. "For the rest of the world, it's pretty simple." Foreman definitely wasn't going to tell House that he liked his stubble, liked how it felt against his skin when they kissed, and especially the scrape and rasp against his stomach when House blew him. The thought brought a smug smirk to his lips, and he shook his head as he watched House get up. He grabbed the remote and turned off the TV before following House to the door.

Still, Foreman felt edgy, as if dropping the subject wasn't quite a good enough resolution to the problem. As if House was going to be stewing over it for who knew how long, getting himself worked up just because Foreman wore a certain tie or looked at him a certain way. Foreman didn't need the eventual aggravation of House throwing stupid accusations at him because they hadn't finished this at the right time. He caught up to House at the door and grabbed his arm to pull him close. "You're going to have way too much fun lying to Cuddy," he said, letting some of the morning's satisfaction show in his voice, in the tilt of his head. He reached up to cup the back of House's neck and tugged him into a kiss, just long enough to forget about the conversation.