Maybe they were too similar. Maybe underneath it all that's why they were attracted to each other. Maybe this was another battle of wits, tongue against tongue, stroke for stroke. Maybe it was hard to for them to understand, at the hospital, with their colleagues getting in the way, the bright florescent light changing all their nighttime perceptions.
Either way, House liked it. Foreman annoyed the shit out of him, but the taste of his mouth, his tongue on Houses' drove him crazy. He pulled at Foreman's back, leaving deep trenches where calloused fingers once were. He just needed a little more, one more taste to get him through the day. House knew he wasn't gay, but he also knew statistics. He knew that everyone had a little kink, someone they would drop all preconceived notions for and just do, without thinking or caring. He had assumed his was Brad Pitt, like all other humans on the planet. What House did not count on was that he had affliction for black men that knew just how to just how to work their plush, perfect lips. What he did know was that he most certainly was not going back.
Foreman liked it too. He was still worried, terrified almost, that he was going to turn into House, but now he wondered if the worst thing that he could turn into was someone who could use their hands like that. He knew this wasn't a relationship, he snuck to House's anytime after dark, and he was always gone by dawn, the musty scent of his sweat and cologne staining sheets that House won't chance for weeks. Being at work is the same, snarky comments under their breaths, battle of the wits, debating who has more smarts. But now there was something else, a charged electric field of nerves and feelings where they had to be more careful, because they didn't really understand this; why after House brushed against Foreman they both gasped as they felt a surge jump up their bodies. Cameron and Chase were starting to look at them strangely and Foreman knew they should just move dammit because his hand was still on House's arm but he decides to look up at him, a very bad choice, because now those blue eyes are locked on his. Foreman realizes that he's not breathing, that he's acting like a girl with a crush, and he pulls his eyes away. He cannot get his heart rate back down, and he's half considering popping a Vicodin to calm himself down. Now he know's this is getting ridiculous, and he's also a little scared because this means that he really is becoming House.
Maybe they were too similar. Maybe they couldn't go on for much longer like this, a toxic relationship that started out as a twisted version of I Can Do Anything You Can Do. But maybe that's what they liked about it, and they both knew themselves ( and through knowing themselves) each other well enough to know they didn't want this to end anytime soon.