If he and Wilson had been speaking, there were moments that House would have been calling home about.
Like the tender moments, when outside of any outright flirting or dangerous undertones Kelly would reach out to him for some extra attention. The first time she'd fallen asleep on his shoulder on a boring stretch of highway. The evening he'd sat reading a newspaper in a lounge chair by the pool as she swam, and she'd maneuvered her towel-wrapped body under his arms and settled herself between his legs and against his chest to read with him. All the times she would sit herself on the bathroom counter and chatter happily as she watched him complete his morning routine, not seeming to care that he wasn't a morning person and was only grunting in return.
Then there were the times when he took joy because he felt he'd managed to corrupt her. Top of that list was the afternoon they spent in the water park at Six Flags where she let him play the cripple card. She pushed him around in a wheelchair so they could get to the front of the rides and stay in the lazy river for as long as they wanted. Which they did, curled up together in an inner tube dozing or playing "hot or not" to pass the time. He had also felt a little thrill when she'd asked him to order a "girly drink" so she could have a few sips, ending her adulthood abstinence from alcohol.
There was also, though, the hour long conversation he'd had with Cuddy, who had called his cell just to check up on him. He hadn't meant to talk that long, but Kelly had turned in early and he was feeling particularly agreeable after a relaxing evening in. Cuddy had quickly gotten the idea that he wasn't going to discuss his trip, but they still had years of undiscussed topics to choose from. House had needed Wilson most of all after this conversation, to give him a chance to make fun of himself and his own inclinations.
But eventually, he imagined, Kelly would bring it up, and she'd set him straight either way. It's what she did best, after all.
Kelly's most treasured moments were ones she kept private and felt no need to discuss with anyone, accounts that would remain absent from her Facebook commentaries and her short phone check-ins with her family.
She loved holding his hand, loved it when he would reach for hers. She loved it when a song came on that they both knew and they'd sing together, fighting over harmonies and starting over when they finally got it right. She loved it when he would read aloud to her as she drove; they'd finished the first Harry Potter book that way and then switched to a Stephen King novel at House's insistence. But when The Sorcerer's stone was on TV and he'd whined and complained and then sat riveted for the next two hours, she knew she'd be lending him the rest of the series when they made it home. She loved when he played her doctor, checking her stitches and making sure she wore sunscreen.
And of course, there was the kiss.
The kiss had changed her much more than it changed things between them. He had pulled over at her insistence and they'd stood leaning against the car to watch the last of what was arguably the most beautiful sunset Kelly had ever seen. But when she'd realized House was watching her instead of the sky, and he'd smiled a little smile she hadn't seen before, she didn't think. She'd just acted.
His hands at her waist, hers behind his head. It was all so gentle and unhurried. No intensity, not leading to anything except a settled, peaceful feeling as Kelly felt released to kiss again. Maybe not him, but someone, someday. And when her lips left his she was grinning, and he seemed to understand it all when she said "thank you" and turned in his arms to watch the sun disappear.
House wouldn't have called Wilson about that; while he was definitely the type to kiss and tell, this was not about conquest or getting into her pants.
So Wilson wouldn't have believed a word.