House had made the choice early on in his encounters with Kelly to not think too much. Which was good, because if he WERE to think about it, he would have thought about how easy it was to be with her, and about how he felt something when her arms were wrapped around his waist (he was glad now he'd gone home to switch vehicles) and she laughed aloud as the motorbike pulled out into traffic. And thinking would have led to annoyance or fear or self-judgement, and he would have been too busy building his own walls to help tear hers down.

He'd found a restaurant with an outdoor patio in order to keep her out of air conditioning and hopefully extend their evening. "Eat up while you can," he told her as they looked over the menu. "No food after eight."

"My surgery's early, though. It won't be so bad."

"Unless it gets pushed back."

The waiter took their order, and when he asked about the cheque House was quick to say, "One bill."

Kelly said nothing, but smiled gratefully.

The food was good. They didn't talk a lot to one another while they ate, but it was okay because there was lots to see around them and Kelly loved to people-watch. She even engaged the couple at the next table in conversation when she overheard them mention California, which it turned out they were originally from. By the end of the meal they exchanged email addresses and warm handshakes.

As they were walking back to his bike, House made a comment about her ability to befriend anyone. He said it neutrally, but she felt an edge.

"It bothers you that I'm friendly?" she questioned with narrowed eyes.

A pause. "No."

"Well then?"

She took the helmet from him and didn't press him further when he didn't respond. She had her theory, but rather than shame him into admitting his poor self-esteem, she chose instead to try to prove him wrong. "Can we go to your place for awhile? I'm not ready to go back just yet."

House did a quick calculation then responded in the affirmative; the housekeeper would have been by yesterday, so everything would be presentable.

She seemed to enjoy the bike so he took the long way home, stopping a few times at her shouted request so she could examine a landmark. By the time she arrived at his place, she had a severe case of helmet hair (which he pointed out in his usual indelicate fashion) and excused herself before looking around to go to the bathroom and clean up.

When she emerged, the first thing that caught her eye was the piano. "A man after my own heart," she said as she ran her hand over the keys appreciatively and sat down. "Why didn't you tell me you were a musician?"

"I usually only play that card when I'm trying to impress the ladies," he called from the kitchen. "You want a beer?"

"Sure," she called back. "Except replace "beer" with "something non-alcoholic". Seriously, why didn't you tell me?"

He brought her a bottle of water, and one for himself as well; his choices for non-alcoholic beverages were limited. It occurred to him that he might have to change that. "Maybe there's nothing to tell. For all you know, this thing's just decorative." He sat down beside her on the bench, putting both bottles on the floor under them.

"Which would mean either you're loaded or you're compensating for something."

He was surprised to hear her say something even remotely lewd, and answered in kind, though being House taking it several steps further. "Are you asking to see my bankbook or my bedroom?"

She pretended to ignore him as she pressed a series of keys with her right hand.

"Oh, you!" he said dramatically when he recognized the opening line to "When you wish upon a star..." "So do you just have a few comic licks memorized for such a time as this, or do you actually play?"

"I play a little." That was an understatement. Of all the things that she'd excelled at in life, piano was what came most easily to her. "But I'm guessing since you own this beautiful instrument you're going to show me up, so why don't we just get it over with." She stood, and grabbing her drink took a few steps away to flop into the closest chair. "Come on, Greg. Show me how you impress the ladies."

After a moment of protest, he DID show her. And she WAS impressed. And when he broke into a familiar show tune and started to sing along, his eyes shining with humour as he hammed it up for his "audience", she giggled with delight and ignored the red flag her heart sent up.

She applauded when he was finished and called for an encore, but he denied her after giving her a careful look. "Take your temperature," he ordered, and she did. "Well?"

"Well..." she mimicked. "Not a big deal."

"Liar." He grabbed the thermometer from her hand. "You're hot."

She cocked an eyebrow. "I'm not THAT hot."

"This is no time for poor self-esteem," he deadpanned. "We'd better take my car back."

"Give me a break," she exclaimed, checking her watch for good measure. "I still have a few hours before I turn into a pumpkin."

"If you get much hotter, you're going to turn into pumpkin pie."

She rolled her eyes, which House could see were looking a little glassed over. "I was just in your bathroom. Was the bathtub decorative, too, or do you actually have running water? I really don't need to go all the way to the hospital just to be told to take a cold shower."

She had a point. "Whatever," he gave in. "Towels are in the hall closet." He didn't follow her, but kept a close eye as she stood and walked away. "Don't lock the door. And don't use too much of my stuff; you go back to the hospital smelling like me and you're going to get me fired."

"Now who's inconsiderate?" she called back with a smile. "His-and-hers, Greg." And then she disappeared into the bathroom.

A few minutes later he peeked in the door to make sure she was okay, which she assured him that she was. Then he settled himself in front of the TV to wait for her.

When she returned to the living room he had her check her temperature immediately, and was satisfied by the results, though she'd ended up on the cooler side of normal. "You look tired. Are you ready to head back?" Without makeup and with her wet hair pulled back --- it just barely fit into a pony tail --- she looked much younger than she usually did, which was already younger than she was.

"Nope." She took her water bottle from where she'd left it and flopped on the couch beside him. RIGHT beside him. "Anything good on?" And with no warning or pause, she rested herself against him, her head on his shoulder.

House sat very still. "Uh. What are you doing?"

"Hmm?"

"It's a big couch, you know. Not "compensation" big, but big enough."

She sighed loudly, playfully annoyed, but didn't move. "Oh, grow up. If we were at the hospital you'd be climbing into bed with me in a few hours. Heaven forbid I try to take advantage of your body heat while we're a little more vertical."

Her logic was once again sound. He stuck out his lower lip and feigned being close to tears. "Is that really all I am to you? A human hot water bottle?"

"Hot air is more like it."

With that he shifted so they would both be more comfortable and put one arm behind her along the back of the couch. "You can't fool me with your painful, cutting words, Kelly Janes. I've got your number on this one."

"Is that so?"

"It is." He started flipping through the channels, looking for something he thought she might like.

"Well?" she pressed. "Are you going to enlighten me about my poorly hidden motives?"

"It's obvious, isn't it? You want me."

She bit her lip to keep from laughing. "Damn. You figured me out. Now things are going to be all awkward between us and there's going to be all this sexual tension and you're going to start -"

He dropped the remote and reached around to clamp his hand over her mouth. "Shut up. We're watching TV."

She did shut up. And they did watch TV. And maybe, just maybe, she did want him.