Not that she knew she wanted him. Not in any way that mattered. If she hadn't been in complete denial she wouldn't have been on the other side of the couch; she would have been on the other side of town in her hospital room. And certainly not with him.

Instead Kelly was watching "Will and Grace" curled up next to her doctor and friend without any thought of what it would mean to her if she was thinking straight. And without any thought of what it meant to him.

Because it DID mean something to House. His attraction to her made it okay for her to need him, and it overshadowed the fact that he needed HER, drawing him into a blessed denial of his own.

He was slouching now, his feet on the coffee table and his head resting on hers. He breathed in deeply, drawing in her scent, which was mostly his shampoo. "Damn, I must smell really good."

"You do," she told him. "That's probably the reason the chicks keep you around even though you're a mean bastard." She yawned widely and nestled even closer to him, dropping her hand nonchalantly onto his thigh.

"Is that why YOU keep me around?" he asked with a harmless leer.

"Okay, number 1? I'm not a "chick". Number 2: I keep you around because I need you to save my life."

"So you're just usi-"

"Number 3: stop flirting. It's unprofessional."

He had to laugh. "You're one to talk. You flirt with EVERYONE."

"I do not!" she protested. "Some of us are just nice for the sake of being nice. Some of us are nice because we genuinely LIKE people. And while I know you're going to find this extremely hard to believe, some of us are even nice for reasons that have nothing to do with trying to get into someone's pants."

"Kutner will be sorry to hear that. And probably Thirteen, too."

Kelly ignored his implication about Dr. Hadley's sexuality, but did ask about how she'd gotten the numeric label. This led House into the story of how his team came together, which he was then forced to supplement with the story of how his previous team came together and subsequently broke up.

She was especially interested in his interpretation of Cameron's attraction. "I'm a hopeless romantic," she told him to refute his playful accusation that she was jealous. "The fact that your life plays like a soap opera only makes it that much more appealing."

"So are you the character that gets tragically killed off after a single episode, or do you bear my love child?"

"Don't we first have to determine if we're actually related in some way? Make sure I'M not YOUR love child? Isn't that how soap operas work?"

"I wouldn't know," House lied. "I only watch football. And professional wrestling. And the Playboy channel."

"That last one I believe. Pervert."

Kelly had retreated to the opposite end of the couch long ago so that she could face him as they spoke. When she finally remembered to take her temperature she wasn't surprised to find that she was colder than she should have been. It was also late, and she knew that she should head back so as not to worry the nursing staff. "Greg..."

"I know." He sighed and massaged his bad leg as he prepared to stand.

"You don't have to come. I'm sure you miss sleeping in your own bed. I can take a cab back to the hospital."

"Don't be an idiot. What would you do when you got there?"

"Well, you said it yourself. I'm sure I could call up Kutner if I needed a bedfellow. Or Thirteen." She winked at him.

"I just got a little turned on." He was on his feet now and offering a hand to help her up. "You could always just stay here, you know."

"Yeah, that would look good for you." She ignored his outstretched arm, not yet ready to leave the couch. "From what you told me, I imagine Dr. Cuddy would have a field day if she found out."

"Why would she have to find out?" he questioned, still standing over her. "I can make it happen in one phone call and no one would be any the wiser."

"Is that so?" she teased; he was unbelievably cocky when he wasn't on his best behaviour. "You're just that good, huh?"

"I know how to get what I want. Just say the word."

She rolled her eyes. He made her do that a lot. "I also know how to get what I want, and frankly I'm not sure that staying the night here with you is in my top 10."

"Afraid you'll be overcome by my charm?"

"Afraid you'll be overcome by MY charm." She stood then, very close to him, and poked a finger into his ribs. "Listen, mister. I'll stay if you promise me one thing."

"What?"

"Promise you won't fall in love with me." It was his turn to roll his eyes, but she didn't let him off the hook. "Come on. Promise."

He held up his right hand. "I promise not to fall in love with you. Scout's honour."

"That's Vulcans, not Scouts," she corrected. "Good God, man. How did they let you out of medical school?"

She excused herself then to use the bathroom and left him to make his "one phone call". When he had successfully completed his task and had turned off the muted television and all the lights, he was concerned because she'd yet to rejoin him. He knocked on the door. "You okay in there? You're not frozen to the can, are you? Because that would be dreadfully embarrassing for everyone involved."

She opened the door and smiled at him through a mouthful of toothpaste.

"Please tell me you're not using my toothbrush."

"Nope." She turned away and spit into the sink. "I looked through your cupboard and found an unopened one. And also an obscenely large box of condoms."

He grabbed his own toothbrush and reached over her for the toothpaste. "If you find that shocking, you may want to avoid the top shelf."

"Too late. But I took the liberty of alphabetizing your girly magazines."

"I actually prefer them chronological, but I guess it's the thought that counts." She had finished and looked ready to leave. "You can go search through my drawers for something to sleep in if you promise not to alphabetize my underwear."

Kelly was happy to get away. Her fatigue made her uninhibited to a degree, but she was still rather conservative to be discussing condoms and porn so lightly. She secretly wondered if she should have checked to see how many condoms were left in the box, just to get an idea of how often another woman had shared the bed she was about to climb into.

She and House were very different. She'd never slept with anyone but Mark and didn't understand the lifestyle of casual sex. It was more than just the risks of disease and pregnancy for her; she saw love making as a way of establishing a spiritual bond with someone, and it was beyond her how someone's heart could come out intact with so many connections and disconnections.

But then, House's heart didn't seem intact. So maybe that just proved her point.

His bedroom was non-descript but comfortable looking. She selected a tee-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts from his belongings and had just finished changing when he entered the room without knocking. She felt his approving gaze fall on her and she slipped into bed self-consciously. "Which side do I get?"

"Take my left so I don't have to roll onto my bad leg."

He apparently wasn't so self-conscious, stripping down to his boxers without what it seemed to her to be a second thought. She chastised herself for her disappointment when he pulled on a shirt, and must have turned bright red when he saw that she'd been watching him.

He was prepared to tease her for this, but when he saw the colour in her cheeks he thought better of it. Instead he turned off the light and climbed in next to her, leaving some space between them so she could come to him when she was ready.

The gestured backfired on him because she stayed put; apparently her embarrassment had gotten the better of her. He was too concerned about her health to leave her there though, partly for selfish reasons. If he had to call the ambulance, there'd be no amount of verbal gymnastics that would get him out of the hot water he'd find himself in for having a current patient at his house. In his bed, no less. "Come on," he coaxed quietly. "You've got to get warmed up."

After a moment she scooted back, still turned away from him, and lifted her head so he could slide one arm underneath her as the other went around her waist, holding her flush against him. Now she REALLY smelled like him: his shampoo, his detergent, his toothpaste. But she was all girl under the baggy clothes she wore, and there was no forgetting it.

"Night, Greg." She slid her hand over his where it lay against her stomach, entwining their fingers and pulling it up to rest more comfortably over her heart. Against her breast.

It was an innocent gesture on her part, he knew, and because of that it didn't arouse him. It just made him feel closer to her. "Night, Kelly." And he buried his face into her neck, settling down to sleep.

It was a good thing she had made him promise.