Nothing much changed at night. The hotels were upscale and posh, the beds were big and comfortable, and they were tired, of course.
But not so tired that the time was wasted.
The driving bothered his leg, and all the walking they did bothered it more, along with the muscles overused on working his cane, so he was generally sore and cranky when they arrived at the hotels. The fourth night they got there too late for him to get a massage at the spa and he was positively pouting when Kelly offered him an alternative. "I'm pretty good," she promised. "I've had lots of practice." And fifteen minutes later when House lay on his stomach across their bed, shirtless and drooling, he assured her that she was more than "pretty good".
On the sixth night after a late check-in, House went straight for the bath and when he hobbled back into the room in his boxers and gingerly laid down beside her where she was flipping through the channels, she could tell his leg was hurting him more than usual. She sat up facing him and laid a gentle hand on his thigh. "What can I do?"
A deep breath. "You don't have to -"
"Just tell me what you need."
And so he told her, and showed her, and soon she was straddling his leg and digging deep into the tissue and surrounding muscles with her strong fingers. And while she blushed, she said nothing when it became obvious that the pain was starting to subside.
Finally he stopped her. "I... You should probably..."
"I should go get ready for bed."
He'd never seen her move that fast. He got under the covers, and by the time she returned his arousal had subsided. And the next time she massaged his leg he was able to keep himself under control.
During the day, Kelly took hundreds of pictures. At night she saved them onto her computer and put her favourites on Facebook, which she updated religiously for the benefit of her friends and family back home who were tracking their journey. She even helped a protesting House open a Facebook account, though he argued that since he didn't have any friends it wouldn't be worth it. "You have me," was all it took to convince him.
They didn't always share a bed, but sharing a room was never a question until an emergency call from his team had come in just prior to arrival at the hotel one night, and an adjoining room was booked so he'd have a quiet place to work and think.
She slept in the next morning, and when finally her full bladder could no longer be ignored, she visited the bathroom and then went to check on him, finding him pacing next to a white board covered with his distinctive script. "Where'd you get that?"
"Paid off a guy to bring it up from a conference room. With your daddy's money, of course."
"Of course. Have you slept at all?" She opened the blinds, allowing the morning sun to flood the room.
He grunted, wincing.
"What about food?"
"What about it?"
Clucking her tongue in disapproval, she returned to her room to order something for them to eat and then called down to the front desk to let the receptionist know they'd be staying an extra day.
That night, the case solved and a life saved, House was delirious with exhaustion but was having trouble actually dropping off. He wandered into her room (she'd insisted he sleep in his own room so that she wouldn't disturb him) and climbed onto her bed without invitation. "Can't sleep," he mumbled.
Kelly was sitting up in bed, reading. She put down her book and pulled a pillow onto her lap, inviting him to lay his head there, which he did. Then she resumed reading, her book in one hand and the other playing with his hair as she hummed softly. And in no time he had fallen asleep.
Kelly's favourite night by far was the night they'd been checking in and a server from the restaurant adjacent to the lobby had come running in, yelling for the receptionist to call an ambulance. "My friend is a doctor," Kelly piped up immediately, pointing at a glaring House who then had no choice but to follow her to the scene.
House saved the day by demanding that anyone with an epi pen among the growing crowd who he accused of being slack jawed gawkers (though in not-so-nice terms) relinquish it immediately, and someone with an allergy to bee stings produced one from his wife's purse. After the paramedics wheeled the recovering man away, the reluctant hero was given a free suite --- the best they had --- and unlimited free access to all the amenities, including the restaurant, bar and spa services. Which also made it House's favourite night, but for very different reasons.
"But you get everything free anyways."
"Yeah, but you won't buy me alcohol."
They slept in separate beds as he did end up getting rather drunk and was having some trouble keeping his hands to himself. But Kelly would still count it her favourite night because she was proud that he'd saved a life.
And they slept well. Every night together, they slept well.