"Breakfast in bed," Kelly announced cheerfully. "Time to get up, House!"
Breakfast was actually lunch. Late lunch, to be precise. House had fallen back to sleep soon after he'd returned to bed and was dead to the world until she decided he needed to eat something. Or decided she wasn't willing to let him sleep away the little time they had left together.
Setting the tray on the bed side table, Kelly threw back the covers... then hastily covered him again. "Jeez, Greg! Enough with the nudity!"
"Sorry," he mumbled as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Why'd you let me sleep so long?"
"I tried to wake you earlier, but you said some words I can't repeat and took a swing at me," she deadpanned, throwing him a shirt and boxers and turning her head so he could slip them on. "It was rather shocking, actually."
Once decent, House swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He popped a Vicodin and lit into the sandwich she'd brought him with gusto. "What, no pickles?"
"My bad." She kissed his nose and stole a potato chip from his plate.
"Where are you going?"
She was halfway out the door. "I'm playing Clue with Randy and my dad. I have a system. You can come watch me win if you'd like."
"Pass."
"I thought so. See you later."
It wasn't much later, or at least not as long as he had expected. He didn't have time to hide the Harry Potter book he had taken from her room. "You couldn't have won already."
"I told you, I have a system. How's the book?"
"Shut up."
"I WILL shut up if you'll get your lazy butt out of bed."
House paused. "Just one more chapter."
"You can't hide down here forever, you know."
Damn her perceptiveness. He didn't bother to play dumb.
"I already told my dad not to mention it, so he won't. And all he told my mom was that you were having bad leg pain, which as far as he's concerned is the truth. So," she concluded, "there's nothing to hide from. If you should be hiding from anyone it should be ME, since I know that's not the truth."
"It's sad, you know. All those years of school and you never achieved anything above 'pain in the ass'." He turned his attention back to the book. "You're still young, though. There may be hope for you yet."
She stuck out her tongue at him and took the book from his hands. "Also," she continued, "there's nothing to hide from because they're gone. Randy got picked up by his social worker for a weekend visit with his dad. And my parents just left with Sarah Beth and the baby for an overnight trip to my Uncle Joe's cottage."
He eyed her incredulously. "So you're telling me that your evangelical conservative WASP parents just left their grieving widow daughter alone in their house with ME for the night?" He shook his head and mugged disappointment. "Looks like I overestimated the whole lot of you."
"Or maybe you've overestimated your own reputation as a bad ass."
Her sassy grin was contagious. "Touche." Tossing the book aside, he sat up and with some difficulty got to his feet, reaching for his Vicodin and bypassing his cane. "Well, we'd best take advantage of SOMEONE's overestimation. Let's go... do something. Something ruckus and inappropriate."
"Like have sex in my parents' bed?"
"That's not exactly what I would have suggested, but I like to keep an open mind. I'll do anything once. Or twice. Or as many times as I can before your parents come home."
She was laughing when he kissed her. "Down, boy. You're not getting any action until we have a chat about your meltdown," she told him firmly, a restraining hand on his chest.
"Is that a challenge?" he asked coyly, the hands he had rested on her hips sliding down and back.
She stepped out of his reach, but not before he'd given her a playful squeeze. "No, that was NOT a challenge. That was an ultimatum. And you know by now that I'm just as stubborn as you."
He grabbed his cane and limped from the room without explanation. She followed him silently to the bathroom and waited outside for him to do what he needed to do.
When he opened the door, he was prepared with an ultimatum of his own. "I'll trade you a heart-to-heart for your bathing suit top."
She blinked. "I beg your pardon? Are you FIVE? Do you really need a tangible reward every time you engage in a normal adult activity?"
"I remembered to flush, by the way. I expect a cookie." He walked past her and back to his room as though the matter were closed, which it most certainly was not. He pulled on a pair of shorts and changed his t-shirt while she ranted.
"Greg House, you're incorrigible. I'm serious about needing to talk this out, for both of our sakes. And I will not swim topless with you."
"Fine. You can just forego the bathing suit altogether." And he was off again.
"Where are you going?"
"To make us some dinner. The sandwich was nice, but self-punishment really works up an appetite."
Her cell phone rang in her bedroom, and she ran to answer it, finding herself locked into a long conversation with social services about one of the girls at the shelter. When she finally made it upstairs to the kitchen she was surprised to find he'd managed a passable pasta dish and salad, and had even set the table. "What's all this for?"
"I thought you might be willing to trade your bathing suit top for a nice dinner instead. And I'd be willing to throw in a long talk for free." He pulled out her chair for her in a gentlemanly gesture, which contrasted sharply with what he was asking her to do.
When he sat across from her she eyed him critically, thinking hard before giving her response. "You talk to me, seriously, and I might be persuaded to let you get to second base the honest way."
His mouth turned up slightly. "What about dinner? What do I get for that?"
"How about if it's any good, I won't kill you if you try to steal third."
He held out his hand for her to shake. "I accept your terms. Now eat, before it gets cold."
She ate, and it was VERY good.