Though he'd been granted second base privileges, at least as she understood them, House neither dared nor desired to act on them. Her shirt dealt with, he unbuttoned and unzipped her capri pants and held her arm to balance her as she slipped out of them. He intended to let her deal with the little that was left, but was taken aback when she reached for his belt.
Kelly was taken aback when he stopped her. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing." Turning her around, he undid her bra but let her do the work to remove it before tracing a finger along the edge of the waistband of her pink printed underwear. "These are cute. Take them off."
She chuckled. And then she was naked and accepting his help to step into the tub.
"I'm not sure where this fits in with the baseball metaphor, but you CAN join me, you know," she offered as she settled into the water and leaned back on the rolled up towel he supplied to support her neck.
"You'd end up hating me because I'm far too beautiful to resist in my natural state," he deflected.
"Funny, seems to me I managed just fine this morning."
"A fluke." Perching on the edge of the tub, he stuck his hand into the water to make sure the temperature was holding. "Want some orange juice? Or a soda?"
"What I want is for you to get in the tub. Or at least to know why you won't."
"Two naked bodies is about sex," he told her evenly. "One naked body is about intimacy."
She gave him a look, one he accurately judged was a cross between pride and amusement. "You're awfully cute when you're trying to be wise."
"I am wise. I was wise enough to keep you around despite the fact that you're annoying as hell."
"That's not wisdom, that's common sense."
"Hmm... That's not something I'm often accused of possessing."
"No, dear, you're thinking of common DECENCY."
He opened his mouth to respond, but he looked into her grinning face and was suddenly overcome by a wave of tenderness.
"What is it, Greg?"
"I was just thinking I'm a lucky son of a bitch."
Her insides turned to mush, but she kept it light for his sake; these moments of self-expression didn't come often or easy from him, and she didn't want to do or say anything that would discourage future disclosures. But still her expression softened as she replied, "Maybe you ARE wise after all."
House stood to break the moment. "I'll read to you if you want."
"Of course I want," she encouraged with a smile.
And retrieving the book he sat on the floor with his back against the tub. Tilting the pages towards the lights of nearby candles, he read until his eyes were feeling the strain. And then they talked about her work, about her place at the shelter, about how she knew she needed to return. And they talked about his work, and his fear of returning and finding that everything had changed, and his inability to stay away. They talked until the water was uncomfortably cool and even longer because she sensed this was a special time of transparency for them both.
And when finally she had to get out of the water she wrapped herself in a towel and sat beside him to talk some more. Until finally one of them worked up the nerve to ask the inevitable question: "So what is this? Between us?"
It was he who had asked it, and at her silence he who attempted first to answer. "You're like my Wilson, pre- me killing his girlfriend, only better. But you also have a vagina, and that confuses things for me."
"I wouldn't have put it so crassly, and obviously I've never killed anyone's girlfriend, but I could have made a very similar statement."
"Huh."
"Yeah. Huh."
There was a long pause filled by the soft music still coming from the radio. "I think I like you being naked more than I like the idea of US being naked," he finally admitted.
As she let that sink in, understanding that he meant he preferred their special brand of friendship over trying for something more, her pride at his thinly veiled maturity was almost pushed out by a feeling of rejection which she fought to control. But she didn't fight hard enough to keep her from asking, "Why?"
"Because..." He exhaled loudly. "Isn't this usually the part where you use your ESP and tell me what I'm thinking?"
It was, but her mind wouldn't allow her to go there. "Sorry, my dear. I think you'll need to do this one on your own. Please."
The final plea was so small and shaky that House understood the reason behind her question. "You made me promise. And I've never been good at keeping promises, but this one seemed important. And I'm glad I did. Because you're not ready, and it's not what you need."
Kelly was surprised by his deduction and confused by his preamble. "Whoa, back up. What did I make you promise?"
"That I wouldn't fall in love with you. Don't you remember?"
It took her a moment, but she did. "I'm surprised YOU remembered."
"I remember everything." House was uncomfortable in more ways than one. He struggled to his feet. "I can't sit like this anymore. Why don't you go get ready for bed while I clean up in here." It wasn't a question. He offered her a hand to help her up. "And stay away from your computer. I mean it."
She saluted weakly. "Aye aye." Holding on to her towel and picking up her clothes on the way out, she let him be, recognizing dismissal.
Not that she could fault him; she needed a few minutes herself to get alone with her thoughts. As per their agreement reached on their trip home, she hadn't devoted much thought to their...whatever it was. They had decided to just let it evolve on its own and had done so, but now with his departure looming closer it was natural that the questions be asked again.
Questions he seemed to have already answered for her. But was her grief over Mark just an excuse for him to keep himself in check? And if not, was his restraint for his benefit or hers? If it was the latter, then she had some choices to make. But if it was the former, it wasn't going to be about choices; it was going to be about the passage of time.
The passage of time apart.
He found her deep in contemplation, and sensing it necessary sat on the opposite end of the couch instead of gathering her into his arms as he wanted to.
Apparently he sensed wrong. Not a moment had passed before she crawled over to him and tucked herself into his side. "Hey."
"Hey." There was that tender feeling again. He covered the hand that rested on his thigh with his own. "Is it bedtime for you, or do you want to watch another movie?"
She handed him the remote. "Movie's in. Let's do it."
More Harry Potter. He didn't bother to defend himself.
Before he pressed play, though, he felt as though something should be settled. "Do you want to talk about it?" he ventured.
She leaned her body into his and rested her head on his shoulder. "No."
"Okay." But instead of skipping through the previews, he muted them and let them roll, giving them some extra time. "Are you sure?"
"No." A sigh. "Do YOU want to talk about it?"
"Not necessarily. I just want to do whatever needs to be done to keep me from fucking this up."
"Language..." she warned automatically, though she recognized that his failure to filter was a reflection of an important line of thinking being accessed and expressed for the first time.
"Oh. Sorry."
"I'll forgive you, since I think what you're trying to tell me --- in your own way --- is that you care about me and what we have together."
"No, actually I was trying to tell you --- in my own way ---" he mimicked, "that I'm becoming accustomed to the high life and I don't want to screw up my chances for future all-expenses-paid oceanside vacations." He pulled a blanket down from the back of the couch and arranged it over her, adding, "I would have no problem just saying outright that I care about you and what we have together."
"Yeah, I'll believe THAT when I see it."
She hadn't meant it as a challenge, but he pressed pause and shifted so he could look her in the eyes, taking both her hands in his own. "Kelly Campbell Janes," he gushed in an over-sincere voice, "of all the bossy, over-stepping know-it-alls I've ever been forced to spend time with, you are among the least annoying." He kissed her nose and his voice returned to normal. "And I like your boobs."
She smiled sweetly, patting him on the head as though he were a child. "That's very nice, Greg," she told him condescendingly. "And for what it's worth, of all the gimpy drug addicted bastards who have trouble keeping their clothes on, you're my number one favourite."
His lips brushed hers chastely. "I love you, too." And he meant it.