By the time the movie was over Kelly was sleeping, her head resting on a pillow in his lap and her body stretched the full length of the couch. House wished he had two good legs so he could carry to her bed, but he knew that the amount of Vicodin it would take to allow him to achieve that feat, such as he was, would serve to make it impossible on another level: he'd be pain-free but too stoned to walk.

Two options remained: get her comfortably settled for the night on the couch, or wake her so she could come to bed on her own. Option one would have been the humane choice, but he'd grown accustomed to not sleeping alone.

"Kelly, it's time to go to bed." No response. "Kelly, bedtime. Come on." Unintelligible mumbling. Slipping out from under her, he crouched down painfully beside the couch and kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her nose. Still nothing. Tempted to pull her hair or sit on her, he settled on a kinder approach, though only slightly. He pulled the blanket off her body and grabbed her legs, pulling them sideways and off the couch. "Up!" he ordered.

That method did the trick; she was cranky and confused, but awake. "You've really got to work on your bedside manner..." she muttered as he marched his bleary-eyed bedfellow to her room and tucked her in. Thankfully, it didn't take her long to fall back to sleep. Rubbing gentle circles on her back, he waited until her breathing was slow and even before leaving her to get ready for bed himself.

He dawdled over his nightly routine, more wired than he should have been after the excitement of the previous night. He wished he could drink; alcohol had been used to dull his active mind on many lonely nights when his thoughts were racing.

This night he had no reason to be lonely, but he did have much to think about.

A forced encounter, an accidental patient, an unexpected friend, a summer fling. All leaving him wondering if he'd ever be the same again. If things had been altogether different, he would have worked his way into her pants and spent their whole two weeks convincing her it was alright. But things weren't different, and even he wasn't so callous as to push himself on a widow when she so obviously still grieving her husband.

Yet why not? He'd be gone in a few days, and there were really no consequences for him. He could have put up with her days of moralizing and inner struggle if the nights had made it worth it.

That meant it wasn't about HIM. It was about HER, and wanting what was best for her. But what could prompt this unlikely unselfishness? Maybe it was because she never tried to change him, and yet drew out the best in him. Maybe it was because what they had together was exciting and fulfilling in and of itself, making sexual conquest a lesser draw.

Maybe it was because as much as he wanted to sleep with her, he needed her friendship more. And if he was honest with himself, he could admit that he only wanted to sleep with her because she was pretty and present. For House, where there had been love in the past there had also been physical intimacy, but they weren't connected for him. Sex was something that could be finagled from a stranger at a bar or bought and sold. Love was a different animal altogether.

House did love Kelly, and he hadn't been lying to her when he said it was confusing. Because he loved her with the deep and genuine affection of friendship like he'd felt he'd never known before, though in reality he had that with Wilson but would never have described it even to himself in such flowery terms --- he would have used words like "brotherhood" and "comraderie". But Kelly wasn't Wilson; she was a pretty young woman who liked to cuddle and who sometimes let him touch her breasts. No wonder it was confusing.

He also never liked to share a bed with Wilson if he could help it.

House made his way back into her bedroom in the dark, his cane catching the edge of a freestanding lamp stand and making a loud noise. He cursed when she stirred. Stripping down to his boxers, he climbed into bed next to her. Immediately Kelly snuggled in close, her hand sliding up his stomach to his bare chest and resting over his heart. "Hey," she greeted quietly.

"Hey. Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I WAS sleeping. Some noisy klutz woke me up."

"Get over it."

She craned her neck so she could kiss him lazily, sliding her tongue over his. "If you're still all for de-sexualizing our relationship, you should have been more quiet. You know how I can be when I'm this tired."

He did know. A few nights into their trip she'd woken up just after midnight to find him reading, and after about 10 minutes of quiet talk and tenderness she had essentially propositioned him. Luckily for her he'd had the sense to laugh off her advances and tuck her into her OWN bed until morning. An embarrassed Kelly had eventually admitted that when she was married, late at night when she was at her sleepiest had proven prime time for her libido.

"We can fool around if you want," he offered without a hint of playfulness or anything else she might of expected in his voice.

"'Fool around'? What, are we fifteen?" She laughed through a yawn.

"Fifteen, huh? This morning you accused me of being five. Looks like I'm growing up."

"Yeah, the mark of a grown-up is to offer to fool around with someone as an act of self sacrifice. So much for valuing 'intimacy'."

If Kelly had been fully awake she never would have made light of his earlier transparency. Thankfully, House was getting tired too and didn't react as he might have otherwise. "Hey, now, I meant what I said before."

"But you've changed your mind?"

"Not in the least; I didn't offer to go steady or father your children. We ARE both grown ups, and I think we can handle the separation between a little innocent fun in the night and a meaningful friendship during the day."

"Doctor, if you're about to tell me that EVERYONE has these urges and it's natural to -"

If only he'd known a few weeks ago how easy it was to shut her up.