A/N: This is a mini-challenge between holadios and me - the concept was that House is in a bar with a woman, whose identity is only revealed at the end of the story. For me, the woman cannot be Cuddy; for her, the woman cannot be Cameron. Furthermore, the woman has to actually exist in canon (no OCs) and cannot be a hallucination/ghost (sorry, Amber fans). To avoid any confusion, the title of this piece comes from the phrase "strange bedfellows," a term to describe unlikely allies (usually in politics).

You should absolutely check out holadios' non-Cameron drinking story, entitled "Bottoms Up," at her profile page. Now, let the (drinking) games begin.

"Peculiar Bedfellows"

"It's funny, you know?"

"What is?" came the obligatory reply.

"This. Us. Drinking together." He wiggled his wrist to indicate the space between the two of them. "Not funny ha-ha…" He trailed off as a scantily clad waitress passed by, his azure eyes attempting to focus on her backside.

"Funny peculiar?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Peculiar." He wrinkled his nose. "Peculiar is such a…peculiar word." He hoisted his arm in the air, twisting around to look for a bartender.

"Yeah, another drink is really what you need."

"Right you are. Bartend! Another of your finest scotch."

His company merely shook her head in resignation. "You'd do well to stop now."

"And you would do well to quit nagging me." He turned to the bartender, nearly sliding off his seat in the process. "Get the lady whatever she wants. She's paying, anyhow."

"I'll have a diet Coke, and no, I'm not. You can fund your own debauchery."

"Oh, loosen up. Trust me, I'm much more amusing when you're drunk."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't doubt it, but some of us actually value our livers."

"Your liver wants a drink. It told me so."

"Fine," she sighed. "Diet coke and rum."

"You're such a girl," he scoffed. "Changed my mind, ignore the lady and bring her a dirty martini."

She leaned her chin on her hand. "So far, this really isn't fun."

"Give it time. I'm quite the charmer."

She snorted lightly. "Maybe in a world where 'charmer' is synonymous with 'enormous asshole'."

"Feisty. I like that."

"Oh, shut up. And don't order for me. I don't like it."

"I know." He grinned.

"At what point do you start becoming charming?"

"Soon as you get good and drunk."

"Well seeing as I have no plans to do that, I guess I'll never know."

"So you think."

She tucked a strand of chestnut hair behind her ear. "What, you're going to trick me into getting wasted?"

"Yup."

"You're the one who can't even stand up. I sort of doubt you can execute one of your sinister plans in this state."

"Clearly, you underestimate the extend of my genius."

"No, I'm constantly reminded of it. By you. The problem is, you underestimate just how completely trashed you are."

"Scotch and a dirty martini." The bartender set down their drinks. "And you," he pointed, "are cut off."

"Aw, come on, Louie. We've been over this. You, bartender. Me, patron. Do I have to keep explaining how that works?"

"I don't care if you're the prince of Monaco, we have a cutoff around here, and you're already past it."

"Just how many drinks has he had?" She narrowed her eyes over the top of her martini.

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to."

She drained her drink with a shudder.

"Wow." He dragged the word out. "Didn't think you had it in you." He made a show of touching his index finger to his nose. "See? I can still find it. Which means I'm not nearly drunk enough."

"You can find damn near anything if you've had practice. And it's time to practice finding the door."

Two fists fell to the table. "But Mom! I want another!"

She rolled a pair of eyes that held too much wisdom for their age. "I'm going to use the bathroom. When I get back, you better be drinking water. I'm not hauling your ass home until you're well on your way to sober town."

"Yes, we wouldn't want Lady Lucifer to see me in this state."

Louie leaned against the bar and watched House's escort walk away. "Hot little thing you've got there."

House's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Gotta tell me how you do it at your age. Is it money?"

"Is what –" Recognition registered on his face. "You think she's my date?"

"Isn't she?"

"God, no!" He slid back on his barstool unsteadily. "Were you checking her out?"

"I'm not supposed to?"

"Lemme put it this way: you ever look at her like that again, and my foot'll be so far up your ass, the laces will be hanging out your nose."

Louie held his hands up in surrender. "Sorry, man. Didn't know."

"Well, now you do. And you're going to want to get as far away from me as possible before I sober up."

He was alone within seconds, sucking down water as instructed. When she returned, he clambered to his feet. "Let's get out of here."

"Since when do you volunteer to do what I say?"

"Just walk." House swayed a little as he shoved her forward. "Quickly."

She sighed and slid an arm around him, supporting him as she heeded his word. "You're bailing on the check again, aren't you?"

"No. Now shut up and move. And don't let me catch you in here again."

"What's with you?"

He didn't answer, focusing instead on staying upright and moving as fast as possible given the combination of his handicap and blood alcohol content. "Call it a rare moment of parental instinct."

"Great. You're even more plastered than I thought. She's going to kill you, you know."

He slid into the passenger's seat with some assistance and looked up at the young woman who wasn't quite his kid, but closer than he'd ever admit. "You okay to drive?"

She fought off a smile and slid into the driver's seat. "I'm a big girl. I can handle one drink."

"Not that big."

"Big enough that I can still fool an old man into not noticing I swapped my martini with water."

House leaned his head against the window of the car as the rumble of the engine starting echoed across the dark parking lot. "Just like her mother," he murmured, smiling slightly.