Just a one-shot that I originally posted on the Fox forum. I don't own the guy on the barstool, or anything else related to House.

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The bell rings over the door, and she immediately recognizes his silhouette as he limps in. Right on time, she thinks to herself as she pours him a bourbon and sets it on a napkin as he eases onto his barstool.

"Wow, it's like you know me or something." He snarks as he takes his first sip, closing his eyes as the liquid burns pleasantly down his throat.

"Should by now." She answers with a twisted smile. "You've only been coming in here three times a week for the last six months."

"My own personal stalker. Goody."

She smirks and turns away to take care of another customer at the opposite end of the bar, and he observes her movements as he slowly sips his bourbon. He watches as she leans on the countertop, casually chatting with the younger man for a moment before she turns away to clean up a few glasses and take care of empty beer bottles.

Two more young men enter the bar and take stools not far down from where he sits, still sipping and observing. She sets a second drink in front of him before moving down to take drink orders from the most recent arrivals. They're young, most likely college kids blowing off steam after a tough week of classes by the tone of their conversation. If only they knew, he thinks to himself as he listens to them moan about their class loads and their professors. They don't know how good they have it.

The bartender catches his eye as she sets the two beers down, and she shoots him a vaguely amused look. She wonders how long it will be before he starts grumbling and rolling his eyes at the admittedly lightweight tale of woe the two young men are telling each other.

As it turns out, it's about thirty seconds. "My God." He speaks, sitting up fully for the first time since he sat down that evening. "Your life sounds so hopelessly difficult. Hate to see how you would handle a real problem."

"Like you'd know." The first student turns toward the voice, taking in the graying hair and rough face. "You ever go to college?"

He rolls his eyes. "Kind of had to before they'd let me into med school."

"Yeah, right." The student snorts and returns to his beer and his conversation with his friend. The man next to him looked more like a bum than a doctor. He couldn't imagine who would allow him to practice medicine looking like that. He drains his beer and waves the bottle. "Hey, honey. Can I get some service here?"

She wanders back, casually snatching up the empty bottle and replacing it with a fresh one, setting it on the counter with a hard thump. He glares at her, muttering something about her resemblance to a female dog as he takes a long drink of his beer.

At first, she appears to have not heard him. Suddenly she pauses and turns, planting herself directly in front of him, placing her palms on the countertop and meeting his eyes with a small smile. "Hey, you just demanded service. You didn't say what kind. Be a little more specific next time...honey."

His friend barely chokes back a snort, and looks contrite when he receives a scathing look. The young man finishes his second beer, slamming the bottle to the table. "Excuse me, sweetheart. May I please have another?"

She serves another bourbon to the other man seated at the bar before taking the empty bottle. She can hear him grumbling to his friend as she pulls another bottle from the refrigerator. "That's bullshit, man. She must have the hots for the old guy."

His friend rolls his eyes, but attempts to humor him. "Okay, I'll bite. Why do you say that?"

"Didn't you see? He didn't even ask for another drink. She just...gave it to him." He raises his voice. "Hey, what's that guy got that I don't?"

Her lips quirk in amusement as she sets the beer down in front of him. "Like you even have to ask? You're so damn smart, college boy, figure it out yourself."

He looks offended, and rises from the barstool. "I don't have to take this. I'm out of here." His friend looks apologetic as he stands to follow him out to the seating area.

"Suit yourself." She shrugs and wipes down the counter. In a quieter voice she mutters, "Asshole."

"Guess that's one less tip you'll be getting." The baritone voice snaps her out of her thoughts.

"If one tip makes me or breaks me, I'm in deeper shit than I thought." She laughs as she turns to toss the towel in with the rest of the dirty towels. "College boys don't tip much anyway."

His lips twist in something like a smile as he continues to nurse his drink, steadily watching as she continues to serve throughout the night, chuckling as he hears her giving as good as she gets. It's part of the reason he started coming in here regularly. She's bold, sassy, and smart, and leaves him the hell alone for the most part. Occasionally she'll stop to chat a little between customers, throwing him a knowing look that is just between them, acknowledging that odd bond between bartender and regular patron.

Almost every man that approaches the bar makes some attempt to hit on her, and he has to shake his head at the fallen faces that are the inevitable result of her rejection of them. She makes it clear that she's here to do a job, not flirt with the customers as many of the waitresses do. He's curious, just a little. No rings adorn her fingers, and she seems like one who doesn't have ties to anyone in particular. He wonders if she prefers the other team, and lets that image roll around in his brain for a minute before finally shaking it off.

She rings the bell, loudly bellowing, "Last call for alcohol! You don't have to go home, but you've got to get the hell out of here!" He shakes his head when she looks his way, and she nods in understanding before serving the others seated at the bar. She moves quickly, smoothly, as if it's a choreographed routine. In many ways, it is. Same routine, different night. Everyone's trying to get as much alcohol in them as humanly possible before stumbling out into the night, returning to their dorms, their apartments, their real lives.

The bar is finally quiet as the last customers leave, and she sighs as she wipes down the counter, nearly forgetting her last customer.

She smiles as she approaches him, taking his empty glass and disposing of the napkin. "Last call rule applies to you, too. Don't you have somewhere to be?"

He shrugs, intertwining his long fingers and glancing at the counter. "If I did, do you think I'd be here?"

It hits her in that moment, a moment that's been six months in coming, and she's surprised that it hasn't dawned on her sooner. The old guy's lonely. The revelation sends a pang of sadness through her, though she tries to hide it. She gets the feeling that he doesn't want pity, but she's not sure what else he could want, either.

He glances up just long enough to see the sympathetic look briefly cross her face. "Don't worry. I'm not going to bore you with my whining about my miserable fucking life."

She leans on the counter, looking into his eyes for the first time. In the now brighter light of the bar, they shine a bright, startling blue, a stark contrast to his rugged features that are covered with a light growth of stubble. He's really quite the handsome man, and she can't believe she didn't notice before.

A frown starts to appear, and he looks away, clearly uncomfortable. "Not really in the mood for a staring contest."

"Sorry." She backs off, a little embarrassed that she invaded his space. The silence seems to stretch out between them, and she can feel his eyes on her as she cleans up the place. She huffs a little and starts to turn around. "If you've got something to say..."

The bell over the door rings before she can finish the sentence, and she looks up just in time to see him disappear. She observes him as he mounts his motorcycle just outside, his head dropping ever so slightly before he slams the helmet over his head, kickstarting the bike and pulling away.

She sighs as she finishes cleaning up and closes down the place for the night, and she can't help thinking that there is more to her regular customer than she realized. Did she miss his signals, buried so deeply in his snark and sarcasm? She wasn't sure, but something in her wanted to find out. Hopefully he would be back at his regular time. Suddenly she realizes that she looks forward to seeing him again. He's one of the few customers that doesn't try to hit on her, and he seems to enjoy her snappy comebacks.

She laughs as she locks up the bar and heads for home. Maybe they're both hiding. From what, she's not quite sure. Somehow, it seems like something worth investigating. Maybe, just maybe, next time he comes in, she can explore that possibility a little further. Maybe they can find a way to be a little less lonely...together.

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While this is intended to be a one-shot, I might expand it if there's interest. Read and review. :)