Bruce Wayne and Gregory House meet in a bar. The similarities are overwhelming. One shot. Enjoy.

P.S. - End slightly altered as result of reviews. Thanks for commenting.

Standard disclaimers apply. Made for practice, not profit.

Two of a Kind

A tall, lithe, muscular man stood in the door frame, cane in hand. His jet black hair, highlighted with first stray grays, started receding. His face was outlined with recently forming wrinkles, impressions of chronic lack of joy in his life. The strong bones and baby blue eyes made him handsome in appearance. He was dressed in a T-shirt, suit jacket, jeans and sneakers. His eyes went wide with surprise as he noticed the man seated at the bar.

The other customer was tall, and despite his old age still muscular, tough in a rather bulky way. His heartily receded hair was almost white, but brushes of darker gray made it obvious it was once black as night. His face was sunk with age, telling of a similar life. At his side there was also a cane.

"Sit down stranger." The man at the bar said, emptying his glass.

The newcomer hobbled toward the bar and sat next to the old man. "Two of those" he said pointing at the empty glass. "Greg." He introduced himself, offering his hand.

"Bruce" the older man turned to shake his hand, his eyes also blue, a final note on their similarity. "Haven't seen you around."

"You saw everyone in this town?" Greg frowned.

"Pretty much." Bruce noted casually "Been around long enough."

"Nephrology symposium." Greg explained.

"A doctor." Bruce gave the man an approving look. "So was my father."

"So I've heard."

"Yours?" The old man asked merely out of politeness.

"Soldier." Greg said somewhat bitter.

"Are you sure we weren't switched?" Bruce looked at him curiously.

"I though you were a business man." Greg was befuddled.

"Nah." Bruce answered. "Came here to drown your sorrows, huh?" the old man said knowingly, more a statement than question.

"Yep." Greg replied slapping his lips after a sip.

"Same here." Bruce admitted, rising his cup in an ironic toast. "To loneliness."

They chinked their glasses and took a sip each.

"Who was she?" Bruce was curious.

"Stacy, Cameron, Cuddy…" Greg said through a sigh. "You?"

"Selina, Talia. Lois, Diana, Barbara…" Bruce trailed off.

A moment passed in silence as each man reminisced on his doomed loves.

Finally Bruce threw a glance at Greg's cane. "Aren't you too young for that?"

"Infraction" Greg instinctively rubbed his defective thigh muscle.

"Knife wound." Bruce replied in dead pan manner, doing the same.

"Aren't you to rich for that?" Greg returned the question.

"Not really." Bruce answered mysteriously.

Greg slowly turned to face the other man, his head slightly tilted and brow furrowed in thought. Suddenly his head jerked back "Wow!" he exclaimed and promptly downed his drink. "Another one, please." He told the bartender.

"You're something of a genius, ha?." Bruce threw him a look. "Some people still have no clue."

"You know, I could have fixed it." Greg remarked on the leg after regaining composure.

"You probably could." Bruce remained bland.

"And you would have definitely lied." Greg noted.

Bruce grinned. "Definitely." He said through a snicker before finishing his drink and getting up. With one hand he took the cane and the other he offered to the good doctor. "Nice to meet you doctor."

Greg shook his hand. "The pleasure is all mine. Detective."

The End