Cold Lunches [Peter]

The people he knew weren’t normal. Life would have been no fun if they were. However, one of his best friends, if not the best, was Will Porthos, and he was by far the least normal of the bunch.

Take lunch, for example. Most normal people liked to sit at their desks or go outside. Not Will. The man insisted on eating in his morgue. That’s right – morgue. As in the place where they cut up dead people. He supposed Coroners should like their work, but...well, it was a tad strange. Peter had pointed that out, but he had yet to get Will out of the morgue, so like the old saying goes: if you can’t beat them, join them.

That was how Peter came to be clutching the Tupperware container of lunch Louise had sent for him that day, walking into the morgue. He was getting used to eating there, in fact it wasn’t so terrible. It was quiet, clean, and ghost free, so rationally there was nothing wrong with the place. It was just the knowledge that dead people came there, that they were cut open, bared in no natural way to learn how they died...

He shook his head a bit. That was not something to think on before lunch.

Instead, he caught sight of Will wandering around the room and remembered when he had first met the man. He’d just started on as a Detective and was assigned up in homicide. He’d hated it, but it was his job. So when his partner bit his head off about not having results, he’d taken it upon himself to come down to Will’s office and ask for the results with a bit more stress and force in his tone that was necessary. Will had jibbed him until he’d managed a laugh and they’d been pals ever since.

"Peter! Sally died on me. I want you to shoot her dead."

And since they were pals, he didn’t take comments like that too seriously, even if Will was waving his frozen dinner around angrily.

“If she’s dead, I can’t kill her again,” Peter pointed out, taking his usual stool by one of the morgue tables. “Hello, by the way. Nice to see you, too. I’m doing well, thanks. It’s a slow day upstairs.”

He hungrily opened the container, hoping it wasn’t anything too cold if Sally had finally bit the dust. It was a miracle she’d survived as long as she had. Really, who knew what Will cooked in that thing!

“Come sit down and I’ll share whatever this is with you. It doesn’t feel frozen.”

Louise cooked too much. Peter knew she was trying to fatten him up, but he appreciated the fact she thought of him at all. And if it kept Will from digging out a hot plate or Bunsen burner, he was happy to share.

Peter smirked when Will paid attention to him and leaned across the table to greet him properly.

"I'm terribly sorry. Hello, apple butt. I'm so happy you're joining me today for lunch. It's nice to hear you're doing well. Slow days never hurt anyone. I've been cutting up dead people all morning. Want to smell my fingers?"

Peter leant back when Will stuck his fingers in his face. He knew Will wore gloves and washed his hands religiously. Still, the thought...he was glad when Will straightened up again.

"Really though, I'm going to need a new microwave. And it sucks. You should buy me one with all that detective money you get."

Peter chuckled as Will plopped down and suspiciously eyed his food. Will always teased him about the money Detectives made. He couldn’t argue the pay increase was better, but with all the debt he had, rent, feeding himself and the dog...he sometimes didn’t make it through the month. Louise fed him at least once a week, and he could make up his rent by fixing things in the building, but it still meant he couldn’t just spend money like that.

“My Detective money is better spent. Sorry, Snookums.”

He turned his attention to the container, pleased to see it was cold meatloaf. It was a whole meatloaf, sliced for his convenience. It would last him days. Louise made amazing meatloaf.

"No, thanks. Lukewarm alfredo always hits the spot."

Will was crazy to pass it up, especially when his dinner was still half-frozen. Peter chuckled when Will’s fork bounced off his food.

"Where'd I put my blow torch?"

“Man, not the blow torch.” Peter shook his head, not wanting to find the extinguisher. He would need it. Even if Will promised he wouldn’t, he always ended up putting a fire out.

“C’mon, it’s meatloaf. You like meatloaf! You can help me eat it.” Peter tipped the container so Will could see. “It’s all seasoned and tastes amazing cold!”

It really did. Peter grabbed a slice and bit into it. Fork be damned. He moaned a little, hoping that it would entice Will. He really did not want to put out a fire today.