Have A Nice Trip, See You Next Fall! (Peter)

[JAMES WINDSOR]

Like many other people who had seemed to decide that 2013 would be a year for fitness, James went out in the early morning for a run.

He tended to find that then was really the best time to do so - the crisp air enough to wake anyone from the partial slumber the beginnings of a day brought. Not to mention the fact that it was considerably easier, as usually the only people out at that time were fellow joggers or dog walkers, neither or which caused him any bother.

That morning, the man had left behind his iPod in favour of the sounds of the city in the morning. It couldn't be considered something particularly beautiful, or even (at times) pleasant to listen to, but the reminder of the start over that New York had given he and Victor was definitely present from the voices and the traffic echoing through the city air.

James hadn't been running for long, and soon found himself on a clear stretch of path amidst the trees and benches of the park. Seeing few people ahead, the dancer picked up his pace, taking full advantage of the even ground.
He really wasn't to know that moments later, intending to pass by a dog walker as fluently as he was able, that something ('what on earth-') would promptly cause him to trip, and turn over sideways, (thankfully) straight onto his back as he fell down.

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

The only thing that sucked about having a dog in the city was that he had no backyard space. He had no backyard, if he was truthful. All there was outside his window was the next building over and a lot of concrete. Having grown up on a ranch under the clear blue sky of Montana, he really wasn’t used to having to actually seek out nature, but he still made it his goal to do so as often as possible, and in this case, having a dog was a very, very good thing. The dog needed to be walked, multiple times a day, and it was the perfect excuse to be out and about.

It was early morning and it was just barely beginning to hint at a nice day soon to come. Peter had still thrown on a jacket (and barely remembered his shoes) seeing as how there was still a bit of a bite in the air. Baze didn’t seem to notice. He just tugged his master along, not giving an inch in his pursuit of seeing as much of the park as he could before Peter forced them home. He just snorted in amusement, drinking from his travel mug as he let the dog do the work. In fact, his whole world had narrowed down to following the dog and drinking his coffee.

So it really wasn’t his fault when Baze suddenly darted to the right and pulled the leash taut...tripping a passing jogger. Great. At least he hadn’t spilled his coffee. Still, the sprawled out man probably wouldn’t see it the same way.

“I am so sorry! Are you alright?” Peter asked, leaning over the other man, tugging the leash so Baze was glued to his side. “He just...I don’t even know what he saw, but...”

Peter trailed off, feeling awkward. This was not his morning. So he switched the mug to the same hand as the leash and held it out his free hand to the other man.

“Here, let me help you up.”

[JAMES WINDSOR]

“I am so sorry! Are you alright?”
The apologetic rambles of the stranger to whom the dog belonged broke through James' thoughts almost as soon as he hit the ground. What was probably more surprising than having tripped in the first place, was the fact that the man was immediately distracted by the thought that somehow, that had never happened before.

Though when this trail of thinking died down (fortunately quickly), and James was still on the floor - he found himself feeling, all in all, rather silly. And so it came as frankly a relief when the other man offered:
“Here, let me help you up.”
The dancer took the offered hand with his right, standing swiftly and taking it back in order to reach for his left shoulder, which had taken the brunt of the landing.

Upon satisfying himself that there was no harm done, James simply looked at the man and his dog (both of whom were now looking back at him), and burst into laughter.
"No, no, it's fine, really," he managed to get the words out, tamping down the light chuckles so that instead he was simply giving the stranger an extremely lopsided, amused grin.
"You can't really account for the actions of your dog."

He once again held out his hand, though this time in greeting rather than needing assistance.
"My name's James. And for all the times I run here, I must say that is the first I've tripped over a dog. Congratulations to you."

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

"No, no, it's fine, really. You can't really account for the actions of your dog."

He was laughing. Well, that was a switch. Normally New Yorkers were pretty pissed when something like that happened to them. But then, he sounded British, so that could have been the difference. Since Max, he’d had a thing for accents, so he immediately paid attention, especially once the tall man was on his feet. He was much taller when he was vertical.

"My name's James. And for all the times I run here, I must say that is the first I've tripped over a dog. Congratulations to you."

Peter shook the offered hand, smiling a little. At least the guy was nice. He still felt bad that Baze had tripped him, but this was much easier to deal with than some very angry runner.

“Nice to meet you James. I’m Peter and this is Baze,” he offered, taking his hand back so he could rest it on the dog’s head. “And I don’t think he needs the encouragement of being the only one to have tripped you.”

He smiled a bit, ruffling Baze’s fur because he was a big, dense mutt. Also, it kept his focus off of the friendly Brit’s eyes and tall frame. He did feel bad about everything because the man hadn’t asked to be tripped by a lunging dog, but it wasn’t something he could change now.

“So, do you run through here often?”

It was a fair question – Peter had never seen the man before, let alone run into him. However, there were many people in the city he hadn’t had the privilege of meeting. Well, one more down, he supposed.

[JAMES WINDSOR]

“Nice to meet you James. I’m Peter and this is Baze,”
The man introduced himself and his dog, which, for some reason, provoked the dancer into giving the animal a small, sort-of-wave. James chuckled again, turning his gaze from Baze to Peter as the stranger spoke again.
“And I don’t think he needs the encouragement of being the only one to have tripped you.”

He hummed in agreement, glancing around briefly at people passing them.
"I think so, it seems that most people here are rather rude when you send them flying onto the pavement," His grin spread to a silent laugh as he imagined the scene. Really, he must have looked ridiculous, tripping over a dog of all things.
"No, it's quite alright, honestly. At least he didn't deliberately try to attack me, I think I'd be rather miffed then."

In truth, James had always been fond of dogs. From what he could remember of living in London, they hadn't had the facilities for any domesticated animals - and his parents' house in Geneva held a stable, and a few horses. His father, being violently allergic to almost any sort of animal (he stayed well away from the stable, and the gardener's cats) was the main reason a younger James had never had the opportunity for a dog. Not to mention that most of his time was spent either at the academy, or with Victor and Elizabeth.
Then all the commotion around his University years made him forget how much he had once wanted a dog.

Perhaps he would have to discuss the topic with Victor, sometime.

“So, do you run through here often?”
The man nodded, before changing his mind a little.
"Well, I run often. Though I tend not to stick to the same path, or it grows a bit repetitive to be frank." He tilted his head, "Is this your route? If I had seen you before I think I'd have remembered Baze."
James smiled at the dog. Yes, he'd definitely have to ask Victor about getting one at some point.

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

Peter had to admit that this was a first for him – no one ever waved at his dog before. Still, the guy seemed nice enough, and waving was something Peter himself would probably do, so it wasn’t too far out there.

"I think so, it seems that most people here are rather rude when you send them flying onto the pavement. No, it's quite alright, honestly. At least he didn't deliberately try to attack me, I think I'd be rather miffed then."

Peter couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea. Attacking people wasn’t his style. He was the kind who put up with the brunt of the attacks, so to speak. And Baze was far too lazy. The fact that he’d tripped anyone was kind of astonishing, in fact, especially someone who seemed to be pretty graceful for his size. Not that Peter was trying to notice things like that, but it was second nature as both a detective and someone who often brought home bedmates. He had to be a good judge of character and pick up on the little things. Of course, he wasn’t perfect, thus the whole Max debacle, but James seemed pretty genuine.

"Well, I run often. Though I tend not to stick to the same path, or it grows a bit repetitive to be frank. Is this your route? If I had seen you before I think I'd have remembered Baze."

“Uh, I can imagine it would become kind of boring,” he offered, scratching Baze’s ears. “I generally stick to this path, just because it’s easy.”

He could zone out and just stop thinking about things. He liked that part. Most of his day was so serious and full of people who demanded a lot of him, so he just didn’t manage to relax. He needed time to just tune out and...well, be on auto pilot. That was one of the reasons he liked his walks so much. Baze could walk, Peter could trust him to take him along the same path, and it was routine. Plus, if it kept Baze from eating his sofa, everyone wins.

“I’m pretty boring that way.” He shrugged, wanting to change the conversation off of himself. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

He’d gone down pretty hard and Peter was worried that he’d injured the man and it would only pop up later into his run. He’d feel terrible then, not that he’d know, but karma would.

“Did you maybe want to walk along with us? I’d feel better about all this if I...” oh now he was going to sound like someone’s mother - not his own, of course, because her wisdom was always to drink a glass of wine and throw him at the local priest - but there was no way around it. “I’m sure you’re fine, but I’d still like to make sure.”

[JAMES WINDSOR]

“Uh, I can imagine it would become kind of boring,”
James chuckled, because that was exactly the reason he preferred to change his route so much. Sometimes the risk of being hit by a car was more appealing than running uninterrupted in the park - simply because it held something more exciting for him.
"That, it certainly does," he agreed with a laugh. Though it wasn't as though he was likely to stop running, as it really was an extremely healthy routine that he had kept for such a long time. Running in Geneva was far more interesting than New York, however.

“I generally stick to this path, just because it’s easy. I’m pretty boring that way.”
James doubted it. He found, surprisingly, that when given the time most people would prove to be actually rather not-boring. And in a city such as New York, where diversity was blatantly obvious in some and transparent in others, the likelihood of Peter being boring wasn't particularly huge.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”
The man nodded and rolled his shoulder - just to check that everything was still in working order. It was fortunate he had managed to force the impact on to his shoulder, rather than his back. That certainly wouldn't have been very good.

“Did you maybe want to walk along with us? I’d feel better about all this if I... I’m sure you’re fine, but I’d still like to make sure.”
James smiled. It was rare to meet such a polite person in the city, and he was completely grateful that he finally had.
"If it makes you feel less guilty, then I don't see any reason not to walk with you," he has done enough of his run to qualify today, anyway.
"And honestly, it's fine, I'm a dancer, I've taken worse falls than that before,"

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

Peter watched carefully as the man rolled his shoulder, noting how he didn’t pause in his movements, which meant that there was no real pain. Peter was an expert on shoulder pain. He knew exactly what to look for – stuttered or aborted movements, the contraction of muscle out of place with the rotation, any grimace of pain... the fact that he didn’t see any of that was enough to put him at ease. The last thing he wanted was to have to bring a complete stranger into the ER with his dog in tow.

"If it makes you feel less guilty, then I don't see any reason not to walk with you. And honestly, it's fine, I'm a dancer, I've taken worse falls than that before.”

Peter chose to ignore the guilty comment, knowing that he’d already made it clear that he was feeling responsible simply by inviting the other man along. His sister always said his face was like an open book, and apparently his actions fell right in tow. So he nodded and gestured the other man to join him, nudging Baze along – careful of how much leash he gave the dog this time.

“So you’re a dancer?” He really should have known by looking at the man’s legs, but he’d been a bit busy with other things. “What kind of dance do you do?”

He was genuinely interested. During college, his roommate had been an ex-dancer looking to get an education because he wasn’t getting any younger and no one wanted to go and watch middle aged strippers, or so Damon had argued. He’d taught Peter some moves and he’d caught on quickly enough so his interest was piqued. He’d even considered what a career as a dancer would be like, but living with Damon had kept him from doing anything more than considering. Damon had given it up to go back to school, after all. Still, some people could do it professionally, and with the legs on this guy, he was sure he was one of the few who did just that.

[JAMES WINDSOR]

“So you’re a dancer? What kind of dance do you do?”
James found himself smiling at the man's question. It was always pleasant when somebody took such interest in something he considered his passion. Victor's fascination with form didn't really count, and though he obviously appreciated the other man's attention it did often feel as though his concentration was more toward James' lines, rather than him.

"Ballet," he replied, "It's often quite exhausting, to be honest, but I've always enjoyed it. Besides, I'm very lucky - I'm principal at NYCB."
James was rather proud of having achieved this, and so he felt a little showing off could be excused.
"Though outside of work I do dance more contemporary, I suppose."
Nobody but Victor ever really saw that. But that didn't matter, as most of the time James wasn't actually aware that Victor was watching. Strangely it had grown somewhat comforting to know that the other man's gaze was focused on him as he danced. He always could sort of tell when he watched.

"Do you frequent the theatre often?" James asked. Though Peter didn't really seem like the type, there wasn't much way of telling. If it weren't for the fact that generally he was rather good at spotting other dancers, the other man might even have the same profession as he. Speaking of...
"How about you, then? How do you earn your bread?"

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

"Ballet."

Peter blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that He’d grown up in the kind of house where there were girl things and boy things. Ballet was a girl thing. However, he’d learned better since moving to New York. Men could do what they wanted, women could do what they wanted and there was no judgement. Peter wasn’t going to judge either, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t surprised.

"It's often quite exhausting, to be honest, but I've always enjoyed it. Besides, I'm very lucky - I'm principal at NYCB."

Peter had no idea what that meant, but if the other man considered himself to be lucky, it was probably a prestigious place to be. Peter knew nothing about ballet, so he really couldn’t judge.

"Though outside of work I do dance more contemporary, I suppose. Do you frequent the theatre often?"

“Uh, no. I’ve actually never been to the theatre,” Peter replied with a little shrug. “But being part of the ballet does sound interesting.”

What could he say? He’d been raised by a man concerned with gender roles, then he’d lived with Don. Don had been far too busy to go to the theatre and Peter had adopted his mindset, making sure that he was always working. Besides, the theatre cost too much. Peter could appreciate that it was an art, but he didn’t understand why people spent so much money on it.

"How about you, then? How do you earn your bread?"

“You mean how do I rent my bread,” he joked, thinking that as soon as he had money, it was often already spent. “I’m a detective with the 1-2-5, and when I’m not doing that, I bartend down at O’Bannon’s.”

It wasn’t the best idea to tell too many personal details about himself to the good looking dancer, but Peter figured that if there was an issue, he was the one licensed to carry a gun. Besides, James seemed like a good person. Good people were a rarity these days.

“I’ve been accused of being a workaholic,” he offered, knowing that most people heard what he did for a living and thought it was too much. Well, he’d rather do too much than sit around doing too little. “I couldn’t help but notice your accent. Where are you from?”

[JAMES WINDSOR]

James found himself laughing at Peter's response to his type of dance. Not overly much, it was just that he found his surprise increasingly amusing the more he thought about it. Evidently he hasn't been expecting that, which only served to lead the dancer onto the trout of just what he might have been expecting.

“Uh, no. I’ve actually never been to the theatre. But being part of the ballet does sound interesting.”
He shrugged his shoulders at that, and smiled as he admitted:
"It really is very interesting to me, but then it's been my life for as long as I can remember. I must admit that if I weren't the one dancing I likely wouldn't pay much attention to ballet. My friend, however, makes a point to attend practically every performance, no matter how repetitive it gets. Awfully nice of him."
But Victor always had been a strange sort of creature. Not that James would ever be willing to allow that to change.

“I’m a detective with the 1-2-5, and when I’m not doing that, I bartend down at O’Bannon’s.”
A detective? James wouldn't have actually guessed that, it was probably because Peter just looked rather young to be a Detective. Well, he must be bloody good at least. And though the thought of the police brought about some rather unpleasant images of both his father's and mother's deaths, he was soon distracted by the man's mention of another job.
"O'Bannon's?" It sounded familiar, "I'm quite sure I've passed there before. I've been meaning to go for a while now but never really had the opportunity."

Truthfully, James had been waiting for the perfect moment to invite Victor along with him. Who knew, if he got the man to go at the right time, he may be able to introduce Peter. Victor needed to meet more people anyway, that was the point of New York for them.

“I’ve been accused of being a workaholic,”
The dancer smiled broadly. 'Tell me about it,' he wanted to say. After all, his work was most of his life, so he had reason to be. Though, as the rest of his life was pretty much Victor, and Victor certainly appreciated his work, he hardly thought it mattered very much in the circumstances.

“I couldn’t help but notice your accent. Where are you from?”

"I'm from London, but I grew up in Geneva, which is Switzerland. Then I moved back to London, and then here."
Even he acknowledged that his voice sounded a little odd at times. His accent mainly being the proper English his parents spoke, but with underlying hints and tones of Swiss-French - like Victor's. in all honesty a description of it sounded a little like a perfume advertisement.

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

"It really is very interesting to me, but then it's been my life for as long as I can remember. I must admit that if I weren't the one dancing I likely wouldn't pay much attention to ballet. My friend, however, makes a point to attend practically every performance, no matter how repetitive it gets. Awfully nice of him."

Awfully nice indeed. Peter wasn’t sure he had the attention span to sit through one performance, let alone each one. Still, he had seen Damon dance a few times when he had nothing else to do, so he assumed that there was some loyalty involved when it came to James. That, or this friend was just plain crazy. One never knew.

“O'Bannon's? I'm quite sure I've passed there before. I've been meaning to go for a while now but never really had the opportunity."

“Well, come on in some night. I think you’d like it,” he offered, all the strange Irish and British memorabilia coming to mind. “Sal’s proudly Irish for a west side Italian. Every surface is covered with something British. It’s got definite personality.”

Peter caught James’ wide grin, thinking the guy was one big smile. He didn’t mind, after all it was nice to know that there were happy people in the world.

"I'm from London, but I grew up in Geneva, which is Switzerland. Then I moved back to London, and then here."

Well then, he’d really fit in over at O’Bannon’s.

“Wow, that’s quite the history.”

And it really was. For a country boy who spent the last eight years living in New York, he really couldn’t imagine seeing so many places, being so cultured. He wouldn’t get that far, seeing as how he would have to actually get himself on an airplane to see all the places James had.

“Did ballet bring you here to New York, or was it something else?”

[JAMES WINDSOR]

“Well, come on in some night. I think you’d like it. Sal’s proudly Irish for a west side Italian. Every surface is covered with something British. It’s got definite personality.”
James laughed again at that. Oh, he most definitely would be going there at some point, then. It would be easy to persuade Victor to accompany him, he was sure.
"It'll feel like home," he joked.

The dancer had grown accustomed to not really paying attention to where he was walking (as evidenced with his earlier fall), and doing so was much easier when there was another person alongside him to serve as something of a guide. He didn't need to watch the path, and could fortunately focus the entirety of his attention on Peter. It was good to talk to somebody new. He always was fond of meeting different people, anyway.

“Wow, that’s quite the history.”
James shrugged, and replied quickly.
"It's only actually two different countries. Well, three if you count my living in New York now."
He had never put much consideration into the fact that living in different places for different stages of one's life was anything but the norm. He hardly thought it mattered, though. Even if it did make his accent a little strange sometimes, he had seen a little bit more of the world than some people - and that was something nice, he supposed.

“Did ballet bring you here to New York, or was it something else?”
He was quiet for a moment at that. The transfer from the Covent Garden Ballet to New York's had been a rather difficult one. He hadn't initially told Victor of the plan, just in case he hadn't been accepted. But the whole idea of moving to a complete different country, for the both of them, was with Victor mostly in mind. James still hadn't told the other man about his parents, either. So he could hardly claim that moving was an escape from the fear brought about in him by their deaths.
"It was a 'fresh start' sort of plan. For Victor - my friend from childhood - and I. It's worked, anyway," he finished lightheartedly with another grin.

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

Peter watched as James walked along, gracefully. He supposed that went with being a dancer. Peter wasn’t one to watch his feet, either, but he was grounded when he walked, each footfall making friction on the ground. The dancer moved like he was barely even touching it. It was an interesting comparison.

"It's only actually two different countries. Well, three if you count my living in New York now."

Only three? Yeah, he was worldly, alright. But he was in New York now – and seeing as how Peter had come to New York once upon a time, he could see that they had some common footing there. It was a city of immigrants, after all.

"It was a 'fresh start' sort of plan. For Victor - my friend from childhood - and I. It's worked, anyway.”

“Sometimes everyone needs a fresh start,” he offered. “And New York is the perfect place for it.”

And he knew that better than anyone. He’d desperately needed a fresh start eight years ago and here he was. The only thing was that it swallowed you up and you never left again. New York may just happen to be the final move for James and his friend Victor.

“So, how are you enjoying yourself here? Ready to jump ship back to Europe?” he joked, thinking of the week he’d had with arrests.

Some guy had belted a stick of dynamite to his thigh and held up a subway car for about six hours until the woman he was stalking agreed to a date. Of course, it would be up at Bellevue, but everyone saw that coming. Then there was the homeless man beaten to death, the kids who decided to bring guns to school, a robbery on Madison that just about got a woman shot...

Welcome to New York, greatest city in the world.

[JAMES WINDSOR]

"Sometimes everyone needs a fresh start, and New York is the perfect place for it."
James considered the wise words of his unexpected companion, and found himself wondering just what had brought the other man to New York, for him to say something such as that. The dancer himself agreed wholeheartedly with the man's opinion, knowing just how difficult a situation could grow to be before one would even consider running away from it. It was always a tough decision to make, on whether to stay or to go - but James had been fortunate enough to have the firm knowledge that Victor would stand by him no matter what. The move to New York had been a benefit to the both of them, after all.

"So how are you enjoying yourself here? Ready to jump ship back to Europe?"
He laughed lightly at Peter's joke. The man he had found a sudden friendship with happened to be one of the very few people he had actually had a real conversation with since moving to New York. After the drama and effort put into settling into his new life both with Victor and NYCB, he had rarely had the time to go out and find other people to talk to. The ease with which he found himself fortunately able to do so (even if the only reason he was talking to this man was because of his dog) vanquished some tension he was hardly aware he had.

"Absolutely not," James replied confidently, raising his head a little and breathing in the strange mix of fresh air, from the park, and unmistakable city smog that always seemed present, no matter where you were in New York.
"It's never going to peaceful or even easy living here, I'm sure - but then Victor and I hardly moved to possibly the liveliest city on Earth to lead a cosy life." He shot Peter a lopsided grin, and continued on rather excitedly.
"I think it suits me just fine, to be honest. But what about you? You seem to know the place well, so you must have lived here for a while, but you're not from around here, are you?"