Tonight, Tonight (Peter) -FIN-

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

Osric shrugged, sipping at his drink. "I set things on fire a lot. Like, the fireplace. Well, I mean, not that you're not supposed to but I do it badly. Like the fire always falls out somehow and I'm not sure why. I'm good at cooking though. I really like cooking. Well, baking more, I guess. I don't really get why there's two words for it, do you? But yeah, baking. Sweets. I love sweets."

Peter couldn’t help but chuckle. Well, it sounds like he would be interesting to live with. At least he would probably be someone with a lot to say all the time.

“I actually light things on fire a lot myself when I’m cooking,” he replied, wondering how Osric managed to set the actual fire place on fire.

But he understood where he was coming from. He honestly didn’t know why everything he cooked burned. He’d watch it just fine, making sure to carefully turn and flip things like he’d been shown by everyone who’d ever tried to teach him how to cook. But it never seemed to work. He was just cursed, he supposed. Cursed to having everyone else cook for him, to ordering take out, and eating frozen dinners. He really hated frozen dinners.

“I practically live on frozen dinners, so I’d trade you any day.”

After all, there was nothing really flammable in his apartment. As for baking and cooking, he wasn’t so sure that anyone he knew could answer that, and he sure as hell had never thought about it. So he just offered a shrug to that one. As for sweets, Peter was a closet sugar addict. He loved sweet things, but he rarely indulged.

“Sweets are nice,” he offered, not wanting to bring up his personal relationship with sugar. “I particularly like cinnamon buns.”

Hot and gooey ones with raisins and cream cheese icing and a hot cup of coffee...He was going to have to buy one after his shift – if he could find anywhere that was open that early in the morning, that is. He could almost taste it...

“I appreciate anyone who can make those,” he stated, finishing off his bottle of water and lobbing it into the recycling bin. “How’d you get interested in cooking or baking or whatever they call it?”

[OSRIC YOUNG]

“I actually light things on fire a lot myself when I’m cooking,” Peter said after chuckling in amusement, probably at Osric's blatant show of affection for sweet things. At least he didn't really get sugar highs. Hank said that it was just because Osric was always sugar high, but that wasn't true, really. Though, it was a bit funny (though completely scientifically statistical, he'd read); caffeine and pot really made him more groggy than anything.

“I practically live on frozen dinners, so I’d trade you any day," Peter said, and it was Osric's turn to laugh. Frozen dinners were sort of awful, and even if they did manage to taste good sometimes (and really, who didn't love them as a kid), you could trick yourself into thinking it tasted awful anyways, simply because of the list of unpronounceable ingredients on the back neatly lined up in a list that was at least half a foot long.

“Sweets are nice. I particularly like cinnamon buns. I appreciate anyone who can make those,” Peter finished, and Osric thought Peter looked a bit funny as he said that. “How’d you get interested in cooking or baking or whatever they call it?”

"Oh... I don't know. My big cousin gave me her Easy Bake Oven as a kid and I guess it sort of went from there," Osric said thoughtfully. He'd really, really loved that thing to be honest. To the point where his mom made him start making real dinners for the whole family at age seven simply because she couldn't stand Osric making all the little cookies and cakes that were almost as bad for you as TV dinners ('May has well get something useful out of it, right?' His mom said, and Osric had been ecstatic to finally be allowed to use a proper oven). "Though, I'd totally make you cinnamon buns any day, Peter," Osric said, completely missing any weird innuendos that could be placed on his words. Well that'd be just fantastic. Peter was still cool, even if they weren't even in uni anymore, and he was super nice. And he'd given him free soda. He could totally return the favor with sweets. He made a mental note to make Peter something soon. Not that he actually knew where Peter lived, but he could find out. That's what the telephone book was for.

"By the way, baking is like, desserts, and cooking is meals," Osric informed Peter thoughtfully. He didn't mean to sound like a smart-ass, and he was pretty sure he hadn't, but the thought occurred to him a second after he'd said it and he sincerely hoped he hadn't. Hank and Wilson were always telling him things like, 'Only you could get away with that,' and 'You do know anyone else would hit you for that, right?' all the time, and it did confuse him so. Peter didn't know him nearly as well as his best friends, so Osric hoped he wouldn't hit him. Not that Peter had ever seemed violent whatsoever, but still. He stared hard into his sprite. Bubbles were very pretty, were't they?

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

Peter actually was interested in hearing about how Osric got interested in cooking. He assumed he would have to have been pretty young, seeing as how Peter figured he would have to practice to get any good at it.

"Oh... I don't know. My big cousin gave me her Easy Bake Oven as a kid and I guess it sort of went from there."

An Easy Bake Oven. His sister had one of those when they were small. She loved that thing. Always making cookies and brownies and cakes. She’d really gotten into the whole thing. That was probably why she was such a good cook now. However, Peter remembered trying to use it once and burning his attempt at a brownie or cake or whatever it was. He’d taken up mending and been much better at that.

"Though, I'd totally make you cinnamon buns any day, Peter.”

Peter couldn’t help but laugh. Even though they had known each other in school, it had only taken minutes of conversation to score free cinnamon buns. And even if they weren’t great, they were food. Cinnamon, sugar, baking with warm gooey goodness...Still, had he been anyone else, he would have worried about the implications of having someone who was almost a perfect stranger offering to bake him sweets. However, Osric didn’t set off his internal warning system like criminals did, and Damon had made it clear that the other man was straight. So, that just meant he was nice. Nice was rare in this world, so Peter could accept that.

"By the way, baking is like, desserts, and cooking is meals.”

“What about baking a ham?” Peter asked.

It wasn’t to be controversial or obtuse. He just was curious where that would fit into that definition. Ham wasn’t dessert, but you didn’t cook it, either.

“And I will take you up on that offer for cinnamon buns. Any baking or cooking, really. I’m far from picky and a little envious you can cook and bake.”

It was no secret Peter couldn’t cook and had poisoned himself many times in the attempt. Others, mainly take out joints, did the cooking for him. And he would eat everything people offered, really. He’d eat anything, period. He had yet to find a food allergy, and the only thing he really didn’t like very much was things made with canned pineapple. Still, with all the eating he did, he could still find his ribs easily enough every time he pulled his shirt off, so he supposed he was doing alright.

[OSRIC YOUNG]

"What about baking a ham?”

Wait, what? Oh, that was brilliant. Peter didn't even sound mean when he said that, he honestly sounded curious. Osric couldn't help but let his smile completely take over his face, his intense worry from abut two seconds ago gone in a flash.

"Well, you don't really make ham, I mean, it's just there," Osric said, seriously considering different factors to make up his argument. "You know what I mean? So it's not cooking or baking a ham, it's just... making one. But when you put it in the oven you're cooking it, but yeah, I'd just say, making one." He was completely overjoyed that they were talking about food preparation, really he was. He never got to talk about that. It was great to talk to someone about something awesome you never really got to elaborate on.

“I will take you up on that offer for cinnamon buns," Peter said. "Any baking or cooking, really. I’m far from picky and a little envious you can cook and bake.” Osric's smile probably could not physically get any larger just then. He had kind of a small mouth but still. He fucking loved Peter.

"Definitely, dude!" Osric exclaimed happily, and would have went on with useless culinary facts had his cell not buzzed in his pocket. He could have ignored it, but then he remembered was supposed to be with Wilson and Hank... right about... now. Shit.

"Oh man, sorry, I really gotta take this," Osric said apologetically, honestly upset about being so rude. He stood and walked a few feet away, more towards the corner of the room, so he could hear the speaker of his phone a bit better and not talk on the phone right in front of Peter like a person without any manners; the noise wasn't bad in the place but there was still background noise in general.

"WHAT THE FUCK MAN."

Well, Hank's voice came loud and clear through the speaker. Very loud. Osric actually flinched. And his ear hurt.

"Shit, dude, I'm so sorry. I totally forgot," Osric said, sounding a little desperate.

"You forgot?! Wilson's fucking off his rocker here, get the hell down here right now."

"I know, I know," Osric said, a tad hurt. "But - but Hank, I saw Peter here, Peter Aramis man, and he remembers us!" Well, he remembered Osric, but Osric didn't really think of it like that; in his mind, they were all a collective entity, the three of them.

There was a pause before Hank said, just a bit more gently, "The basketball guy?"

"Yeah."

"Oh... Well. Still. Get you ass over here in fifteen minutes or you will seriously wish you had never been born."

"Never," Osric said simply, "Bye man." They hung up. Osric stayed in the corner for another five seconds trying to process - right. Wilson. Moving. Things he had promised to help do this weekend because of Wilson moving. Dammit. He rarely forgot important things like this but it had been Peter, and he totally forgot the time (not the commitment though, he would never). He walked back over to Peter now feeling guilty for both answering his phone in the middle of a conversation and for forgetting Wilson was moving. What a shit person he was.

"Sorry Peter, I actually... kind of have to leave, like, right now," Osric said, accidentally giving Peter sad puppy eyes. "I sort of forgot I have to go help Wilson move. I'm really sorry."

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

Peter watched as Osric looked puzzled for a moment before he beamed brightly.

"Well, you don't really make ham, I mean, it's just there. You know what I mean? So it's not cooking or baking a ham, it's just... making one. But when you put it in the oven you're cooking it, but yeah, I'd just say, making one."

Peter nodded, thinking that probably made sense. He really wasn’t one who put a lot of consideration into things. He was glad there were people out there who did, though. Certainly someone had to keep these things straight for the future generations.

And if it was possible, he grinned even bigger when Peter promised he would eat anything Osric made. He hoped he was as good of a cook as he made himself out to be.

Any further conversation was interrupted when Osric’s cell phone started trilling loudly. Peter had always thought cells were annoying, especially when people were trying to be social, but he understood the purpose. He had one on his own hip, after all. If Dispatch couldn’t find him, he was sunk.

"Oh man, sorry, I really gotta take this."

Peter waved him off, watching as Osric walked to the other side of the room to answer his phone. He took the opportunity to clean up some of the dirty glasses off the bar, waving at some of the people he knew. By the time he made it back to where Osric’s drink was sitting, the other man had made his way back.

"Sorry Peter, I actually... kind of have to leave, like, right now. I sort of forgot I have to go help Wilson move. I'm really sorry."

Peter felt like shaking his head. What was there to be sorry about? They didn’t have plans, in fact, Osric seemed to have forgotten the plans he was rushing off to. The puppy dog eyes he could have done without, though. He was immune to them after working with the kids, but on a grown man they weren’t nearly as cute and endearing. They made Peter a little off kilter wondering what he wanted to accomplish with them.

“Don’t worry about it,” Peter assured him. “I understand. Give Wilson my best.”

He wasn’t sure he knew who Wilson was, but if Osric was using his name, it was a safe assumption that he should know who Wilson was from their university years. Besides, it was polite to enquire after people.

“And don’t be a stranger.”

Osric knew where to find him, and as little as he remembered from his social life in University, he was always up for making new friends with old acquaintances now.

[OSRIC YOUNG]

OOC: You can make a last post if you want to, and I'll mark the thread as Fin.

“Don’t worry about it,” Peter said kindly, though Osric still felt pretty lousy about it. “I understand. Give Wilson my best. And don’t be a stranger.”

Osric smiled. Peter was ridiculously nice. He was too nice; Osric wasn't that nice. "I'll tell him," he said more brightly, "And thanks man." He hopped off the stool and picked up his guitar case he'd leaned against the counter, the plastic wobbling at his side. He waved to Peter, "Bye," and left.

It wasn't that hard to catch a taxi - he was good at catching taxis - and got in hurriedly, telling the driver Wilson's address. He was a bundle of nerves, dreading the hell Hank and Wilson were going to give him when he got there, but his worries were somewhat assuaged by the fact that he was only late because he's seen Peter, and Peter was awesome, so at least he had a good excuse.

Once he got out and paid the driver, he took the elevator up to Wilson's new floor after entering the apartment he'd called to the cabbie. Of course, once he got into the room, his friends were both ready and willing to chastise him with actual fruit to throw before his string of "I'msorryI'msosorrygodIdidn'tmeanto." Of course, being them, he was forgiven quickly before Osric started helping them to unpack the boxes in the room that had already been brought up and started on. Hank asked about seeing Peter, and Osric told them in a lot of words, everything.

"And I'm going to make him cinnamon buns," Osric said brightly.

Wilson and Hank gave each other this look, the one Osric knew meant they were speaking with their eyes and exasperated with him. "That's weird, man," Hank said.

"No it's not," Osric replied happily. Of course it wasn't.

"Dude, you don't even know him, of course it's weird," Wilson said, but Osric just shrugged and kept unpacking Wilson's books. He didn't care what people thought was weird or not. He just cared about everyone being nice and having fun.

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

Peter watched Osric leave, thinking his life was one odd turn after another. Though this wasn’t terribly odd. It wasn’t uncommon to walk into people who went to NYU. It was a big school, after all, and a lot of the people who went there chose to stay in the city. He shrugged to himself, cleaning up some of the stray glasses on the bar, having the sneaking suspicion he would see Osric again.

It was only a few minutes later when his phone buzzed on his hip. He had to keep it on just in case dispatch called. It was rare, but not rare enough.

“Aramis,” he answered, phone tucked between his shoulder and ear as he moved dirty glasses.

He listened carefully as Gerry ran a random idea past him. Their most recent case had been driving the pair of them nuts. There were no leads, and whatever clues there were weren’t good enough to give them an arrest. Gerry had a thought about cell phone records that Peter thought was a good hunch.

“Why didn’t we think of that last week?”

Gerry just laughed a bit. “If we had, we wouldn’t have had tonight off. How’s the bar?”

“Same old, same old.” Peter shrugged to himself, popping into the back room so he could hear better. “A guy I went to school with played a live set tonight.”

“Why, Detective Aramis – is there anyone you don’t know?”

“Nope,” he replied, absently counting the boxes of bar coasters.

“Let me guess – you said as little about yourself as possible, let the other guy talk, and got something out of it?”

“I do not do that.” That was exactly what happened.

“Right. See you tomorrow, kid.”

“Bye, Ger.”

Peter closed the phone and clipped it back onto his hip. Gerry had a point. He did do that. It was just easier to talk about everyone else than to evaluate his own life. Heck, he hadn’t even told Osric he was a cop, not wanting to mix his worlds together. It was no secret, but it had been nice to just be one and not the other for a night. He kind of grinned then. If he ever had to arrest the guy, it would make for an interesting day.