Won't You Be My Neighbor? (Jane/casual)

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

For the past year, Peter had lived in the same apartment. Somehow, in all that time, he'd never made the effort to get to know his neighbors. With the hours he worked, and the fact most of the people in the building seemed wary of him, it wasn't all that surprising.

Right then, he was wishing he had made more of an effort. Gerry's wife had gone to the trouble of putting all the ingredients together for pancakes, commenting about how Peter needed to eat more home made foods. All he had to do was mix in the eggs and milk, then cook them on the griddle. The theory was that even Peter couldn't mess that up. Well, after cracking the eggs into the bowl, he realized he did make a mistake. His milk was so far past due that he could potentially eat it with a fork. Without milk, he wouldn't even get the chance to burn them, let alone eat them.

Now, he had options. He could toss out his fresh dinner and pull out a frozen dinner, or he could go down to the market with the rest of the after dinner rush and wait around for an hour for a liter of milk. Or...

"Well, might as well meet the neighbors," he said to himself, grabbing the measuring cup and heading for the hallway.

He started off with the neighbors on his side of the hall. They all pretty much told him where he could shove his milk, all but one slamming the door in his face. He was about out of hope when he got to the door directly across the hall from his own apartment. He wasn't even sure someone lived in that apartment, but it was worth a shot to knock.

He knocked and waited, putting on his most disarming smile. With any luck, this would be the one.

[JANE EYRE]

When Jane had started up her charity gallery, she hadn't thought it would involve so much paperwork. Every day she was filling out forms or getting forms notarized or dropping off forms. Her morning had been filled with all three tasks in addition to meeting benefactors. From 7 am until 5 pm she was out and about, shaking hands and signing her name. Jane's feet ached from her business pumps and her back hurt from keeping her shoulders back so stiffly in her tweed jacket. When she got home, she dressed down as fast as she could. A raggedy old t-shirt was pulled on and a pair of paint splattered jean shorts joined it. The pumps were kicked off almost violently, one hanging from the bookcase precariously and the the other having landed in the sink.

Feeling frazzled from the day, Jane got right into some stress relieving painting that involved splatter and flinging. Paint was lobbed at the canvas with brushes, spatulas, and her bare hands. Jane didn't care that she was making an absolute mess since her art room was already a disaster zone. The fact that she had paint splattered all over her front and bare calves, a streak of electric blue over her cheek and nose, didn't bother her one bit. Painting was messy, art was dirty after all.

The canvas was covered in almost no time, bright colors mixing with matte blacks and brows. Jane cut through the paint with a palette knife, carving a quick, uneasy picture into it. The image was of an old man, eyes cast down. The picture was blocky and roughly honed, but Jane knew that the next time she had a stressful day it would be covered up with another row of paint throwing.

She went to the kitchen to rinse her hands, hanging her high heel on the towel rack to keep it out of the way. Jane had paint all up her arms but at least her hands were clean. Pouring herself a glass of water, Jane wandered into her living room, switching on the tv. Just as she sat down, there was a knock at the door and she was on her feet. Using a footstool to see through the peep hole, Jane recognized the man on the other side as someone who lived in her building. Getting down and moving the stool aside, she opened the door and smiled at him. "Hello, may I help you with something?"

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

When the door opened, Peter felt slightly disarmed. Not only was the woman good looking, but she was also covered in the brightest colors of paint he'd ever seen in one place. The streak of electric blue across her cheek and nose was the finishing touch that made him smile. She was definitely the most interesting person alive if she was painting a room with all the colors she was splattered with. Add on the fact she actually greeted him politely and she was officially his favorite person in the entire building.

"Hi. I'm Peter, I live across the hall. You probably hear my smoke alarm a lot," he replied with a chuckle, thumbing towards where he had left his door wide open.

Most people wouldn't have done something like that in a neighborhood like theirs, but Peter wasn't worried. He'd been in view of the door the whole time, and even if he hadn't, Baze was there. The mutt may have been lazy, but his size and the volume of his bark definitely intimidated potential burglars.

"I was just wondering if you could spare a cup of milk?" he asked, holding up the measuring cup to empathize his point. "I was cooking, well mixing ingredients since I didn't get to the actual cooking part, and realized I was out. It's alright if you can't spare any."

Peter was quick to add the last part. After being turned down by six of his neighbors, he wasn't going to appear pushy with the only friendly one in the bunch.

[JANE EYRE]

"Hi. I'm Peter, I live across the hall. You probably hear my smoke alarm a lot."

Jane laughed and nodded, giving him a teasing look of accusation. "So that was you." She grinned warmly and held her door open more. Jane motioned for him to go ahead and come inside. She stood to the side and closed the door behind him. "I'm Jane. I moved in almost a year ago and never got around to introducing myself."

Jane wiped her cheek and saw the paint on her hand and blushed, embarrassed. She lead Peter to the kitchen and took a paper towel, wet it, and wiped at her face. "Sorry," She said sheepishly. "I was painting and got a little carried away."

"I was just wondering if you could spare a cup of milk? I was cooking, well mixing ingredients since I didn't get to the actual cooking part, and realized I was out. It's alright if you can't spare any.


"Of course." Jane nodded and went to her fridge, opening the door and pulling out a carton of milk. She took the measuring cup from him and poured some into it. "I know what that's like, the cooking. I was horrible but I'm forcing myself to learn." Jane smiled and shrugged her should, turning and handing the measuring cup back.

"What were you going to make?"

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

Peter smiled when Jane gestured for him to come in, joking about his smoke alarm. “Yeah, I should really take the batteries out of that thing, but it would be my luck for there to an actual fire and not have it.”

"I'm Jane. I moved in almost a year ago and never got around to introducing myself."

“Nice to meet you, Jane – finally,” Peter offered, thinking he was just as bad when it came to introducing himself.

He watched as Jane brushed her face, wiping away some of the paint, but mostly smearing it worse. He followed her deeper into the apartment when she gestured him to follow. Seeing as how their apartments seemed to be setup the same, he wasn’t surprised when they ended up in the kitchen. She looked sheepish as she explained she’d been painting. He felt like chuckling. He would have had to be blind to have missed that, but she had nothing to be sheepish about.

“Painting? Like painting walls, or painting art?” he asked, watching as she wiped the smears from her face with a paper towel. “Either way, you look like you had fun doing it.”

He leaned against the counter as she pulled out the milk and filled his measuring cup.

"I know what that's like, the cooking. I was horrible but I'm forcing myself to learn."

“Are you having any luck learning?” he asked, actually interested. If she was managing to learn, maybe there was hope for him yet. “I’ve tried to learn, but all my teachers seem to give up on me after I manage to burn water.”

It was sad but true. Apparently you needed to watch the pot you were boiling water in or it would eventually evaporate and burn. It was an honest mistake he’d made time and time again.

“I was actually making pancakes,” he replied, taking the cup, careful not to slosh the milk. “My partner’s wife pre-mixed everything but the eggs and milk, and we’re all hoping I’ll manage not to burn them.”

Even if he did manage to burn them, he’d probably end up eating them anyway. He’d seen enough hungry people on the streets to know that it was a real crime to waste food.

“Hey, how about you join me, seeing as how your milk is making it all possible?” he offered, feeling bold. "I can't guarantee it'll be edible, but it'll be a free meal."

[JANE EYRE]

“Painting? Like painting walls, or painting art? Either way, you look like you had fun doing it.”

"Painting art. It's my go to stress reliever when the day has been bothersome." Jane shrugged and waved her hand around. Her home was positively covered in art pieces, a lot of them her own or from her students, given as gifts. It was a true miracle that she hadn't completely made a mess of the whole place. The art mess was kept in the art room, as Jane had dubbed it, and she refused to let it spread.

“Are you having any luck learning? I’ve tried to learn, but all my teachers seem to give up on me after I manage to burn water.”

Jane nodded and laughed lightly. "I've done that too!" Jane had tried to make soup once and neglected it, the water burning before she had a chance to actually make it to the soup stage. "But yes, I've had some luck. It's all about baby steps."

“I was actually making pancakes. My partner’s wife pre-mixed everything but the eggs and milk, and we’re all hoping I’ll manage not to burn them.”

"Pancakes are great." Jane said with a grin as she put the carton of milk awake. "Your partner's wife is a good lady if she went through the trouble of preparing a dry mix for you." Jane had stuck with boxed mixes for a good while before she felt ambitious enough to actually prepare her own dry mix and cook with it all in the same day. It hadn't turned out bad save for the first three which she burned.

“Hey, how about you join me, seeing as how your milk is making it all possible? I can't guarantee it'll be edible, but it'll be a free meal."

Jane paused for a moment, then nodded. "I would love to. I could help you make them, it would be the least I could do to repay the favor."

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

Peter was impressed. Painting art. He knew nothing about art, only that he couldn’t draw to save his life, and those who could were paid a lot, if they were any good, of course. With how much enthusiasm she clearly put into her “stress relief” he was sure she made some money off it.

"I've done that too! But yes, I've had some luck. It's all about baby steps."

When she admitted to also burning water, Peter couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s nice to know that I’m not the only one! Everyone I know is a great cook. But this baby steps approach sounds like it makes a lot of sense.”

He wasn’t sure how it was supposed to work – maybe working up from soup to baked Alaska or something. Who knew? All he knew was that if it was frozen and he could shove it in the oven, he seemed to manage alright.

"Pancakes are great. Your partner's wife is a good lady if she went through the trouble of preparing a dry mix for you."

Peter shrugged a bit. “Louise is great. She keeps trying to convince me to eat more, thus the pancakes. Believe it or not, she thinks I’m too thin.”

Peter didn’t think so. He had enough meat on his bones, especially with how much fast food was in his diet – another thing Louise didn’t approve of. He had a freezer full of casseroles thanks to her, and it gave Gerry no end of amusement to tease him about how his wife seemed to have adopted a 24 year old instead of a child.

Peter beamed when Jane agreed to eat with him.

“I could help you make them, it would be the least I could do to repay the favor."

He really smiled when she offered to help. “Excellent! Maybe they might actually turn out alright if we’re both watching them.” He carefully adjusted the cup in his hand, offering Jane his free arm. “Now, if you will allow me to escort you to my humble abode?”

He was looking forward to this. Maybe he'd finally have a friend in the building.

[JANE EYRE]

“It’s nice to know that I’m not the only one! Everyone I know is a great cook. But this baby steps approach sounds like it makes a lot of sense.”

Jane laughed lightly and nodded. She knew exactly what he meant. Everyone Jane knew always managed to cook or serve the best food. Of course, Jane wasn't oblivious to the fact that about half of them used private cooks or endured cooking lessons. If she wanted to, Jane was sure that she could hire a private chef for every meal but she honestly didn't see the point. Jane could cook well enough...most of the time. The other night she burnt her beans but that was just a silly little accident, nothing to get worked up over. A week ago she roasted a whole chicken perfectly.

That is, if she ignored the disgusting pan sauce she made with it.

“Louise is great. She keeps trying to convince me to eat more, thus the pancakes. Believe it or not, she thinks I’m too thin.”

"You're too thin?" Jane asked, laughing a bit louder. Peter wasn't thin at all. Jane thought he looked perfectly proportional for a man his age and height. Jane hated to think of what this Louise would think if she met her. Jane was small and very, very thin. Surely she would think that Jane needed some fattening up.

Jane shook her head and said, "I think you look fine." He really did, a normal man.

“Excellent! Maybe they might actually turn out alright if we’re both watching them. Now, if you will allow me to escort you to my humble abode?”

Jane did a joking little curtsy and looped her arm through his. "Thank you, fine sir."

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

"You're too thin?"

Peter laughed along with Jane there. It was rather laughable. "I think it must be an Italian thing. They think everyone is too thin. Just be glad she hasn't met you yet - she'd have you eating until you puked."

Jane was very petite. It didn't look like it was because she never ate - it was more like she didn't eat well at an important period in her life and was going to be small forever because of it. She didn't look sickly, either. It was just who she was. Louise would have a field day, though.

"I think you look fine"

Peter couldn't help but smile. "Well, I think you look fine, too. And we two, fine looking people should be left to eat as we please."

He watched as Jane made her little curtsy, taking his arm with a "Thank you, fine sir" and couldn't help but feeling like this was just the first of many good times he and Jane would have.

"Right this way, Miss," he laughed, leading her back through her apartment and into the hallway. Once the door was closed, he led the way across the hall. "You are now entering the home of Mr. Detective Peter Aramis, and his lovely companion, Mr. Bazin."

He gestured around the entrance with a flourish. The apartment was semi-clean, seeing as how he took the time to straighten up every so often, even though he didn't make much of a mess to start with. He was just grateful that it was presentable!

"Make yourself at home."

[JANE EYRE]

"I think it must be an Italian thing. They think everyone is too thin. Just be glad she hasn't met you yet - she'd have you eating until you puked."

Jane nodded, thinking back to her very first neighbor after moving to New York. She had been Turkish and was adamant that Jane needed fattening up to find a husband. She was the sweetest old woman and she made amazing food, which Jane would eat since half of the time she couldn't afford to buy food.

"She sounds like a fine woman but I would like to retain my current eating habits." Jane said with a nod. Louise would probably be a great person to know but Jane knew that food would come with her.

"Well, I think you look fine, too. And we two, fine looking people should be left to eat as we please."

"Precisely." Jane smiled a little. Two healthy looking people should be left to eat as they wished.

"Right this way, Miss You are now entering the home of Mr. Detective Peter Aramis, and his lovely companion, Mr. Bazin."

Jane stepped into the apartment and looked away, pulling her arm away and folding her hands behind her back. "Mr. Bazin'? A pet, I pressume?" She looked around, smiling at the slight mess. It was an apartment that was lived in and that was always good to see. There were too many catalog apartments out there that were eerily pristine.


"Make yourself at home."

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

"Mr. Bazin'? A pet, I presume?"

Peter chuckled. Baze was a pet, but he was so much more. Best friend, roommate, pseudo-child... Peter honestly wasn’t sure what he would do without him.

“Yeah. Baze is that loud dog you probably hear as much as my smoke alarm,” Peter admitted.

It was true. The dog got bored, thus the dog barked. Usually he napped or watched TV, but even dogs got bored with the same old thing. Still, the complaints he used to get before everyone found out he was a cop...Well, he was sure the neighbors were going to drum him out of the building. Now, they seemed to just ignore it.

“He’ll wander out when he smells something cooking,” Peter promised, walking into the kitchen. “Hopefully you don’t mind dogs?”

The batter was just as he’d left it – eggs and dry mix waiting for the milk that would turn it into something interesting to eat. With that thought in mind, he upended the cup into the bowl and grabbed his whisk. He turned and grinned at Jane.

“All I need is one of those chef’s hats and I might actually pass as a credible cook,” he joked. “Do you want to do the mixing or should I?”

Either way, Peter didn’t care. For him, it was all about the experience at this point. And hopefully, it would end with fluffy, well cooked pancakes. If not, he’d treat her to some Chinese or something. It really was the least he could do for her friendliness.

[JANE EYRE]

“Yeah. Baze is that loud dog you probably hear as much as my smoke alarm. He’ll wander out when he smells something cooking. Hopefully you don’t mind dogs?”

Jane nodded. She remembered hearing a dog bark from time to time but she didn't mind it. After all, she had Paul who, for having such a small body, let out some awful sounds himself. Once he had decided to sit on the balcony and yowl at the passerby's below. Someone got annoyed and called the police, thinking someone or something was torturing the cat. Of course, it had just been Paul, acting silly like he always does. Jane figured he had simply spotted something he liked with his one good eye and tried to get its attention.

"I love dogs. I have a cat, Paul, short for Polyphemus because he's blind in one eye." Jane still felt terribly clever having thought up that name. Even though, really, it wasn't very clever at all. "Paul doesn't like strangers too much, he has to warm up to you." Paul also was bizarrely protective, almost like a dog in some ways. Paul would alert Jane when there was someone at the door by hissing and spitting at it, he'd put himself between guests and Jane and glare at them the best he could.

“All I need is one of those chef’s hats and I might actually pass as a credible cook. Do you want to do the mixing or should I?”

"I can make you one, if you want." Jane offered jokingly. The set up that he had was nice, everything waiting for the milk. "I'm here to help. Put me to work as you see fit."

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

"I love dogs. I have a cat, Paul, short for Polyphemus because he's blind in one eye. Paul doesn't like strangers too much, he has to warm up to you."

Peter chuckled. If his name was Polyphemus, he’d want to go by Paul, too.

“Cats can be finicky that way – some of them make you earn their affection, but then they're your pals for life,” Peter commented, thinking they’d had a cat or two like that out at the ranch. “Well, nothing to worry about with Baze. He’s as friendly as they come.”

The dog was friendly to everyone he’d ever met. Peter was worried that maybe someday the dog would just let a stranger into the house who was going to mass murder the whole building, but so far his size and the volume of his friendly greetings seemed to scare off anyone less than friendly.

“Big, though – really big,” Peter added, hoping he wouldn’t be as much of a shock if she knew he was big.

Peter grinned and shook his head when Jane jokingly offered to make him a hat, thinking that would make for a pretty scary Halloween costume.

“I'm here to help. Put me to work as you see fit."

“Fantastic! If you would stir this, I’ll dig out the griddle.”

Peter handed her the bowl and whisk, ducking down by the cupboard to find the griddle. Yes, he owned a griddle. His sister seemed to think it was a good Christmas present a couple years ago. When she thought he would ever use it...

“Louise says you have to stir until there’s no clumps.”

[JANE EYRE]

Jane smiled and nodded, listening about Bazin'. He sounded like a great dog. Jane hadn't had much experience with dogs besides Edward's Pilot who had been very large. So large, in fact, that when Jane first saw the animal she thought he was a ghoul or something. Pilot was a sweet creature though, and Jane adored that animal. "Big's okay." Jane said lightly while taking the whisk from him. "As long as he doesn't try to eat me for lunch, it's fine." She smiled a little at that rather gruesome imagery.

She stored it away in her mental 'for future artistic reference' folder.

Jane took the whisk and started to stir the batter. Being a naturally messy person, she worked very hard not to get flour or egg anywhere.

"Are you from Brooklyn?" Jane asked to make small talk. She had a feeling that she and Peter were going to be good friends (pancakes usually lead to friendship) and it didn't hurt to get to know him. Jane had a feeling he was from the area. Even though she had only lived there for two years, Jane found that people from Brooklyn had a certain aura.

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

Peter chuckled from where his head was in the cupboard when Jane commented she was good with Baze up to the being eaten point.

“He’ll only eat you if you turn into a pork chop, and then you have to be dripping in barbeque sauce.”

He finally managed to find the griddle, standing up and grabbing a tea towel to get the dust off it. He watched as Jane carefully stirred and was glad he’d given her the task. He would have had batter on the back of his head by now, not to mention the rest of the kitchen.

“You know, minus the paint and add a frilly apron, you could pass for one of those fifties women in those perfect house magazines,” he offered with a grin.

He set the griddle on the stove, plugging it into the outlet. Well, once he could find the outlet. To say that everything migrated from the kitchen drawers and cabinets to the counter top was an understatement. He was going to have to make a point of actually putting the dishes away if he was going to have a possible future visitor.

"Are you from Brooklyn?"

Peter chuckled at that. He tried very hard to be a natural New Yorker, but that just wasn’t the case. He did have a few people fooled, though.

“Heck, little lady. I’m about as country as they come,” he replied, letting his western accent through, something he hadn’t purposely done since he was a teen. He got tired of the city boys calling him a cowboy. “I grew up out in Montana. I raised horses until I was sixteen and then I moved out here to live with my uncle. The place kind of adopted me.”

It was the short of the truth. The long of it wasn’t a tale he told people, especially on the first meeting.

“How about you? You sound a bit too cultured for Brooklyn,” he offered, leaning against the counter.

He couldn’t place her accent, but he was bad at that most of the time. All he knew was that someone from New York didn’t have such mannered speech.