Here Comes The Night (Peter, Casual) -FIN-

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

It was for a case.
As with most things, when in regards to Sherlock Holmes. Though he was naturally prone to strange behaviours, many - if he was prompted to give an explanation - the man would put down to a case, or experiment, of some sort.
But then there was always the fact that he really did have absolutely no sense of social normality.

One otherwise ordinary Saturday night thus found a certain consulting detective donning an eye-catching pair of oddly shiny, intriguingly tight-fitting trousers. It also happened to find him strolling quite questionably easily to the front of the queue of one of New York's finest clubs. Exactly how he managed to get through the door so quickly was a carefully kept secret, unfortunately.

Sherlock had been drifting within the place for a careful seven minutes before making his way deliberately toward the bar. His actions and timing had typically been completely premeditated - all for the case, of course. But thus far, nothing particularly interesting nor helpful had caught his attention. Well, other than the fact that he had done well to avoid such places in his youth. Half of the people there were complete and utter pissheads.
Having reached the edge of the crowds, the tall man abandoned the convention of actually ordering some form of alcoholic beverage to instead lean against the bar, and observe the rest of the area. It was becoming a greater and greater possibility that solving the case after just one night would be a hopeful assumption. Not that he was particularly bothered. In retrospect, his new client's petty issues were hardly worth his time.

Holmes sighed slightly, tilting his head back slightly to glare at the overly dim overhead lighting.

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

It wasn’t often Peter went to the clubs these days.

He really hadn’t had the time with all the work he was doing. Between being a cop, bartender, and mentor, he didn’t have the energy to get dressed up to go. But all week he’d been feeling the itch to go. He was restless, irritable, and miserable to be around. He’d snapped, paced, not slept...

In short, he needed to get laid. Badly. He hadn’t had a dry spell like this since he was in his teens.

So he’d gone home after work, got himself together and headed down to one of the many clubs in Manhattan. It was a bit of a trek, but when he was looking for someone to take him home, he didn’t want to run into them again in his own neighborhood. He wasn’t looking for an emotional attachment, he wasn’t looking for a new friend – he was just looking for a good time.

It never took him long to get through the lines at these places. The right looks at the bouncer usually took care of that. He never went home with them because they never turned in early enough for his liking, but he was sure it could have been a good way to get to the front of the line faster.

Some noise was playing when he walked in. The bass was high, and people were grinding on the dance floor under the colored lights. It was loud, it was dim, and it was just what he needed. Checking his jacket, he walked along the wall, looking over the dancers and the people milling around. So far, he hadn’t seen anyone who was what he was looking for. Ideally, he tried to find someone who was uncomfortable there, who wanted to leave, and could be persuaded to leave with him after some attention.

He was starting to think that he was going to have no luck when a flash of shiny fabric caught his attention. Standing at the bar was a tall man in tight, shiny pants that definitely caught Peter’s attention. He was trying to look like he fit in, but from the way he was looking at the ceiling, radiating boredom, Peter knew he’d found his mark. So he sauntered over to the bar, leaning beside the man in the shiny pants. He was just slightly taller than Peter, but it was enough to make the man his type – tall, handsome, mostly leg, and looking to be entertained.

Well, he could do that.

“Wow, it’s busy in here tonight,” he offered, giving his best smile to the stranger. “I’m already parched. Buy you a drink?”

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

A voice at his side caught the man's attention enough to draw his gaze slowly from the ceiling. He was immediately met with the sight of a man standing at a height near enough to his own, and a little close for comfort on Sherlock's part. Though it did seem that the rest of the people in the club were standing much like that, also.

“Wow, it’s busy in here tonight,”
The... noise pulsing through the room was almost uncomfortably loud, but somehow the stranger's voice carried across clearly enough. Holmes arched an eyebrow at the statement, rather bemused at the man's choice of conversation starter. Surely the place was always busy?
“I’m already parched. Buy you a drink?”
The eyebrow remained raised as the consulting detective's gaze roamed for a moment, picking up a few mental notations on his newly found company along the way. He was overworked, obviously a result of the number of jobs he was currently juggling (Sherlock himself had only one, and it barely counted because he had made it up himself - it was amusing how other people felt the need to have so many), and had embarked upon the night to the club in hope of finding someone for a quick shag. This all proven by the facts that he blatantly showed signs of having frequented such places regularly for such uses at some point, and had taken some journey to get there - displaying quite prominently his intention to stay detached.
Though he had no desire to be this man's 'quick shag', it wouldn't do any harm to get a free drink or two.

"If you want," Sherlock drawled, his eyes lifting to meet the man's. He made no signs of moving, instead choosing to remain facing the crowd of dull-minded morons that filled the rest of the space.
Despite not being one to regularly drink, he picked up on the fact that then was about the time he should probably say what he wanted. But rather than take the conscious effort to think of something, he simply replied with a slight smirk, and a lazy:
"Surprise me."

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

Peter was starting to doubt that he had picked the right person. The raised, unimpressed, calculating eyebrow was something he normally would put in the ‘walk away’ column when he was reading people. But he was willing to give it a go, especially since he had offered to buy him a drink.

"If you want.”

He was still turned towards the crowd, but he was watching Peter, a slight smirk softening his features. It made Peter more intrigued to see what this guy was playing at. Clearly he never came to clubs – the pants were a dead giveaway. In fact, if he wasn’t a virgin, Peter would eat his shoes. But he was trying to blend in, and accepting a drink from a stranger was the way to do it.

"Surprise me."

Oh, he could do that in more ways than one. For now, he'd start with the drink. He doubted the man ever drank if he didn’t offer a preference. It was best to ease them in gently.

“Sure thing,” Peter replied with a smirk of his own, turning so he could signal the bartender. “Hey, Hank! The usual and a Harvey Wallbanger for my friend here.”

He knew every bartender in the city. It was a help at moments like these. Hank only raised an eyebrow at him and he smiled widely with a shrug. Harvey Wallbangers were like drinking orange creamsickles. They didn’t taste anything like alcohol, but you still got the punch from it. He was sure his acquaintance would like that. Hank only took a moment to make the drink, setting it on the counter with a flourish as he quickly poured Peter a glass of whiskey on the rocks. He wasn’t much of a drinker, so one was his limit, but he never could go for sweet drinks – too much like pop, in his opinion.

“Here,” Peter said, holding the drink out for...god, he needed to get his name. “I’m Peter.”

There, hopefully he’d tell Peter his name now. If not, he could prod for it.

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

Sherlock took the offered drink, trying hard not to vomit at its frankly obnoxious colouring. Though he tried to ignore this as he took a drink. Honestly, the man wasn't often particularly interested in alcohol because he was usually more concerned with other things people sold at clubs like that. Absinthe was rather entertaining, however, but he wasn't quite sure of the laws regarding it in the US.

"I'm Peter."
Holmes nodded in response, casting a glance through (or rather, over) the crowd in the hopes of catching sight of somebody who may be able to supply him with a little... chemical support - for lack of a better term. Honestly, right then he was probably willing to take all that they had. Apart from heroin, of course. That was one thing he had grown a grudge against somewhere in the middle of University. It slowed him down even more than eating did, and lasted at least four times as long.
Not that he could actually take anything in the company of 'Peter'. The man was evidently something to do with the police force. But then again, so was Sherlock. Though the only things the consulting detective cared about were the interesting crimes.

The man in question cocked his head slightly to the side as his attention was briefly captured by a shifty looking man not far from where he stood, in the process of being half-smothered by the waves of wriggling bodies. But a quick glance back to Peter reminded him that even if Sherlock were to walk away, he would probably watch his movements up to the point that the tall man reached the dealer. And then they would both probably be taken to a station prison, or something of the sort.
Despite his near-desperation for a distraction, it really wasn't worth it.

"And I'm Max," Sherlock supplied, eyes narrowing slightly as he smiled. It was more at the internal joke than anything - Max was the name of one of the recent victims in his current case. It was a morbid sort of humour.

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

Peter watched as the man made a face at the drink. He hadn’t tried it, so it must have been the color. Yeah, it was a little loud, but still good. Still, the man seemed much more interested in the crowd than he was with Peter, and that would never do. He only nodded when Peter gave his name, after all. He even cocked his head a bit when someone else caught his attention. Peter really was starting to think he was invisible here.

"And I'm Max," the other man – Max – supplied.

Well, he wasn’t so invisible after all.

“Nice to meet you, Max,” Peter replied, taking a small taste of his drink. “What brings you here tonight?”

Clearly, it wasn’t to dance or get picked up. That meant drugs. Peter felt like groaning. He knew that drugs were dealt there, but when he was thinking with his lower half, he really did not want to work. So he ignored it the best that he could. But if the guy he was picking up was out to get high...Well, that would never do. Max looked far too innocent to be mixed up in that crap.

“Because I can think of plenty of things to keep you entertained.”

Things that weren’t doing drugs, getting caught up in the crowd, and being used by the wrong sort of people who would take advantage of a drug-addled virgin. He was lucky he’d run into Peter, but if he insisted on going and buying from the guy, Peter was going to bust him.

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

His eyes lifted to the ceiling once again when the other man insisted on continuing to talk.
“Nice to meet you, Max. What brings you here tonight?”
Though Sherlock could definitely think of worse company to be had, it didn't make the question any less tedious. So the consulting detective merely shot Peter a look before taking a drink, as if to say 'you know exactly why I'm here. He was sure, after all, that it would be obvious. He wasn't dancing, and it should have been obvious that he wasn't looking for sex - so the motive must be drugs.
It was an ulterior one, at least, so technically not being untruthful. After all, Holmes could hardly go around telling strangers that he was wearing silver trousers to a club because he was trying to solve a murder. At the very least it would sound insane.

Oh, hang on. Peter was talking again.

"...plenty of things to keep you entertained."

Sherlock held back a laugh at the bluntness of it, raising an eyebrow once again at the man beside him. It seemed he was doing that rather a lot recently.
"Oh, really?" he questioned, smirk playing on his lips as he finally turned to face Peter. The persona he had adopted was one he frequently used on people very much like this man. And, though it was just simply an act, he was rather good at getting what he wanted for a reason.

Holmes leaned in very slightly, tapping the edge of his glass against his bottom lip as if in thought. He kept eye contact locked (very important, apparently) and tilted his head to one side, not allowing any trace of a smirk to show.
"I'm a rather difficult man to entertain, Peter."

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

His last comment seemed to finally shock the man. The aborted laugh, raised eyebrow, and Max’s full attention on Peter were good hints there. The man’s full attention was what Peter wanted the most. If he was paying attention to him, then he couldn’t possibly be buying drugs, now could he?

"Oh, really?"

The fake smirk was something he could do without, but Max had turned towards him for the first time all night, so he was willing to let the virgin play it cool. He seemed to have watched a lot of club movies if he thought this was the way to go about it, or he had been hit on by a lot of very dense men. He was pulling the right moves, even leaned in, careful to keep Peter’s stare. Tapping his lip with his glass was just the icing on the cake. Now, if he would only drink the damn thing...Regardless, had Peter still been in college, he may have been taken in by all these things. The problem was that he had been out of school for a long time, but he’d learned a lot while he was there. Every move was known, every line was in his repository, and he knew exactly when someone was being serious or not.

"I'm a rather difficult man to entertain, Peter."

He damn well was. But now that he had his attention, Peter was sure it would be easier than it had been two minutes ago.

“That’s alright – I like a challenge.”

He took another small taste of his whiskey, careful to send Max a small wink over the rim. Peter could play this game, too. He’d invented this game years before Max was in on it. The guy had no idea what he was up against.

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

“That’s alright – I like a challenge.”
Peter's words were assisted by a wink that anybody else would call nothing other than 'cheesy'. The only reason Sherlock didn't, was because he wasn't particularly educated on what was considered typical or clichéd. He tended not to take an interest in popular culture.

"But are you any good at them?"
Sherlock countered quickly, narrowing his eyes as he shot the man a smile.

Peter seemed content once he had the consulting detective's attention, it seemed. Apparently he needed to be - if only slightly - reassured that 'Max' was not about to dash off and embark upon some journey of self-destructive behaviour. Though if he really wanted to do that sort of good, it was a decade or so too late for it.
Sherlock figured that if he entertain the man with his attention a little longer, there could be something in it for him. For starters, a better drink.

As he was never one to act politely or respectfully around people, the man simply placed the glass of revolting shite on the surface of the bar.
"You could start by getting me a better drink."

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

"But are you any good at them?"

Peter was impressed. He normally didn’t get such quippy potential bedmates. They didn’t keep up with him, but it was alright because he didn’t need them to. This interested him, especially with how he narrowed his eyes and smiled. It was contradictory, but it seemed to work.

“Well, the only way to know is to wait and see,” Peter replied, thinking that was the best way to keep the other man interested.

Curiosity. It was the best way to kill a cat, after all. And from the way Max had been watching the crowd, he was sure he was the curious kind. He wanted to know things, to find answers and new things. He’d probably make a good detective.

"You could start by getting me a better drink."

Peter couldn’t help but grin. Oh, his virgin didn’t like orange after all. It had taken him long enough to say something. He liked the assertive partners, ones who would tell him what they wanted. He didn’t have time to play games once he had them in the bedroom. He only gave them a night, and a lot of hinting never got them anywhere. This was more like it.

“You were surprised, that was all that was asked,” he offered in reply. “What would like to drink? Looking at you, I’d say you’re a wine man, but not the stuff they’d serve you here. Perhaps...” he studied him for a long moment, his years of being a bartender coming into play. “Absinthe.”

It was uncommon, but so was this guy. Again, if he was wrong, he’d eat his shoes.

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

"Well, the only way to know is to wait and see," was the response.
It was a better one than the consulting detective had anticipated, certainly. He had obviously picked up on Sherlock's interest in the rest of the club, and was using it to his advantage. This only furthered the assumption that Peter did this sort of thing a lot.
And if he did it a lot, he must have seen a lot. Meaning Sherlock probably wouldn't be best trying any tricks of his own.

Holmes noticed the grin his request had prompted from the other man. Well, if it was bluntness he liked then he and Sherlock should get along rather swimmingly. Though that never seemed to happen, for some reason.

“You were surprised, that was all that was asked,”
True, he had asked. Yet the surprise was vile. He really did need to stop expecting everybody else to be as good at observation as he. Intelligence in the rest of humanity was obviously too much to ask.
“What would like to drink? Looking at you, I’d say you’re a wine man, but not the stuff they’d serve you here. Perhaps...”
Sherlock tilted his head, delighted by the fact that Peter was using his head. Oh, it felt rather like Christmas, to be studied if only a little like how he studied others. It was also interesting to note how the man gained his knowledge. Though it was a little revealing to do such a thing in the presence of Sherlock Holmes.
Then again, Peter thought he was 'Max'.

"Absinthe."

The tall man couldn't help but grin, tilting his head forward a little as he did so. Oh, finally! A person with a little intelligence, at least.
"Well done," Sherlock murmured, looking over the man once more, "So you're a bartender? How interesting." He didn't add 'as well as a a policeman', feeling it to be too much of a giveaway had he done. It wouldn't do for the man to question how he knew that. Bartender was a more believably obvious deduction.

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

Peter couldn’t help his own smirk when Max grinned like a kid on Christmas. He was definitely impressing now.

"Well done. So you're a bartender? How interesting."

Peter chuckled then. This guy was sharp.

“That’s a first – usually it’s the last thing people guess that I do for a living.”

It was true. With a last name like Aramis, everyone knew where he had to work. If not his name, his way with people tipped them off that he was a cop. But seeing as how he hadn’t given a last name and he was in a totally different headspace, he could imagine bartender came across.

“What tipped you off?”

He was curious. He studied people’s reactions all the time and he was sure his were perfected to keep anyone from catching onto him. He wanted to know exactly where he had stumbled.

“Hank?” he called again, waving his friend down. “Absinthe for my friend here.”

Again, Hank rolled his eyes, and Peter didn’t bother to respond. So maybe he was trying a little too hard, but if he could keep this guy from harm and work off some sexual tension later, then why not? He merely held out the drink when it was offered and waited to hear what Max would say. At least now he had a drink that he could enjoy. Peter sipped at his own drink and was glad one of them could say that. He didn’t drink enough to appreciate it, in fact he would have been happier with water, but it was all about the image he wanted to project. Boys who drank water didn’t bring people home, after all.

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

“That’s a first – usually it’s the last thing people guess that I do for a living.”
Well, obviously. When he was so blatantly a policeman one would hardly suspect that he was also a bartender. People don't generally assume that cops have more than one job. But then, people are generally idiots.

“What tipped you off?”
Sherlock simply shrugged, leaning against the bar once again - though this time facing forwards, yet still turned slightly toward Peter. It wouldn't do to make the man think he was blocking him off, after all.
"I just noticed. It was probably the way you knew what I like, that sealed it. Only a bartender would recognize something like that, unless you spend a lot of your time trying to get strangers drunk. And absinthe isn't a very popular choice. I'm curious, what tipped you off?"
He smiled as he asked the question, taking the drink from Peter. It would be interesting to hear what had given away his preference, especially when it was usually he who discovered things about other people. Having the tables turned was a rather pleasant surprise.

The man took a small drink, his smile spreading a little. It was much better than the unattractive bollocks he had been given before.
"Speaking of noticing, it's rather obvious you're not enjoying that," Sherlock nodded toward the glass in Peter's hand. Honestly, if he didn't want it then he didn't have to drink it. What was it with people and impressing others? "You don't need to, you know."

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

Max shrugged, leaning so he was turned slightly towards Peter, but still towards the crowd. He was keeping his eye on everything, it seemed. He really was observant and clearly didn’t like shutting off part of the club.

"I just noticed. It was probably the way you knew what I like, that sealed it. Only a bartender would recognize something like that, unless you spend a lot of your time trying to get strangers drunk. And absinthe isn't a very popular choice. I'm curious, what tipped you off?"

He smiled, taking the drink. Peter couldn’t help but smile when Max looked blessed out drinking it. Oh, he had definitely hit home there. He was glad he hadn’t suggested Ouzo. It was also anise flavoured, but it was a slightly different heritage and that meant it was made differently, so it could have been way out in left field.

“Well, you clearly don’t like sweet drinks, seeing as how you turned your nose up at the Wallbanger. That caused me to rule out all mixed drinks and rum. You didn’t eye my drink, meaning that you’re not a whiskey drinker, thus probably not a malt or grain based fan.” He shrugged a bit. “Mainly, you don’t go with the crowd, so I doubted something I commonly serve would have done it for you.”

He hoped that was enough. He just knew all of that when he looked at people. Most were blue collared people and easy to please, but Max had been a bit of a challenge. He liked a challenge.

"Speaking of noticing, it's rather obvious you're not enjoying that. You don't need to, you know."

Peter was a tad surprised that Max had picked up on that. He never got called on that, even when he would leave half the glass behind on the bar. Max was definitely good enough to be a detective.

“Oh, I know I don’t have to,” he replied with a smirk. “Let’s say I’m not enjoying it. What would you order for me?”

This was actually an amusing game. He liked thinking and puzzling things out and he got the feeling Max did, too.

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

“Well, you clearly don’t like sweet drinks, seeing as how you turned your nose up at the Wallbanger. That caused me to rule out all mixed drinks and rum. You didn’t eye my drink, meaning that you’re not a whiskey drinker, thus probably not a malt or grain based fan. Mainly, you don’t go with the crowd, so I doubted something I commonly serve would have done it for you.”

In all honesty, Sherlock was rather entranced as Peter rattled off his observations not unlike he himself was prone to do. It wasn't quite impressive, as picking up on a person's favoured drink was a skill he had obviously acquired simply through being a bartender - nothing special there. But... it was something, at least.
He had also noticed the man's pleased expression upon noting that he had picked the correct drink. It seemed they were both happy about that.

For some reason, Sherlock was smiling rather a lot. Perhaps it was the atmosphere. Or the absinthe. It was, really, very good. And to prove it, he took another pleased drink.

“Oh, I know I don’t have to. Let’s say I’m not enjoying it. What would you order for me?”
The man posed the challenge once he had overcome his apparent slight shock at Sherlock picking up on his opinion toward his drink. And, oh! Never mind Christmas, it was a year's worth of pointless conventional holidays all rolled into one!
Holmes considered for a brief moment. Though, all he was really considering was how long he should wait before stating his answer without looking too suspicious.

"Kopi Luwak," the man spoke before he had intended to. But he doubted it really mattered, anyway. He certainly wasn't showing off...
"Coffee. Particularly strong, dark coffee. If you haven't already tried it I would recommend you do so. I rather favour it myself."