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

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

He watched Max happily drink, taking another sip of his own drink, even though the cat was out of the bag on that.

He watched as Max didn’t even seem to think as he waited to give him an answer. Peter was impressed that he was so confident that he had it figured out already. Really, he had his doubts. Any other alcohol was an instant miss, and if he picked something sugary to spite him, he would wonder if the man were playing at all. But it was as he said earlier, he would have to wait and see if he wanted his answer.

"Kopi Luwak.”

Peter raised his own eyebrow there. He’d never heard of it. Before he could ask, Max went on.

"Coffee. Particularly strong, dark coffee. If you haven't already tried it I would recommend you do so. I rather favour it myself."

Coffee. Alright, the man had some skills. Peter lived off coffee. In fact, it was a well known fact that people got things out of him when they brought him coffee. He loved dark roasts from places he would never visit, mainly African blends. They had a spice to them that just amped up the entire experience of drinking a cup.

“I shall have to order it next time I get a cup,” Peter replied. “Now, out of all the choices in the world, how did you know I was a coffee drinker?”

Honestly, even casual coffee drinkers had the tell-tale signs of caffeine doses in their system. Some had stained teeth – something he didn’t have, thank god – or jittery nerves. Peter liked to think that his bloodstream was mainly coffee and he was immune to that. So it was a fair question.

“Maybe later you can buy me a cup just to prove your theory.”

And Peter was always up for free coffee.

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

Sherlock's answer had been accepted well, to great relief on his part. It wouldn't have done for the man to have noticed something, after all. It was dawning on the consulting detective that, as a police officer, Peter would likely have heard through some form of himself. And he was rather having fun - it wouldn't do to end it so quickly.
People didn't like Sherlock Holmes. Max, on the other hand, seemed to have a chance.

The man was rather internally pleased that the other enjoyed coffee. There didn't seem to be enough people who did, despite how odd that may sound. Sherlock found himself regularly surrounded by people who generally thought that 'coffee was coffee'. To find someone who didn't was, for lack of a better term, pleasant.

“I shall have to order it next time I get a cup. Now, out of all the choices in the world, how did you know I was a coffee drinker?”
The tall man smirked, before offering the evidence for his deductions. Though he did happen to do so a little softer than usual. It had to be the absinthe.
"You may like to think yourself immune, but it's not quite that simple. Your hand tremors very slightly, not enough to be blatantly noticeable - to be fair I only saw it because the liquid level in your glass wasn't staying even. And your right eye, there are small signs of pressure there. Common with a regular caffeine intake," at this, Sherlock leaned forward and ducked his head slightly to take a closer look.
"Not to mention the way your fingers rest on your glass. You're obviously more used to something different, slightly smaller, with a larger curve."

He definitely still wasn't showing off.

“Maybe later you can buy me a cup just to prove your theory.”
Sherlock smiled, partially hiding it behind his glass with another drink. His eyes crinkled slightly, so it was a bit of a poor attempt.
"Perhaps I could."

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

"You may like to think yourself immune, but it's not quite that simple. Your hand tremors very slightly, not enough to be blatantly noticeable - to be fair I only saw it because the liquid level in your glass wasn't staying even. And your right eye, there are small signs of pressure there. Common with a regular caffeine intake."

He had to admit those were all valid points, even if he had never noticed them himself. He even glanced at his hand to see if Max was right. He didn’t notice it, but then, he probably wouldn’t. His ten cup a day addiction made sure of that. This was his normal.
He looked back up, surprised Max was leaning closer, looking into his eyes, then skimming down the rest of him, looking for more signs.

"Not to mention the way your fingers rest on your glass. You're obviously more used to something different, slightly smaller, with a larger curve."

Also true. Now he was just showing off. Max smiled behind his glass, clearly pleased with himself.

“So it’s official – I’m officially showing signs of addiction. Better call Betty Ford,” he replied teasingly.

And damn if he didn’t want a coffee now. He was pleasantly surprised when Max offered a sultry, "Perhaps I could" in regards to buying him one. How had he not noticed the man’s voice was like verbal coffee? Maybe he just had coffee on the brain now.

“You do know that now I’m fixated on coffee,” he informed Max. “You’ll have to share some other fascinating observation to bring my mind back here.”

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

“So it’s official – I’m officially showing signs of addiction. Better call Betty Ford,”
Sherlock let out an amused smirk. He, personally, wouldn't call the other man addicted, per se - more that he was rather dependent. Though generally people believed the two to be one and the same, the consulting detective obviously had great opinions on the entire topic.
Caffeine dependency, then. It wasn't as exciting as a morphine or meth addict, but still rather intriguing in its own way nevertheless.

Though who 'Betty Ford' was, he hadn't the slightest.

“You do know that now I’m fixated on coffee. You’ll have to share some other fascinating observation to bring my mind back here.”
Well that was something that he could easily do, definitely. But just before he opened his mouth to spew out something along the lines of: 'you haven't had sex in a while and you're desperately trying to fix that by attempting to pick someone up in a bar far enough from your own home to be able to avoid meeting said person again' - he was stopped by the pressing thought that he was pushing the limits rather taut already. Surely another brilliant observation (one that Peter would possibly take offense to) would alert something in the man's brain of a strange person he had heard of called Sherlock Holmes, who could do a nifty little trick...
He wasn't intent on being found out quick so soon.

So he instead stated:
"You're a detective, as well as a bartender,"
- thinking it to be an obvious enough fact that most people picked up on it when in the man's immediate vicinity.
"Though I can't imagine why you'd need both jobs."

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

All the Betty Ford quip got him was an amused smirk, but Peter still counted that as a win. Well, from what he’d seen from Max so far, it definitely was a win. The man was definitely not making it easy on him. The challenge was definitely keeping his interest, especially when Max indulged his challenge.

"You're a detective, as well as a bartender.”

Well, that wasn’t a stretch. He got that a lot. He must have put off the right vibe or something. If he didn’t know better, he was getting the same vibe off of Max, but not quite. He was tempted to ask what he did for a living, but that wasn’t how the game was played.

"Though I can't imagine why you'd need both jobs."

“That’s a long story.”

It really was. First, he’d racked up a good debt popping pain pills as a teen. Then he’d gone to university and kept switching his major, which was always a good way to get the student loans to pile up. So between paying back his Uncle Don for bailing him out of his idiocy when it came to drugs, and paying back the government for all the student loans, it seemed like every penny he made got thrown at what he already owed. It was a wonder he made rent some months. Being a detective paid a bit more, but it was nothing near what he needed to get him out of the red and into the black.

“Let’s just say I’m a workaholic.”

That was the other part of it. He couldn’t stand to be lazy. Sure, he’d take time to read a book or play basketball, but when it came down to it, he was restless when he wasn’t working on something. Being a detective filled his days, and bartending filled most of his nights. He was hoping Max would help him out by filling up his current night.

“And I’m very good at everything I do.”

He smirked a bit at his own innuendo. Subtle was not his way, especially in a club where the music was pulsing and the crowd was energized. It wasn’t as if Max didn’t know what he was doing, either.

“Especially solving puzzles. Something tells me we have that in common.”

He had to solve puzzles. Peter was sure of it. If not, he probably should.

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

It was rather captivating, how immensely odd it was to be holding a conversation with someone for such an extensive amount of time. The consulting detective was rarely able to do so with anyone other than DI Lestrade, and he was still at a loss as to why Greg bothered with him. But then, Peter wasn't talking to Sherlock Holmes. Peter was talking to Max.
Sherlock was quite jealous of Max, at that moment.

He responded to that thought by taking a large gulp of his drink, before reverting his attention back to listening to the other man's responses.

“That’s a long story. Let’s just say I’m a workaholic.”

That statement alone was enough to clue Sherlock in on what was necessary to deduce that it was not only money troubles that had driven the man to taking another job. It was shockingly pleasant for Holmes to notice that Peter, too, didn't seem to be able to stand being bored.
And then Peter ruined the moment with a startlingly blatant innuendo.
“And I’m very good at everything I do.”

The tall man turned a little to place his glass on the surface of the bar, shifting slightly closer as he did so whilst murmuring a low-voiced response of:
"Is that right? You can hardly be your own judge."

“Especially solving puzzles. Something tells me we have that in common.”
Sherlock smiled as he replied, blaming the ease with which he did so on the absinthe.
"Puzzles are interesting, and interesting things aren't boring. There's no fun in boring. I'm sure you can agree on that?"

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

Peter would have liked to have known what was going on in Max’s head. He looked almost thoughtful for a long moment before the expression turned into something almost bitter before he drowned it with a large sip from his drink. Whatever he was thinking about clearly wasn’t a happy thought, but it passed as Peter continued to ramble on. Even when he was trying to be smooth he had the bad habit of babbling.

His comment about being good at everything seemed to strike a nerve in the other man. He turned to set his drink down, shifting closer. Peter thought all that was very nice, but there was clearly a challenge in his murmured words.

"Is that right? You can hardly be your own judge."

Well, he supposed that was true. He could be his own judge, but it would hardly be a fair assessment. Everyone had their own opinion, after all.

"Puzzles are interesting, and interesting things aren't boring. There's no fun in boring. I'm sure you can agree on that?"

Peter smiled a bit at that. “Well, that’s one way to look at it. It’s all a matter of opinion, I guess. Like, some people find Chess interesting, but it can still put them to sleep. I suppose it’s a matter of which puzzles you find interesting and fun.”

He was one of those people who thought chess was an interesting thing in principle, but he was bored to tears when he tried to play it, or watch others play it. Life was far too short.

“But I do agree. There’s no fun in boring. That’s why I try to keep myself amused as often as possible.”

He glanced over his companion, thinking he was the perfect example of the things Peter did to keep himself amused. He had been fishing for a good night with a good looking guy, but now he was more interested in Max as a person. He suddenly wondered what he would be like on the job. He didn’t know what Max did for a living, but he was picturing him at crime scenes. He’d probably be a savant at it, and highly distracting as he went about being brilliant and beautiful at the same time.

“The problem is; I can’t seem to stay amused.”

Oh, and if only he could. But that would be inviting trouble on levels he couldn’t imagine.

“I’m sure you know what that is like.”

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

Peter made an odd declaration about chess, during which Sherlock thought it best to mention that, though he was very good at the board game and had never lost a match in his life, he really did find it awfully tedious. He also came to the speedy conclusion that the other man really did talk rather a lot. Well, at least he made up for it by being interesting.

“But I do agree. There’s no fun in boring. That’s why I try to keep myself amused as often as possible.”
Sherlock let out a low chuckle, though was unsure of whether or not Peter had intended for 'Max' to think of the 'keep myself amused' in such a way. Either he hadn't meant that, or the man really did have an uncanny knack for working in innuendos to almost everything he said.
“The problem is; I can’t seem to stay amused. I’m sure you know what that is like.”

Holmes shot Peter a grin, tilting his head up a little as he did so. Though Sherlock actually would usually stand at a height about an inch or so taller than the other man, the fact that he was losing height by leaning rather quite a lot on the edge of the bar meant that he needed to look up a little to keep the gaze. It also allowed the consulting detective to stare at Peter through his eyelashes in a way that he knew worked to make people want him just that little bit more.

"Unfortunately, I do." Sherlock tilted his head to the side, completely ignoring the glass of absinthe that now sat quite dejectedly on the bar by his elbow. "I did tell you that I'm a difficult man to entertain, Peter, but you seem to have thus far done a rather good job. I'd say that I can be a judge, and state that you're very good at keeping my attention, at least."

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

Peter was starting to count every single smile, smirk, and grin as a win when it came to Max. The fact that he was leaning in a way that made him shorter than Peter, looking up at him through his eyelashes was another sign that he was succeeding in his flirting. That or Max was really adept at making him think that he was succeeding. Who knew, he could be an actor for all Peter knew. Either way, he was willing to go with it.

"Unfortunately, I do. I did tell you that I'm a difficult man to entertain, Peter, but you seem to have thus far done a rather good job. I'd say that I can be a judge, and state that you're very good at keeping my attention, at least."

Peter couldn’t stop the smile that came at those words. All night, he’d been smooth smirks and hooded eyes, all to lure in this man. It felt like his first real smile in a week and it felt good. Well, no, it made his skin feel tight and drawn around the edges, but he wasn’t about to stop.

“I feel accomplished to have kept your attention, then,” he replied leaning against the bar more. “You’re an interesting guy, Max.”

Compared to everyone else in the room, he was downright fascinating. Peter knew them all, or at least knew their type. Some he’d slept with, others he’d chatted up and walked away from. Some he’d even arrested, but he tried very hard not to judge. No one made him work like this. They were all too happy to corner him and bring him home in the first few minutes of meeting him.

Peter absently took a sip from his glass, surprised it was empty. It was a testament to how long he’d been talking if he had actually gotten through an entire drink. He still felt ok, but he knew if he had another drink, Max was going to have to pour him into a cab. Drunk sex wasn’t a favorite of his. He didn’t feel the bone-deep contentment afterwards, and he desperately needed just that.

“I swear the music’s getting louder.”

Or I’m getting older...

“How about we get out of here and you introduce me to that coffee you recommended? My treat.”

And if he could drag him away for some coffee, he was sure he could snare him away for something even more fun. And if he couldn’t...It was going to be another long week.

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

“I feel accomplished to have kept your attention, then. You’re an interesting guy, Max.”
Sherlock cocked his head to the side. Every time Peter called him 'Max', he was filled with a large sense of amusement - though fortunately he was able to keep it down and hidden before it became obvious. It was strange to think how easily somebody could be deceived into thinking that one person was somebody else.
The tall man decided not to bother giving a verbal response to that, knowing that if he did it would only be to agree. The rest of the mindless idiots filling the place were one dimensional, and obviously far less interesting than he. And Max, in turn, was much less interesting than Sherlock. It made him wonder whether Peter would like Sherlock Holmes, too.

“I swear the music’s getting louder.”
Holmes raised one eyebrow slightly, and his expression positively screamed: 'Oh really? You're going to go for that approach, then?' In actual fact, he had blocked out most sound other than Peter's voice - the rest was unimportant nonsense anyway.

“How about we get out of here and you introduce me to that coffee you recommended? My treat.”
Sherlock smiled - and it was a genuine one, because the sound of a lovely cup of Kopi Luwak was positively delightful right then. And Peter, it seemed, was proving to be rather interesting company. If he turned out to be a bore, like the rest of humanity, the consulting detective could always do a runner.

"I know a place not far from here, we can go there." Holmes replied, not wasting a second before scanning the crowd for a route to the door. He was generally rather good at that sort of thing, and so it wasn't long before Sherlock had swiftly taken the other man's hand and begun to lead him slowly through the tangle of limbs that made up the mass of people.
The tall man had always walked with a sort of feline grace that would turn even the most elegant of models green with envy, but it could probably be said that the slight increase of pride in his walk was intended to prove that he was pleased to be showing off the man he was towing behind him. Though Sherlock rarely found strangers attractive, Peter was obviously very handsome - and the consulting detective had spotted a number of people eyeing him when they were stood at the bar.
Showing off was always good fun, anyway.

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

When Max smiled, Peter smiled right back. They were getting along famously. If he had met Max anywhere else, he was sure they would have been pals. Going for coffee was a pals thing, but he was willing to bet that he could get Max to do more. After all, he wasn’t looking for another friend, and ax had responded far better than he had imagined when he’d first approached the guy in his shiny pants.

"I know a place not far from here, we can go there."

Peter nodded, reaching into his pocket to leave a twenty and a couple fives on the bar for Hank. His free hand was taken between Max’s thin fingers and pulled away from the counter.

They weaved between people on the dance floor, and Peter felt absurdly proud. Max was graceful, but he was strutting, clearly telling everyone else there that he was the one taking Peter home. Often, he was the one doing the pulling with pretty little virgins. But Max wasn’t like all the other people he’d picked up and brought home. He was going to be interesting to have behind closed doors. The idea sent a thrill through him. He might have found someone who would make his night one to remember.

Peter did have to stall them at the coat check, handing over his stub to the girl. He may have had issues forgetting his shoes, but he never left his leather jacket anywhere. It was cooler away from the mass of people and he suddenly felt like he needed it. Once it was back on his shoulders, Peter took Max's hand again, being the one to pull him outside.

Once they stepped outside, Peter took in a deep breath of the cool air, grinning at the taller man. He was a Montana boy, so a bit of a nip in the air didn't bother him, but it did give him the excuse to stay closer than was socially acceptable, and he wasn't about to pass that up.

“I’m really looking forward to having something warm to drink now,” he replied. “And if this Kopi Luwak is as good as you say it is, I may have to thank you for recommending it.”

And he could think of several ways to thank him.

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

Sherlock relaxed slightly once they were out in the crisp city air - and generally not being one to appreciate confined spaces, he was faintly relieved that he and Peter were free from the crowds. The taller man had nearly left the other behind at the coat check, when he needed to collect his jacket, but had managed to stop himself from striding away (a natural action for Holmes, in all honesty) just in time.

Being a strange creature, Sherlock rarely trusted people enough to leave his belongings in the hands of other people. And so he - unlike those who preferred to follow convention, and not make like difficult for themselves as the consulting detective seemed to do - had stored his jacket carefully in the shadows of an alleyway parallel to the bar.
“I’m really looking forward to having something warm to drink now,” Peter's voice interjected his idle thoughts, “And if this Kopi Luwak is as good as you say it is, I may have to thank you for recommending it.”

Holmes chuckled, walking the short distance to retrieve his jacket (he had foregone his usual deep blue coat for a shorter, black one - feeling the other to be far too recognizable for incognito investigations), and shrugging it on elegantly as he replied.
"Don't worry, I assure you that it really is very good," Sherlock beckoned with his head the direction they should start walking, uttering his next words in a lower tone than before, "I'm really looking forward to seeing how you are going to express your gratitude."

The taller man shortened his stride for the other - something he felt himself doing more and more often recently, for it seemed that the people of New York had either curiously short legs, or simply didn't walk with a full step - and let out a noticeable shiver, hunching his shoulders up for a brief second and drawing the jacket closer to his body.
"It's colder in New York than in London at this time of year," Sherlock muttered, though despite the slight grump he displayed in the statement, there was still that hint of amusement in his voice. The chill didn't put a downer on his good mood, it seemed.

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

Ok, so Max was the kind of guy who hid his jacket in back alleys rather than trusting the coat check lady. It was an interesting thing to note. It wasn’t bad, but it was something odd to note. Peter shoved it to the back burner, thinking that there were worse things to do, and worse ways to be, so he wasn’t about to judge. Seeing as how he often forgot his own shoes when he left the house, he supposed everyone had their odd little quirks.

"Don't worry, I assure you that it really is very good. I'm really looking forward to seeing how you are going to express your gratitude."

Peter had been matching his stride with Max’s long legs, but that comment made him come up short for half a step. All night, Peter had been tossing around the innuendo, but here Max was giving just as good as he was getting. Perhaps Peter had hit the jackpot with his companion for the night after all.

“Oh don’t worry, I assure that my expressions of gratitude are really very good,” Peter replied with a wink. He’d never met a cup of coffee he didn’t like, nor had he ever met a man with Max’s voice who couldn’t make his night extremely satisfying.

Max shivered, making his stride a bit shorter to match Peter’s slightly bow-legged one. Growing up on the back of a horse had put the slight curve to his legs that made his stride a bit of a swagger, nothing like how straight and even Max walked. Peter adjusted his jacket a bit, supposing it was a bit nippy. Nothing he couldn’t handle for now. When real winter hit, then he would be having issues. Wet cold was awful.

"It's colder in New York than in London at this time of year.”

“I’ve never been to London,” Peter replied, thinking he should have by now if they were making men with Max’s accent. “It’s getting a bit colder here every night. Soon it’ll be full blown winter. I don’t know what it’s like for winter in London, but I hate the wet cold here in New York.”

Coming from a much less humid elevation made the switch to the eastern seaboard murder on his shoulder joint. It was cold in New York, not as cold as in Montana, but it was a heavy cold that weighed on you and dug into your bones.

“Is this your first winter here?” Peter asked, curious about how long his companion had been in the country. “Because while I appreciate those skin tight pants, you might not when the real cold starts up.”

And again with the blatant innuendo. It was like he couldn’t turn it off tonight.

[SHERLOCK HOLMES]

“I’ve never been to London,”
It shouldn't have been surprising, but yet the thought that this man had never set foot in Sherlock's city (it was basically his - the way he acted, Holmes could make anything his) was somehow a rather sad one. And the consulting detective felt a longing for it make itself present. He missed London.

“It’s getting a bit colder here every night. Soon it’ll be full blown winter. I don’t know what it’s like for winter in London, but I hate the wet cold here in New York.”
Peter's words brought Sherlock's mind back to the present. Ah, New York. A city that never sleeps - and finally a place to match the consulting detective's own habit. New York, despite the weather, held a sense of mystery and intrigue that London, as used to its back alleys and hidden secrets Sherlock was, had begun to lack.

And in New York, Sherlock met curious strangers like Peter.

“Is this your first winter here?”
Right, Sherlock should probably respond to what the other man was saying. It wouldn't do to make it obvious that he had blanked out, after all. Terribly rude.
“Because while I appreciate those skin tight pants, you might not when the real cold starts up.”

Holmes looked at aforementioned garment for a brief moment, before letting out a chuckle honest enough to distract from the cold for a moment. Oh, that was good. Laughing worked. Should probably do more of that to avoid freezing beyond ability to move.
"Dare," 'Max' replied simply. It wasn't untruthful, really, as the trousers Sherlock wore were specifically needed for his current case - in which the previous victims had been 'durst' (so to speak) by the killer via internet messaging to wear similar garments at that specific club in order to be recognised (Sherlock had checked the internet history, why was it that many thought not to do that anymore?). The consulting detective had arranged a meeting with the killer, though it seemed he had failed to show.

"Probably best not to ask, really. But I'm quite sure that it's a good sign you appreciate them," Sherlock smirked, raising an eyebrow at Peter.
It wasn't long before he was leading them in through the door of a welcomingly warm, pleasant-looking cafe.

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

Peter beamed when Max chuckled like that. He enjoyed getting the other man to make such wonderful sounds. He had the feeling that he didn’t do that too terribly often, which was a shame - he had a nice laugh.

"Dare,” Max explained simply and Peter was sure it would have to be. Why else would anyone bother to dress like that in this weather?


"Probably best not to ask, really. But I'm quite sure that it's a good sign you appreciate them."

Peter couldn’t help but laugh when Max raised his eyebrow like that. His virgin was spunky, after all. He gave as good as he got. Peter was quite enjoying the back and forth between them.

“Oh, I very much appreciate them. Believe me, if I had the patience to squeeze into pants like that, I’d hope someone would appreciate them, too.”

He had the sudden thought that it would take a bit of manoeuvring to get Max out of those pants. Well, he’d come this far, so he’d just have to manage when the time came. Right then, Max had led them into a little cafe that was warm and smelled divine. Peter resisted the urge to just start following his nose over the counter, instead following Max’s lead. This was his idea, after all.

“I could sit and enjoy this smell all day,” he nearly groaned. “Someone should bottle it.”

Someone probably had, but Peter was so very out of the loop on things. There could be flying elephants and he’d be the last to know. But who cared about flying elephants when he was literally inhaling caffeine? He could feel himself reacting to the smell, his brain longing to have that caffeine rush in liquid form.

“This was a fantastic idea,” Peter declared, already reading the menu on the wall. “You definitely know how to show a guy a good time.”

Sure, it had been fun to stand and play their little game in the club, but this was much better. They could sit and enjoy their coffee and continue to puzzle each other without the loud music and the dim lights.