A New Kind of Ball Game {FIN}

Lestrade wasn't entirely sure what to think when Aramis had called him up for a game of soccer. It was odd, really, seeing as offers like that were usually more out of courtesy than actual intention. They'd not met much since the time he'd shamefully gone off on the younger officer, besides a few hullos and how do you dos whilst passing each other in the halls of the police stations. Still, Lestrade was rather curious, and had accepted the offer.

He wondered what he would find waiting for him in the burrows; after all, what if Aramis was dramatically different outside of work. What if he was Peter? Lestrade hadn't thought much about who Peter until now. He wondered what the were even to call each other today. Not that he'd particularly mind being called Greg, but, still… it was just a bit weird.

And what if the kids hated him? God knows they had reasons to. An old white guy invading their personal time with their favourite young copper who was more on their aide than the police's. Of course, perhaps they were just the American equivalent of what he and his brother and Pete had been back nearly three decades ago. He was suddenly hit with the not new, but still starling realisation that he probably would have arrested his teenage self. He decided that even if the kids were punks, he'd make a valiant effort to seem not seem like a hinderance - another one of Aramis' charity cases - and more like a mate.

He wasn't completely confident that he could keep up that particular effort for too long.

When he arrived, Lestrade was feeling pathetically nervous for a quick game of football with some random kids and his subordinate. He was wearing an old grey t-shirt and shorts, and so he'd certainly look casual to Aramis, who had only ever seen him in dress clothes, minimum, but he was still worrying about seeming to posh for street kids. They were unessesary worries, but he couldn't help it. He consoled himself by thinking that kids were amused by accents.

He was quickly relieved when he saw only two kids looking slightly amused by Aramis' attempt at instructing them how to juggle the ball. He put his worries beside and walked forward, smiling, ignoring the kids' new look of 'who the fuck is this?'

"Aramis," he greeted, sounding a little too peppy.

Lestrade smile when Aramis seemed genuinely happy to see him. And called him Lestrade. He hid a smile when the taller of the boys made a smart comment on his unusual last name. Well, it wasn’t all that unusual, not over in Ireland, but he suppose he was here. He’s never really thought of his own name as funny, but he could see, saying it aloud a few times, how it might be weird.

“You can call me Greg, if you want,” Lestrade said awkwardly. He didn’t exactly sound pathetic, but he still felt like he’d already lost some small fight with the kid. It made him happy, for some reason.

Aramis cheerfully introduced the two boys as Jamal and Cory, and the dog as Baze. Lestrade had never exactly liked dogs all that much, but he was comfortable enough around them to find it amusing the kids tried to keep the football away from the jumpy animal by dribbling in like a basketball.

“And clearly, we know nothing about soccer and can definitely use any tips you might have for us,” Aramis said, jokingly sounding weak, but Lestrade could tell it was playful sarcasm. “So, up for the challenge?”

“I suppose so,” Lestrade answered truthfully. He supposed so.

Looking at the two kips screeching at the large dog in the field, Lestrade wondered what he was actually going to be doing today. Were they just going to… kick it around, then? He wasn’t sure. After standing still for a moment and glancing at Aramis, he ended up forcing himself to stop thinking and just do something.

So he just ran over to the boys, easily dribbled the ball away from the two kids and energized but uncoordinated dog and a few yards away. He decided introductions weren’t necessary in sports.

“Well, come on then,” he said in a bit of a teasing voice. “Can’t you do better than that? It’s called football for a reason.” He forgot to call it soccer, then, but he assumed the boys were old and smart enough to either figure out what he meant or know that the rest of the bloody world called in football anyway.

”This ain’t football.”

“This is America, Greg.”

Lestrade smirked at the two boys who, despite their protests, followed him anyways and unsuccessfully tried to kick the ball away from him. Lestrade might not speak much, but he certainly knew how to keep his game.

“The whole world calls this Football,” Aramis corrected the boys helpfully. He seemed rather amused by all of this. “Cops against Civies – what d’ya say, Greg? Boys, you get Baze.”

Lestrade looked over at Peter, a little startled that Aramis had called him Greg, as he’s just meant for that invitation to be extended to the kids. Apparently Aramis had assumed he had meant him too. Ah, well, as long as he was still Sir at work. And as long as he could still call Aramis Aramis, because Aramis was Aramis and Peter was someone else who Lestrade didn’t really know the difference between.

“Sure, why not,” he shrugged. Mock-whispering to the boys, he said, “Obviously your friend here is as terrible at soccer as he is at remembering to wear shoes at work, so you needn't defend him too much” he joked, winking back at Aramis. It was cheesy, but whatever, it was fun.

They then proceeded to play the game, which turned out to be pathetically unruly, but quite fun. Everyone got loads of mud caked onto their clothes and shoes from the damp Spring, but it was still plenty of fun. Though, it did involve a large number of fouls and the continuous reminded of, "Come on boys, this isn't basketball, no hands!"

Despite Lestrade's previous worry, the match turned out fine, if not full of highly illegal moves on the boys' and partially Aramis' parts. And it was fun. he'd always liked soccer, loved it as a child really, but what he was truthfully most enjoying were the kids. The being around people who had lives outside of murder made him swell with the happiness that could only, for him, come from being in the presence of other human beings. In fact, people were a cure for him, often.

Lestrade laughed when Aramis flopped into the muddy ground, obviously not caring about the wet and breathing in a way that naturally comes with exertion. He was getting a bit tired as well, but unlike Aramis, he did have a little bit of a problem with getting dirty. As a kid, he'd practically lived in his own filth, which can lead to two things in adulthood: he could either not care a thing about messes for the rest of his life, or become a little obsessive about keeping things neat. Obviously he'd taken up the latter option.

“What’re you doing, man?” Jamal asked Aramis, looking down at him with (what Lestrade hoped was) mock disgust.

“I’m taking a breather. You all keep playing," Aramis replied.

”Man, you gotta get in shape. You should be running circles around us," Cory pointed out, and Lestrade laughed again, because it was quite true, he was afraid.

“Hey Cory – dumb hoods say what?” Oh, right clever clock.

“What?” Hook line and sinker. Aramis joined in his and Jamal's laughter at the cheep but effective trick.

“Lestrade! I think you’re wearing them out," Aramis joked.

"I'm wearing them out?" Lestrade replied grinning, "You see, I'm afraid Cory is quite right, aren't you boy? I'm an old man, you're the young police officer, you shouldn't be tired already!" It was technically true, but Lestrade was really only kidding. He hoped it would come across well enough.

“You usin’ that old man talk as an excuse?” Aramis laughed, flopping full-out on his back in the mud. Lestrade gave him an amused lift of one eyebrow, but didn't comment. 

"Because this young, fit, police officer is just getting revved up for round two. And then we’ll see who’s old.” 

Lestrade chuckled, "Oh were you now?" He found teasing Aramis was actually quite amusing.

Jamal: “From the sounds of it, both of y’all are old."

Cory: “Sure hope I don’t get that old and lazy."

Peter: “Pfft. Right. Baze, go get the kids."

Lestrade just laughed as the boys poked fun at the adults before Aramis sicced his dog on them in an amusing show of retaliation.

"So, having fun?" Peter asked Lestrade, finally standing up from the ground.

Was he having fun?

Yes. 

It actually surprised him, how much fun he was having with these kids and Aramis. He'd have never expected it, really. He'd thought this might just be a bit of a laugh, but it was so much more by now. It was great.

"I am," Lestrade said, a slight look of surprise on his face beforehe full-out smiled, a completely honest and almost rare smile. "I really am." He shook his head at the ground. "I hadn't expected to, but… Well, I'm really enjoying this." He paused, before adding, "Thanks for inviting me."

He was a little embarassed with his short speech, but it was true, and he couldn't argue with that.

“I’m really glad you came. These kids need to see that there are good cops," Aramis replied smiling. Lestrade understood what he meant; hell, he'd had his fair share of hating cops as a kid himself. They got in the way, the smarmy, lazy old donut-eating white men! But then, they weren't. And the people they arrested weren't always slobbering black men with sagging pants who were high off their asses, either. Racism was a clever plague that nearly everyone subconsciously succumbed to nearly at birth.

“And I have to say, you keep up pretty well! Ever played basketball? These kids could be pros at that game. They just love it when new people come around to show off to, and if they end up showing us up, well, all the better in their opinion.” 

Lestrade thought about it. He wanted to say yes, of course, immediately, in a heart beat. But then he thought of McCourt and he wanted to decline. He couldn't get attached to someone with such high stakes; with his high stakes. He wanted to protect himself.

“And, well, what I’ve been babbling around is that you’re welcome to come back, any time you want. I mean, it’s not always sunshine and roses, but...it’s worth it."

And yet, he heard quite clearly through his own lips: "Alright." And maybe it would be; of course it would be. It had to be. God would… 

…But god was dead, just like McCourt.

"That seems like it might be fun." He forced himself to stop, stop thinking, and smiled and nodded. And it was honest, if not slightly distracted. "You name it."

He looked over at the boys holding the football, grinning. "Thank you." God might be dead, but maybe, if there was any hope left in the world, natural balance wasn't.

Aramis invited Lestrade to drop by any time, and Lestrade nodded, smiling. He didn’t care about… attachment at the moment. No, no, he had stayed too distant, too far away for so long, and all it had brought him was the simple unfortunate circumstances of having his best friend a sociopath. So yes, he decided, he had to loosen up, just a little bit. Perhaps everything he had decided so long ago was finally fading. Perhaps making connections that caused pain were better than no connections at all? He didn’t know what was better, though. He was still holding on to his hesitancy; old habits die hard. Especially ones so deeply routed in what he thought were for his own self-interest.

"Honestly, thank you. You kept the kids busy. I would have just been laughed at all on my own with a soccer ball. We raise Football players where I'm from - the other football, that is,” Aramis smiled back.

Lestrade chuckled, precautions be damned. “Well, I haven’t done much,” he said, looking down and shoving his hands into his pockets. He kept his smile towards the ground. Maybe getting rid of old habits made way for others to resurface. And, seeing as Aramis had just seen him run around like a kid for an hour, he didn’t mind that his casualness was showing.

Lestrade looked up when the boys started complaining about their stomachs growling. He smiled at them, a wider smile, more with his eyes than anything. He thought of the kids in front of him, and the child he had created back home, and the woman he’d created her with. He thought of McCourt. He forced himself to think about only the ones in front of him. He shouldn’t have such… attachment problems anymore, it was such a wussy quality. And yet…

Both Jamal and Cory offered their compliments towards him, in their own ways, and Lestrade awkwardly bumped fists with Jamal, smirking slightly at how ridiculous he must look to anyone used to his uptight work persona.

“It was fun, though.”

“I’m glad,” Lestrade said warmly. “Hopefully I’ll see you guys around sometime.” And not because you’ve been arrested, but… “Aramis invited me over for basketball sometime. Though, I’m rather… horrible at it.” He laughed, only slightly forced at first, but quite real by the end.

He looked towards Aramis. “Well, I’ll see you around, then. Cheers mate.” He turned and walked towards where he had parked his car, looking back to give Aramis a quick motion with two fingers from forward and outward. “See you.” He turned back the direction he was walking, and smiled. It occurred to him that he had not had this fun on a day off in, well… He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had so much fun. And wasn’t that a miracle?