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Post by DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS on Jul 1, 2012 2:01:22 GMT -5
"At least let me pay for mine."
Peter glanced at Lestrade when he nudged him. He was pushing money forward and Peter didn’t think that was necessary, but if he said anything, he would just be drawing attention to the situation. He’d just go and make Lestrade uncomfortable and ten dollars would become something between them. So he slipped it from Lestrade’s fingers, adding it to the bills he had been counting through.
He kind of wanted to laugh. The money for Sundays wasn’t much, but it had all started out of pocket for him six years ago. Don had started chipping in, then guys at the station until there was enough that he put away a good bit of it for birthdays, Christmases, and anything else the kids needed. Had Lestrade ever spent time in the bullpen, he would have had the chance to donate into it, too.
Well, he’d consider this his donation.
"Where do you boys live then? Close is it?"
"Yeah man, it only takes like fifteen minutes," Cory told him.
Peter felt like laughing. Fifteen minutes? Kids exaggerated things.
"Cool," Lestrade replied.
“It’s only about eight minutes, even with how the boys dawdle,” Peter pointed out. “It’s only two blocks away.”
That was why they came there. Not only did it keep money in the neighborhood, but if they felt like they were tired after their long day, they could get home without a lot of fuss. Conroy yawned and Peter was sure this was one of those days.
“Come on, let’s get going,” Peter urged, elbowing Lestrade a little.
It had been an amazing day, but it was time to go home and have a quiet night in front of the TV with his dog and a bag of frozen peas so that he could be on top of his game for Monday morning.
He patted Conroy roughly on the shoulder to wake him up a bit, knowing he was probably going to end up carrying him most of the way. Cory sighed, sliding out of the booth and the other boys had already climbed to their feet, making sure that they left nothing on the table. If they were hungry, they could eat what was left on the way home.
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Post by GREGORY LESTRADE on Jul 2, 2012 15:33:10 GMT -5
Lestrade was pleased when Peter discretely took the money. He was too tired to have anything resembling an actual argument by now.
“It’s only about eight minutes, even with how the boys dawdle,” Peter said, “It’s only two blocks away.”
Lestrade chuckled, knowing how kids exaggerated. He sure as hell had as a kid. Especially when it came to time. You really always wanted to say it was more than it was. He remembered how in his last year of secondary school he had had to take two gym classes and do a log for exercise at home, because he'd been skipping PE since his first year and wasn't going to graduate without the credits. He remembered thinking that was wholly unfair, seeing as he had perfect academic grades and wasn't in any risk of becoming overweight with the scrappy meals his mother made for the family. So he'd usually walk up and down the street for about five minutes and put it down as ten, and then when he walked back from school, which took ten minutes, he'd put it down as a twenty minute walk. Which had honestly been a stupid idea, because the headmaster had been to his house before and knew his house wasn't that close to school, but somehow they gave him the credits anyways.
“Come on, let’s get going,” Peter said, gently elbowing Lestrade. He nodded and the group got out of the booth, the boys at the other table easily catching on and smoothly getting up as well. Lestrade left the rest of the chips on the table. He felt a little guilty about the waste, but hey, he'd eaten most of them, so he supposed it was alright.
They started walking, Lestrade just sort of sticking close to Peter and following the boys, seeing as he had no idea where they were going. Of course, he had an idea what part of the city they were in, but he really never went through the area except to arrest kids, so he wasn't entirely familiar with it, seeing as he was otherwise occupied most times he was around.
He had to admit, he was sort of starting to really, really enjoy being around these boys. They were... well, they might not be America's golden boys, but they sure were fun. He could see why Peter liked hanging out with them so much. It was a bit funny - he'd never really though about it - Peter playing surrogate dad to a bunch of ghetto kids, but after today, he really could see why. The fact that he'd actually managed to completely forget about all his pessimistic worries about getting close to kids who were, in one way or another, often connected (through family or friends) with crime said something.
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Post by DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS on Jul 2, 2012 22:01:42 GMT -5
Peter stood when there was room to, milling with the rest of the boys. Knowing what was up, Drake and Sid led the way, already bouncing out the door before Peter could leave the money on the table. He shook his head and tucked it under his coffee cup, stealing another one of Lestrade’s French fries as they left.
As they walked, Lestrade stuck to Peter’s right, Conroy leaning on his left, the older boys talking and pushing each other ahead of them. He was sure that Lestrade had never been in this part of the neighborhood before, if he had ever gone to Brooklyn. It was nothing like Manhattan. The sense of community – even if it was riddled with gangs – was strong. Don had always looked beyond it, talking and enjoying the company of everyone in the neighborhood, no matter who they were. Peter carried that on, and the kids helped bring everyone together, as well. From there, community just builds. He always told people that if they started beaking off about the crime. Some of the safest places in the world to live were protected by gangs, after all.
Not that telling people that would help his case...
Part way through the walk, Peter nearly tripped over Conroy. With a sigh, he handed his bag over to Drake and hiked the ten year old up so he was carrying him with his left arm, Conroy’s head on his shoulder. Conroy was small for his age, underweight and short, but he would probably hit a growth spurt and tower over all of them in another five years or so. Right then, Peter was glad he was still small. He had to loop his right arm over to help support the weight and his shoulder was burning a bit. By the time he got home, he was going to have to ice it down.
He smiled over at Lestrade with a shrug. “Longest eight minutes of my week.”
But he didn’t mind.
“When we get back to my building, come on up and I’ll call you a cab,” he added, only then wondering how Lestrade planned to get home. He doubted the other man owned a car and he really didn’t want to throw the other man on the subway. He would be fine, but it was rude.
Besides, he was going to have Drake and Sid take Baze on a quick run anyway, so it wouldn’t be a secret where he lived and he didn’t think of it as such. Maybe he’d even invite Lestrade in for a cup of coffee if he didn’t look too tired.
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Post by GREGORY LESTRADE on Jul 4, 2012 0:11:56 GMT -5
Lestrade simply watched and listened contentedly as the boys chatted and poked fun at each other, and he got the feeling he sometimes had felt when he still lived near his daughter, and he saw her playing with the dog or with her best friend, Isabel. It was a happy feeling, one that was, perhaps, relieved; that he didn't have to worry about his daughter being lonely when he wasn't there. He felt it more strongly towards his own daughter, of course, but he felt it in a much more minor but still in an as pleasant capacity now.
A few minutes in, Peter picked up Conroy - the poor kid had looked like he was about to fall asleep for at least half an hour now - and easily handed Drake his bag, who took it without a word. It was the sort of thing that Lestrade knew he would probably never be a part of, and he was okay with that. Lestrade was sure that Peter was, most definitely, somewhat of a true father to these kids.
Peter smiled at Lestrade and said, “Longest eight minutes of my week," shrugging. He didn't look resentful about it, though.
"You love every minute of it," Lestrade teased him, but the words had accidentally come out completely earnestly, and, basically, admiringly. Well, he didn't mind so much; being admired for being a good, well, dad, wasn't something to be ashamed of after all.
“When we get back to my building, come on up and I’ll call you a cab,” Peter said, and Lestrade nodded and went back to watching the other boys chatter until they reached what was presumably the boys' streets (or close to all of them), and they started yelling goodbyes at each other and high five-ing and fist bumping and all that sort of stuff.
He honestly hadn't expected it when Cory came up to him grinning and said, "Seeya later man," like this wasn't just the second time they'd met.
"Bye," Lestrade said, and returned the grin. Jamal also gave him a sort of hand-wave-fingers-salute thing, and Lestrade lifted his hand to wave back in a more traditional manner. Jamal looked like he was going to laugh, but turned around to tell something to Drake.
"You're okay," Sid said offhandedly to him, and Lestrade was honestly impressed by the way it felt like the kid was boring holes into his soul.
"Yeah? Thanks," Lestrade said, careful to add just the right amount of sarcastic in so he didn't sound like he was quite touched at basically being praised by a kid. "Glad I'm Sid approved." Sid nodded and turned around to add something to what Drake and Cory were saying in their last minute argument. Lestrade looked towards Peter for a signal on what to do next.
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Post by DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS on Jul 6, 2012 0:45:13 GMT -5
"You love every minute of it."
Peter laughed when Lestrade teased him. Yeah, he really did. He needed to spend more time with the kids, but he worked two jobs, and that made it more difficult than it should have been.
He didn’t bother replying, watching as Cory went right up to Lestrade and started talking to him. There wasn’t a shy bone in that kid’s body.
"See ya later man.”
"Bye." Lestrade grinned.
He watched as Jamal thumped his chest and sent Lestrade a salute. He did laugh then.
"You're okay," Sid offered, causing Lestrade to look pleased.
“You do know you’re in now, right?” Peter asked, thinking that was pretty funny.
Lestrade had been participating, looking lost some of the time, and like he was having the time of his life in others. But it was clear he thought he was on the outside, and he would be for a while, but the boys were already associating him as being part of the club. If he was “okay” then he was welcome back. He didn’t have their trust, and he didn’t have their friendship, but he was on their radar, and he may have even earned their respect. The rest would come if Lestrade kept up with things.
"Yeah? Thanks. Glad I'm Sid approved."
Sid just nodded and went back to talking to the boys. Lestrade looked over at Peter, and he made an effort to look less amused than he was.
“There you go – Sid’s seal of approval.”
He really had nothing else to say, even if that was lame. He looked ahead where he could see his building. Charlie and Alan waved before crossing the street with Jamal, and Cory kept walking further down the street. Sid and Drake paused outside his building, waiting.
“Well, here we are,” Peter announced.
His apartment building wasn’t overly impressive. There were 17 floors, but number 13 was called 14 instead, as it was superstitious habit to skip unlucky number 13. He was on the second floor, so he didn't worry about it a lot.
“Sid and Drake are going to head on up to my place so they can get Baze out. You can go with them and I’ll be up as soon as I have Conroy home.”
He walked up the stairs and pulled the door open, Drake catching it before it could close. Conroy’s family lived on the first floor. They were suspicious people who didn’t like cops or strangers. Peter was sure the father was doing something illegal, but he was never close enough to get a good handle on it. They didn’t mind him. He was a kid when he moved into the neighborhood, and he’d baby sat Conroy whenever his mother had to work. Now that he was a Detective, they kept him out of the loop on some things, but they never kept Conroy from him. But knowing how they were, he knew they wouldn’t like it if he brought Lestrade with him to the door.
He walked down the hall and let himself in the apartment. Conroy’s mother looked up from her mending when he came in, smiling when she saw that Conroy was sleeping on his shoulder. He walked right down the hall and set him down on his bed, not lingering longer than it took to pull off his shoes. He wandered out as quietly as he’d come in. Conroy’s mother – Joyce – wasn’t a bad woman, but he was irked that she was fighting with Larry so much that Conroy couldn’t get a good night’s sleep. He didn’t have much to say to her, and none of it was nice, so he didn’t say anything.
When he finally made it upstairs, Sid and Drake had Baze’s leash on, leading him from the apartment. He was so pleased to be going out with the boys that he was practically jumping all over the place. He just chuckled and stepped around them, popping into his own apartment. Immediately, he kicked his shoes off and found Lestrade standing in his living room.
He smiled, glad he had a few minutes alone with Lestrade after all that. It was one thing for Greg to smile and say it was a good day in front of the boys. It was another for them to have a moment alone like this where they could just talk and be honest with no one there to have their feelings hurt. He was sure Greg had enjoyed himself, and he had checked over and over again to make sure he would be coming back, but he did want to make sure that Lestrade was comfortable.
“Make yourself at home, Greg. I’ll grab a couple sodas and we can chat.”
He smiled reassuringly, hoping he hadn’t made the other man feel anxious. That wasn’t his intention. He leaned into his kitchen – you had to love apartment living – and grabbed a couple sodas from the fridge, before flopping down on the couch and looking hopeful.
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Post by GREGORY LESTRADE on Jul 10, 2012 11:39:56 GMT -5
“You do know you’re in now, right?” Peter said, and Lestrade managed not to look incredibly pleased with himself. He then followed Peter, who was still carrying Conroy. (Did they live in the same building? Lestrade was honestly surprised that Peter actually lived here, not only hung out around here.) “Well, here we are,” Peter said when they reached Peter's building, “Sid and Drake are going to head on up to my place so they can get Baze out. You can go with them and I’ll be up as soon as I have Conroy home.”
"Um, okay," Lestrade said, and watched as Peter went into the building. He, Sid, and Drake then went up to Peter's floor and unlocked the door with they keys Sid had.
"See you man," Drake said, and Lestrade said, Yeah, and wandered through Peter's hallway and into his living room. Right, he really had no idea what to do. He watched Sid and Drake leash Baze and stared at a interesting (not really) lamp Peter had. He couldn't help that he was intruding, even if Peter had told him to go in. The apartment wasn't huge, but it wasn't tiny or anything. It looked comfortable, neat but homey. Lestrade liked it.
Finally Peter stepped into the house and smiled reassuringly at him, and said “Make yourself at home, Greg. I’ll grab a couple sodas and we can chat."
"Sure," Lestrade said, still a little nervous, even if Peter was here now. It didn't really have anything to do with Peter, he just got anxious when he was in a new place for the first time. Jesus, he certainly hadn't had a problem with making himself at home in other people's houses uninvited when he was a kid, where did that cocky arrogance go anyway? He sat on Peter's sofa and stared at his hands until Peter came back in with sodas in hand and plopped onto the couch next to Lestrade with an expression he really didn't know what to do with.
"Uh, nice place," Lestrade offered, and then, a second later, laughed at himself because really, that was probably the most generic thing he could have said.
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Post by DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS on Jul 10, 2012 20:18:24 GMT -5
"Uh, nice place." Lestrade chuckled.
Peter chuckled a little, too. Oh, there was nothing nice about it. It was small, mostly bare, and it kind of smelled like dog. The only reason why it looked half way decent was because he was really trying with Guy’s bin system. Guy had cleaned the apartment, polishing and neatening everything. He was trying to keep it that way.
“Uh, thanks. It’s definitely my place.”
Yeah, that was the best he could offer about the place. It was his and no one could take him from it until he was dead, as depressing as that sounded.
“So, I was curious about what you thought about things today,” Peter started, feeling lame, but not knowing how else to start. “You know, about spending time with the kids, how your hangover was doing, whether you were going to come again.”
And now that he had him alone, away from the kids, he hoped Lestrade would give him a good answer, maybe talk about what he got out of it, whether he wanted to spend time with the kids again. He was paranoid about his kids, he knew it. He just didn’t want anyone to get hurt in the process.
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Post by GREGORY LESTRADE on Jul 10, 2012 21:24:55 GMT -5
“Uh, thanks. It’s definitely my place," Peter laughed back, and Lestrade took one of the sodas from him and sipped at it. “So, I was curious about what you thought about things today. You know, about spending time with the kids, how your hangover was doing, whether you were going to come again.”
Lestrade stared at his hands, having wished Peter wouldn't have asked questions about him, specifically, any more today, but it had been a rather unrealistic hope, so he knew he had to answer. "Tired," Lestrade said truthfully, "But good tired. I had a lot of fun today, really. So... thanks for that," he answered, careful to really only answer questions pertaining to today-not-yesterday's-mistakes. He looked up and smiled wearily at Peter, then asked, before Peter could ask anything else he didn't particularly want to answer, "So could you maybe ring me a cab? I forgot my cell at home."
He was always forgetting his cell phone, he practically never remembered it unless he was on call. He could work a computer pretty well, but for some reason, cell phones just didn't work with him. He had much preferred his nice little brick phone that had a fun game called snake on it back a few years ago, but that had long since broken and Elliot had bought him an annoyingly complicated one.
Lestrade recounted his address aloud for Peter, hoping he didn't sound like he was bragging. He wasn't, because it was a fact that he lived in his own house in Manhattan and this wasn't, but he still felt a little weird telling Peter that. He sipped quietly at the soda.
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Post by DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS on Jul 15, 2012 14:10:19 GMT -5
Peter watched as Lestrade studied his hands, prepared for the worst. He always felt like he was taking confession when he spoke to people one-on-one, another indication he could have easily gone into the priesthood. He didn’t mind, but he hated making others feel uncomfortable.
"Tired, but good tired. I had a lot of fun today, really. So... thanks for that.”
Peter nodded, knowing that was the best he was going to get. He leaned back in into the couch, thinking that wasn’t the worst answer he could have gotten.
"So could you maybe ring me a cab? I forgot my cell at home."
Peter nodded, getting up to grab his phone from where it had been left in his bag. Lestrade called his address in Manhattan after him. Manhattan meant he probably had a much nicer place than Peter’s rundown apartment. He didn’t really care, he liked his rundown place, but he hoped Lestrade wasn’t sitting there mentally mocking him for living where he did.
It only took him a moment to call one of the regular cab companies he kept in his phone. They were good to have when you worked in a bar and dealt with drunk patrons. He greeted the dispatcher (they all knew him by name) and ordered the cab.
“Should be ten minutes,” he offered Lestrade, coming back into the room and pushing the cold can of soda against his shoulder. “Lou’s in the area, but traffic is a bitch at this time of the day.”
He leaned against the wall, feeling tired. It had been a long day. All he really wanted was to climb into the shower and hope he could get his shoulder to stop seizing up so he could get some sleep before work the next morning.
“And sorry we dragged you so far from home. I’m glad you made the trip.”
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Post by GREGORY LESTRADE on Jul 18, 2012 17:57:20 GMT -5
Lestrade kept staring at his hands and drinking at the can of soda while he listened to Peter quickly call him a ride home, sounding unusually friendly with whomever he was talking to. He knew Peter was a friendly guy, yeah, but he'd apparently underestimated that ability.
“Should be ten minutes. Lou’s in the area, but traffic is a bitch at this time of the day.” Lestrade nodded, not commenting but noting how Peter wasn't actually drinking his soda at all, rather using it as a temp bit of ice for his shoulder. He looked tired, probably as tired as Lestrade did, except he had a better reason to be.
Peter was a detective and couldn't be over twenty-five years old.
Peter helped underprivileged kids as his job.
Peter helped underprivileged kids on his days off.
Peter was decisively a very, very good man, in - at the very least - Lestrade's book.
“And sorry we dragged you so far from home. I’m glad you made the trip," Peter said, and Lestrade smiled.
"Nah, it's not that far," he said, and while maybe it kind of was a bit far, it'd be rude to say, Yes, It was far wasn't it, and Lestrade didn't mind at all. "I'm glad too." He wasn't the best at using his own words, so it was best to just copy Peter's. He added, after a second, "I liked the kids a lot, they're a real fun time."
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Post by DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS on Jul 21, 2012 22:07:08 GMT -5
Peter could practically hear Lestrade thinking from where he was sitting on the other end of the couch. He wanted to say something, but he already felt like he’d made Lestrade uncomfortable enough. And if it hadn’t been for the boys, he wouldn’t have pressed and worried the issue like a dog with a bone. But it was for the boys, so he had. Instead he apologised and that seemed to rouse some conversation from the other man.
"Nah, it's not that far. I'm glad too. I liked the kids a lot, they're a real fun time."
Peter couldn’t help the small chuckle. The boys were on good behavior today. They knew if they hassled him or a guest on their Sunday, Peter would cancel the next week. That was a tough thing to do for them all, but he had been forced to in the past until they’d realised he was nice, but he wasn’t a push over, and he wasn’t there to be terrorised. They could be holy terrors when they wanted to be. Lord knew Peter had broken up fights and hidden a few of the boys when they were in trouble for something dumb.
“Oh, they sure can be,” he replied, deciding he’d scare Lestrade off another day. Today, he’d let him leave with the good version. “I’m just glad Sunday comes once a week.”
He turned the can to its cooler side and wondered what growing old would feel like if he already had the aches and pains as a young man.
“You know, when I was in college, I considered doing this full time – social work or youth advocacy, day care, kindergarten teacher, youth worker – something that would let me play with kids all day.”
He’d thought it would be fun. Then he’d found out that a lot of kids in the city didn’t have the best lives and it would be a lot of work to help as many as he could keep their heads above water. The thought of the emotional strain and the high margin for error had caused him to re-evaluate his ideas for life. So he’d chosen the law, and he’d ended up working in a department that dealt specifically with gangs, youth, and the hard decisions he’d thought he’d stepped away from. Life was funny that way.
“I’m not sure I’d be able to move if I did this all day, every day,” he chuckled. “By the end of Sunday, I’m so tuckered I sleep like a baby. With any luck, you will, too.”
And that was a good enough reward unto itself. And perhaps if Lestrade was too tired to do anything but sleep, he might find some peace from whatever demons had caused him to drink himself into a hangover today. Peter could hope.
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Post by GREGORY LESTRADE on Jul 22, 2012 20:14:10 GMT -5
Peter chuckled, and said, “Oh, they sure can be." Lestrade thought he sounded a bit amused. “I’m just glad Sunday comes once a week.”
"Yeah," Lestrade said, and looked down at his hands as Peter moved the soda can to the other size on his shoulder.
“You know, when I was in college, I considered doing this full time – social work or youth advocacy, day care, kindergarten teacher, youth worker – something that would let me play with kids all day. I’m not sure I’d be able to move if I did this all day, every day. By the end of Sunday, I’m so tuckered I sleep like a baby. With any luck, you will, too.”
"Thanks," Lestrde huff-laughed, and then added, "You'd be good at being a social worker, though, if you were." He smiled and glanced at the clock on the wall. It wasn't exactly that he was desperate to get away from Peter on any accounts, but he was quite eager to get home, and when you're waiting for something time tends to tick slower.
"So um..." Lestrade started again, just trying to make some small conversation to avoid an awkward silence. "When did you start all this? I mean, it's not exactly something you just decide to do one day is it."
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Post by DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS on Jul 25, 2012 3:15:09 GMT -5
"You'd be good at being a social worker, though, if you were."
Peter couldn’t help but laugh. He’d originally considered that and he had even done a short internship in the CPS offices. The problem was that he wanted to toss most of those kids over his shoulder and run for it. There was nothing worse than a hurt and scared kid. And he knew he would do it. He was the kind who had to do something; it would have just been a matter of time. Having the separation of being a cop was a better place for him to be – he could do something and he didn’t have to watch kids suffer without knowing if someone was going to set things right.
"So um...When did you start all this? I mean, it's not exactly something you just decide to do one day is it."
He glanced at Lestrade. The man had been glancing at his clock – and he’d mention later that it hadn’t worked to keep the time in months since he kept forgetting to go buy new batteries – and now he was making conversation to fill the silence. He sounded like he was reaching, like he was uncomfortable with just sitting and talking with him. How everything had gotten so awkward was beyond him.
“Honestly, I used to babysit Conroy when I was in high school. That kid would sit in front of the TV all day, every day, so I decided we had to spend some time outside every time I was taking care of him. Well, during the winters...I couldn’t get him outside every day, so I made it so we went out on Sundays.”
It was like an event. The whole neighborhood knew about what he was doing before long. He would have rather had him out every day instead of saving it all up for Sundays, but New York winters had a bite to them. They were a wet cold that Montana didn’t have. It settled in the bones and brought out an ache in his shoulder he barely functioned with. Then University had taken up a lot of his time, and finally working two jobs had turned him into a bit of a workaholic. Sundays were his day off, unless something popped up, and he made sure the kids had him all to themselves.
“The other mothers caught on that I was getting Conroy out for a few hours every Sunday and they asked if their kids could come.”
He was only getting a bit of money for watching Conroy, barely enough so he could buy the odd bit of junk food during the week or go to a movie. The parents in that neighborhood couldn’t afford much more than that, if that at all. So he’d taken the small amount he could get for Sid and Drake, then later for Jamal. Cory, Alan and Charlie were the three whose parents couldn’t give him anything, but he’d taken them along anyway. Whatever money he was making started paying for food or entertainment for the kids on Sundays, and before he knew it, he was turning it into a fundraiser at school. When he’d hit university, he’d opened up a kissing booth and raffled off one-on-one basketball lessons to raise money. He’d talked to the DiCassas for a discount, and in exchange, the boys wore an assortment of Red Car t-shirts to school. Now the other police officers added to the fund, and a number of people Peter’d gone to school with like to make that their charitable donation for the year so none of the parents had to worry about paying for it. It had become something much bigger than he’d ever imagined when he’d offered to babysit Conroy as a toddler. A lot had changed in the past eight years. The fact he actually had to file taxes for it still astounded him...
“So no, it wasn’t something I just decided to start up, but it would have been easier if I had.”
It would have saved him a lot of running around in the long run and he would have had more time with the kids.
Speaking of time, he glanced down at his phone, noting the time. Lou would be calling up any minute now.
“And when I spill it like that, it sounds like some Life Time movie,” he huffed a bit, setting the now warm pop can aside. “But you know how it is with kids, Greg – you see something they want, it’s something you can give them, and you make sure it happens because it makes them happy, so you’re happy in return. You probably have those moments with your daughter.”
These weren’t his real kids, but sometimes he felt like their dad. Lestrade was a dad, so maybe he would understand it from that angle.
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Post by GREGORY LESTRADE on Aug 1, 2012 19:16:28 GMT -5
Peter laughed, though Lestrade wasn't quite sure why. “Honestly, I used to babysit Conroy when I was in high school. That kid would sit in front of the TV all day, every day, so I decided we had to spend some time outside every time I was taking care of him. Well, during the winters...I couldn’t get him outside every day, so I made it so we went out on Sundays. The other mothers caught on that I was getting Conroy out for a few hours every Sunday and they asked if their kids could come.”
"Ah," Lestrade said, deducing that as Taking Advantage, but it was for the mothers' childrens' sakes, so he supposed it wasn't all that bad. Peter was certainly gracious to bring all the boys after Conroy along too, though. He wasn't sure he would have done the same. When he'd been with Peter today, he had thought he had somewhat of what appeared to be a closer relationship to the kid than the other boys, or at least most openly, so this would explain it. Peter had known Conroy a long time, too. Well, presumably a long time. Lestrade wondered again how old Peter actually was.
“So no, it wasn’t something I just decided to start up, but it would have been easier if I had. And when I spill it like that, it sounds like some Life Time movie." Well, yes, it did. But it was still nice. "But you know how it is with kids, Greg – you see something they want, it’s something you can give them, and you make sure it happens because it makes them happy, so you’re happy in return. You probably have those moments with your daughter.”
Lestrade half-smiled at that remark, though hearing about his daughter made him feel some sort of mixture of pride and embarrassment; Pride was her. Embarrassment was solely him. He know lots of fathers lived far, far away from their children and were much crueler than him, in a worldly perspective, but still. It didn't matter how much more or little something was from the worst or best, it was still horrible of him, he thought. When his daughter asked him for something, of course he wanted to give it to her. But she didn't ask for much, did she? Because she was on the other end of the country and too sweet to understand the benefits of blackmail just yet.
But sure, he had those moment.
"Sure."
Lestrade paused, then smiled again, this time the expression making it to his eyes. "And I'm sure Life Time would be proud to buy the rights to your life." He may or may not have made another comment about the Life Time thing, when he heard a horn beep twice, quickly, outside Peter's window. Lestrade could see from where he was sitting that the taxi was here. He stood, looking grateful towards Peter. "Well, thank you very much for this day Peter. I can honestly say I had a fantastic time."
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Post by DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS on Aug 5, 2012 3:57:24 GMT -5
"Sure. And I'm sure Life Time would be proud to buy the rights to your life."If he hadn’t been smiling like that, Peter would have considered that to be sarcasm, seeing as how he’d originally made the comment to be sarcastic. As it was, he didn’t know what to do with a statement like that. If Lestrade only knew about his life, he wouldn’t be serious. Before he could come up with something to fill the void, his phone buzzed and there were two sharp horn blasts outside. He flipped his phone open and told Lou the fare would be right down, flipping it closed again and tossing it on the pile of newspapers that had made it to his coffee table...somehow. He didn’t even read the newspaper... "Well, thank you very much for this day Peter. I can honestly say I had a fantastic time."“Uh, yeah. No problem. I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” Peter replied, following Lestrade toward the door. He sent Greg a smile, hoping he wasn’t awkward. He could handle any situation, but goodbyes made him feel like a fourteen year old trying to figure out which foot was his left, and which was his right. “And...if you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m willing to listen.” He hadn’t forgotten Lestrade had drank himself into a hole, and sometimes all you needed was someone to talk to. He saw it most nights of the week. Compassion was a great thing. Maybe Greg didn’t know that he had other options than alcohol, but he did. And if he took nothing else away from the day, Peter was happy that much went with him. OOC: I don't know if you want to reply, but either way I think that was my last post on this one! 
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