All At Once (James, Mycroft, Casual)

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

It had been a full two weeks since Lestrade had first met Alfonso, and to be honest, he’d nearly forgotten about their little date until he’d gotten a text yesterday that said “I am so excited ” from the man. They had decided on the place only a day after their first meeting – a nice little café called Crème de Mer. It had been a whole two weeks because their (Lestrade’s) schedule had been infuriatingly full.

He was so tired that he almost wished there was no date to go to. And besides, what was he thinking, accepting an offer from a complete stranger in the middle of the night? Lestrade sighed in frustration and exhaustion and ran his hand through his hair, slouching in his chair onto his desk at the police station.

“Sir, you alright?” One of his men asked him tentatively.

Lestrade waved him of without lifting his head, “Yes fine, good work today,” he mumbled, allowing himself to be lazy. He hadn’t realized just how much his brother had been helping him to remember to sleep and eat until he’d moved. He looked at his watch and sighed. Time to go. He was, granted, a bit excited, but tiredness was a powerful factor in enjoyment. He forced himself to move, change into cleaner clothes, and hailed a cab.

In front of the restaurant, Lestrade sat down at one of the outdoor tables in front of the café. Obviously they would go inside, but while he was waiting, Lestrade just wanted to sit down. He was a few minutes early, so he suspected Alfonso would be along any minute now. He leaned forward to rest his head on his arms on the small, green metal table. He was very sure that he would certainly be able to sit up before Alfonso noticed him slouching. Instead, he fell into a light sleep.

[JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS]

James realized that he had made a mistake deciding to date as Alfonso. It was a hoot at the time but in the cold, harsh reality of day, it was silly and pointless. His Italian was perfect as it was and he really didn't feel like pulling out the polyester. So, James decided to add a little more depth to Alfonso. During the day he was an investment banker, a boring 9 to 5 job that required a suit and tie. He dealt with overseas deals, acting as a translator.

It wasn't much but it was enough to get James into a suit for the little lunch date.

It was all part of a plan, flirting with a police officer. He would feel out the force, find their weak points, discover where their power was focused. Just to be a bother, James wanted to empty out their weapons locker. It would be quite fun watching their reactions.

It would happen soon and the note was already prepared and waiting to be left in the middle of the room.

Thanks for the trinkets. - M

It would be left behind with a packet of Double Bubble Bubblegum. It had no meaning but it would send them in circles trying to figure it out.

James resented not having more intelligent authorities to go up against.

James strolled into the cafe, glancing about for Gregory Lestrade. He found him at the table they had mutually agreed upon, dozing. His chin rested against his chest and his body slumped. James rolled his eyes and felt sick to his stomach.

And that was supposed to be one of New York's finest.

Walking over to the table, James sat down across from Lestrade and reached over, shaking him lightly by the shoulder, greeting him brightly in Italian.

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

Lestrade woke with an unpleasant start. In a second, he realized that he’d fallen asleep – actually fallen asleep, dammit! – and Alfonso was here, now. A hand was on his shoulder, lightly shaking him; the source of his awakening. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Lestrade muttered under his breath, before stiffening. Oh how refined he must look right now. A sleeping DI whose first reaction to being woken was to swear. He sat up straighter and looked up at Alfonso apologetically. “Er, sorry,” he mumbled.

Lestrade stood, brushing his clothes smooth, trying not to seem too much like a child. Or maybe I’m just a bit too late on that. “Hi,” Lestrade finally said, after going through of quick mental list of anything he could say that didn’t sound like a stupid excuse, an insult, angry, or just generally not good. Hi was safe, wasn’t it? Sort of. “So, how’ve you been?”

It didn’t matter, actually, because anything that actually did happen would probably just warrant a simple, “Good, you?” and Lestrade would reply, “Fine, thanks,” And then they would go into the cafe and eat something dull and have perfectly mundane and probably awkward conversations until the date was over and then never talk to each other again. Lestrade wasn’t exactly sure if that was reassuring or depressing, but, well. He could hope that something interesting would happen; he was a hopeful man, after all. ’Stop assuming, he told himself, but he didn’t really have much faith in his thought.

[JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS]

Alfonso’s dumb smile stayed in place as he settled into his chair. James felt like an idiot doing this, playing the simple fool who was dim but kind. He was pretending to be the exact kind of person he hated more than anything in the world. James loathed the morons who flitted about without a care in the world, passing through life blissfully ignorant and far too content with the crumbs of society.

The detective’s dull greeting and socially obligatory inquiry to his health was expected and not at all interesting. James’s mind worked quickly to come up with an interesting enough answer to make this ridiculous little excursion worthwhile.

“I’m alright I suppose.” ‘Alfonso’ shrugged and played with his fork. “Work’s been really ah…how you say…boring.” He waved his hand flippantly. “But I ah, I don’t think you’d be….interested in that.” ‘Alfonso’ paused to sip his water and reached across the table to pat Lestrade’s hand. “I’m just very glad to be here, finally. I have been looking ahead to this for a while.” Slightly flawed English, the errors small enough to seem authentic, like they had been produced by hurried learning; James wanted to be as real as he could be.

“How ‘ave you been? Work seems very hard for you.”

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

Lestrade realized afterwards he should feel worse about this, but he, as they say, "zoned out," slightly. He heard Alfonso's words quite fine, comprehended what he was saying, but… He didn't care to answer. Didn't care much at all, really. What was he doing here, attempting some sort of domesticity? Ridiculous. "I have been looking ahead to this for a while," he heard Alfonso say. He's been looking forward to it? How strange; Usually I am the over ambitious one in the room.

At the moment, Lestrade didn't mind the fact the Alfonso's English grammar was less-than perfect, but the curious fact was, he also didn't mind that Alfonso's looked as handsome as he did. Looking at the clothes Alfonso was wearing should have aroused some sort of reaction in him, at least attraction, but he found himself more interested in what the clothes were. Long-sleeve, green shirt, a nice shade. Not exactly ironed to perfection, but not at all what one would call sloppy, or messy. Tie, thin, but expensive, though not overly so; perhaps Alfonso wasn't quite so poor as Lestrade had originally assumed him. The suit was nice too, and Alfonso's did look very good in it. But it would look good on anyone. Well, most anyone.

"How 'ave you been? Work seems very hard for you." Lestrade answered just a second to late for it to be polite.

"Er, good, fine," he said, waving his right hand around in the air. "It's not hard, not too hard at all. Tired's all." And then that Lestrade got an idea. It was a ridiculous idea, patently stupid really, but he was stubborn, and changeable, and really, he spent most of his time forcing people to abide the law, so letting the act slip once in a while should be fine, shouldn't it?

"You know, this is stupid. But what I think we should do - Well, all of this restaurant crap is barmy isn't it? We should do something… Do something fun. More interesting. Or rather, are you hungry? We could just eat." Lestrade didn't really mind how in-comprehensive he was being at the moment; did it matter? It didn't, did it? Their relationship was not one of any root, at least not yet, and so and idea thrown out of nowhere could be taken as as personality trait, a quirk, anything really. And opportunity to leave.

What he was really craving was not fun, but danger. Work had been tedious lately, but dull. So, so dull. Just simple things, like petty crime and cases that reeked of to-come pro-bono cases. The arresting-people was getting dull; he wanted action, shooting people down and hunting people nearly our of the city, like it had, for some reason, often been when he was younger. Perhaps he'd just been lucky. Or, very unlucky and had a strange idea of what privileged was.

He wanted to go out on the train tracks, simply with Alfonso because Alfonso was there, and stand, stagnant until they could hear the train and it was so close the ground was shaking. And then they would see it, and jump out of the way off the tracks right before it hit them. Maybe they might even forget to jump, and one of them would tumble over the other, a second to late to be purposeful, and they'd miraculously live. And it would be wonderful.

But it wouldn't be wonderful. It would never be wonderful. Not like this. And Alfonso would never go for that idea. And so he did not add "We could just eat, or we could taste the thrill of death and feel the adrenaline of having death's hand nearly touching your shoulder."

[MYCROFT HOLMES]

Most of the interesting things Mycroft came upon in his daily life were on the streets. It was usually on his way to get something to eat, too. Mycroft would see street dancers one day interrupting the regular traffic, a homeless man on a new street begging for loose change, children weaving through groups of people. But nothing had been more interesting then when Mycroft approached the restaurant and saw two familiar faces sitting outside.

James Edwards on a date with Gregory Lestrade.

The irony of it was too good to pass up. He wanted to know of Lestrade realized that he was on a date with one of the most notorious criminals in New York. That would be dangerous to just blurt out loud, though. "Oh, Detective. I didn't know you knew Moriarty."

Not only would that start panic in the detective, but James would surely extract some form of revenge on him later. But there was no way Mycroft was going to walk by without stopping for a quick chat.

He smiled widely and stopped by their table.

"Detective. Why is it whenever I am on the town, I run in to you?" He turned his attention to James, smiling knowingly. "I do hope you'll excuse me for interrupting. I just want to say a quick hello and I'll be off."

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

Lestrade was, understatedly, not pleased to see none other than Mycroft Holmes standing next to him and Alfonso’s table. Grinning. Oh god. The last time Lestrade had seen Holmes, it hadn’t exactly gone well. That time, he’d sort of wished he could evict some sort of smile out of Holmes, because really, having a government official semi-threaten you is pretty freaking terrorizing, but now he’s pretty sure he should be glad he didn’t see that smile. Because – Jesus Christ, it was like the Cheshire Cat. Lestrade didn’t mind admitting to fear, except maybe when he was with his daughter, but something told him conceding how unreasonably much Holmes unnerved him would be a bad idea.

“Detective.” Nononono please no, go away Holmes please. “Why is it whenever I am on the town, I run into you?” Because I have the worst sodding luck in the universe sometimes, that’s why. Lestrade leaned back from over the table, because while he had been thinking about jumping in front of trains, he’d unconsciously moved closer towards Alfonso. He watched as Holmes addressed Alfonso: “I do hope you’ll excuse me for interrupting. I just want to say a quick hello and I’ll be off.” Oh thank god. Lestrade realized that Mycroft obviously knew Alfonso, and then Mycroft smiled again, at James, and this time it was so dipped in I-know-everything with a cherry on top that Lestrade…. Well, he wasn’t exactly feeling as confident about himself as he was before. Dear god, if Alfonso was actually a government official just playing like he was, Lestrade might bloody well need more than a few drinks. He was the police officer here, yes, but he was about to suggest doing something completely mad in front of a possible-government-spy (though why he’d be spying on Lestrade he had no idea). Right, he was overthinking this, wasn’t he.

Lestrade looked up at Mycroft, attempting a nervous smile. “Mycroft!” He tried to greet cheerily, and his voice was a little too high not to be suspicious. Oh Lestrade, you idiot. You have no reason to be this intimidated by Holmes, he’s not that frightening, he’s just… Well, his presence is… God help me. Lestrade cleared his throat and tried again, this time in a more normal voice, “Ahem, hello again. Nice to see you.” It will be nicer to see you when you are leaving.

[JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS]

"You know, this is stupid. But what I think we should do - Well, all of this restaurant crap is barmy isn't it? We should do something… Do something fun. More interesting. Or rather, are you hungry? We could just eat."

James dig his fingers into his leg under the table to keep from barking with laughter. Inspector Lestrade was just precious. Look at him all flustered and unsure. It would have been adorable if he hadn't been so painfully stupid. The offer, though, James had to admit intrigued him. A detective looking for fun? How appalling. His entire job centered around catching cunning and handsome criminals (Not unlike James, himself), wasn't that fun enough? Oh, perhaps Inspector Betty here (what long, feminine eyelashes he had) was one of those public servants who thought their job was hard or boring.

Sad.

James was going to answer for Alfonso, speaking in favor of staying and eating when an unexpected face rolled into the scene. Mycroft Holmes. Remembering to stay in character was difficult with that positively naughty grin Mycroft was directing to him.

Had Mycroft mentioned meeting the detective? James couldn't be bothered to remember.

"Ah! A friend!" 'Alfonso' chirped, standing up and going to Mycroft, kissing both of his cheeks jovially, muttering a quick "Play along" under his breath before pulling back. "Please! Join us."

[MYCROFT HOLMES]

The character stood up and exclaimed quite happily, grabbing Mycroft and kissing his cheeks, James muttering a quick request to play along. Mycroft smiled at him, patted his back as a reply, and shifled on his feet.

"Well, I'm not planning on staying. I placed an order on the way here."

He glanced inside, seeing the amount of people sitting and deemed it was going to be a couple more minutes before his order was going to be finished. Well, wasn't that lucky.

"But considering the people inside, I have a couple minutes."

Mycroft grabbed a chair from a separate table and sat himself down, making himself comfortable and smiling. This was fun. Sometimes Mycroft enjoyed a little picking at someone unfortunate enough to be on the recieving end of James' toyings. Even if that was going on, Mycroft still had a bit of business with the detective himself.

"Detective, I hope you don't mind me asking, but when is the next time you'll be at the station? I haven't had the time to get out of the office and see to our little problem we had the other day."

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

“Ah! A friend!” Alfonso twittered cheerfully, kissing Mycroft’s cheeks happily. “Please! Join us.” Oh dear god/

“Well, I’m not planning on staying. I placed an order on the way here.” Relief? “But considering the people inside, I have a couple of minutes.” Lestrade watched with a look of, well, terror, as Mycroft sat himself next to Alfonso and he. And dear god, Mycroft’s look was so…jovial, Lestrade just wanted to hide. “Detective, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but when is the next time you’ll be at the station? I haven’t had the time to get out of the office and see to our little problem we had the other day.”

Lestrade felt himself flush; he’s nearly managed to forget that incident. How lovely, the man he practically assaulted in a restaurant was back with a man he was trying to have a date with. “Er, right… I’m at work… Pretty much every day. So, any time really. Just text me before you drop by, yeah?”

Lestrade’s words sounded shallow even in his own head. He looked towards Alfonso, more than a little confused. “A friend,” he’d said. Did they know each other? Lestrade wondered if that would be worse… or better.

“So, do you two…” he waved his left hand in the air, motioning towards the direction of the two men sitting with him, “Know each other, then?”

[JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS]

“So, do you two know each other, then?”

Oh, that was such a good one. James went through a mental list of all the things he could answer in return.

• "We are...ah...how you say...fuck buddies."
  
• "I was...ah...stripper at Mycroft's friend's bachelor party. I gave lap dance."
  
• "I'm his "investment banker"... if you know what I mean."
  
• "I enjoy Mycroft's weekend drag show frequently."
  
• "I killed his landlady when she asked."
  
• "I'm his ah...little Italian pet....if you know what I mean."
  

James fought back the wicked smirk that threatened to escape. They would all piss off Mycroft so much and he was tempted to use one just for that. But he refrained. While pissing off Mycroft was fun, it usually wound up with James being ignored for a few weeks at a time. Once even a whole month. And James really didn't like being ignored.

So, he went a safer route.

"Ah...client of mine was...witness in your case?" 'Alfonso' couldn't quite recall why he and the lawyer had to meet, after all he had so many clients. But it was a legal matter. That was good, safe, and easy. Boring, but at least James wouldn't be ignored. That was so tedious, after all.

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

“Ah… client of mine was… witness in your case?” Alfonso said. Lestrade was confused for a moment before remembering that Mycroft was a lawyer. And Alfonso was… What was Alfonso anyway? When he’s accepted going on a date with a man whom he’s never seen the face of properly that night, drunk with simply concept of being, he’d not thought to ask. The man was dressed impeccably better than the first time Lestrade had seen him.

“Oh,” Lestrade said, looking back and forth between the two men who, at one point, he thought might be alright, but now he really just wanted to get away from. “Well, that’s good, then. I mean, interesting.” Lestrade licked his lips awkwardly.

God. How pathetic could he sound? His voice has off putting even to himself. Then again, maybe that’s what he wanted. The regret of ever texting Alfonso back, the one he’d ignored until today, was slowly making its way back up, calling him an idiot. “So Alfonso,” he cleared his throat, forced his voice to sound stronger. More like a police man; less like a nervous child. “What do you do, then?”

[MYCROFT HOLMES]

Mycroft was glad James didn't say something beyond stupid in response to the detective asking how they knew each other. He settled with knowing each other through their clients, and it worked. Though, Mycroft wasn't quite sure what "Alfonso" did.

"Oh, it's been years," Mycroft said easily, adding his two-bits in. It couldn't confirm or deny whatever it was Jim had hiding. It was safe.

Lestrade was confused and kind of flustered. Mycroft sat up straighter and grinned at him. It was fun. A little pay back, maybe, for ruining his suit and phone that one day. Maybe. He asked what 'Alfonso' did, and Mycroft had to keep from laughing. The detective accepted a date from a man who he barely knew. A detective of all people. Mycroft did grin, however.

"What are you doing now, Alfonso?" he asked also, smiling. He was sort of curious now.

[JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS]

“So Alfonso, what do you do, then?”


"What are you doing now, Alfonso?"

James had to resist the urge to roll his eyes and let out a suffering sigh. Lestrade going so far into the 'date' and 'relationship' without knowing was just embarrassing. James thought detectives were supposed to be smart. In some capacity at the very least. And Mycroft...James would just judge him silently until Lestrade was gone. Then, once he was gone, James would laugh with him about how stupid and boring normal people were.

James wanted to get one and keep it as a pet. Maybe two. Make them fight each other for chuckles. He could even sell tickets.

"Investment banking." Alfonso answered easily, flashing both men a bright, charming smile. "I'm...ah, good with numbers." Alfonso waved a hand flippantly, circling his fingers thoughtfully.

The man could barely speak English but math was always the same. That would be Alfonso's security blanket. Numbers didn't have language barriers, they were just numbers. Math was universal so even though Alfonso could barely order a meal, he could analyze someone's bank account.

Just like James could analyze a person.

"A banker, a lawyer, a detective. Sounds like a bad jest, yes?" Alfonso laughed brightly.

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

“Investment banking,” Alfonso answered both Lestrade and Mycroft’s question. Lestrade… liked to think that the two other men sitting with him with overlook the fact that he was on a date with a man who he really solely only knew the name of. “I’m… ah, good with numbers,” he finished, waving his hand around in the air, his fingers flicking between each other to indicate math. It made sense, considering who Alfonso was.

“A banker, a lawyer, a detective. Sounds like a bad jest, yes?” Alfonso laughed, and Lestrade smirked darkly. It was true; they probably sounded like a right lot of schoolboys to any passerby. And with their three accents, all appallingly obvious to the New Yorkers than they didn’t fit in to the general population of the country, well… It was rather amusing.

“True, true,” Lestrade agreed. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad. He only had to get through this one date and then he would never have to see Alfonso again, and hopefully not Mycroft for a while, so he might as well… try to enjoy it? As if he could. Being next to Mycroft was like being under a microscope for intense observation, and seeing Alfonso was like a brick to the face, reminding him of how stupid he had been that night they’d met.

He stood, trying not to seem too much like he was relieved to do so. “I think I’ll get us some pastries,” he said, motioning a hand towards the shop they were sitting in front of. “And coffee. Coffee’s good,” he ended lamely, and then walked through the door to buy the aforementioned things. Besides, things always got better with a little food, didn’t they? People shut up when they were eating, after all.

^{OOC: Just giving Mycroft and James a second to make fun of Lestrade while he's inside the shop...^_^'}