Enough For Now (Peter) -FIN-

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

When Lestrade leant in to kiss him...it wasn’t what he expected. It was light, barely there. Before he felt like it was even happening, Greg’ry pulled back, smiling a little.

"On second thought, it's probably better to take it slow."

Take it slow. He didn’t know what slow was. He’d never gone slow in his life. Slow meant he was doing something wrong. If he couldn’t seal the deal within hours of knowing someone, he called it a loss. He knew Greg’ry. Greg’ry was his friend. It should have been easy, but it wasn’t. This was why he didn’t do this with friends. They could see he was no good for them and it led to moments like this. Lestrade didn’t want to kiss him. He was just...man, he was being screwed around with.

Greg’ry laughed a little, sounding more nervous and awkward. "Though you know, I am a fantastic kisser regardless."

Peter picked up his coffee, hiding behind the mug as he sipped from it. If he was such a fantastic kisser, why was he holding back now? Peter bit his lip a little – a bad habit he really needed to kick...Yeah, all roads lead back to Peter not being good for anyone. After he’d had a moment to think, he set his cup down and nodded.

“I’m sure you hold your own,” he replied with a bit of a shrug.

As if the situation weren’t awkward enough, his phone started ringing in his pants. The ring tone version of Billy Idol’s “White Wedding” started trilling loudly. Angelique. He ignored it, knowing it would be rude to answer. And after the third rendition of the lyrics “Hey little sister, what have you done?” (the reason he picked it, seeing as how that was how most of their conversations should have started) it stopped making noise. Peter sighed, trying to continue.

“But uh, slow...I don’t –”

His phone started ringing again. Same ringtone. He wasn’t surprised. Angelique did this until he picked up – every time.

Peter sighed. “I’m sorry, I have to pick up or she’s just going to keep calling. Excuse me.”

He eased himself up, leaning around Lestrade, and walking so he was just outside the kitchen, pulling the phone from his pocket.

“Pas un bon moment, Angelique,”

When they were younger, he and Angelique would talk in French as their private twin language. Only their Grandmere could understand what they were saying. Now, it was a good way to have a more private conversation with his twin. He just hoped Lestrade didn’t speak French, or if he did, he didn’t think it was odd.

“Not a good time? What did you do?”

Yeah, that was his sister. Never letting anything go.

“J'ai obtenu ivre et a embrassé ma amie. Puis ce matin, il moi nourrit de petit déjeuner et veut encore baiser moi et…”

“Wait...so you kissed a friend when you were drunk and he not only cooked you breakfast, but wants to kiss again when you are sober? That’s good, Peter!”

He sighed. His sister was no help.

“Puis il a occupé le retour. Je ne sais pas quoi penser.”

“What’s to think about? Go demand a proper kiss, then! Ren, you know I wouldn’t say this to you unless I meant it, so listen up. If someone who’s your actual friend wants you, pull your head out of your ass and find a way to keep that man in a sex coma until Monday. You deserve someone in your life! I swear, the police are going to find you dead in a ditch if you keep going home with strangers...”

No help. At all.

“Au revoir, Angelique. Je vous appellerai plus tard.”

She was giggling when he hung up the phone. At least now she would leave him alone until he called her later. Much, much later...He shoved his phone back into his pocket before heading back into the kitchen.

“I...sorry, my sister is a bit tenacious and I indulge her by actually answering my phone when she keeps calling.” He shrugged a bit. That was Angelique. “Uh, I should help you clean up and get home.”

No. Not home. Anywhere but home.

“Gotta get Baze fed and myself figured out before work tomorrow.”

If he went to work. He’d have to see how playing hooky went for him.

“But, uh, this was nice.”

Peter smiled slightly, hoping he hadn’t royally put his foot in his mouth on this one. He was just going to shut up until Lestrade said something.

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

Peter sipped at his coffee, staring into it and Lestrade felt a bit bad, but really, if Peter had never been in an actual relationship, he couldn't think of a better way to keep him for longer than this morning otherwise.“I’m sure you hold your own,” he said, trying to sound casual but Lestrade thought sounded somewhat bitter. Lestrade really hoped he hadn't crewed this up already by trying not to screw this up already.

Peter's phone began to ring loudly in his pocket, the cell phone quality version of White Wedding. Lestrade waited for Peter to pick up, but Peter ignored it until it stopped and awkwardly long stretch of time later. Lestrade tried not to smile.

“But uh, slow..." Peter started, and it took a second for Lestrade to recognize that he was trying to pick up the conversation from before. "I don’t –" Peter was interrupted by the Billy Idol song a second time, and Peter sighed and said, “I’m sorry, I have to pick up or she’s just going to keep calling. Excuse me.” He stood and walked around Lestrade, and it seemed to Lestrade as if he was careful not to touch, before going into the adjoining room to answer his phone. Lestrade just nodded and watched him go.

“Pas un bon moment, Angelique," Peter said, and Lestrade hadn't known Peter spoke French. He wondered why he was now, considering he was pretty sure Peter's sister was just as American as he was. Lestrade didn't mean to ease drop, not really, but Peter was just a thin wall away, and he wasn't whispering either. Oh, he probably thought Lestrade didn't know French; he was more amused that Peter thought it was a way to be inconspicuous rather than annoyed he wanted to be inconspicuous.

“J'ai obtenu ivre et a embrassé ma amie. Puis ce matin, il moi nourrit de petit déjeuner et veut encore baiser moi et..." Peter paused, probably letting his sister say something. "Puis il a occupé le retour. Je ne sais pas quoi penser.”

Lestrade's amusement quickly gave way to guilt. Oh, he had really only been thinking of the long run, he hadn't considered Peter might take it like... however he was that was making him upset enough to tell it to his sister. He sat back at his place at the table and ate a few more pieces of food, trying not to listen in any longer. He really shouldn't have listened in at all, he knew. So now he was guilty of making Peter think he was rejecting him and of eavesdropping. Wonderful. It made him pretty glum, but he forced himself to shake it off and stop thinking about himself so selfishly once Peter returned to the kitchen.

“I...sorry, my sister is a bit tenacious and I indulge her by actually answering my phone when she keeps calling," Peter said, though he didn't seem all that upset about it. Lestrade thought it was more the opposite, that Peter had indulged Angelique, but he immediately scolded himself for thinking that after. Lestrade just nodded up at Peter, managing to keep his expression normal. “Uh, I should help you clean up and get home. Gotta get Baze fed and myself figured out before work tomorrow. But, uh, this was nice.”

Lestrade watched as Peter smiled nervously and nodded again, before standing and said, "You don't have to clean up, gusts' rule," and walked to the doorway that led between the kitchen and the room Peter had talked to his sister in. He leaned on the frame, not remembering whether or not Peter had left anything in the guestroom. He looked at the floor tiles for a second before looking back up at Peter and said apologetically, "My father's French." He didn't explain anymore than that. It was word enough for Peter to figure out what that meant exactly.

He pushed off the door frame and stood closer to Peter, "Sorry. I didn't mean to. But. Really, I didn't mean... When I said take it slow, I only said it because I thought maybe it would be a better way to make it... too fast." To last.Well, those were dangerous words, but he was being truthful here. "But if you don't want to... I mean. God. Look. If you'd rather do it... differently, I'd be just as happy, because, I don't know, I'm just being selfish, but any time with you is, well, good, okay?" Well that was embarrassing and illiterate. He added, "I'm not saying he have to do anything. I just didn't want you to feel like we did, okay?"

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

"You don't have to clean up, gusts' rule."

That had been the rule at home, too. Guests never had to lift a finger at their house. Peter glanced up, watching as Lestrade came closer, leaning in the doorway. He seemed to study the lino for a long moment before looking up at him almost worriedly.

"My father's French."

Oh. Oh...That wasn’t ideal. It must have seemed pretty rude to him. Still, he hadn’t bad mouthed the man. He’d just had a moment with his sister and it had been in French. Still, he wished Lestrade hadn’t heard him. It was too late to wish, though. If wishes were fishes and such. Lestrade stepped closer and Peter resisted the urge to step back again to keep the same amount of room between them.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to. But. Really, I didn't mean... When I said take it slow, I only said it because I thought maybe it would be a better way to make it... too fast. But if you don't want to... I mean. God. Look. If you'd rather do it... differently, I'd be just as happy, because, I don't know, I'm just being selfish, but any time with you is, well, good, okay?"

Peter processed that for a long moment, wondering exactly what Lestrade was trying to say. God, this was a mess.

"I'm not saying we have to do anything. I just didn't want you to feel like we did, okay?"

Peter nodded. He thought he had it now. Lestrade hadn’t been going slow to reject him or to be polite. He actually wanted something...that was scary, but he was an Aramis. They were anything but cowardly.

“Alright. And I’m sorry this is difficult and awkward.” What else could he say? “I like spending time with you, too, and I don’t think you’re being selfish. I just...”

Crap. Now he was being hard to understand.

“I feel like you know how this should go and I’m far from having any inkling. Fast is the only speed I know. And I rarely know the person I’m working at that speed with. So if you think slow is better, slow is better.”

Slow. He could give that try. He just really didn’t like not knowing what he was getting into. He didn’t like that he was new to this, that he couldn’t use his usual confidence and bravado like he did when he was sleeping around. He’d never felt like his life style was lacking, but it certainly wasn’t slow.

“Sorry, I’ll bet this wasn’t what you bargained on for breakfast company.”

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

Lestrade was tense with worry that he'd hurt Peter's feeling or offended him, until Peter finally nodded and said, “Alright. And I’m sorry this is difficult and awkward." Lestrade tried not to cringe; Peter shouldn't be apologizing. Peter just couldn't get it through his head that everything wasn't his fault, could he? "I like spending time with you, too, and I don’t think you’re being selfish. I just... I feel like you know how this should go and I’m far from having any inkling. Fast is the only speed I know. And I rarely know the person I’m working at that speed with. So if you think slow is better, slow is better.”

Lestrade was almost saddened by that; god, Peter was so hopeless, he kept taking all the blame when it wasn't his fault, or even, anyone's fault at all. “Sorry, I’ll bet this wasn’t what you bargained on for breakfast company," he apologized again, and Lestrade had to stop him then. He shook his head firmly.

"No," Lestrade emphasized, "Peter, stop apologizing, there's nothing to be sorry for." He tried to give Peter a smile that was honest, and said, he really meant what he was saying. "Besides, I might be older, but I don't know shit. I'm divorced, remember? Stop putting yourself down - and don't apologize for that either. Actually, you know what," Lestrade added, thinking of a rule one of his friends in California had made up for Lestrade, "No apologizing unless it's absolutely necessary. You're fine, you haven't done anything wrong." He chuckled a little then, because it did sound a little ridiculous, but he still meant it. "Okay?"

He smiled, and then looked down at Baze. "Now go home and have fun on your day off before your dog pisses in my house." He was joking, said the words with absolutely no malice, but he knew Peter wanted to leave, and he had the feeling Peter thought he needed permission to leave for some reason, and that was as good as he was getting. He was not contributing to Peter's inferiority complex any more than he already accidentally had this morning.

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

"No." The word was sharp and Peter had to work to keep his expression blank. "Peter, stop apologizing, there's nothing to be sorry for."

Were they having the same conversation?

"Besides, I might be older, but I don't know shit. I'm divorced, remember? Stop putting yourself down - and don't apologize for that either. Actually, you know what? No apologizing unless it's absolutely necessary. You're fine, you haven't done anything wrong, okay?"

Oh, it had nothing to do with age. It had everything to do with experience. Even being divorce meant Lestrade was five steps ahead of him – dating, engagement, marriage, divorce and, well, after divorce. Peter didn’t know how to do any of that. He’d never done anything beyond the wham, bam, thank you ma’am or sir. It wasn’t exactly productive. And he still had a lot to apologise for, but Lestrade didn’t want to hear it.

Lestrade chuckled a bit, looking down at where Baze had followed them with a small smile.

"Now, go home and have fun on your day off before your dog pisses in my house."

Peter was sure he was joking. Even as a puppy, Baze had never lifted his leg in the house. That dog would chew through the door before he peed in the house. He was also sure he was joking about enjoying a day off. He just couldn’t see that happening after yesterday. But he appreciated it for what it was – an escape.

“Alright. I’ll get him home so he can piss in my house,” Peter jested back. “Thanks for breakfast and the chat and um...yeah. See you tomorrow, I guess.”

He picked up his jacket and backed towards where he remembered the door was and opened it. Baze darted outside and Peter took the hint. He stepped onto the porch, waving lamely at Lestrade, tamping down the urge to apologise again. He took a step and noticed the grit under his bare feet.

Shoes...Right...

He popped back in, bending to grab his slippers. “I’d forget my head if it weren’t screwed on.”

He offered Lestrade another half grin before stepping out again and letting the door close behind him. He took a deep breath and tugged his jacket on before he glanced at where Baze was waiting for him. He glanced around quickly, deducing it was in Manhattan. He took a moment to slip his shoes on. You never knew what you could step on between there and Brooklyn.

“Let’s go home, then.”

Baze snorted in agreement starting off in what Peter hoped was the right direction. All they needed to do was get back to Brooklyn and then they’d spend the day at Don’s place until he could decompress and work up the courage to actually go back where Conroy had been...well...

That...this – what he was doing was enough. For now.

[GREGORY LESTRADE]

“Alright. I’ll get him home so he can piss in my house,” Peter said, even if he still seemed a tad nervous. “Thanks for breakfast and the chat and um...yeah. See you tomorrow, I guess," he said an awkward goodbye, and then backed out onto Lestrade's porch and left. Lestrade waited in the hallway with a little smirk on his face as he waited until... "I’d forget my head if it weren’t screwed on.” Peter never remembered shoes. Ever.

Peter grinned at him a little more earnestly now, and then left for real. Lestrade shook his head, amused and slightly worried for his friend... boyfriend... friend. He sighed and went to go clean up the kitchen, thinking that he hadn't actually meant to do anything he had this morning. He'd enjoyed kissing Peter, yeah, and he'd do it again happily, but... well. He was quite sure he hadn't meant to basically ask Peter to be in some sort of relationship with him. He didn't regret it, not exactly, but he hadn't meant it in the way people usually mean it.

He wanted to take care of Peter, really. He worried about the kid, especially last night, and for some reason, saying what had had said had seemed, at the time, the best way to keep Peter close. And, if he was being completely truthful with himself - which he wasn't - he was honestly lonely. This was for all the wrong reasons.

Lestrade sighed and rinsed the plates in the sink, thinking, Nothing might come out of this, but, well. Regret wasn't on the books.