Chapter 6
AN: Hi there. This one took a bit longer, and I had a hard time writing it, as it was harder than I thought picturing Mycroft in a strange environment, so very much outside of what I think of as his natural milieu :D
The switches between Mycroft's and Louise's pow are more frequent in this chapter, I hope it's not too annoying, it kinda felt like serving the purpose.
Chapter 6: Una música brutal
M:
Mycroft just hung up on Anthea, ordering her to appear, with the car, at once, when he heard a clinging noise behind him. He turned around and saw the music teacher with a half open backpack in one hand and a knitted scarf in the other. She knelt down to pick something up and murmured "sorry" for what felt like the 100th time this evening. He rolled his eyes and was about to turn his focus back towards the end of the street where he expected his car to appear any second now, for Anthea's sake, when the woman spoke again: "Do you want to come?"
"I'm sorry?" He didn't understand the question.
"The-the milonga, at Tango Garden? Do you want to-to… dance some more?" She stammered.
He was going to decline as politely, but as firmly and definitely as possible so as to discourage her from ever asking again, yet something made him pause. He had his mouth open, then closed it again and looked towards the end of the street one last time. In his head he then counted to three and when the black jaguar failed to appear, he made a choice. Why should he be the one waiting? No, now it was Anthea's turn.
"Alright," he said at last and made a step towards her.
She raised her brows in surprise, clearly not expecting that answer.
"Great," she said nervously, then looked around her in confusion, probably trying to remember where she had locked her bicycle earlier this evening.
"Over there?" Mycroft pointed with his umbrella towards an old, dark red lady's bicycle, tied with a metal lock to a street lamp, just few feet away.
L:
Louise looked in the direction he was pointing and smiled relieved. "Ah, yes, thanks," frowning only seconds later when she realized how odd it was, him not only recognizing her bicycle, but also knowing she had one.
They walked together, she pushing her bicycle, he with his umbrella on his arm, both following the small misty clouds of their breaths in the cold air of early March.
When she had asked him to come, she didn't realize they would actually have to walk together, alone, in silence… unless she came up with some topic for them to talk about… which, let's be honest… was very unlikely, what with her being as shy as she was and him being… well… him….
She was still trying to think hard about what to ask or to say, when a sound came out of his coat, his phone was ringing loud in the night.
"Excuse me," he said quietly without halting though, as he retrieved his mobile out of the depths of his expensive looking black coat.
"Yes?" He said, and Louise thought she detected something like a false sweetness in his tone when he said after a brief pause: "Good. Wait there." He shortly turned at Louise and smiled at her, and there was something… foxy about his expression, a satisfaction and perhaps a trace of malice, of mischief, when he added: "I might be a while."
"So-uh…," she began after he had put away his phone, "what… is your name then?" She asked, and felt kind of stupid. She couldn't say why but something about him made her think that a question this banal was simply not worthy of his attention, that he couldn't be bothered by being asked such trivia.
"Mycroft, I told you so three weeks ago," he replied with a minor rebuke in his voice.
"Oh, sorry," she hurried to say, "I didn't realize that was your name, or… you know… A name," she muttered, her voice getting quieter towards the end of that sentence.
"You're welcome to take that on with my parents," he said.
"Noted," she replied nodding.
Silence fell again. She wondered if he found it as uncomfortable as she did. She was not a very sociable person and has always had her difficulties striking a conversation with new people. But this was the year in her life where she had made the resolution to get out of her comfort zone as often as possible and try out all those… social… activities. So, here we go….
"I hope I didn't… cross any of your evening plans…" she said, hinting at the phone call he had just ended.
M:
Mycroft found that statement odd, silly even, brazen almost, to think that a suggestion of attending a plebeian dance gathering could make him alter his schedule – had he got one for tonight. He said nothing.
L:
"Only," she dared to continue, although all of her inner voices were telling her to just shut up, "one seldom finds a partner who dances as fluently and flawlessly as you." SHUT! UP!… It rather sounded like she was cajoling him, which really wasn't her intention. She really just meant what she said.
"I should think so," he replied simply. She raised her eyebrows, marvelling at his arrogance. She wished she was half as self-assured as he was. That would really make her life a lot easier on many an occasion.
They arrived at the Green Lion, the small Japanese place where they used to go before the milongas, to have something to eat and drink and gather some strength before diving into the full dance-mode. After all, these dances often went into the morning hours. While she was locking up her bicycle, Mycroft was looking at the entrance with a frown.
M:
"Is this it?" He asked sceptically. Didn't she say Tango Garden? Yet all he could see was the window into what looked like a small, rather crowded Japanese restaurant.
"Oh, sorry," she replied apologetically. "We usually eat something beforehand. There isn't much at Tango Garden and you wouldn't want to dance on an empty stomach."
He raised his brows this time, already regretting that he agreed to come. But then, he was doing it to teach Anthea a lesson. With an inner sigh he followed her inside, hoping that teaching Anthea a lesson wouldn't in the end turn into an evening more unbearable for him than for his assistant, there were other ways…
The restaurant was rather loud, and very full. An arm somewhere at the back waved at them and Louise moved towards it. There at the table sat the lawyer Friederike, the other couple from their class, and four other people Mycroft hasn't seen before.
"Hello," Louise said with a shy smile while taking off her coat. Rebecca and Ian greeted them with a welcoming smile, while the others merely gave a short nod. He waited for her to take the seat next to Friederike, then sat down next to her at the far end of their table.
The waiter came to take their order and to Mycroft's astonishment Louise ordered a beer and some baked potatoes while he decided to go with water and a simple salad which to him seemed to be the safest choice in a strange environment like this one.
He observed the dynamic of the group. The conversation was being dominated by the two couples that he didn't know, particularly by the middle aged man from the one and the young woman from the other. The topic seemed to be the political situation in some third world country. It made Mycroft roll his eyes, the way these people spoke, so self-assured of their opinions and so very convincingly presenting what they thought of as facts when, in fact, they couldn't be more wrong.
He noticed the occasional side glance of the man thrown at him (he must have guessed due to Mycroft's attire that he was of some significance), as if he was daring him to join the discussion, only to be trashed by the man right away in a condescending way, but Mycroft didn't fall for it. He could easily humiliate him within few seconds, but he wasn't in the mood, and he oddly found himself bored by the conversation and instead returned back to his deduction exercise. After all, he hasn't encountered such variegated group of strangers in a long time, it provided an interesting change to his usual social circles where – let's be honest – people he encountered there were mostly - all the same.
L:
Louise was thankful when her pint arrived rather fast. As usual she would need the large pint glass to have something to fumble with. She always got a little nervous during these dinners. Well, nervous perhaps wasn't the right term, just slightly out of place. Even after months she hasn't quite got used to being part of such a large group of people. And to be honest, it didn't really feel like she was a part of it. She only really knew Fred, and even her she didn't know too well. She rarely participated in their heated discussions on some current political issues. Not that she didn't care or have an opinion, she just had the feeling that it was of no interest to anyone. But she didn't mind, she was used to being the one in the corner that only at the end of the dinner when they all got up made people remember she had been there the whole time.
Her eyes fell upon his Mycroft's right hand that grasped his glass of water. She always had a thing for long fingers, it probably had to do with music and her fancy for musicians, but who knew… Staring at his she thought they were just perfect, graceful, not bony, just… sleek and elegant, and she felt like they were meant to touch beautiful, fine things only. Also there was a way he was touching things, even his glass or his coat when he would hang it on the stand earlier as they came in, with such care that almost seemed… premeditated, just like the sound of his voice it made her wonder how much of it was yearlong practice and cultivated and how much was just genuinely his nature.
Fred suddenly pulled her out of her thoughts: "How are things going with your recording offer?"
M:
None of these people were politicians, or secret service, or military or any such. Mycroft was able to determine by the look of his hands and his haircut that the man leading the discussion was of the medical profession, a surgeon in fact, while the woman was a writer working for an art magazine. Their respective partners, weirdly, were both teachers – sciences and English language and literature.
Rebecca, whom he has seen in the tango class, was a housewife, mother of three, no… four children, the youngest of which, a daughter, was still living in the parental home. Ian, her husband, was a dentist. Utterly unspectacular, Mycroft thought, but to his credit, he was the one who at least tried to change the subject now and then so that everyone could participate, if only for a few minutes before the two again would usurp the discussion and attention upon themselves.
Slowly Mycroft's eyes swept to the last of the group he hadn't yet sized up tonight: Friederike, the lawyer.
She had struck up a conversation with Louise, clearly in an attempt to involve her as she would be the only one Louise seemed comfortable enough to talk to. Mycroft was listening involuntarily, while his eyes were fixed on Fred's features.
L:
Louise was just outpouring herself and her worries onto Fred, feeling both embarrassed and relieved at the same time: embarrassed for bothering Fred with what surely must have seemed to her, a criminal lawyer whose daily work consisted of talking and defending people with real problems, insignificant and stupid; yet despite that she felt relieved too, because it seemed to help her a little to get it out and put it into perspective and realizing that maybe, just maybe, her problems weren't the end of the world. Fred also had the rare quality of being able to simply listen without giving unwanted advice, which was exactly what Louise needed – to feel heard, and not counselled. It often struck her as admirable because she imagined that counselling would have been Fred's main occupation at work, and she wondered how Fred was able to just turn it off and to merely absorb Louise's ramblings, occasionally ask an additional question to understand some part of her story a little better, yet without immediately offering some strategic plans for her next course of action.
M:
Mycroft was very much puzzled. Initially, he thought that Fred had turned to talk to Louise out of pity, merely to include her into the group. But that wasn't what happened. After all, they were talking to each other, and if anything, were now excluding everyone else, not that any of the six other people noticed, or cared.
But watching Fred's face while Louise was outpouring what could only be described as a woolly stream of consciousness, and sputtering something about a CD recording and playing a lost concerto for the first time, he came to a very different conclusion and wondered at the same time how this bit has escaped him until now. It wasn't pity, it wasn't… obligation that led her to talk to Louise, no.
A captivated smile on Fred's face… She liked her… A spellbound spark in her eyes… She was interested in her… Dilated pupils, a flush in her cheeks when Louise suddenly cut off her sputter and asked her a sudden question… She was in love with her…
Whether she was aware of it and at peace with the fact that nothing could come of it because it wasn't mutual, or had yet to realize her feelings, he couldn't tell.
Having eaten their dinner, the large group of nine finally rose and made their way to the Tango Garden that was only few blocks away. With a smirk of satisfaction Mycroft read the two messages Anthea had left him as well as one voice mail, in which she humbly asked where to pick him up. She didn't dare to ask about the time, so clearly she had a guilty conscience. Good.
L:
The Tango Garden wasn't as full on this evening as it normally was. It was apparent that some of the regulars had also left town for the prolonged weekend. Louise was glad to see that the dance floor wasn't as packed as usually and they would have plenty of space, even for some more intricate adornos.
"I hope you'll share," Rebecca's giddy voice whispered into her ear and when she turned around she saw her pointing towards Mycroft who was just giving his overcoat and his jacket to the man in the cloakroom.
Louise turned slightly pink, not exactly sure how to respond to that. He wasn't hers to share. She brought him along in hope that for once she would get to dance throughout the whole evening, instead of just dancing a handful of tangos and milongas in between when someone took pity on her sitting in the corner and lent her their partner.
"Sure," she said sheepishly.
She danced the first two tangos with him and then two milongas, noticing with amusement how he seemed to lighten up during the latter. He clearly slightly preferred the faster paced genre. At the end of the second milonga she noticed Rebecca and Ian approaching them with the intention of switching, so that she let go of his arm and turned to Ian. To her surprise (and admittedly, just a little twinge of pleasure) she saw him frown. It may have just been a fancy of her, but it would appear as if he disapproved of this unscheduled rearrangement. But, she didn't want to look like she was monopolizing him, and besides, Ian was a decent leader himself. His footwork was perhaps somewhat clumsy at times, but he would make up for it with a very firm frame, so that she rarely had to guess what he was up to and always knew what he was leading her to do.
M:
Mycroft frowned as Louise had disengaged herself from their dancing embrace and turned towards Rebecca and Ian, who had just stopped next to them, then took Ian's hand and Rebecca already grabbed his right shoulder. It hadn't occurred to him that they would change partners, but now that he thought of it he wondered why, as it was the way any dancing events would go.
The music changed too.
"So, tell me, Mycroft, how come we haven't seen you at a milonga before?" Rebecca asked in a chipper voice.
He was staring at her necklace, his forehead painfully furrowed as he was concentrating on the strange music. It was remotely identifiable as tango, but had a modern, electronic note to it. It was irritating.
"Where have you and your moves been hiding all this time?" She spoke again.
He raised his eyes for a few seconds to look into hers before saying: "If you must know, this isn't my natural milieu."
Rebecca nodded amused. "Oh? And what is?"
"I'm sorry?" He was getting annoyed by the conversation. At least the music teacher had the decency to not pester him during their dancing. He pretended he didn't understand the question, hoping that Rebecca would give up and focus on her steps instead.
"So what do you do for living?" She was relentless, though.
He sighed inwardly, then said in a slightly harsher voice than intended: "Filing."
L.
About a dozen dances later, Louise was reunited with Mycroft, after he had wandered through the embrace of every other woman of their group like a trophy. They were again playing neo tango and she observed that he looked grumpier than when they were dancing milongas.
"I didn't use to like it either," she said and when he looked at her with a question in his eyes, she nodded towards the band playing Época from Gotan Project. It had a sound very different to the classical orchestra of tango argentino like Carlos di Sarli or D'Arienzo. There was something more… sensual to it, more back-alley-like. It made her want to grab his tie and loosen the knot on it…
M:
"And now?" Mycroft asked. She jerked her head up from his tie and looked unfocused as if he had interrupted her thoughts. "How do you like it now?"
L:
She opened her mouth, but didn't know what to say. It wasn't so much the content of that question that had rendered her speechless rather than suddenly realizing that it was the first time he asked her a question about her, or any question at all other than shall we…
M:
He looked at her curiously, when suddenly his chest pocket began to vibrate.
"Excuse me," his left hand let go of hers while with the other still at her lower back he gently pushed her as he navigated their way through the gaps between the other dancing couples in order to reach the edge of the dance floor safely.
"What is it?" He said into his phone, his voice just a tad combative.
"Sir, there's been a development," Anthea spoke on the other end. "You're required at Vauxhall Cross."
Mycroft didn't speak for a brief moment. He tried to assess Anthea's voice, wondering if this was just a ruse on her part to get him out at last so she could finally go back to her weekend or if there was a genuine crisis that required his immediate attention. He decided that the latter was the case. After all, Anthea might have been slacking in her duties lately, but she also must have sensed that she was already in enough trouble, and would not be short-sighted nor stupid enough to make it worse for herself by construing a fake crisis which she knew he would uncover rather sooner than later.
L:
Louise watched his face and his long fingers wrapped around his phone. Again she thought how graceful they looked, even holding so trivial an object as a mobile. They seemed to extend their grace to the things they would hold, somehow making them appear more special, more… delicate, significant. A warmth spread through her when she remembered that just a minute ago those fingers were wrapped around her waist.
"Alright, come and get me then, I'll be out in five minutes. I'll send you the location," she heard him say in a low voice.
"You're leaving," she said, once again unexpectedly out loud instead of just to herself.
He typed something into his phone, then looked up at her: "Yes."
There was a brief silence. Louise was under the impression that he was thinking of whether to say something more, as if he was pondering how much to elaborate or whether at all he need to excuse his departure. So she hurried to say in order to make it clear he didn't owe her any explanations: "Thank you, for coming along."
He smiled one his signature smiles that wouldn't quite reach his eyes and she sensed that in his mind he was already elsewhere. The phone call must have been important. "So… have a-ah… nice weekend… see you next Friday then."
He nodded briefly, then his phone rang again, and Louise knew it was time to let him go. She smiled one last time, waved somewhat awkwardly, watched him bow and then turn around and walk off in direction of the cloak room. With a small sigh she turned away too and her eyes swiped across the wide space around the dance floor on the lookout for a new partner. But she wasn't sure she even felt like dancing anymore.
Then her eyes found Fred's, fixed upon her with a puzzled look in them. Maybe just one or two more then…
AN: Thank you for reading and sticking with me, please, leave a comment, I'd really love to hear and read what you think.