Hello my gems! I am writing this because of a beautiful line from a good friend who said
"Why did you go out with the discount Cedrick Diggory?"
After laughing out loud for a stupid amount of time and making sure the poor girl was laughing too, this inspired me to make a fanfiction about a determined Mycroft and a Lestrade that deserves better than stupid trash.
In a way, I guess this means I dedicate this to my friend who got fucked over, and by extension the rest of us. Never date a discount version of anyone, because you are too much of a gem to deal with that shit. Anyway, enjoy the fanfic. Fucking love Lestrade.
P.S
Weirdly enough making a HP fanfiction surrounding that quote was too complicated so I defaulted to my OTP.
Mycroft leant back in his expensive cushioned wooden chair, with a look that resembled a pissed off King Arthur, throne and all.
The CCTV cameras covered all of his monitors.
What would be so important that a man of his stature, is this annoyed, this stressed, this…well almost emotional. Despite the iceman that he is portrayed to be.
The screens showed Gregory Lestrade in a restaurant with a mediocre man (Mycroft had done his research) at the other side of the table to which they sat.
It was a tad strange that he kept tabs on Lestrade so much, but Mycroft simply said that it was because he was the only member of the Met who let Sherlock be Sherlock, and he was also a good asset in general. Even so, spying on his dates could be thought of as a step too far.
Deep down Mycroft knew that he and Lestrade were friends. Once a week, they would have drinks at the exclusive club, sometimes dinner, and whilst they did talk about the bane of their lives (Sherlock), conversation would always stray. It was nice. Too nice.
After Lestrade's divorce, he was weirdly happy even though the chance that he would ever have a chance at the chocolate eyed silver fox man, was basically none. He always knew that Lestrade was bisexual, the day they met 10 years ago he saw the dilated pupils and the quick up and down glance that was seen in the reflection of a well cleaned glass door. Mycroft's face flushed at the memory. He knew that it didn't mean that handsome man necessarily liked him beyond thinking he was good looking all those years ago, but it was something nice to reminisce about.
The daft date in question on screen looked arduous (it's arduous to spell arduous, shout out to my roommate), which seemed to be a theme. As if Lestrade was there simply to be there just to put himself out there. Makes sense after a divorce, confidence levels needing aiding and all.
Ridiculous in Mycroft's enamored book, Gregory has it all. Loyalty, looks, that magical sparkle in his eye, dark humor, the works.
He saw a flash of surprise and a little hurt, spread across Gregory's face at something his date said.
This so called man with the intelligence of a bread stick and zero effort in outfit choice, threw his hands out dramatically. The sound wasn't brilliant but Mycroft did hear "it's not a big deal, she is my best friend so what if we screwed each other a few months to go. We have always been on and off. She's in the UK again and needs a place to crash for 3 weeks" The stupid man said.
"We have to talk and hang out anyway because we are writing a book that can finally give me a career. After that we want to write a sequel too! We have so much to do together, what about it?"
Despite being in the UK and indoors, Mycroft swore crickets chirped and a tumbleweed went through the restaurant, Scotland Yard, 221b, and Mycroft's office. Possibly the King's humble abode too. Mycroft saw red. These are two middle aged men, one of which was talking like a university fuckboy to the other man worthy of the world.
"Anthea…"
"A car will be outside Un Drapeau Rouge in 5 minutes. Roger has been informed to collect Lestrade and bring him here" She said, standing behind him not looking up from her Blackberry. How she got in the office without Mycroft knowing iis a mystery within itself, let alone how she figured out the Mycroft's…obvious feelings towards the DI.
Lestrade sighed.
"I'm too old for this shit. Have fun with your fuckbuddy." He said, throwing some cash on the table and walked out tired and ashamed he (a DI) didn't figure out sooner the man was a child. However when it comes to your own life it always harder to get perspective. It's easy looking in.
"Don't call her that, its degrading!" Fuckboy Cedrick said with the audacity a trust fund baby.
Gregory was exhausted. 5th relationship/whatever the fuck they are since the messy divorce Romila. He knew deep down it was pointless. He wasn't even interested in them that much. Only one person consumed his mind and of course it had to be him to like the most unattainable man known…well to man.
He sometimes looked up at cameras foolishing thinking that maybe Mycroft would be watching. He knew that Mycroft kept tags on him, mostly due to his association to Sherlock, but he liked to think it was because they had become closer in recent years. But there was no reason that he would watch his dates.
It was at that thought he saw a familiar black car pull right outside of the restaurant. Roger got out like it wasn't strange at all that Mycroft's minions were rescuing him from a bad date.
"Mr Holmes wishes to extract you from this situation into a more favorable one." He said whilst opening the car door, ignoring the gaping mouth of Cedrick the royal twat in the background.
So Mycroft was watching! Gregory couldn't help but feel a slight flutter in his heart and a spark of hope. Was it just a coincidence that he needed something or wanted to complain about his brother whilst he was having an awful date? Or did he always observe his dating life?
Mycroft, Mycroft, Mycroft. Whatever he wanted he would get and it had nothing to do with his power in politics, but the power he had over our favorite DI.
—-
Right, that's Chapter 1 done! Only a 2 Chapter little thing happening here because I have my book cooking! One shots and small stories. Anyway, confession times ahead for you!