Police Garage

A standard but spacious garage where police vehicles are stored and maintained. Security cameras are in place and one can usually spot a few members of the force in this location.

Arthur Kirkland was currently on his back beneath his vehicle, tinkering with this and that, grumbling about how with all the Italians and Germans around, he was the one stuck playing mechanic. It didn’t seem right. The car that had been provided to himself and his partner was a beauty, but was a temperamental one in regular need of tinkering. It performed brilliantly in the field. It was maneuverable and fast… but it had an unfortunate tendency to resist starting and always had at least something minor in need of repair.

Right now he was investigating a leak, not because he thought it was especially in need of attention, but rather to kill time in a semi-productive manor while waiting for his partner to arrive.

It was not uncommon for Alfred to be running late. The man was like the car itself. Reliable when needed, just don’t expect punctuality. Arthur would scold him when he arrived, but would get over it quickly because he had come to accept this about his partner. And it wasn't likely to change anytime soon anyway.

He considered what might be keeping Alfred this time. Probably stopped for fast food somewhere… He was always eating, it seemed. Arthur had to wonder where he put it all.

He was not having any luck finding the source of the leak, and it didn’t appear to be oil, petro, or break fluid so he wasn’t going to stress about it. He slide out from beneath the car and glanced around the garage. It was empty save for him and a few cars. Most of the other officers were on duty already. Dammit where was Alfred?

Having nothing better to do, Arthur slipped beneath the car once more and continued poking around.

Alfred hadn't intended to be late. He never did, for he knew that was far too irresponsible for someone of his position. No, it wasn't as if he was purposely late, but normally, things just came up. Things like his alarm not going off, or things like the fact that he was hungry or still exhausted, and Alfred wasn't much help before he ate a nice breakfast and had a cup of coffee. However, for once, he was late for no reason. He'd simply decided to ignore his alarm and take his time eating.

Partly, it was to avoid working on the car. He knew about the leak, but did not want to work on it; The car always had something or other wrong with it, so Alfred didn't think fixing it up was that important. In fact, if it got too bad, then perhaps they'd be able to get a new one that didn't need constant repairs, one that always started. One of the newer, sleeker Italian cars he occasionally saw. It wasn't as if it was a surprise they didn't have one, though; they hadn't been around as long as the officers that had the sexier cars, though, Alfred was sure they'd get one. Eventually.

Alfred strolled in, wearing an expression that clearly showed his uncaring attitude about being late. He knew the scolding was coming, that's how Arthur was. Uptight and by-the-rules. He figured it'd be best to suck up a little, so he brought a bag with leftovers for the other man. However, Arthur wasn't anywhere in sight. Alfred paused at the door, glancing around, then strolls slowly to the car. It was weirdly empty; He hadn't thought he was THAT late. Alfred stopped at their car, glancing down to see Arthur's legs. Kneeling down, he tugged at Arthur's pants leg.

"Hey, I'm here!"

He had not heard the other man coming and so was taken by surprise by the tug on his pant leg, jerking and nearly hitting his head. Grumbling, Arthur slid out from beneath the car, grabbing a rag to wipe the grime from his hands. He glared up at the young man that was his partner, predictably holding his bag of food.

“You’re late,” he muttered, tossing the rag aside and standing, so that he could look Alfred in the eye. “We should have been on assignment half an hour ago. Is it too much to ask that we actually get started on time every now and again?” This lecture was pointless, Arthur knew it was pointless. Alfred wasn’t going to change any time soon, no matter what Arthur had to say about it. Still, he felt the need to at least let the man know he was displeased.

He dusted off his uniform and slipped his gloves back on, now that he had no further reason to waste time fiddling with the car. It was in top enough shape to get them through the night. Besides, they had business to attend to.

“We’ve already been given our assignment. There’s a bar downtown that we’re supposed to check out. It’s suspected to be a mob hangout of some sorts. Real seedy sort of place. We’re just investigating for now. No interrogations or flashing badges or anything of the kind. We’ll have to change into civilian clothes and park a few blocks away. A low profile is of utmost importance.” He eyed Alfred as he said this last part, as the man wasn’t exactly the low profile type. But then, not all that long ago, neither was Arthur.

Peter heard Arthur's squawking a mile away, and he almost thought about taking the bus home. Almost. He'd pulled an all nighter again, albeit not quite a successful one, seeing as he'd fallen asleep around five, but it was still off the clock working because he'd already wracked up enough overtime to take months off on leave. He was a dedicated kinda guy, a case needed solving and it was his job to do it. Pouring over testimonies and slight details in a case was his job, and he liked to think he was good at it, even if he spent an outrageous amount of hours on -and off- the clock. It's not like he enjoyed going home to his cold lonely apartment any way. It was just a place to house his clothes and to take a shower. Not much else. There was nothing waiting for him there, and every time he walked in he was reminded of that fact. What would he do in his spare time any way? Watch TV? Play sports by himself? Video games? Na, there was so much more he could be doing at the precinct with his time.

And thats how he liked it, really. He got one weekend off a month, and that was plenty. But Arthur chastised him every time he caught him staying more than was necessary, and often ushered him home to his cold, lonely apartment. It was annoying at best. He knew Arthur was just concerned, so he couldn't be to unhappy about it. But Peter was young, and he could still do these things, so he had no intention of stopping now. He had to much to lose.

Currently he was on his way home for a change of clothes and a quick shower, but he'd have to get past Arthur first before he could reach his car. His distinctly 'not' a police car. Peter sighed to himself and put on his best smile, hoping that Alfred would keep Arthur's attention long enough for Peter to get to his car and lock the doors. Besides, he didn't look that bad, did he? He had gotten some sleep, so he couldn't look horrible.

So he slunk out of the door that led from the precincts white halls into the sleek garage, hoping to get past his older bother with minimal, to no griping.

Alfred stood and stepped back, out of the way so Arthur could get out from under the car alright. He set the bag on the hood of the car, deciding it was probably best to mention that he'd brought Arthur leftovers later, when he wasn't in a bad mood. Or yelling. Though, he was sure Arthur would be on his case for a while, because he was clearly irritated and Arthur always let Alfred know just how irritated he was. It was just like him; the man was so tight-laced. Far too tight-laced.

"Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to be late!" Alfred replied, rubbing the back of his head. It was a little white lie, yes, but he was sure Arthur would rather hear that than "i didn't feel like getting up". "Besides, I'm here now! We can leave now, the assignment can wait a few minutes, yeah?"

He listened to the assignment, and nodded as he spoke, taking it in. A seedy place...no interrogations or flashing badges...he nodded at this, deciding that it'd be best to let Arthur do the talking. He was far better at the low-profile thing.

"Right, right, got it! Don't let anyone know we're officers, just look around for any connections for the mob." He paused then nodded again. "'Course, we gotta stay armed, yeah?" He glanced around, catching sight of Peter sneaking around, but not saying anything; he looked like he didn't want Arthur to see him and he knew that Peter would probably be scolded as well by his high-strung brother.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Yes, of course we will still need to be armed. But concealed, of course. It would be foolhardy to go into a situation like this without a weapon.”

He’d gotten all of the irritation at Alfred out of his system. Usually one good scolding was all it took and then he would be able to carry on with business as usual. He had a tendency to scold the younger man a lot, though it did make Arthur feel like a hypocrite oftentimes. He was just as bad, if not worse, during his early days as an officer. He’d never been on time, had been quick to draw his gun, and had caused quite a bit of property damage. Of course, that was back when Sedgwick was his partner. Together they had been a force to be reckoned with. They’d always gotten the job done and to hell with the red tape and the protocols. But that was some time ago, and it was that same careless attitude of theirs that had gotten them reassigned. He didn’t want such a thing to ever happen again. He had grown quite fond of having Alfred as a partner, and the possibility of being reassigned, well…it would be enough to make him up and quit like his older brother did. He didn’t want to risk it. He only hoped that his strict adherence to more orthodox methods would make up for where Alfred fell short.

He noticed Alfred glancing around and didn’t think much of it. Arthur figured he was just on the lookout for some of the higher ups that might catch him wandering in late. But the slight second of hesitation as Alfred scanned the area out of Arthur’s vision put him on suspicion. He narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms, not having to turn around to know he had another target for a scolding. He was able to catch the slightest glimpse of the younger man in the reflection from Alfred’s glasses, enough to know exactly who he was. It was easy enough to recognize a face so similar to one’s own.

“I trust you are going home to actually sleep this time, Peter,” he said, a frown on his face and a tone of seriousness to his voice. He didn’t bother turning around. He felt it was more effective when he didn’t, made him seem like more the omnipotent older brother. Even if he was cheating.

Honestly, it had been a lost cause to begin with. He'd never been much for stealth any way. He'd always been the brother that all of the others had blamed for various things, and the one to usually get in trouble for what he did. That part of their relationship, sadly, had not changed, but it was still lamentable that he wasn't going to get away without some sort of scolding. To his infinite relief Arthur didn't turn to face him. The reprimands always seemed worse when they were looking eye to eye, and Peter always had to fight to hold his ground. He could sometime win a glaring contest, but the odds were far to even for it to be a common occurrence, especially when he was still rather tiered and hadn't had his daily dose of coffee yet. Plus, he probably didn't look as well as he should. Arthur wanted him spic and span, clean as a whistle, while Peter was often quite below that mark in his actual physical composure. His work was top notch, but that went unsaid. Praise wasn't something their family was very good at, Peter included.

Peter wondered if a lie would be in poor taste. Would Arthur find out? A change of topic could usually divert his brothers attention, but Peter didn't want to give his older brother any reason to turn around. Maybe a little white lie wouldn't hurt anything. Only one way to find out.

"Just for a few hours, then I'm back on the clock! Cases don't solve themselves!" He sounded confident, he was sure of that. There was little to no weariness in his speech at all. He was infinitely thankful of that. He took the time to wave casually at Alfred as he continued along to his car. Hopefully Arthur wouldn't have any oppositions.

Alfred watched Peter when he replied. From where he was, he couldn't tell just how tired he was, but he had noticed Peter had always stayed late. The poor kid was overworking himself, he'd always thought, the poor kid needed to sleep more, rest some, get out and have fun. Just because he was a cop didn't mean he couldn't be a regular guy, Alfred had thought, but he didn't ever say so to him.

As Arthur scolded his brother, Alfred decided to check himself for all that he needed. His holster was easily hidden, and he didn't have one of his bigger guns on him, so he had nothing to leave behind, aside from his badge, handcuffs and uniform. He supposed Arthur had brought the civilian outfits for both of them, and while he didn't particularly like the way Arthur dressed, he supposed the man would have picked what was practical for them, something that wasn't too outstanding. Boring and perhaps a bit more like an old man than a man of his age. It was things like his far too old for his years behaviors that gave Alfred disbelief of the rumors that he had once been wild and overzealous. The Arthur he knew and had become accustomed to, perhaps even friends with, couldn't have ever had a wild streak. He was too uptight and tightlaced, someone like that could not have been the trigger-happy partyer that he'd been warned of when they became partners.

He was glad for that, though. He didn't want to be the one always telling him to settle down. In fact, he probably wouldn't have been here as it was. He'd have been shipped back to America before he could blink with such a partner.

Peter had always been the most upbeat of the brothers, despite being the youngest and, for most of their lives, the least misbehaved. His chipper and confident tone would have not alerted Arthur as being out of the ordinary. However trying to sneak past him without so much as a hello did. It was a courtesy that Arthur usually expected, and he seriously doubted that Peter might not have noticed they were there, not with the ass-chewing Arthur had been giving Alfred.

Turning on heel, he switched his gaze from Alfred to Peter, who was trying to make a getaway. Arthur frowned, sighing. He strongly suspected his little brother had pulled yet another all nighter, though the only evidence he had to go by was the boy’s behavior and history. Working himself too hard was what Arthur usually fussed Peter for, and the man believed that another session may be due. Peter was bordering on obsessive and his ability to focus and his health were going to start to suffer for it if he wasn’t careful. In this line of work, being at anything but your best could cost you heavily.

And here was Arthur, with a partner that was forever tardy, and a brother he couldn’t make go home. And of course the task of keeping them in line fell to him. He knew they were both less than appreciative of his lectures, but as long as the possibility remained that they might actually listen to him one of these days, he was going to keep at them.

“Damn it, Peter, you need a real night’s sleep!” he said, stepping closer and eyeing the man who looked so much like a slightly younger version of himself, although a bit disheveled, looking as if he’d been sleeping in his clothes. “What use will you be to anyone if you’ve exhausted yourself? You can’t just run yourself ragged and still expect to carry on with business as usual.” He stopped in front of Peter and gave him a light smack on the forehead. “Am I going to have to drug you to make you sleep a full night?”

Peter couldn't help the roll of his eyes that came at Arthur's nagging. It was always like this, both of them were to hard headed to listen to the other any way, and Peter was actually not as rested as he'd like to be for this sort of exchange. The few hours he had gotten of shut eye in his office had surely done him well, but not well enough to keep his temper in complete check. "I'm not a baby, I'm old enough to make my own decisions. And as far as I can tell I've made some pretty good ones so far. Now, I'm going back to the apartment for a few hours of sleep-" Lie, he only wanted a shower and a change of clothes really "-and then I'll be back on the job. I have things that need doing. I don't have time to be wasting."

He gave his older brother a defiant look, knowing that he might have crossed a line, and if he wasn't he was surely pushing boundaries. But Arthur was in between him and a nice cold shower, some black coffee followed shortly by a piping hot cup of tea to take care of the horrible favor the coffee left in his mouth.

Arthur’s hands went up in the air in exasperation and he wanted nothing more than to give the stubborn little upstart a swift kick in the pants. But brother or no, Arthur was on the clock and such behavior would no doubt be frowned upon. So he settled on a glare, folding his arms back across his chest.

“If I didn’t have places to be, I’d drive you home myself and lock you in until you got your full eight hours. But unfortunately, I’m on assignment. But if you get yourself killed because you were too tired to be at your best, then don’t expect me to show at your funeral, you stubborn git.” He frowned heavily. His words were harsh, harsher than he really would have liked, but he had no better way to drive his point home at the moment. He really did have places to be and he and Alfred were already running late. Arthur turned on heel and walked back towards his waiting partner, who looked as if he really would rather stay out of the brotherly argument. He paused for a moment, considering. With the risks of their jobs, he really didn’t like leaving Peter with such words right before parting ways. He looked back at his brother from over his shoulder.

“Be safe driving home. Don’t nod off at the wheel or anything. I’ll give you a ring to check in with you when we’re all done. Maybe we can take a break and go for a pint.”

With that, he turned back and stepped towards the car. “I’m driving,” he said to Alfred, his tone leaving no room for argument. He’d spent the early part of his shift working on the damn thing, he wasn’t about to just sit back in the passenger’s side. He took his seat, adjusting his mirrors, putting on his seatbelt and starting her up. The car protested at first, as it always did, but it turned over on the third try and it rumbled nicely.

Alfred had wanted to drive. Arthur drove slower than Alfred did most of the time, after all, and Alfred really just wanted to get there and get to work because they were already late, but before he could even protest, Arthur was in the driver's seat. Sure, if Alfred really wanted to drive he could easy shove Arthur into the next seat, for he was bigger, but the guy had just fought with his little brother, so he figured, at least on the way there, Arthur could drive. And besides, they were late. Maybe Arthur would bend the rules just a bit and drive faster.

"Fine, you'll drive, but I'm driving back!" He said, going around the car. He scoots his seat back to make more room and buckles up, frowning when the car doesn't start on the first try. When it finally does, he relaxes back in his seat, glancing at Arthur. "We need a new car." He comments. "Maybe we can bring it up to the bigwigs, and get a car that actually works and stuff." Alfred watches Arthur's expression, hoping he doesn't get angry with him, too.

Ah, the work issue. Peter often forgot that Arthur was a hard worker as well, and was very dedicated to his job. It was something that had taken a lot of getting used to, considering that Peter had been present for most Arthur's hellish childhood, where he disregarded all rhyme or reason for whatever suited his fancy at that particular moment. It had been Peters first taste of what was entirely unacceptable, and though Arthur had changed almost overnight as far as Peter could tell, it was still hard to remember how dedicated Arthur had become. But today it was a saving grace. Arthur was on his way to whatever his assignment for the day was, and that was to keep him out of Peters hair, for now.

The funeral talk was pretty harsh, but it really wasn't hitting below the belt as far as Peter was concerned. All of them had horrible tempers and could hold a grudge well past the grave, though the thought that his favorite older brother wouldn't come to his funeral was a little depressing to think about.

None the less, Peter watched as Arthur stalked away with a glare in his eye and a sour note to his complexion. He really didn't know what to say in response. He'd gotten what he wanted, which was Arthur out of his hair, but he wasn't going to leave until he was sure Arthur wasn't going to come over and verbally assault him again. So he stood there with a stony look on his face till Arthur turned around, and uttered what might as well have been a full blown apology as far as Kirkland speech was concerned.

Peter blinked a few times, and found he didn't know exactly what to say to that. His brain obviously wasn't working on full cylinders, cause by the time he'd come up with something to say Arthur was already slamming the car door closed and revving the engine while Alfred slid into the passengers seat.

"Sure.." Peter stuttered out softly, more to himself than to Arthur, because surely Arthur couldn't hear him by now. He watched for a few more minutes as the car came to life and the two partners exchanged some banter that Peter couldn't quite hear. It struck him suddenly that he was lonely, that he didn't quite want them to peal out and go to work on a job that could potentially be dangerous. But a few seconds after that thought came to life Peter mercilessly strangled it.

Groaning to himself, Peter turned on his heals and went for his own car, starting up the engine and getting to his favorite radio station. A cold shower, some over caffeinated coffee, and a piping hot cup of tea never sounded better, he assured himself.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “If you don’t annoy me too much between now and then, I might let you drive back. Maybe…

He watched through the mirror as Peter headed to his own car. Arthur was truly concerned for his brother. He didn’t want him to be crushed under the overwhelming demands of the job. He’d seen it happen before. He sighed, hoping that Peter would one day listen to him and take care of himself. After all, how could he ever hope to help the people he served if he couldn’t even help himself?

He turned his attention back to Alfred, shaking his head dismissively at the comment. It wasn’t the first time Alfred had said they needed a new car. He didn’t have the patience for their current one and Arthur had seen him practically drooling over the newer models. Just like an American to just want to upgrade rather than repair what they had. “If you want to be the one to ask the Commandant to channel the department’s already strained funds into a new car for a couple of foreign officers on loan to the Bureau, then by all means, go for it. Just let me know when you plan to do it so I can be there to scrap you off the floor after he chews you up and spits you out.” He shifted the gear and began to pull out of the garage. “Besides, this car is still perfectly good. It’s just a little ornery at times.”

He exited the garage and headed in the direction of the bar they were supposed to be checking out. “I’ve got some civilian clothes in the back. We have to dress like the rest of the patrons so that we don’t stand out.” Arthur had based his choices on the intel he was given. Seemed the place was a somewhat classy lounge. Not suits or smoking jackets nice, but not the torn and baggy clothes type of place either. For himself, he had packed a pair of stone-colored pants, a long-sleeved black dress shirt, and long gray trench coat, fitting for the weather that time of year. For Alfred, he’d grabbed a blue shirt as well as a pair of jeans and a brown jacket he’d taken from the man’s locker. He hoped that would be sufficient. The coats were an absolute necessity if they were to keep their weapons inconspicuously concealed.

When it came to the car, Alfred had been disappointed. It was one of the most exciting parts of coming to Italy, in his opinion. The sexy cars. And they were stuck with an old one. Naturally, he was disappointed with that. Alfred had just figured that Arthur didn't understand how he felt about cars, or how important they were to their image. After all, he dressed like an old man, so he'd assumed that appearances had never been too important. "When you say it like that, it sounds like we'd get shipped back to where we came form for suggesting it! And besides. If it doesn't work, we can't do our job. It's necessary." At least, he thought so.

Alfred watched the shops and the other drivers as they drove, the stops with names he didn't understand and the fashionable men and women (as well as the not so fashionable) that they passed. He only sort of listened to Arthur, nodding. "Yeah, 'course." At the mention of the clothes, he glances back to the backseat. He grinned a bit. Apparently, Arthur did have some tastes. That was his best (and favorite) jacket. It hid that gun he always kept with him better than any other jacket he had. "Hey, you got the bomber!"