Mycroft pulled the salad out of the fridge, and put it on the counter, while he checked the timer on the lasagna. A few more minutes, and then time to cool - should be perfectly prepared after the salad course.

Looking over at Gregory, he swallowed for a moment before going to pick up the salad. He would now be putting some self-control pressure in not pressing the man against the spot where he was leaning against the counter. The man really had to make himself less tempting.

The comment about Adalaide, however, turned into something traitorously close to warmth in his chest. "Well, perhaps sometime in the future ... when you deem it so, I shall be around for pancakes."

See, there, judicious application of, 'I will risk a sleep-over if you will so we are not denying ourselves or your daughter'. He nodded towards the wine bottle, carrying the salad out to the dining room.

"I spend most of my time at cocktail functions - dreadfully boring but one does learn what the best wines are. That one is a particular favorite." He eyed the dining table critically - perfectly set out 'second-best' china so he would not make Gregory uncomfortable, water sitting out to help with the wine, and unlit candles.

He put the salad down, and pulled out a chair for Gregory, before he cleared his throat, "...There are candles, if you would like them? Instead of the dining room lights."

He mentally sighed at himself. Social norms for dating were so ... cliche, but cliche for a reason. He wanted to do this appropriately.