brotherthine | For Mousie - Anticipation of Pleasure

For Mousie - Anticipation of Pleasure

Mycroft had arranged entire countries over the course of a few days, but he never felt the thrill of pleasure and anticipation that came from clearing his Tuesday evening to meet with Gregory Lestrade. He had done a solid eight hours of work on Sunday, going through emails, red-lettering reports, writing five of his own. Monday he went in and told Anthea precisely what he needed over the next forty-eight hours, and like the miracle that she was, she made sure his schedule ran like clock-work.

With sandwiches, salad, tea and a review on the Government's policy for romantic engagements and privacy disclaimers, no less. Not to mention not one, but two cigarette breaks.

He bought her a new holster for her slinky-dress .22, and made sure she had tickets to the ballet that she had been dying to see. It was the very least he could do considering he was getting precisely what he wanted.

...well, mostly what he wanted. Tuesday night was rolling around towards 8 pm, and he was slowly considering calling in favors to have President Donald Trump and his entire staff of idiots bombed out of existence by some very disgruntled Canadians. Instead, he checked the timer on his lasagna, made sure that his salad was freshly cut, and then proceeded to give a Trump a blistering review of his entire life than left everyone in the Oval Office silent for some time, before someone croaked, 'You can't possibly know all that -'

Which was the point that Mycroft sucked in a breath, heard the ring of the doorbell and went to pull open the door and gesture Gregory inside without a backwards glance. It was unfortunate, but all of his focus now had to go into the next two minutes so he could finish this deal and have the rest of his evening.

"I could so possibly. I could possibly ruin every last one of you sniveling idiots with a stroke of my pen and my whisper in the ear of any of the many, many American publications. I know it all, gentlemen and ladies. I know about the bought sex. I know about the wire transfers. I most definitely know about the abortions that would politically cripple all of you within your own party. I also know that the last time a fascist leader tried to pull this sort of threat to the British Government, the British Government did not budge an inch. Neither, gentlemen, will I. Sign the agreement. Smile for the cameras. Or be prepared to be on the front of every newspaper in the world, and in jail within the next eighteen months. Good. Night."

He clicked off his phone, and exhaled, rubbing one hand over his face. "My apologies - the new American President is unfortunately as thick as a post. I also meant to go and put my suit coat back on from the kitchen but that did not occur either."

So here he was in his favorite dark grey suit - or at least most of it. Comfortable trousers, deep blue tie, and he had at least shaven today. Otherwise, he knew he still had his persona of the British Government up and running, so he took another breath so he could finally look properly at Gregory, and soak in the other man's charm and warmth, as well as peer to see what the other man was flaunting with his broad shoulders.

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If you could just take your hand out of your trousers right now before I embarrass myself, that would be great, thanks. Greg thought as Mycroft answered. Because, putting his hands in his pockets, stretched the material across...certain...delectable parts of Mycroft's lower half and Greg was trying really hard to keep his eyes focused on the top half. Preferably above the neck.

"Wine Yes, wine would be great thanks." He followed Mycroft into the kitchen, trying not to look like a kid in a museum.

Part of him was feeling a bit smug. Mycroft had seen his house first and still wanted to to have this dinner. The other smaller part was panicking because Mycroft had seen his dinky flat. What must he think? He had this and to walk into a tiny two bedroom, one bathroom flat, he was right, he could fit his house into Mycroft's sitting room.

Once he stepped into the kitchen, however, he tilted his head a bit. The kitchen looked less like a kitchen and more like a...well, he wasn't sure. But despite having a fridge and a range and a bit of countertop, kitchen was not the first thing that came to mind.

"You...don't cook a lot, do you?" he asked playfully, the side of his mouth curling into a grin.

It was rather like a museum - Mycroft liked his old things, and while the house itself had a definite Tudor feel about it, most of the furniture would be considered Art Deco. The kitchen though ... well. People often said that kitchens were the heart of a home. Mycroft's heart was clearly not in this room. In fact, this room was made as inhospitable as possible, to keep Mycroft from wandering in here.

He went to the bottle of wine sitting already on the counter, the cork pulled so it could breath, and poured two glasses of wine. Rich, red, earthy ... one of his favorites with Italian dishes. He glanced over at Gregory at his question, before one corner of his mouth twisted up. "No, I do not. I usually do not have the time. Take-away salads, light meals out with meeetings, that is my usual fare. Home-cooked meals are not something I have been used to in a long time."

He handed over one of the glasses, looking at Gregory for a moment. Honesty had worked well, so far. "It was ... a true pleasure, being able to share that with you and Adalaide."

His fingers brushed against Gregory's purposefully, before he cleared his throat and went to the fridge. "I thought we could eat in the dining room - it is, as everything else here - 'over-sized' but in the right lighting it can be intimate enough."

He felt the purposeful brush of fingers down to his toes. With a quick pause somewhere around his groin as a reminder that yes, this was happening tonight. If a brush of fingers did this to him, he thought as he loosened his collar, what the hell would the rest of the evening hold? More importantly, would he survive it without the embarrassment of messing his pants like a spotting pre-teen?

Deciding to start out with the easy opening Mycroft had given him, he leaned against the counter.

"Addy loved you. Couldn't stop talking about you the entire of the next day. I think she might have been a bit disappointed that your weren't there for pancakes the next morning."

Wouldn't mention about how he was definitely disappointed about that fact as he sipped the wine.
"Cor, this is delicious! Do you ever do anything by halves? Anyway, apparently you made an impact as she's been telling everyone about her new friend."

He probably shouldn't tell him about the uncomfortable conversation he'd had with Rebekah on Monday when she called to inform him about Addy's "disrespectful" behavior towards Charlie. Nor tell him about the subsequent third degree he'd gotten and He's a friend Rebekah, yes friends were not in the divorce agreement I signed .

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.

Edited 2018-09-10 16:33 (UTC)

It was ridiculously clichéd. Candlelit dinner. They were forty something year old men.
And yet, the idea of it was so sweet that it hit Greg just under the heart.

He gave a soft smile, putting his glass down and reaching out finally to press his hand against Mycroft's who was still holding the chair back.

"You know, candles actually sound really nice."

He put the wine bottle that he'd brought from the kitchen onto the table carefully before he sat down.

"Are you sure you don't need help?" he asked as he sat. "I mean, I know you're going for the entire date thing but I feel useless just sitting here while you finish dinner."

He peered at the table settings, Oh, so that's what completely matching dinnerware looked like. Nice. and then glanced around the room.
"Stupid question," he said as he looked at the table that could easily seat eight comfortably. "You are going to sit close to me, right? None of that all the way on the other side of the table like they did in fairy tales." Although, I am not a beauty and you most certainly are not a beast

Gregory's fingers pressed against his own and Mycroft suddenly remembered what it felt like for skin to brush against skin and create an instantaneous sizzling flexing of nerves and blood. He breathed in, sharply, before he felt his mouth twitch up at the corners. He nodded once, before he went over to the buffet to pull out the matches. Lighting one candle after another, then dimming the lights so everything was softened by candles.

"Well, you have promised dessert. If you wish to serve salad, I shall call us completely even." He smiled, as he paused, then gently brushed his fingers over Gregory's shoulder. "You sit there, and I am sitting right there." He nodded to the chair that was kitty-corner to Gregory's. As close as they could be. "Now while it would be amusing to yell down the table for salt -- I wanted to be able to actually have conversation."

He tipped up his chin, "I shall be right back, get your dessert into the refrigerator. Lasagna out of the oven -- then we can get started."

Oh hell He'd completely forgotten he'd just put the box of macaron's on the counter when he'd walked in. The sight of a not quite put together Mycroft actually growling at someone on the phone the moment he walked in threw everything else out of his brain.

He stood up, picking up the salad bowl and giving them both an average serving of salad on what he really hoped was the salad plate. If it wasn't he was going to look like a right arse when Mycroft returned.

The smell of pasta, sauce and cheese hit him before he even spotted Mycroft returning with the plate and he groaned.

"Oh Christ, that smells delicious! Sorry, I didn't get a chance to eat lunch today and I'm starved."

Turning in his seat, he grinned seeing Mycroft walk in with the plate.

"You know," he said, his brain forgetting to work in collaboration with his mouth. "That is a sight I could definitely get used to seeing."

Oh...hell, that was actually said out loud.

If you do not stop getting orgasmic over food, I cannot be held responsible for my actions. Was Mycroft's wry, internal response. Still, he was pleased it had turned out well enough that Gregory was in fact excited about eating it. He paused as he handled the hot tray of lasagna out into the dining room -- feeling a touch of pink touch his ears at the comment.

Still, he couldn't help himself, as he drawled, "Oh really? Is this some sort of kink, Gregory? Should I be wearing an apron and pearls?" He smirked as he put the lasagna down where it could properly cool, and put himself into his chair. He hadn't bothered to put his suit coat back on. Might as well keep it from getting possibly splattered.

He glanced over the candlelight at Gregory, and decided some quid pro quo was probably in order. One ... embarrassingly honest statement for another. "You look very handsome, if I have not mentioned it. I rather like you, cleaned up."

"Christ, I didn't mean it like that." Greg muttered. "I meant..." he sighed heavily, hand sliding over his face and raking through his short hair in frustration.

He glanced sideways at Mycroft's "confession", a small grin lifting at the corner of his mouth.
"Cleaned up? Am I usually a dirty mess?"

Another sigh. Ah yes, now he remembers why he's divorced. He's shite at this part of a relationship.

"I'm...nervous," he decides on full honestly. "You, at my house with Addy, it was great. Amazing, actually. But I think, subconsciously, I knew she was in the house, even when we got a little carried away on the couch, she was in the back of my mind that we couldn't really get too carried away. Here," he frowns, trying to pick his words carefully.
"There's no such barrier and well, we both sort of know or at least have an idea where we'd like this evening to end up. And...I'm nervous. That I'm going to, excuse the language, but that I'm going to completely fuck this up. Because that's what happens, I fuck things up. And no, I don't want the little housewife, nor you in a pinny and pearls. It was more seeing you there...well,"
He rubbed at the back of his neck a little embarrassed. "This is going to sound barmy, but I had this image of...well, us. Home. That's what I could get used to seeing. This," he waved towards the table. "This...Christ, you probably think I'm a nutter. Hell, if I'd heard this from anyone else, I would think they were a nutter."

Yep, this was over. He'd completely bollocked this one up. If he was lucky, he might still get dinner before being politely escorted to the door and the restraining order placed.

He really didn't want to go to Scotland. He gave a soft chuckle.

"This might be as uncomfortable as the time I told you your brother was an utter wanker before I knew you were related."

Edited 2018-09-11 19:17 (UTC)

Mycroft's lips twitched up at the corners once more, as he took up his glass of wine, "Yes, I am well aware. As for the other times ... you look downright scruffy, in a way that rather makes me want to rub my cheek against your stubble. Something I will only admit to, now."

Then he falls silent, long fingers curved around the wine glass as Greg basically ... pours out the fact that he does not want a one-night stand, or a two-night stand, or even a few weeks of pleasant distraction. He is interested in the long term, whatever that means. He likes Mycroft, a great deal apparently, and he wants Mycroft to feature in domestic fantasies. Which will include candlelit dinners, the two of them alone after a long day together, and mixed in with that, the bright light of Gregory's life, Adalaide.

He wants Mycroft as part of his world, if Mycroft really wanted to go back to the fairy tale metaphor Gregory had started.

So, he exhaled, slowly, and cleared his throat as he rose, "One thing that I have always admired about you, Gregory, is your blatant honesty with me. I think, from the moment that you called Sherlock a 'wanker' that whatever you said, you meant." He arched an eyebrow, a quiet smile on his lips, "...So. If I ... and domestic bliss, is what you desire ...then I should probably get the security paperwork from the other room so you can officially become part of my life."

Wait...paperwork?

Greg started to sweat, his breath catching in his throat as his heart beat hard against his chest.
Mycroft had a dating contract? Like an actual dating contract? God knew what it said, that he couldn't call him during certain hours, that they were exclusive and if caught with someone else he'd be forfeit a certain amount of money. Would he have to sign a non disclosure agreement also?

He frowned,the logical part of his mind kicking in, overriding the panicked flashbacks of his divorce. The man was in the British government.
One of the highest levels, no matter what he said. Of course there was going to be a non disclosure agreement for him to sign. Just in case. He wouldn't be surprised if he had a background check too.

Suddenly all of Mycroft's words made perfect sense. There was paperwork to become part of his life. Because being a part of his life was an important step, especially for Mycroft.

He scrambled out of his chair, dinner forgotten for just a moment and hurried out towards the large living room. He found Mycroft walking through the hallway carrying a folder and rushed over to him.

"Before I do anything, I need to ask you two questions." he said, wrapping a hand over the man's bare forearm.
"One, never mind what I want, is this what you want? If you only wanted the shag and maybe a dinner partner every once in a while, I'm good with that. At least I think I am. I might be right now. I don't want to pressure you into anything just because I have visions of grandeur.
And two, should we...postpone this, well not the dinner part, that's already made but the potential after desert part? I don't want to get you into any trouble or break any rules that's going to hurt this...whatever we might be starting here. Not that I don't want to, I do...Christ, do I ever. But I don't want to jeopardize anything."

He watched the man nervously. He could almost feel the heaviness of the situation. Whatever was said next had the potential to make or break them.
Plus, if Mycroft was willing to go forward with this, he would have to tell him about Rebekah. All about Rebekah.

If you did not want me to add sexual encounters into this particular moment, Gregory, you really shouldn't be holding my arm so tightly. Was the first unbidden thought through Mycroft's mind, as he held tight to the folder with the non-disclosure agreement, not to mention Gregory's updated copy of the Privacy Act that he would have to sign in triplicate.

Yet with all the absurdity, and sudden bout of lust, Mycroft lifted his gaze from where Gregory was clutching his arm and looked into those nervous brown eyes. Of all the things he was concerned about, in this moment, was whether or not Mycroft was serious about this -- and if he was that they should not be having anything sexually driven until the paperwork had posted -- because he was honestly concerned that Mycroft would get into trouble.

Mycroft licked his top lip, before tucking the folder under one arm, so he could cover Greg's hand with his own. Making sure that they were completely focused on one another. "I have something of a confession to make. I knew, from the moment that you kissed me on that couch, that I would be getting this paperwork ... because you are the only person I have ever wanted whom I simply ... let myself go with. On a physical level, and I thought perhaps, well. Since I already trust you on a personal one - I had best - what is the phrase? 'Lock this down'."

One corner of his mouth twisted, "I admit, I was going to use 'dessert' and what I shall consider my immense sexual magnetism to seduce you into bed and then when you were completely happy and sated, bring in the paperwork." An elegant shrug, "So, to answer your questions - yes, I do want this, and no ... I will not get into trouble for ... dessert. If you still want to have it, that is."

He sighed, "Security documentation is not precisely the most erotic material in the world."

Greg laughed. A quick, sharp, bright laugh of relief.

"Yes, Christ yes, dessert sounds fantastic. After dinner of course. And while I agree paperwork is not the most erotic material in the world, I don't care. I'll sign anything you need me to. in triplicate if I have too."

He wanted to kiss the man. His gaze kept dropping to the man's mouth as his spoke, especially after Mycroft licked his lip. Watching his tongue slide out even briefly, all he wanted to do was chase it back in, to pull him in by his vest and cover his mouth with his own.

But he had the presence of mind to understand that if he even dared kiss Mycroft right now, that lasagna was not getting eaten anytime soon. and he didn't want to ruin a thought out dinner with his rampant hormones. He could reign it in.

Belatedly he realized that he still had ahold of Mycroft's arm. Instead of letting go, he merely moved his hand so that Mycroft's was not entwined with his.

"Let's have dinner. You can explain the paperwork while we eat and we'll get everything sorted out that way."

He allowed the small half grin to appear on his lips for a moment.

"Although the idea that you have to seduce me into anything is frankly, a little cute. I was pretty much seduced the minute I walked into your house and saw you just like you are now."

Mycroft huffed softly, as he let himself be led back into the dining room, where their food was cooling. "I am not cute. I am imposing and alluring. Not to mention elusive."

They settled into their dinner, with Mycroft carefully explaining each bundle of papers as they came up. It was not an easy form, not by a long shot. It most definitely was not 'sexual in tone' anywhere in all the legal scale. One signature after another, Mycroft watched as Gregory choose to be with him with ink and pape, and got working to make that particular documents were completely perfect. No question mark around their relationship, thank you.

He ate and listened as Mycroft explained each and every piece of paper in the folder and signed, sometimes in triplicate, as he gave permission for a extensive dig into his past.

He'd done a less invasive search when he became of copper and another one when he joined the Yard. But this. This was going to dig into every nook and cranny of his life.

He signed the last piece of paper with trepidation and put down the pen and watched as Mycroft tapped the papers into some order that made sense to him and then lifted a pen.

A horrible thought came to him. They were going to dig up his divorce papers. Possibly the transcripts also. And the DNA testing.

"Wait." he said, looking into Mycroft's questioning gaze. He swallowed hard, reaching out and laying a brief quelling hand over Mycroft's.

He signed those papers without complaint as a way to show Mycroft he was serious about this. But just because Mycroft had said he wanted to be with him right now, didn't mean that after two hours of dealing with Rebekah Harrison-Lestrade (soon to be McGurty), he'd give up any and all pretense to Greg completely.

"I don't want you to think I don't want this, because I do. I swear I really do. But," Another hard swallow. "I need to tell you about Rebekah. Everything. And afterwards, you can chose if you still want to sign those papers. Because unfortunately, for about the next fifteen years, she is going to be a part of my life."

Mycroft was just considering that once he finally - finally - put the last signature on this paper he might actually be able to get somewhere near the proximity of at least being able to kiss Gregory again. So when Gregory put his hand down on Mycroft's in a 'No stop, do not walk into that building with explosive devices inside!' sort of urgency, Mycroft felt like whimpering.

Then, after Gregory explained why, he felt like snarling. Ah yes. Rebekah Harrison. As far as he was concerned she had given up her right absolutely to the Lestrade last name, after her appalling behavior. Now, to find out that she might actually impede him being able to have a relationship with Gregory at all, much less get anywhere closer to his actual goal this evening ...

Well.

Let us just say that by the time Mycroft put the pen down he already had two solid ways to deport her from the country. He was certain he would have a dozen more by the time that Gregory was finished.

"All right. I am listening."

He took a deep breath. There was a huge difference between telling people he had an ex wife and telling people about the ex wife.

He had the ridiculous thought that Sherlock should be here, because he could just deduce everything from Greg and he wouldn't actually have to say anything. But just as quickly the thought faded. The last person he wanted here, outside his ex, was his potential...person's younger brother. Who was probably having his own issues, he thought smugly.

"I'll spare you all the details about how we met and married and all of that," he began. "But it is important to know that when we were married, I had just gotten a position in the Yard and was working my way up the line. Rebekah was supportive of that. Promotion meant more money which mean more freedoms.
The day I got my pins for Detective Inspector was the day Rebekah told me she was pregnant. I was over the moon, the idea of being a father had always appealed to me but we were worried because with my new responsibilities it meant my hours were somewhat...well, shite." He clenched his hand to calm the nervous tremors.
She was almost eight months when I found out about the first bloke. I'd been working late hours and she was withdrawn and I chalked it up to the pregnancy. We got into a shouting match and that's when she told me it'd been going on for a better part of a year and she wasn't even sure the baby was mine. I was struck round. After a few days, we talked and decided to work it out, so I was there when Addy was born." He smiled.
"She was perfect. I had to talk to one of the nurses about DNA testing, which Rebekah threw a strop about but the Doctor ordered it and results came back that she was mine."
Another smile. "We tried for two years, or so I thought. Come to find out, mostly from your brother, that she'd been cheating on me the entirety of those two years. The last straw was a Christmas party at Sherlock's flat. I was going on holiday with the wife the next day to try to have sometime to ourselves. Your brother was being a bastard about something and rattled off in front of everyone that she was sleeping with a gym teacher. I went home that night and we had it out and she said she wanted a divorce. I hired a barrister and I fought hard, even against his suggestions, for rights to Addy. Rebekah filed under "abandonment and withholding of affections" as an excuse for her infidelity. She used my job as reasons why I shouldn't have Addy."
He took a shaky breath, rubbing a hand over his hair.
"We fought for almost a year, took a large chunk of my savings, but in the end, the judge sided a bit with me. I was granted joint legal custody, access to my daughter every other weekend, select holidays and a week every summer and winter. I also have to pay support in the form of child and spousal but it's worth it to make sure that she can't take my daughter from me. In retaliation,she likes to make my life a living hell. The thing with Charlie, the man she's been with all of this time. He keeps calling himself Adalaide's dad. Luckily, Addy is intelligent and outspoken enough that she calls him out on it. Like you heard earlier this week, she likes to try to plan events for her on my weekends and I have to make damned sure I'm there to pick Addy up and drop her off at the exact appointed time or there's hell to pay. Rebekah refuses to get married because the minute they marry, the spousal support is dropped. Every decision about Addy is a three hour argument and probably will be until she turns legal age."

He chanced a look up at Mycroft, who sat there, the same look on his face as earlier, just listening.
"Like it or not, as long as Addy is in my life, Rebekah's in my life. She's manipulative, she's cunning and there have been times that the only thing that saved me was the fact that I am on the force and therefore a call in for kidnapping was met with opposition. Especially because we were at the birthday party of my bosses' daughter who could verify exactly were we were and why we were late. So," he gave a dry smirk. "I just want you to know what you're stepping into before you sign off on that last document. You know, just in case."

Honestly ... Mycroft could have told Gregory all the things that Sherlock had. He just preferred not to dip into that particular skill unless it was absolutely necessary when he was, in fact, trying to seduce someone. Which, honestly, after hearing about Gregory's wife and how much concern Gregory had about losing his child to this vile woman? Meant he was probably not going to get anything but proper snogging until he cut at Rebekah's throat enough so she knew to back off.

Ah well. At least he now did have a dozen ways to deport her, if need arose. Until then, he would have to give her enough rope to hang herself.

He was also considering having a few words with Gregory's barrister. That custody agreement was an absolute farce. He made up his mind right then and there to have his father go over the details.

However, Gregory was waiting for an answer and since this was the second out that he had given Mycroft, quid pro quo. He plucked the pen up in one hand, and then offered the other palm up to Gregory.

"I will sign these, Gregory. Not for the reason that the very idea of this woman wants to make me do something absolutely dreadful to her, but the fact that she is fool enough to give up someone like you for someone like Charlie." He heaped disdain on the entire sentence, before continuing, "Beyond that, if you are willing to take on additional scrutiny from the Government, I believe it only fair that I deal with your hellion ex-wife."

He pauses, then says quietly, "You have given me two outs, already, Gregory. Should I be offering you one, now? You can leave my house and we could never speak of it again. I would never risk your daughter's or your happiness for mine."

Edited 2018-09-14 21:17 (UTC)

"No! No, I don't want that, God, I swear I don't."

He must have made it sound really bad if Mycroft was giving him an out, he just...wanted the man to know what he was getting into. Too many horror stories he'd heard about people with ex marriages and children leaving new relationships because the new partner didn't understand how to deal with the exes. Especially the exes that were absolutely horrible.

He took Mycroft's hand, grasping it firmly, almost like a lifeline.

"I want to be with you. But I also want you to have all of the information at your disposal before you make this decision. I'm sure this isn't going to be a day at the park for you either. If you decide you're okay with this, then by all means, sign that final paper and let's get on with this. I won't say another word about it."

His thumb rubbed over a knuckle as he spoke, eyes wide and honest. He hadn't wanted anything so much in a long damn time and he was willing to jump through whatever hoops necessary to make sure this happened.

It was the thumb grazing across his hand that really just put the final nail in the coffin for Mycroft. It was this sort of ... casual intimacy that he had never experienced. Someone who simply could comfort with a touch of their hand. He looked down at their hands together, then calmly flipped over the pages and signed his name with a slight flourish.

Then he looked back at Gregory, with all due seriousness. "If your ex-wife interferes with the running of the Government with her petty jealousies and machinations, then I want you to be prepared for the thunder that will come down. She will be censored, and silenced, as needed." He paused, realized how that sounded, and added quickly, "That does not mean assassinated. More like ... increasing legal injunctions on all parts of her life. I do not suffer fools, and I certainly won't suffer one who is going to hurt you, her own daughter, and the running of this country just so she can get 'one up' on me for daring to care about you."

He sighed, "Anything domestic, I leave in your capable hands. You lead, and I shall follow your example."

Greg grinned widely.

"If you do, please let me have a behind the scenes seat to that? I'll even bring popcorn."

He's watched Mycroft sign his name on that final paper with fluttering in his gut that spoke of Something Big Happening.

He brushed his thumb over the knuckle once more, not really wanting to let go of his hand quite yet. There was something comforting about holding his hand,something soothing.

"Well, dinner was amazing. Even with all the boring paperwork," he joked. "Did we want to do dessert? Or...dessert?"

Mycroft smirked at that, before he nodded his head judiciously.

"I promise, you shall have a front row seat."

He put all the papers back into the folder, where he would have Anthea go over them before he had then noterized. He also did not try to free his hand from Gregory's enjoying the smooth touch of fingertips against his hand.

Gregory's question gave him pause, and he asked honestly, "Are you in the mood for .... dessert, all things considered?"

With a smile, Greg pulled Mycroft's hand towards him. Eyes still fixed on the man, he pressed his lips to knuckles, each one receiving the same warm, firm kiss.

"I think, all things considered, I would really like to at least try some dessert." he said, letting go of Mycroft's hand as
he half stood and leaned over the small expanse of the table.

His hand reached out and caught the front of Mycroft's waistcoat, pulling him towards him just a little.

"Unless you really wanted those macarons." he whispered right before his lips caught Mycroft's in a kiss.

Mycroft's eyebrows hitch a little as Gregory pulls his hand towards him - and then they hitch a little higher as Gregory kissed his way across his knuckles. Mycroft was man enough to admit that his breath caught then as well.

He could hardly think of a response, to that statement, until Gregory was leaning in for that kiss. He let their lips mingle together for a moment - warm, wet, sweet and wanting - before muttering. "I would rather like to state -- hang the macaroons."

"Brilliant."

He went back in for a kiss, a deeper press of lips, warm, wanting, uncomfortable.
Leaning over this table was damned uncomfortable and begrudgingly, he had to break away.

"Sorry, I'm at an awkward angle." he chuckled lowly, standing up.

"New thought. We take the dishes into the kitchen and soak them, wrap up the leftovers for later and then discuss dessert?"

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