A/N:This story was based on this prompt given to me on tumblr: "Pairing: Mystrade Word: Taco".
Not Dining Room Food
Mycroft looked up when he heard the front door open and shut softly. "Gregory," he called out, "is that you?"
"Yes, love," Greg answered. He'd told his boyfriend time and again he could call him Greg, but Mycroft insisted on using his full first name. Honestly, he kind of liked it coming from him. "I've brought dinner."
"I thought we'd be going out."
Greg entered the parlor and set a paper bag on the small table in front of Mycroft. "You always take me out, show me what it's like to live like you. Thought I'd show you a bit of what it's like for normal people. If you're up for it."
Mycroft stood and embraced him, trying to relax himself as much as to relax Gregory. "Of course I am willing, for you."
There was a hint of a smile on Greg's face as he pulled away and placed a small kiss on his lover's lips. "Thanks. Here," he sat on the sofa and opened the bag.
"Are we not eating in the dining room?"
Greg chuckled. "Not exactly dining room food, My."
Mycroft's poker face was firm as he watched a few small paper packages be pulled from the bag. He was handed one and opened it, inspecting the strange shell and soft contents. The greasy smell had him curious, but not necessarily in a bad way. "What is it?"
"You've really never had a taco?"
A shake of the head. "Can't say that I have. My apologies."
"No worries," Greg smiled. He knew Mycroft wasn't used to these sorts of things, and didn't hold it against him. He was always willing to give things a chance, at least. "Just try it. If you don't like it I can still cook for us."
Mycroft took a small bite, a little nervous about being watched by Greg. "This is… not bad.
Greg's lips spread into a wide smile. Because he knew what that meant. "Not bad? I know that means you like it, My."
"Yes, well, perhaps that's all due to the company."
