This was requested by smokiquartz on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy!

"Why am I here again?"

"Because I asked you to, of course."

Greg resisted the urge to roll his eyes. That was not what he was asking Mycroft, and the older Holmes knew it. Greg had really been asking why he was at a ball (an honest to God ball, who had those these days?) with Mycroft, pretending to be his husband.

Deep down, he knew the answer to that as well: because Mycroft had asked him to. As a friendly favor, of course. Though why Mycroft would want to pretend to be married, to a man, was anyone's guess.

But here Greg was, in a suit that was probably worth more than his yearly salary, sipping wine that he couldn't pronounce, pretending to be the gay spouse of his friend's brother.

The things he did for the Holmes family…

It was interesting to see Mycroft in his element. Usually Greg only saw him when Mycroft wanted information on Sherlock or needed him to do something. And then, he was usually abducted by Mycroft's driver and taken to a third party location. But now… Mycroft looked well at ease discussing with a Middle Eastern man about…well, Greg didn't have a clue what they were discussing, since the conversation wasn't in English.

Instead, he waited next to Mycroft until the man had moved on to the next conversation, "So how many languages do you speak?"

Mycroft simply smiled enigmatically, "Three times as many as Sherlock. Perhaps more."

Because that was specific. "So is there a reason…"

"Yes."

One of these days, Greg was going to lose patience with the Holmes way of answering questions. But for now he seemed to put up with it.

"Mr. Holmes!"

Greg blinked, looking at the heavily made up woman making her way to them. She certainly was a lovely woman, if a bit older (granted, she probably only looked older because she was attempting to look younger). And, judging by the tight expression on Mycroft's face, he was not looking forward to discussing with her.

"Hello, Madame Roche. How has your trip to London been?" Mycroft was gracious as always. His people skills were infinitely more refined than Sherlock's (even if that wasn't saying much).

The woman, Madame Roche, beamed, "Really Mr. Holmes, call me Camille!" she laughed lightly, reaching out and touching Mycroft's arm. "And London has been marvelous, especially when I have such a wonderful guide."

"Camille then. Camille, this is my husband Gregory." Mycroft cleared his throat, looking at Greg, "I told you about him, didn't I?" As if to emphasize his point, he placed a hand on the small of Greg's back.

Ah, it made sense now. And to think, a man as powerful as Mycroft Holmes had to have a fake lover to divert the attentions of an unwanted suitor. But he could play the game, Greg smiled to himself, reaching out and wrapping his arm around Mycroft's waist. "It's wonderful to meet you."

Camille's smile lessened slightly, but was still there, "Oh? And here I thought you were making him up."

"Make me up?" Greg chuckled, giving Mycroft's waist a squeeze, "I know Mycroft doesn't mention me much at work, but surely I'm not a complete ghost."

Mycroft looked at Greg, looking his best to look loving, "You know how much I like keeping our home life and my work separate, love."

Greg wrinkled his nose slightly at the love comment, but didn't say anything. Instead, he looked back at Camille, "You'd think I'm his dirty little secret or something."

Camille tittered, her bright red lips pressed into a tight line, "How adorable! It's a shame how all the good ones are taken, gay, or in this case, both."

It was Mycroft's turn to laugh, "Well that wasn't the case with Greg here, at least not when I got to him."

Part of Greg wanted to argue that it still was true. He was still straight and happily divorced. But that would completely defeat the purpose of him being there.

"Mycroft Holmes, why I never!" Camille was bright red, "I never would have thought you had it in you!"

"I didn't know he had it in him either." Greg chuckled, trying to fight the blush creeping on his cheeks.

It was then that a lively waltz sounded in the ballroom. Camille grinned, "Come now, let's see the happy couple dance!"

Greg paled for a moment, unsure what to do. But Mycroft didn't hesitate, taking Greg's hand and leading him out to the dance floor.

"Wait, what are we doing?" Greg whispered, "I don't know how to dance the woman's part of a waltz."

"So you can dance the man's part. Excellent." Mycroft nodded, placing his hand on Greg's shoulder, "You dance, I'll follow you."

Before Greg could question further, Mycroft had taken Greg's hand and it was all he could do to keep up with the waltz, placing his hand on Mycroft's waist.

"So where did you learn to waltz, Gregory?" Mycroft asked softly, his posture straight and elegant as always.

"What, the great Mycroft Holmes doesn't know?" Greg chuckled, "My mother taught me, she thought it would be a good skill for me to have. But I think the more important question here is, why do you know how to dance the woman's part in the waltz?"

Mycroft gave him a small smirk, "Not just the waltz, Gregory." He leaned in whispering in his ear, "While this marriage is a charade, only one of us is pretending to be homosexual."

That brought back Greg's blush full force. It would seem that Sherlock wasn't the only one who inherited the Holmes bluntness. "So did you just trick me into a date?"

"Trick you? Of course not, that would imply I manipulated you into doing something you didn't want to do." Mycoft chuckled, "I simply asked you for a favor, which you have done so wonderfully. Now asking you for a date would be suggesting that we get dinner next weekend, when you are not on duty."

Greg blinked, "Wait, are you asking me out?"

"I can have a car sent to you at 6, Friday evening."

"I didn't say yes!" He hissed, bright red.

"Nor did you say no."

There was a moment Greg thought to argue the point. But then he remembered that he was dealing with a Holmes, "This better be one delicious dinner."

Mycroft only smirked, looking confident as always.

There you go! Let me know what you think!