Greg woke to the sound of a growling stomach, which was not very pleasant in two ways. One, because he was hungry, and being hungry was always unpleasant; and two, because the digital clock on the left-hand side of his bed indicated that it was ten minutes past six in the morning. But on the bright side, it was a weekend, meaning he could just go back to sleep until one. And sleeping until one not only meant that he could ignore the increasing rumbling noises coming from his abdomen until lunchtime, but also that when he woke up, Mycroft would be back from his work trip the night before. Paris, he thought he recalled him mentioning as he rushed through the door to where Anthea (slash Cara, Amanda and Isabelle) was waiting with yet another sleek black car. He was probably eating a croissant right at that very moment.
His stomach complained at the thought of the various French pastries drifting through his mind. Shaking off the images of pain au chocolats and brioches, Greg turned over onto his side (the side facing away from the glowing red numbers – he didn't want to be kept awake because he was watching the time) and let his eyes drift shut.
They didn't stay shut for long.
Beside him, another warm body slipped in between the sheets and wrapped their arms around him, nestling their nose into the back of his neck and hair. It didn't take Greg many guesses to decide who the body belonged to. "I thought you were coming back at lunchtime," he grunted into the pillow, opening one eye and straining to turn his head around. The effort granted him the sight of a suited Mycroft. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when his search for an umbrella sharing the bed proved negative. Mycroft drew back to look him in the eye and raise an amused eyebrow.
"I'm glad you're so happy to see me back early."
"I can't be arsed to muster the energy needed to be happy this early in the morning." Mycroft chuckled, sending a slight tremor through Greg's body where they touched. Suddenly he felt considerably more awake. Mycroft eased his head back into the back of his neck and ran his thumb back and forth over his hip, sending a different sort of tremor through him. Greg attempted a growl, which came out as more of a choked sigh. Mycroft's thumb paused.
"Too early?" he whispered, his breath tickling Greg's neck and forcing him to move back until they were slotted together perfectly, their bodies wrapped comfortably around one another. Greg felt Mycroft smile as he suppressed a yawn. "I'll assume that translates to yes. Go back to sleep." He felt Mycroft's hand shift into a more sleep-appropriate position on his body, and immediately his eyelids began to close again. "We can talk more when you're awake."
"I'm awake," Greg murmured, the words slurring together as his brain shut down and his mouth fell asleep. Mycroft's lips found his and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. The possibility that Mycroft had put some sort of sleep serum on his lips to ensure that he slept soundly until he needed to wake up only had moments to cross his mind before sleep (whether drug-induced or not) took him away.
But throughout all his dreams, Greg could still feel that one warm hand around his waist.