Chapter Four: Day Three

'How's Mycroft doing?' John Watson asked.

Greg turned to lean against the counter and look at his boyfriend.

'He couldn't sleep last night,' Greg said and watched as Mycroft stabbed at the remote with his index finger. 'And he's very... well he keeps snapping at everything, including the cushions. Apparently they're purposely rearranging themselves to annoy him.'

'So he's irritable?' John asked.

'Yeah,' Greg said. 'He's been shouting at the TV for forty minutes. Something about the FBI agent being dressed too well to be straight.'

'He is!' Mycroft shouted and Greg smiled. 'Look at the suits he wears! They are far too tight to allow proper movement!'

'You were tight suits,' Greg pointed out.

'And I'm gay!' Mycroft retorted. 'You just proved my point!'

Greg chuckled. 'What about David Tennant? He wears tight suits in Doctor Who and he's straight.'

Mycroft glared at him and cursed. He fell back onto the couch and scowled as the Bones theme played on the TV.

John laughed into the phone. 'Don't worry, it'll pass. Typical symptom.'

'I hope so,' Greg said.

'And insomnia is a common symptom too. It's why so many alcoholics relapse; they drink to get some sleep.'

'What about not eating?' Greg asked. 'He hasn't had anything in three days.'

'I'm not hungry,' Mycroft muttered and fast-forwarded through the two main characters talking. Mycroft preferred the dead-body parts.

'You have to make him eat,' John said. 'He'll be feeling nauseous, probably stomach cramps too. But just make him eat something small and dry. Try biscuits or some toast.'

'And how do you propose I get him to do that?'

'Well, when Sherlock doesn't want to eat I promise him something... er... you know...'

'Right, right,' Greg said. 'But I already made some promises in that area.'

'Okay,' John said. 'I dunno then.'

'Thanks, you're a big help,' Greg said and John chuckled.

'No worries,' the doctor said and hung up.

Greg slipped his phone into his pocket and went through Mycroft's cupboards. There was nothing edible and he sighed. 'Myc?'

'What?' Mycroft asked and poked at his remote. 'Why won't this stop?'

Greg approached and saw that the DVD was still fast forwarding. Mycroft cursed and shook the remote, making Greg smile. He took it and pressed rewind until a body popped up on the screen. He stopped and turned the volume down as the characters went over the remains.

'Thank you,' Mycroft said shortly and folded his arms.

Greg smiled. 'No worries. Erm, Myc?'

'Yes?'

'I need to go out and get some food.'

'I'm not hungry.'

Greg sighed. 'You need food, Mycroft.'

'I'm not hungry,' the politician repeated.

'Mycroft,' Greg warned.

'Yes?'

Greg groaned. 'Why are you being so difficult?'

'I'm not,' Mycroft huffed. 'I said I'm not hungry yet you continue to bring up the subject.'

'You haven't eaten in three days.'

'And?'

Greg stared at him. 'Mycroft, you're not making this any easier.'

'I never said I would.'

He glared at the TV and Greg ran his hands through his hair. 'Right, how about we make a deal?'

Mycroft's eyes slid to rest on him. 'What kind of deal?' he asked.

'A sexual one.'

The politician's eyes lit up but he kept his face neutral. 'Go on.'

'One kiss for every meal you have,' Greg said. 'Finish all your food, no matter how sick you feel, and I'll kiss you.'

Mycroft watched him carefully before biting his lip. 'What if I throw up?'

'Doesn't matter,' Greg said. 'Eat and I'll kiss you.'

'As well as the kiss at night?'

'Yes,' Greg nodded.

Mycroft paused again and looked him over slowly. He couldn't quite believe that something as simple as kissing could make him feel so... excited. He found that he was fully prepared to do as Gregory wished as long as he got to taste the man on his lips. Finally Mycroft nodded and said, 'Very well.'

'Good. Well I have to go and get some food. Will you be okay here?'

'I'm a grown man, Gregory, I can take care of myself.'

'Okay,' Greg said. He leaned forward and kissed Mycroft on the cheek. 'I'll be back soon.'

'Please hurry,' Mycroft said quickly. Greg chuckled and went to put on his shoes.

{oOo}

Greg bought bread, biscuits, and a lot of other dry food as well as some chicken, vegetables and salad. Mycroft was still in an annoyed mood and watched as Greg unpacked all the groceries and put them away.

'Not going to help?' he asked and Mycroft shook his head.

He was sulking so Greg shrugged and went about making dinner. He cooked the chicken breasts and drained them before making a dry salad. He drizzled sauce over his own chicken and vinegar over his lettuce. He took both plates to the table and set them down.

Mycroft stared at him from the kitchen and Greg said, 'So you don't want that kiss?'

With a sigh, Mycroft dragged himself to the table and sat down. He took his fork and knife, cutting up the chicken. He brought a piece to his lips and hesitated.

Greg kept his eyes on Mycroft and took a bite of his own, chewing quickly and swallowing. He purposely licked his lips slowly and watched as Mycroft's eyes followed the movement.

With a sigh and curse, Mycroft popped the chicken into his mouth and chewed. Greg grinned as he swallowed and stabbed at another piece of chicken.

'You hate me,' Mycroft said.

'Do not,' Greg replied and stood to get two glasses of water. When he got back he saw that half of Mycroft's chicken was gone. There was nowhere he could have hidden it and Greg grinned.

Mycroft scowled but ate all his chicken.

'Salad too,' Greg said.

'But I ate the chicken!'

'Mycroft.'

'Fine,' Mycroft grunted. He ate all the salad, pushing the plate away when he was done. He took a huge gulp of water and looked at Greg expectantly, bright blue eyes wide. He kind of looked like a lost puppy and Greg purposely ignored him; he didn't need his resolve crumbling now.

Greg continued to eat and saw Mycroft huff from the corner of his eye. He smiled and took his time, enjoying his meal and the fact that Mycroft had eaten everything. When he was done he took the plates into the kitchen and placed them in the sink. He turned to find Mycroft before him.

Mycroft didn't wait. He wrapped his arms around Greg's waist and hauled him in until their bodies were pressed against each other. He looked down at Greg and smiled at the small blush that had crept up his boyfriend's face.

Mycroft leaned down and brushed his lips lightly against Greg's. 'I ate all my food.'

'Yeah,' Greg said and swallowed. 'You did.'

'Do I get my reward now?'

Greg nodded quickly.

'Or should we wait?' Mycroft asked and drew back slightly.

Greg pushed himself up and their lips connected. He raised his arms and draped them over Mycroft's shoulders as the taller man pushed him back into the counter. Mycroft groaned and kissed him harder, sucking at Greg's bottom lip.

He opened his mouth and let Mycroft's tongue in, moaning softly at the taste, the feel. He missed doing this every day but was adamant he'd stick to his promise. Mycroft needed something to fight for.

Greg's arse was hurting from being pushed up against the counter and moved to get more comfortable. Mycroft whined but Greg captured his lips again, not ready to stop, and moved one of his hands to cup his boyfriend's face.

Mycroft guessed this probably qualified as two kisses but didn't bring it up. Instead he smiled against Greg's lips and hauled him towards the couch in the living room.

'Mycroft,' Greg warned but didn't break the kiss.

'Still... kissing,' Mycroft managed and dropped onto the leather, taking the DI with him. 'Not... breaking... the rules...' He pushed himself up against Greg and groaned as he gripped the older man's hips, wanting to touch and squeeze the flesh beneath. But Greg wouldn't let him do that, not until the end of the month.

Greg moved to run a hand down to Mycroft's thigh, loving the warmth and feel. He so very badly wanted to rip Mycroft's clothes off and devour him completely. But he couldn't, not yet.

With a curse, Greg pulled back and sat up, moving away from Mycroft. Mycroft remained on his back panting, staring at the ceiling.

'That was way more than one kiss,' Greg said.

Mycroft chuckled. 'I didn't hear you complaining.'

'You always break the rules,' Greg commented.

His boyfriend sat up and smiled at him. 'I wouldn't be the British Government if I didn't.'

Greg rolled his eyes and Mycroft just smiled.

{oOo}

That night Greg kept himself in check. Standing, he grabbed Mycroft after the politician had changed into his pyjamas. Greg wrapped one arm around Mycroft's waist and raised his other hand to cup Mycroft's cheek. Slowly Greg leaned up and pressed his lips lightly against Mycroft's. Mycroft dropped his hands to rest on Greg's shoulders and closed his eyes, enjoying the kiss, the soft touches, everything.

He opened his mouth to invite Greg in but the DI refused, limiting himself to a soft kiss. Mycroft whined and Greg smiled against him, gripping Mycroft's hip tighter.

Mycroft opened his mouth again but still Greg refused. Finally he pushed his own tongue out but could only swipe it along Greg's lips when he denied the taller man entry.

'Not fair,' Mycroft mumbled against him. Greg chuckled and pulled back but kept his arm around Mycroft. 'Gregory.'

'Yes?'

'I want more,' Mycroft whined.

'It's only been three days,' Greg said, lowering his hand from the politician's face. 'Another four and you'll get a grab.'

'What, exactly, is a grab?' Mycroft asked.

Greg smiled. 'You'll just have to wait and find out.'

'Gregory,' Mycroft whimpered and Greg grinned.

'Four days, Mycroft.'

He cursed. 'Who decided seven days should be in a week?' He paused and looked down at Greg carefully. 'You didn't specifically say a whole week. What about a business week? That's only five days.'

'Seven days,' Greg said and Mycroft sighed.

'Fine, fine,' he muttered. 'Ruin my life.'

'Bed,' Greg smiled

Mycroft swore but followed him to the bed.

{oOo}

A few hours after falling asleep Mycroft hauled himself from bed. He stumbled into the bathroom and barely made it to the toilet before he was vomiting. He hurled up the contents of his dinner and groaned. His stomach twisted as it forced the food up. Mycroft shuddered, rubbing at his teary eyes. He felt his body clench again as the food forced its way up and splattered into the toilet.

He moaned again and fell to sit sideways, one elbow on the toilet and the other hand rubbing at his face. Soon there was nothing left in his gut to throw up but his body still tried, stomach acid burning his throat as he spat.

A few minutes passed before Mycroft felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He jumped and turned to see Greg. The DI looked tired but he smiled and sat down to hug and rub Mycroft's back.

'Thank you,' Mycroft whispered.

'You're welcome,' Greg answered.