As he was driven into town, Mycroft was deep in thought. He and Vesta had been "together" for six months now. He wouldn't call it dating, because they didn't go out on dates, he didn't think of her as his girlfriend or himself as her boyfriend, because they both thought such titles sounded rather juvenile. She was his, though. While they hadn't yet shared a bed, he was certain that they were as close and comfortable as any married couple could be. The thought gave him a fluttering feeling. He saw an upscale ladies' boutique out his window and ordered the driver to stop. He had an idea...
Twenty minutes later, he came out with a pale blue shopping bag. He left his purchase with the driver and made tracks for the Diogenes Club. He fell like a tree into an open chair and slouched down. He was served tea and cookies which refreshed and revived him. He imagined what Vesta would think of this place. For a brief instant, he regretted the gentlemen-only designation of the club.
Mycroft reclined, letting his eyes drift closed in thought. He was planning something that was highly intricate. A miscue would be disastrous, but no matter how he envisioned it panning out, through the numerous possibilities, he could not think of a good way to go about it. Thinking about it just made him worry, and that was the last thing he needed to do right now. Vesta could always tell when he was worried about something. He gave the most audible sigh allowed within these walls, wishing a solution would open up to him. He thought of asking Sherlock, or more realistically, asking John about this. Women were never his brother's field of study. He shrugged to himself and shot off a text to Dr. Watson. A few minutes later, his screen lit up with a reply:
Good luck!
Scowling at the screen, he replied.
Is that all you can say? -MH
Not much else I can say. You'll just have to wing it. It'll be on the evening news either way, I imagine.
He rolled his eyes in disgust at the lack of help. Laying his umbrella across his lap, Mycroft stroked it thoughtfully. Doubt began to creep up on him. What the hell am I even doing? What the hell are we doing? We can't...we're not people! I...I don't know what we are, but... Then, thoughts of his parents crept in. He almost shrank away from them, feeling like a failure. Finally, he took a deep breath, steeling himself for this. John's right. I just need to go in and improvise. Hope for the best.
He stalked out decisively, called his driver back, and soon was on the way home. He saw Vesta camped out in the library by the fireplace. He walked in, gazing down at her, wondering what he was about to say.
"Uh, Vesta, there's something I've been wanting to talk to you about."
"Yes?" She stood up, he offered his hand to her automatically and helped pull her up. It didn't escape her notice that he looked terrible. "Mycroft, are you all right?"
"I, uh, don't know exactly. I...oh I hate this, I really...Look, this isn't easy for me to do, to say, but...it must be done. It must be...said."
This struck her as rather ominous. He looked positively ill. She thought back to when she cleared his schedule and sent him out, he'd actually kissed her on the cheek, promising he'd let her know when he was on the way home. He never did that before. Now he was acting as though...as though he was never going to see her again.
"You've been here a year now," Mycroft began anew. "And...in that time, our involvement with each other has...altered, grown...grown beyond my imaginings. If someone would have told me a year ago that this is what would be the end result of my hiring you, I never would have believed it. It's ridiculous! Just absolutely...what the hell am I doing? What are either of us doing?! I can't work it out. It makes no sense why any of this happened in the first place!"
This is one hell of a performance review, Vesta thought to herself, a bad feeling settling in her stomach. She watched him pace, black umbrella in his hand, as usual. She watched him until she was dizzy. He stalked up to her again, teeth bared in a snarl.
"This is hard, this is...very hard. It's the most difficult thing I've ever had to do. I wish I didn't have to do this, Vesta, I really do. Why does it have to be so hard?! Here, just...here!" He thrust the umbrella in her hands.
She flung it down on the sofa, eyes locked on her boss. "Listen, I don't know what you're playing at-"
"I only wish to...alter our relationship agreement. Our...parameters. Your employment status as well, in all likelihood."
"You waited until I was with you a year before sacking me? What would you leave me with, Mycroft?! I have nothing! You took it all from me on my very first day! Now, what? Ending it? Throwing me out in the streets?" She, too, prowled intensely around the room, skirting the furniture and the man in the middle of it all. Despite her anger, she looked bereft, broken...defeated. "God, what did you do it for?" She turned to storm out of the room when he caught her arm and dragged her back.
"Don't!" He gasped, shaking his head. "Don't." He bent down and picked the umbrella back up, placed it in her hands again. "Look, just look...and give me an answer."
Vesta looked down at it, realizing it wasn't his after all. It was brand-new. The handle was black and polished to a pearly sheen. She turned it in her hands and saw the other side of the handle. There, set in diamonds, in beautifully curvy letters, it was monogrammed VH. Her jaw dropped and she looked back at Mycroft, who was now down on one knee. He looked very uncomfortable.
Her eyes flew open wide and she drew a shuddering breath. "Mycroft, do you mean it?"
He nodded, gulping. "Well?"
In that instant, she forgot how sensitive he was to human contact. She struck his shoulder lightly, whispering, "Oh, you bastard!" Then she bent down and kissed him on the mouth.
"Mmm!" He gasped as his brain short-circuited through the sudden input. Blood type O positive, Capricorn, public school, had braces in 1993, no drug history, natural redhead, Type 2 diabetes on her father's side...she loves me! "May I...may I take that as a yes?"
"Yes," she breathed tearfully. "Get up, you idiot. Damn you! Oh, god, I thought...!"
"I told you I'd be bad at this," he explained as he stood, brushing himself off.
Meanwhile, at John and Mary's flat, they were crowded around Sherlock's laptop screen, the three of them clapped when they saw the couple embrace.
"When and how did you have Mycroft's place bugged?" Mary asked.
"There's just the one, and that just made it count!" Sherlock answered, hugging John tightly. "I did it after the David Cassidy incident. I had to see what those two got up to. I bribed the electrician to plant it for me. He owed me a favor. It's all about knowing the right people."
"I think you're more like your brother than you care to admit," John observed. "Congratulations, mate, you're getting another sister-in-law."
"Oh, don't worry, Mary, you'll always be my favorite," Sherlock purred, giving her a hug now as well. "Tell you what, let's drop in on the happy couple. I bet they'd be thrilled. Molly can watch the baby, she said to call her any time."
The Watsons looked at each other, wondering if this was in fact a good idea. They doubted very much that either party would be 'thrilled' by their visit at this hour. Besides, they might be...busy.
"Oh, come on!" Sherlock whined. "All right, we'll go tomorrow, then. Don't want to disturb them, after all," he added in a parody of consideration. Still, this sounded better than barging in on them immediately. "John, you've seen more of her than the rest of us have. What in the world would drive her into the arms of my brother?"
John leaned back into the sofa, stroking his wife's leg. "You remember what she was like when he first hired her?"
"Bit dull, I thought, of course he hardly let her get a word in," Sherlock recalled.
"Well, once she starts talking, she sounds a lot like him. Of course, she's infuriatingly vague, I think Mycroft made it out to be some sort of game, see if she can annoy me."
"Oh, that's a fun one. I'm good at that game."
Thinking hard about this, trying to remember anything significant, John continued, "I think they're good for each other. Both of them have been pretty much alone for a long time. Meeting someone who's similarly...off-"
"That's being diplomatic," Sherlock put in, getting a swat from Mary.
"I mean, that's the important thing, isn't it? In a relationship? That you can...be yourselves with each other?"
Still, the detective was befuddled. "But I've seen them! They never do anything! Aren't couples supposed to...I don't know. All they do is sit together holding hands. Sometimes they look at each other! Mary, you're a woman-"
"Oh, well spotted. No wonder you're a detective."
"You and John don't just sit at home staring at the floor, touching hands and grinning inanely, do you?"
"Give them a break, Sherlock. They're both new at this. You said so yourself that you don't go in for all that love nonsense. Neither did your brother until now. He's learning, and so is she. If that's what's comfortable for them, I don't see anything wrong. Besides, that's what they do in the library. Maybe they save other stuff for...other rooms in the house?"
"I've just never seen him like that. He looks happy. And he didn't even start a war or anything! Sometimes he just completely ignores her, sits there and reads while she rubs his shoulders or brings him things. Either that or they're just sitting there staring at their phone screens."
John shook his head, finding it a bit rich that his unsociable friend was offering commentary on other peoples' love lives. "Who are we to judge, really? What's normal, anyway? Look at us for Pete's sake. Besides, he's still her boss. They could be working when you're playing peeping Tom."
Sherlock had gone back to staring at his screen in disbelief, watching Vesta cuddle up to his brother as though it was the best feeling in the world. The two of them were standing in the middle of the room, hugging, touching, petting...He shut the laptop in disgust. "Maybe she's blind or suffered a blow to the head or something."
"He had that theory, too, actually," John chuckled. "Asked me to examine her. Couldn't work out why she kept staring at him, saying how...how gorgeous he is. I mean, it's a matter of taste, I guess. I can't imagine he'd get too many ladies' motors running, but who knows? That kind of embarrassed her. They didn't exactly have a fight over that, but...bit of a spat. She told him that for a megalomaniac he had an awfully low opinion of himself."
"It just means there's someone for everyone. I haven't even met her yet, but she sounds nice," Mary added. "Maybe she's a bit like you, John. Able to see the loveable parts of a person even when it's hard for others to see."
John smiled at this, put his arm around his wife and pulled her in for a kiss. "You're all loveable parts."
"I did shoot your best friend," she reminded him in a whisper.
"And I forgave you for that," he whispered back.
"How many sane people would?"
Sherlock grimaced at his friends making googly eyes at each other, rubbing noses and giggling idiotically. "God, I hope that never happens to me," he grumbled, glad to be a perennial bachelor. "Now even my own brother has jumped ship. Maybe I should just get a pet. Start talking to plants or something."
"Come off it, you're too young to go completely strange," John told him, extricating himself for the sake of his friend's sanity. Still, Sherlock looked sulkily betrayed. Everyone around him was pairing off and leaving him behind. "Maybe you'll be his best man," John suggested, giving him a nudge.
"Don't expect me to prevent a murder on his account. I don't do that for just anyone."
"Glad we made the list," Mary said, giving her unofficial brother-in-law another swat.
That night after dinner, Mycroft and Vesta stared at each other across the table. They'd just gotten engaged, they were getting married, and they had no idea how they were supposed to handle this.
"You know, Mycroft, this whole...business could have been an interesting study. Two people with no real knowledge or experience in social matters wending their way through milestones visited by more connected people."
"Thinking of going to press?"
Vesta sipped her wine, smirking, "I've thought about it. I think we've done all right. Considering we haven't a clue between us."
He leaned back, just quietly regarding her. "I love it when you look like you're up to something," he announced. It was the first time he'd even uttered the "l" word. It made Vesta choke and splutter, but determined to swallow. No sense in wasting a good 2010, even at the risk of asphyxiation. Mycroft paused over it as well. "I, uh...I...love you," he managed with a deep breath. "There, now don't expect me to say it every day."
"Wouldn't dream of it, dear."
To speed his recovery, he poured himself another glass, pausing to swirl and sniff deeply. He then noticed his fiancee was giving him a strange look. "What?"
"God, I envy you," she sighed
"You envy me," he repeated. Mycroft was used to being envied by people, for his fabulous wealth, his genius, his connections and influence...but none of those things seemed to matter to his lovely assistant. "Why?"
"That nose. I can't even imagine what it can pick up." She was actually leaning over the table, gazing admiringly at him.
By now, Mycroft had accepted that he was somehow attractive to the girl, but nothing could have prepared him to hear that! He gave her a sarcastic smile, running a finger around the rim of his glass, making it sing. "You envy me...because of my nose."
"Yes. You can do amazing things with it," she added with a cheeky grin. That halting way he'd nuzzle her neck and face before kissing, like he was testing the waters before diving in, got her hot under the collar every time. Just thinking about it made her squirm in her seat.
"You're brain-damaged."
"And you're beautiful."
"I rest my case." He looked up at her again, surprised to see her looking flushed and ready. "Are you...suggesting that perhaps...we ought to..." He glanced down beside the table where their umbrellas lay suggestively together, "cement our contractual agreement?"
Vesta giggled, "Come on. I'll get into my signing clothes." She stood, giving him a kiss on the top of his head and skipped up the stairs. A second later, he rose as well, following after her.
When he got up to her room, he found the lights turned down to set the mood. Soft music played from her tablet, and she was lying on the bed in a lace-trimmed nightgown. Mycroft took one look at his fiancee and blanched, turning back around. She knelt up in bed and grabbed his shoulder, turning him back around to face her.
"Like it?"
He couldn't remember being affected by a human body before, male or female. It had never been on his primary list of concerns. Seeing her now, looking so happy and...healthy, made his mind go completely blank.
"Let's see you now," she coaxed, loosening his tie for him. Slowly, he undressed. As each layer came off, anticipation built in Vesta's eyes. When he finally stood before her wearing nothing but black boxer-briefs, he looked down at himself, rather ashamed of his figure. He looked at himself in the full-length mirror with disgust.
He patted a hand to his stomach and muttered, "I've really let myself go."
It was therefore totally unexpected that Vesta let out a prolonged gasp of delight. Their feeding habit had definitely shown up on his pale frame, he had an adorably protruding tummy that matched her own bit of pudge that their cake fetish had brought on. It was by no means unattractive. She rolled over on her stomach, reaching under the bed, and came up with a long ostrich feather. She waved it at him teasingly, just brushing his pale belly. He gave an uncharacteristic shriek of laughter and snatched it out of her hand, turning it on her to her throes of ecstasy. Not one to give up the upper hand so easily, she drew her fingers lightly up his soft body, pinching here and there where she could. Vesta kicked out at him, aiming to miss of course, Mycroft caught her foot with a soft growl, drawing the feather up her leg, enjoying her laughter. She kicked and squealed and shrieked for help, while at the same time telling him not to stop.
She seized him around the middle, pulling him down on top of her as she groaned pleasurably. Mycroft pushed himself up so he wasn't actually lying on her, but Vesta struggled back, bumping against him softly. "I love your tummy," she purred, tickling it tauntingly. She gave it a kiss, growling throatily. "That...is how much I love you." She pushed him back against the head of the bed, onto her heap of pillows and crawled on top of him, rubbing against him silkily, sultrily. He placed his hands around her bottom, holding her against him while she kissed his chest.
"If you want to get thin again, though, that's fine," she added, draping herself against him with her arms around his neck.
Mycroft drew his hands down his fiancee's pleasantly plump rear, stroking the backs of her legs. "Vesta? What if...what if I don't feel up to...performing?" He actually looked repulsed by the idea.
"Mmm, look how much I care about that." She gave him a kiss on the neck, bringing her arms down around his chest, pressing their soft tummies together. Mycroft felt a warm wetness slide down her legs. They lay together, feeling perfectly lazy and content. As far as they were concerned, they'd consummated. If they ever manage it "for real", it wouldn't make any difference to their minds.
"I don't even think I want to," Mycroft confessed, just enjoying the feeling of having her lie on him
"Me neither."
"Do you think we were born like this, or do you think we're a product of our circumstances?"
Vesta lifted her head and ran her fingers through his hair. "That we're effectively male/female neuters? Well, we've never been attracted to anyone else before, we have no real drive to go any further. I'm happy being just like this. You're wonderful."
He buried his prominent nose in her neck, breathing deeply, "You smell so good."
She giggled as he nuzzled her, "Told you."
"Mmm, you're delicious. What on Earth could be better than this?"
Vesta coaxed them over so they were lying on their sides, and pulled a sheet up over them. Mycroft turned off the light and wrapped his arms around her. They murmured their good-nights and dozed off together.