A VERY MYSTRADE CHRISTMAS
Ugh. I really don't like what I've done with this chapter. I kind of wrote this while half asleep, right now. So it hasn't been beta'd. I may very well change it tomorrow but a deadline is a deadline.
Well, let's hope that you guys like it to make up for my pessimistic thoughts.
Please review and criticise. I prefer suggestions than no comments at all.
DoctorOCD
-o-
December 7th - A Dinner. Date?
Flipping his phone between his hands, Greg paced his kitchen back and forth. Nerves were vibrating in his every muscle and he couldn't keep still. This was stupid. Why was he nervous about meeting Mycroft? They had met up loads of times for dinners and lunches. They had even invited each other round to their homes and sat watching the football, even that time when Greg forced Mycroft to watch the Harry Potter films.
If he fussed over leaving any longer he would be late. He had spent more than an hour just trying to pick something suitable to wear. He always wore something casual if they went out to dinner but for some reason nothing seemed good enough to wear.
Now, Greg was pacing the kitchen in his best outfit - well, the best he could put together from his not very extensive wardrobe - but he still felt very underdressed. When he got to the fridge and was about to turn on his heel again, his phone buzzed in his hand.
Whatever you wear will be fine, Gregory. -M
Greg stared at his phone for a good few minutes. That man really did know everything. How the hell did he do that? Oh God, if he knew everything would he know about what Greg was feeling? Now he was panicking about a whole other problem. He was acting like this hole thing was a date. Idiot. This was exactly the same as all those other times, only this time he had feelings.
He took a deep breath and as he let it out he straightened his clothes and left his house.
Fine. I'm on my way. How the hell did you know I was deciding what to wear?! -Greg
I know everything. -M
Greg chuckled to himself at that reply, getting into his car to drive to the restaurant Mycroft had chosen. It wasn't that far and soon Greg was with Mycroft, entering the restaurant.
They had greeted each other as usual, a handshake, a smile, and some complimentary words. Greg had blushed when Mycroft complimented his shirt and he cleared his throat before returning the pleasantries and taking his seat.
"So you know everything, huh?" Greg asked with a raised eyebrow as the other man sat down.
Mycroft looked at Greg, his face completely serious. "Yes, I do. Is there a problem?" He replied almost threateningly.
Greg leant away, utterly taken aback by Mycroft's tone. When Mycroft's face softened and he got the joke he breathed out a relieved chuckle. He would usually catch onto Mycroft's jokes, usually because they were so bad, but he had missed it then and Mycroft didn't miss Greg's terrified expression.
Mycroft wondered if there was something wrong as he couldn't read Gregory's emotions as he could everyone else's. Unlike his brother, he could pin point exact emotions and could manipulate and trigger them to his every whim. Everyone's except Greg's. It was like there was something stopping him from simply reading it from him. He wanted Greg to actually tell him how he was feeling and what he was up to, even if the information was at the push of a very hypothetical button. Dear Lord, he had feelings for Gregory.
The rest of evening consisted of light conversation full of nervousness and fidgety behaviour for both parties.
Greg's thoughts ran along the lines of, 'God! How do I tell him?" And Mycroft's thought patterns were on the same subject, 'Is this what attraction feels like? Lust, perhaps? Good God, how do I tell him? Do I tell him?'
These thoughts were suddenly put on hold when Mycroft phone beeped twice and he looked solemn as he pulled it out of his pocket. Two beeps meant national emergency.
This Crisis would have to be put on hold and sorted at a later date. Thank God for thinking time. "I am so sorry, Gregory. I must go." He genuinely was sad about leaving though.
"I know. Work. I'm the same. I understand." Gregory felt he hid his disappointment well and stood to shake hands with Mycroft and they left. Mycroft seemed to be on a tab or something. Greg didn't bother asking.
Greg saw Mycroft off in his sleek black car and drove his own worn one home. He needed to think. He needed a beer, then he needed to think.
