Ugly and Stupid-
"This is getting sickening, it really is," Lillian Holmes sighed as she followed her father down the hall. "Never get married my dear if you find…" he paused, thinking of the right word, "involvement, sickening." He opened the door to his office and stepped back so that his daughter might go through first.
"I probably won't get involved with anybody, unless they're interesting one hundred percent of the time. Otherwise it's pointless" she snorted, looking around his office with disguised interest.
"Yes well… If you find you do like someone, I would recommend being less blunt," he smirked.
Isabelle had recently found herself wondering just what about her Mycroft was attracted to.
Her looks? Her personality? Neither seemed realistic. So what was it?
It especially plagued her after their first break up and then their reconciliation (in that order of course), when he had explained to her about how all his previous relationships were more like experiments to him than anything else.
What if that was what she meant to him, and his assurance (that one singular assurance might she add) that he cared about her was all a lie? She loved him, that much was clear-but did he…?
She wanted to trust him! It was a rather important thing to do so. But how could she, when she couldn't ever tell when he was lying? Or know when he was truly upset?
"I'm going to ask him, I'm going to ask him…" Isabelle paced through Mycroft's dining room nervously. The man in question had to take a phone call, and then they would be on their way to some expensive restaurant where they would talk about nothing for a short time, eat, and go home.
It sounded so boring when explained as thus but Isabelle wasn't sure she would ever wish to trade it, even for a thousand pounds… most likely because he has more than that inside his wallet she thought wryly.
"Focus," she scolded herself, balling her hands into fists.
Mycroft entered the room again just as he was tucking his mobile phone into his suit coat pocket, a tired sigh escaping him, "Remind me again just why I focused my attention on a job that requires talking to idiots," he drawled, his tone sharper than Isabelle was used to.
Shoulders tensing uncomfortably, she walked close to him and planted a kiss on his cheek, "Because you enjoy the rest of it," she replied, though really, she had no way of truly knowing. She didn't even know what his title was. She kind of knew it had something to do with government and politics but… That's where her knowledge ended.
He smiled faintly, "Oh yes, of course," he conceded, reaching into his waistcoat pocket this time and removing his pocket-watch, he clicked it open an frowned, "We should leave," he commented, placing it back into its proper place.
He began to walk towards the front door when Isabelle yelped, "Mycroft!"
He turned around, "Yes?"
This is a really bad idea! ABORT ABORT!
Never one to listen to the screaming in her head, the young woman blushed, "I wanted to ask …a-and forgive me if this sounds cheesy. What um. What do you like about me?"
His brow furrowed, "Pardon?"
"I mean, why are we dating? W-what are you getting out of this?" she shrugged, attempting to mimic his usual nonchalance- and failing.
He gave a soft hum in thought before he shrugged in return, which felt rather like a dagger through Isabelle's heart.
He doesn't know!- ABORT!
"I will admit," He elaborated, "That my choice in you specifically has confused me on a number of occasions. There is little special about you. Dreadfully plain in appearance and not exactly the smartest I've met in my lifetime. And even less intelligent whence compared with myself. And that is not to bring up the emotional damage you have suffered and now carry around like weight every day….I think-"
Without any warning to the incorrigible Holmes, Isabelle slammed her fist hard into his upper arm. This obviously sent him staggering back a few steps in surprise and from the force of it. Blinking back tears, the young woman darted to the closest place she knew had a locked door- the bathroom. Or rather, one of the bathrooms.
Isabelle tugged at the door handle a few times to make sure it was fully locked, before she stepped back and sat herself onto the pristinely white toilet (covered obviously).
She tugged at her hair, tears dripping down her cheeks. God, she knew she wasn't perfect…she was below average as a person. But did he have to be so brutally honest?
This confirmed all her worst fears about the relationship- he didn't care about her in the slightest. He thought she was dreadful!
Isabelle stared at her hands, silently. Allowing the tears to fall onto her pale-freckled-arms. She felt sick, which was probably an ok thing considering where she was.
Agonizing moments passed before there was a soft knock on the door, "Miss Long?" Mycroft's voice was empty, like the rest of him, "Are you…alright?"
Isabelle frowned at the door, "No!" she shouted at him, "Leave me alone!"
There was a light snort, "My dear, you seem to forget who's bathroom you are currently residing in. I merely wish to talk with you."
She dug her fingernails into her leg, "Oh I'm sure!" she snapped, anger roiling inside of her. The injustice of it! "You just want to share a few more horrible words about how ugly I am, how stupid and damaged I am! Well, I have a few choice words for you too. You-you…Robotic…. Fat, pompous, overstuffed -twat!" her voice sounded strangely raw, emotions she hadn't known were even there, bubbling to the surface. It felt as though she was yelling at her sisters for everything they'd ever said to her, but…she knew they were true so what was the problem here?
There was a pregnant pause before Mycroft replied in an almost timid voice (completely unlike him) "Well, that was uncalled for."
She felt horrible, absolutely terrible. But was there any turning back now? Unlikely.
"Besides," he continued, "Fat and overstuffed seem too much like synonyms."
Isabelle couldn't hide a smile at that. Why did he have to be so damned charming all the time? When he spoke again, his voice was closer, as though he was pressing his forehead against the door, "Isabelle, I wish to apologize. I did not intend to upset you as I did."
She blinked back another tear which rolled freely off her small nose, "Then what did you intend?" she asked.
"To explain what I am getting out of our relationship," he responded, the last few words spoken almost wryly, "I mistakenly started with explaining things that others would find fault with."
She blinked a few times, "Others?"
Isabelle could almost sense his backing away from the door, the soft grip on the door handle, and the cute little frown forming on his face, "Of course. I did not mean to imply that I found you ugly, or that you are less intelligent than is needed. Plain does not automatically equate to ugly…in itself, it is its own kind of beauty."
She felt air pull into her lungs, almost overwhelming her, "Y-you think I'm beautiful?!"
"To an extent…" he cleared his throat uncomfortably, "Yes, I do. I worded it poorly which is something that does not happen often, I hadn't slept well last night I'm afraid and…am unable to think entirely clearly."
Worry set in like a stone, and Isabelle stood up, unlocking the door and peeking out at the tired form of Mycroft Holmes. She hadn't noticed it before, but his posture was ever-so-slightly hunched, his eyes given a more faraway gaze and irises surrounded by a tinge of pink.
"What happened? Are you alright?" she demanded, grasping for one of his pale hands. He looked at her with yet another of his confused yet curious stares, a blush creeping across his face all the while. "Perfectly, it was only a stomach upset that kept me up. I feel perfectly fine now I assure you," he stated, and Isabelle found herself unsure as to whether he was telling the truth.
"I'm sorry I reacted so horribly," she apologized, and found herself pulling him into a hug…their first hug. Amazing that it would come so late after their first kiss, but who was she to complain?
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, squeezing him tightly. Of course he didn't hug her back. His arms hung loosely beside him, and it occurred painfully to her that he wasn't sure just what he was doing! Or, he didn't like her. But after saying things that were clearly embarrassing to him, how could he not like her at least a little?
"I'm also sorry I insulted you like that, that was a bit childish," she laughed breathily, "I don't really think you're like those synonyms."
She really, really didn't. The man was like a twig! How she thought of those insults she had no idea! Ok, that wasn't true, it had come to her on numerous occasions that he was on some sort of diet-as every time they went out he ordered something healthy-and then picked at it as though it would kill him.
Another blush crept (quite unwillingly she was sure) across his cheeks, "Yes well, I am certain you don't."
That was a lie.
"I was upset," Isabelle defended weakly, "I-I had never thought that insult would come out of you Mycroft. Maria and Gloria, other boyfriends-yes. But you?" she bit her bottom lip again, "Even if they are true"
He sighed softly, "Apologies again for that," he said, "Let us forget that this whole disastrous event ever happened. And I promise that it shall not occur again….willingly," he added for good measure.
Isabelle laughed, despite the fact that her eyes now kind of stung, "Same."
The two stared at each other, and were anyone else there it might have appeared creepy. But it was nice; it was the right place for silence.
Eventually Mycroft cut it short before it could stretch to an hour long, "Shall we go now?" he inquired, and Isabelle nodded-taking his arm and allowing herself to be led towards the front door.
"This time I promise not to punch you."
Edited*
The next chapter is… Picnic day : Wherein fluff ensues, and Mycroft may or may not engage in unwanted legwork.
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