Back on schedule with the normal, one a day updates, at least for now. This little piece is basically just Greg pulling Mycroft out of his shell a bit, and Mycroft being a little mischievous. Fun stuff. More plot tomorrow. Enjoy!

"We should do something fun." Greg said as they sat at the breakfast bar one morning a couple of weeks after their disastrous lunch with the families. Mycroft glanced up from his coffee, a quietly amused smile on his face.

"I thought this was fun." Mycroft took another sip of his black coffee, the taste not even making him flinch. Greg had sampled it once on a whim, and winced. He preferred sugar and cream in his, even if black coffee was more "manly." It was funny; most people would think that Mycroft would be the one in the relationship who fussed over coffee. And in most things, he was the one who liked things one certain way, while Greg was more go with the flow. Coffee was one area in which their roles reversed.

"You reading the newspapers of three different countries, none of them ours, and drinking that sludge while I sit here and actually eat breakfast is not 'fun,' baby." Greg made a face, and Mycroft shrugged, setting the Russian paper aside for a moment.

"Okay, then. What do you suggest?"

"Do you have any hobbies? I know you're not really the type to go to the pub and watch a game or anything like that, but surely you do something in your spare time."

"We've been living together for nearly a month now, Gregory. In that time, have you ever seen me do anything that didn't have to do with Sherlock, work, or you?" It was a fair enough point, and Greg frowned. He really hadn't seen Mycroft engage in any kind of relaxation. He had more than a couple of bookshelves, but never seemed to read. He had a room with a cabinet of sheet music and a piano, but Greg had never heard him play.

"What did you do with yourself before I came along, then?" Greg couldn't even imagine the world Mycroft must have lived in, if he truly had no hobbies, nothing to fill his time but work.

"If I truly had nothing to do, I would occasionally compose music. And at night, if the weather was nice or at least not cloudy, I would sometimes stargaze, up on the roof."

Greg was still frowning, and Mycroft wondered how he could wipe that expression away. He hadn't lived a horrible life, no matter that it hadn't been filled with nights at the pub with friends or spent in front of a telly screen screaming at sports players. Maybe his life hadn't been as full as Greg's, but he hadn't been bored. Lonely and bored were two different things.

"So you pretty much just spent all your time working or looking after your brother?"

"I spent my time doing what I was good at. It might seem like an empty life to someone else, but to me, it was what I'd worked toward. I am very good at what I do, you know. It means that I rarely have spare time anyway, though I have gotten a bit more of a life since you came into the picture, admittedly. I didn't need meaningless activities to fill my time. I had a purpose. I still do."

"Well, it's nice to have goals, and to fulfill them. Still, don't you ever just want to do something just for the hell of it? Just play for the sake of playing?"

"I suppose not." Frowning now, Mycroft considered Greg's words. That was, after all, what normal people did. They filled their time with meaningless activities designed to bring them joy, with no reason more complex than that behind their actions. Even Greg had hobbies that fell into the category of meaningless, as far as Mycroft was concerned. And yet, how could Greg's happiness be meaningless? This required more thought.

"It occurs to me that as long as I am spending my time with you, I don't really care what we're doing. I'm content to sit here all day with you like this, but if you'd like to go do something, we can." Greg smiled at Mycroft, charmed, once again, by his lover's matter-of-fact way of reminding him how important he was to him. There were days when Greg came home feeling like a used up old cop, but when he was around Mycroft, the younger man had a way of making him feel important again.

"We should do more with our time than just sit here all day. We so rarely get an entire uninterrupted day off together unless you're injured. I feel like this merits celebration."

"Fine. Pick something, then." Mycroft waved a hand, returning his interest back to his paper for the moment. It would take Greg at least ten minutes to figure out what he wanted to do, he knew. He'd made the suggestion without any hope that Mycroft would actually agree to it, and now he would be sorting through possibilities and wondering which ones would be the best use of their time.

"You said you play piano?" Greg asked finally, earning a nod. Since he finally seemed to have some sort of direction for their day, Mycroft finished a fascinating article on a change in the governmental structure and finished the last of his coffee, not caring that it was half cold. He'd come to appreciate caffeine over the years exclusively for the benefits. The taste was irrelevant to him as long as it got him through the days that stretched into two or three.

"Yes. I used to be fairly good, according to my former teacher. I have only played and written for my own pleasure for a decade, however, so it is likely that I am rusty."

"I've never had anyone play piano for me before. We could start there, if you think you'd like to do that for a bit?" Greg was still coming up with other ways to fill their time, but he had been curious about the piano, and had wondered if he would ever get the chance to hear music coming from their music room.

"Sure. I'm probably rusty, though." Mycroft led the way to the room, gesturing for Greg to join him on the extra-long piano bench. He frowned, wondering what the bench could possibly be for, and noticed Mycroft blushing a little.

"I did have a normal bench, before we started dating. I purchased this because I had a feeling you would find this… sexy." He didn't give Greg a chance to respond to this comment, instead starting with scales. His fingers flew easily over the keys, and after a minute or two, he launched into an original composition, low notes mingling gently with higher notes to illustrate the loneliness of his life before Greg, until eventually he moved up an octave, moving faster that Greg would have believed possible to play a sequence of jubilant, celebratory notes. He knew without asking that this was the story of their relationship, and that Mycroft had written it in his head, if this was truly his first time playing since before they'd started dating.

"You have a definite gift," Greg said when he finished, staring at his lover as if seeing him for the first time. Mycroft smiled and shook his head modestly, earning a deep kiss that made him wonder if he mightn't just convince Greg that the best use of their time off was a day spent in bed.

"No. We did that last time we had a day like this together, too." Greg said when he finally convinced himself to break the kiss, knowing exactly what Mycroft was thinking by the way his hands tangled in soft silver hair.

"I was recovering from a knife wound then. That hardly counts." Mycroft pouted a little, knowing he wasn't going to get away with what he wanted.

"No? Despite that scratch, we had sex five times that day, and another two times that night. It would be exactly the same thing, but without worrying about ripping that cut open. And we didn't worry for very long that day, either." Smiling at the memory, Greg still rose to his feet, giving his lover one last kiss before taking his hand and pulling him to his feet.

"Come on, baby. We're going out." Unable to resist that look on Greg's face, especially when directed toward him, Mycroft followed willingly, eyebrows scrunching together when he realized where they were headed.

"The London Eye? Really, Gregory?" Amused despite himself, Mycroft let Greg lead him on, and when the ride stopped while they were at the top they made out like horny teenagers, barely noticing when the ride started to move again. Next was a small park, where Greg surprised him with a picnic. The lack of other visitors and the fact that the picnic basket was set out, complete with chilled champagne and warm chicken, Mycroft attributed to Anthea.

After that, they strolled hand in hand through the park, and then down to the river. To Mycroft, it seemed almost like Greg was taking him in circles, but he had a feeling he knew where they were going. He said nothing, not wanting Greg to think he felt it was a waste of time to just meander together. It really was rare that they had a full day together like this, and Mycroft really did appreciate any time they could get.

When they finally reached Baker Street, Greg smiled sheepishly, because he knew Mycroft had long since figured out where they were going.

"John invited us over tonight, for dinner and poker afterward. He and I both occasionally play with a few of the guys from the force, but we decided that you and Sherlock might enjoy learning something new. I hope you don't mind?" It was impressive, the things Greg had arranged via text message while Mycroft had been focusing on other things. His lover was surprisingly thoughtful and creative, a ridiculously appealing combination in one who was already so physically attractive.

"So this is how you filled your time before me?" Mycroft asked as they climbed the stairs, not surprised that the front door wasn't locked. Sherlock would probably have known when they were coming down to the exact minute, and had John unlock the door for them.

Unlike the last meal they'd all had together, this one was really pleasant, and the night only got more enjoyable for all parties as time went on. Greg and John laughed about the way Sherlock scolded Anderson, which was something they couldn't do in front of the forensic tech, and even Mycroft smiled a few times, exchanging the occasional glance with Sherlock that spoke volumes more than either man would say.

The night was a success, Greg decided as John pulled out a deck of cards, shuffling like a pro.

"So, John, Gregory tells me that the two of you often play this game with some of your friends?" Mycroft said as he picked up his hand, glancing over it almost absently before discarding two and gesturing for two more. If the additions to his hand pleased him, he didn't give it away with so much as a twitch of his eyebrow. Greg and John had explained the basics to the Holmes brothers, who'd shared a single glance involving two raised eyebrows, a smirk, and a shrug, and now Greg was hoping he was able to at least win a hand or two before Mycroft and Sherlock caught on and started kicking their asses.

Unfortunately, that was not the case. Sherlock won the first hand, and Mycroft the second and third, followed by Sherlock winning the forth. It went on like that for two hours, until John threw up his hands in defeat.

"It's a good thing we weren't playing for money. I think we just got hustled, Greg." John laughed good naturedly and elbowed his flat mate, who wore a surprisingly kind smile when he looked back at him. Greg flicked a glance to Mycroft, who also watched the exchange, eyes glimmering though he said nothing.

When they finally left, the two strolled the streets, a little reluctant to end the night so soon. Eventually, however, they ended up there, and as Mycroft slowly undressed, Greg stepped up behind him and rested his chin on his shoulder, wrapping strong arms around his waist to hold him for a long moment.

"Not a complete waste of your time, then?" Greg asked teasingly, murmuring low right into his ear. Mycroft shivered, but his eyes were surprisingly solemn when he turned to look at his lover.

"Time spent with you is never wasted, my dear Gregory. And I did enjoy, as you say, 'kicking your ass' at poker." Greg wrinkled his nose at that.

"Not my fault you're bloody perfect at absolutely everything you do." His expression softened then, and he pressed their lips together gently, lovingly. "But for the record? I wouldn't care if you hustled me like that every night. I had the time of my life, watching you have that much fun."

Mycroft's lips quirked up, and the next kiss was more passionate, though no less sweet.

"The time of your life, hmm? Perhaps I can convince you to reevaluate that statement." With that Mycroft quickly removed the rest of his clothes with Greg's assistance and they fell into bed together, a tangle of limbs and hands and hearts and, for one frozen moment in time, there was nothing in the world but the two of them.