Mycroft enjoyed silence. He could work in crowded coffee shops with whirring milk steamers and dreadful music. Or outside with the cacophony of traffic and people. He could tolerate noise, and he could work through it, it was just that he preferred places. Like his office, which had thick walls to block out unwanted sounds. Or the Diogenes Club with no noise beyond the breathing of the other members and the occasional shuffle of papers. His own home had been another of his quiet places, until Gregory had become a part of it. The Detective Inspector enjoyed—even required—what he called 'background noise'. If he didn't turn the television or radio on, he would make his own—humming or tapping out a rhythm with his fingers.

Mycroft has now come to enjoy a bit of noise at home. Especially when it's coming from his partner. The nights they aren't able to spend together Mycroft requires an extra seven minutes to fall asleep. The bedroom feels oppressively quiet without Gregory's soft snoring.

Tonight, however, he wishes for silence again. He had thought he could work through or fall asleep to any noise—he just preferred silence. He finds it impossible to do either when instead of snoring in Mycroft's bed, Gregory is sobbing in the spare one. He tried to block the noise out and read until Gregory quieted, but after half an hour he is still on the same page and if anything the whimpering has increased. He replaced the book to its shelf and slowly walked to the guestroom door, debating what to do. His instinct was to burst in and comfort his partner, but he knew that Gregory already didn't trust him as much as he'd like. He didn't want to tear away the security and privacy the room afforded. But he really couldn't stand to hear the pain any longer. He knocked sharply on the door.

"Gregory?"

Greg managed a "wha?"

"Gregory, may I come in?"

Greg wasn't sure what he wanted. He had originally come over wanting to see Mycroft, but sitting and waiting had made him anxious. He had convinced himself that when Mycroft finally came in he'd not be alone. But he had been alone and had been caring and if Greg let him in now he would undoubtedly continue to be caring and maybe Greg could actually get some sleep.

Greg got out a weak "come in" before he hid his face in the pillow again.

Mycroft opened the door and cautiously approached. Gregory was still shaking, but his sobbing had reduced to a sniffle. He sat on the bed and put a tentative hand on Greg's back. When he didn't turn away from the touch, Mycroft lay down and drew Greg into a loose hug, holding his breath until Greg burrowed into him.

"M'sorry," Greg mumbled.
"What for?"
"Crying. Being loud. Keeping you up. Being upset at you."
"Don't apologise for that. Tell me why you're upset. And it wasn't the noise keeping me up—it was knowing that you are hurting. Did I do something? Or not do something?"

Greg shook his head and clung to Mycroft tighter, as though afraid he would try to leave. Mycroft in turn held him tighter and kissed the top of his head.

"Gregory, talk to me."
"Do you want your key back?"
"It's your key, love."

Greg pulled back just enough to look Mycroft in the eye. When he couldn't read Mycroft's expression, he offered a slight, sceptical glare and laughed bitterly.

"What for? If you lock yourself out and want me to pop over to let you in?"
"In that unlikely instance, I would be appreciative of your assistance."
"Okay, sure."

Greg started to free himself from Mycroft's embrace, and Mycroft panicked. He held Greg tightly to him and spoke desperately. "I would also like you to use it instead of knocking."

Mycroft thought that that explained his feelings well enough, but Greg did not seem to interpret the words quite as Mycroft had intended. He pushed himself away from Mycroft and sat up, preparing to leave regardless of the hour or his state of undress.
"You gave me a key… so that you don't have to open the door for me. Seriously, Mycroft? What the fuck?"

Mycroft sat up too, torn between reaching for Gregory and curling in on himself to hide the tears he knew would come when he was left alone. He compromised by trying again to communicate his feelings.

"No. I'm explaining myself poorly. I don't want you to be a guest h—"

His usually very patient partner, however, was less than eager to hear him out.
"So you magicked a key onto my key ring… to break up with me. Right. Of course. Sorry I wasn't smart enough to figure it out. You Holmeses do always have to spell everything for me."

Greg hastily pulled on his trousers and started to walk out. He was barely outside the bedroom when Mycroft mustered the courage to speak plainly the idea he'd been skirting around.

"Gregory, I want you to move in with me!"

Greg turned around, still fumbling with the button on his jeans, and studied Mycroft's face. Mycroft was too desperate to try to hide the fear he was feeling, and seeing that fear left Greg confused. He leaned against the doorway for support and opened his mouth a few times before managing to get anything out.
"What?"

Mycroft stood up and approached Greg slowly, afraid that any sudden movements would scare him off. Taking a deep breath, he made eye contact and started in on a little speech—a modified version of the one he had been planning to give tonight with his ring.

"I have come to view my home as a place with you in it. It would mean… I would like for you to view this as your home, too. You won't feel at home if you have to request entry. I only mentioned it last night because I was surprised. I was glad to see you. I had assumed I wouldn't get to and it felt so right to have you here when I got home. But you were upset and I didn't know why. I still don't, not really."

Greg pulled his gaze from Mycroft to look down at his socks. There was a small hole in the left one. Hadn't he just bought these? No, he hadn't bought any since Lydia left. Mycroft just asked him to move in and yet he was still half-waiting for Mycroft to break up for him. Not that he wanted that, but Mycroft surely had plenty of prospects.

The silence was killing Mycroft. He assumed Gregory would have something to say. Anything. Preferably something agreeing to his proposal. Not the full proposal he had hoped to make but something to bring the man a little more fully into his life. He let a moment pass before he started to plead.

"I had assumed—no, I do—I, Gregory, please don't leave."

Greg looked up at that. Mycroft seemed genuinely distressed at the thought of Greg leaving. He could fix this and they could be okay.
"My, I don't want to leave." He shuffled closer and slipped his arms around Mycroft. "What did you assume?"

Mycroft pulled him into a tighter hug. "That we were—are—in a long-term relationship. The sort of relationship which leads to, among other things, cohabitation."

Greg nodded into Mycroft's shirt. "We are."

"Tell me why you were upset?" Mycroft's voice was soft and patient and it made Greg feel he sounded whiny and childish in comparison.
"Was there honestly no chance to call or text?"

Mycroft rubbed Greg's back. "I'm sorry. Anthea offered to let you know. It… seemed easier."
"What exactly was she letting me know? It sounded like you were occupied with some bloke in the gents'"

Mycroft's hands stilled as he tried not to react. He knew that Greg was upset and he could be patient with him.

"Excuse me?"
"Or maybe Anthea was the one doing the occupying…"
"Gregory!"

Mycroft resisted the urge to force the once again trembling man from his arms. He was clearly hurting, still from his ex-wife's betrayal and now from fear. He tried to think if he had done or said anything to suggest to Greg that Anthea was anything other than another member of his staff.

"Do you really believe that?"

Greg refused to look up. He shouldn't have said that. He didn't really believe it. But he did believe that Mycroft would eventually want someone else. Not only was Greg a crap partner, but he was one who started in on the accusations as soon as he didn't get attention for the night. He burrowed his face in Mycroft's neck.

"Sorry, no. I, uh, it's just that Lydia did that. Had someone else—whoever she was fucking that week—text me that she wouldn't be home for dinner. I'm sorry."

Mycroft hated no one on the planet as much as he hated Lydia. He couldn't fathom purposefully doing anything to hurt the man in his arms, but she didn't seem to care about nearly breaking him.

"Shhh Gregory, I will from now on make sure that I'm the one contacting you. Unless it's an emergency and in that case I will tell Anthea to choose her words more carefully. But do not assume that I am being unfaithful."
"Not much to be faithful to."

Mycroft sighed. "Look at me, please."

Greg looked up with wet eyes and a terrified expression. Mycroft held his gaze for a moment before resting his forehead against Greg's.

"You are my partner, my best friend. I love you. I hate seeing you hurting." He kissed him softly. "Please try to trust me."

As soon as Mycroft pulled away, Greg let his head fall back on Mycroft's shoulder. His response was whispered.

"I want to. I love you. It's just hard."
"I know. Can I at least convince you to stay until morning?"
"Will you stay with me?"
"Yes, or you could come back to m—our bed."

When Greg woke up, he was a bit surprised to not only be in Mycroft's bed, but also still in Mycroft's arms. As his grogginess lifted, he remembered the accusations he had made.

"Good morning, Gregory."

Greg decided to pretend to still be asleep so he wouldn't have to face Mycroft just yet. He could wait until Mycroft left for work to 'wake up'.

"You're thinking too loud to still be asleep, love."

Greg cautiously opened his eyes to see Mycroft smirking at him. That seemed promising, so Greg risked a kiss to which Mycroft responded eagerly.

"Coffee?" Mycroft offered. Greg nodded and clung to a pillow while Mycroft slipped out of bed and headed toward the kitchen. When he smelled coffee he dragged himself out from under the covers and joined Mycroft at the kitchen table.

"My family wants to meet you."

Mycroft took a sip from his mug and pretended to not be surprised. "Do you want me to meet them?"

"Yes… well, if you want to meet them."
"Why wouldn't I?"

"I told them this weekend would be good. Are you still free?"
"My calendar has been marked 'weekend with Gregory' since you asked me to be available."
"Your calendar was marked for last night, too."

Mycroft busied his hands with spreading jam on his toast.
"Yes, it was. I should not have taken that meeting."
"I want them to like you."
"Do you think that they won't?"

Greg thought carefully. He didn't think that his family wouldn't like him, but he still wasn't sure what they would think.
"My brother is very protective. He'll be worse now after…"

Mycroft understood that. He felt the same way about his baby brother. "What can I do to impress him?"
"Nothing. Impressive things will make him suspicious. Just don't… not show up."

"Where are we meeting? They would be welcome here, of course."
"Thank you, Mycroft."
"So here? Good. But we will need to purchase a few things. Do they have any dietary restrictions? We shoul—"
"No, we're going to my parents'. I meant thanks for putting up with me."
"Then I have to thank you for putting up with me as well."