29. Dead plants
Greg stood in front of the shelf, two cd's in his hand. One was a classical compilation, the other a greatest solid gold hits.
"Not one of these, come guys, I'm trying here." Unbeknownst to him, Mycroft stood in the doorway, his arms folded and leaning against the doorway, trying to keep from laughing.
"I do exactly what My does, so why don't you want to grow?"
The rows of plants ignored him; one dropped a dead leave in answer.
"Is it the suit? Should I stand her in front of you, wearing a three piece, with an umbrella and go, oh please grow wonderful green leaves?"
Silence.
Mycroft had to bite down on his hand to keep from laughing.
"No wait, it's the intimidating glare he gives, right?" To test it out, Greg stepped forward so he was leaning over one pot.
"I command you to grow."
Nothing.
"What does he have that makes you grow so beautiful that I don't, mind you, I can understand it, since I also grow when he talks to me."
"Are you telling them lewd and luscious stuff Gregory?" Mycroft ask and to his surprised Greg blushed a vivid shade of red.
"Hey love, I'm trying to water the plants, but they don't want to grow, with you they live, with me, they're dead plants. I just don't have the green fingers My." Mycroft pulled Greg close into a passionate kiss, you know, forget about the plants, the important thing is to remember that I also grow when you talk to me."
"Who's now the one with dirty thoughts?" Greg replied, his eyes shining mischievously.
"It's what you do to me."
"I can deal with that."
