When Greg rolled over to find the other side of the king size bed empty, the man sighed and shuffled up against the headboard.
Greg had moved in with Mycroft almost a month ago, and things had been...different. Not bad different per se, just different.
The house Greg now shared with his boyfriend was huge, with more empty rooms than filled ones.
Greg wasn't really the pining sort, at least he'd never been before Mycroft.
He was a fully grown man, could deal with loneliness and being left to his own devices.
But his loneliness was split into two parts. Pre-Myc and post-Myc.
Pre-Myc and the loneliness really didn't bother Greg so much. He had the force, he had a good few friends, he had his mother.
The fact he was on and off with his wife was bothersome but if he was truly honest with himself, he knew she wasn't the love of his life anymore. And she knew it too.
The last breakup had been amicable, really, both knowing they weren't with the right person.
He didn't think he would find the right person.
Greg had believed his time had passed, that he was too old, too scarred.
So whilst the loneliness bothered him, he tried not to think of date nights and sleeping in a bed with another person, focusing on his work and the friends he had left.
But post-Myc was different.
Post-Myc and the loneliness still hit. But this time it was because Greg knew what he had waiting for him.
When he worked a long case and slept at the station instead of coming home, when Mycroft traveled for weeks at a time and the only connection they had was the voice at the end of the phone, then the loneliness would come.
Greg would miss tentative touches, arms tangled with a warm body, cups of tea overlooking the garden, whispered confessions in the dark.
They'd been dating for only four months, and Greg had moved in after three of those.
He'd never moved so fast with a relationship in his life, but he didn't regret a single choice or decision.
He'd not been looking for love when it came, hadn't thought he would ever fall in love again when Mycroft swaggered into his life, trampling everything he thought he knew under the point of an umbrella and expensive dress shoes.
Now, rolling over to find his lovers' side of the bed cold, Greg felt the loneliness stir in his chest.
It probably wasn't entirely healthy for the emotion to hit when he'd been alone realistically, only an hour or so, but it was there and it was something Greg would work on.
He could share the emotion now, could open up his heart and let Mycroft in.
Greg's fingers skimmed over the soft satin sheets before pulling the covers off and stepping onto the rug.
It was well into autumn but the thick curtains and fire crackling went a long way to quell the chill as Greg moved around to get ready for the day.
It was Sunday, so by get ready, Greg meant pulling on pyjama bottoms and an old shirt and brushing his teeth.
Mycroft wasn't supposed to have work on that day, but usually waking up to an empty bed when it was still barely a reasonable time to get up, meant that Mycroft was either in his office or had headed out.
Greg very much hoped it wasn't the latter, because they'd been getting very good at communicating clearly and Mycroft leaving without telling Greg was like twenty steps backwards.
Greg headed down the stairs, slightly apprehensive that his boyfriend would be completely gone from the house.
Realistically, Greg knew that even if Mycroft was gone, it didn't mean he wasn't coming back. If he could logically believe that, that would be fantastic.
As his feet touched the bottom of the stairs, Greg could smell toast and...bacon?
He walked quietly to the kitchen, pushing open the door, more than pleasantly surprised to see what was waiting for him.
Mycroft employed staff often, more often when he was away, so Greg was taken care of in terms of cooking (Steve) and cleaning (Jack).
He kept the same two people, no matter the 'risks' it could pose in terms of safety. Mycroft had known them for years and they were more like a part of the family.
But usually the staff had the weekends off so when Greg had pushed open the door, he wasn't sure what to expect.
Maybe that Steve would be there, humming to himself as he added ingredients to the frying pan.
Maybe there would be a note at his table setting, explaining that Mycroft had been called away. Maybe there wouldn't even be a note.
What he wasn't expecting to see was his boyfriend, apron around his waist, pouring juice and tea as the food cooked on the stove behind him.
"Wow." Greg hummed, walking over to Mycroft and sliding his arms around him from behind.
"Morning, love." Mycroft smiled, looking a little flushed as he tilted his head back for a kiss.
Greg was more than happy to oblige, kissing him sweetly and languidly, his chest full of warmth.
Mycroft hadn't left. He was here and he was making breakfast and they had the whole day together.
"This is a surprise." Greg said quietly as he pulled back, hands still around his waist.
"Well I thought you deserved it." His boyfriend replied. "Now go sit down, before you make me burn the bacon."
Greg chuckled and headed over to the table to sit, leaning back in the chair as he eyed up Mycroft.
"You look good in that apron, Myc."
"Thank you, dear, I did hope you would enjoy it."
"I would've enjoyed it even more if you'd only been wearing that."
The corners of Mycroft's lips pulled back in a smile. "How about we save that for another time?"
"Promise?" Greg grinned.
"I promise, Gregory." Mycroft chuckled, carefully plating up the bacon from the frying pan, with scrambled eggs next to it and toast on a separate plate.
Greg's stomach growled at the mere sight of the food, in particular the just this side of burnt bacon. The best kind.
"I don't tell you that I love you enough." Greg shook his head, waiting for Mycroft to sit down before tucking into his breakfast.
He inhaled about half of it before pausing and slowing down.
Mycroft was picking slowly at his food and met Greg's gaze, one eyebrow raised. "Everything okay, love?"
Greg swallowed and nodded. "Yes, yeah. Just…I meant it, Myc. That I don't say I love you enough, and I don't just men because you're the only person who can make my bacon right."
Mycroft frowned a little as he sipped his juice before placing the glass down and reaching for Greg's hand.
He intertwined their fingers, thumb brushing over the join of his wrist. "You say you love me plenty. Just as I say it too."
"I say it every day, because I need you to know and because I enjoy saying it. But, once or twice a day isn't enough. You deserve it as many times as humanely possible."
A light flush crept over Mycroft's face, highlighting the pale freckles across his nose and cheeks.
"I like to say it too, Gregory. You deserve it even more than me." Mycroft shook his head and dropped his gaze.
"Hey, Myc, no." Greg shifted in his seat, scooting closer till their knees touched. "You deserve it just as much as me. You're worthy of the love, Myc. You deserve it."
The younger man sighed and wearily rubbed a hand over his face. "I suppose that's another thing to work on."
"We'll add it to the list." Greg hummed, voice light. He squeezed Mycroft's hand before using his other to eat the rest of his breakfast.
"But really, Myc, this is amazing." He sipped his tea- made absolutely perfectly. "But what's the occasion?"
"Occasion? Because you mean the world to me and I wanted to make you breakfast. It's that simple."
Greg smiled, almost beaming really. "Well, I appreciate it Myc. Thank you."
"Any time, Gregory."
…
After breakfast, Greg suggested that maybe they head back to bed.
It was raining outside and the sound of it hitting the windows, along with the chill in the air, had given Greg a very simple but wonderful idea.
He instructed Mycroft to get comfy in bed as he stoked the fireplace at the other end of the room and turned on a couple of bedside lamps.
He shed his pyjama bottoms, now just in boxers and the shirt, pulling a book from the cabinet before clambering into bed besides Mycroft.
Mycroft was sitting up against the headboard, pillows piled up beside him. He opened his arms up and Greg shifted so his back was against Mycroft's front.
Mycroft's arms wrapped around him as he plucked the book from his hands and opened it to the right page.
They liked to read, and had both decided to read the same book. They'd originally had two of the books, and read them mainly separately.
One night, Greg had curled up into Mycroft's arms and it had ended up with them sharing one copy of the book and they hadn't turned back.
"Page 64, yes?" Mycroft asked and he skimmed through the pages of The Bell Jar.
"Yup." Greg hummed, fingers brushing up pale arms, setting the hair there on edge.
Once the page was open, they settled in to read.
Mycroft read a hell of a lot faster than Greg, so he left Greg in charge of turning the pages as he held the book.
Mycroft never made Greg feel bad for taking more time, never got frustrated with not getting to turn the page when he'd finished the other.
He would occupy himself brushing through silver hair, scratching at his scalp. Or he'd trail fingers down his neck, resting a hand on his collarbone or softly pressing against his hip. Just enjoying watching Greg as he read; eyes widening or his body stiffening at what was happening across the pages.
They read for hours, the rain still falling outside but the inside of the house nothing but warmth and love.
They had only about fifty pages left when Greg yawned and stretched out, rubbing at the back of his neck.
"Done?" Mycroft asked, replacing Greg's fingers with his own, gently easing the knot out of his neck.
"For now. I'll fall asleep if I lay there anymore." He chuckled.
"It is Sunday, love, if you want to sleep you should." Mycroft hummed.
"Nah, I have a day with you, I'm not wasting it by sleeping through it." Greg leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "But I do have a request."
"Yes, love?" Mycroft raised an eyebrow.
"Take a bath with me?"
Mycroft smiled and caught the other mans fingers, lightly brushing over them with his own. "I think that sounds like an excellent idea."
"Great! Okay, I'll go run it." Greg kissed him quickly, unable to keep the grin off his face.
Mycroft laughed and shook his head as he watched his boyfriend all but run to the en-suite.
Sundays were the best days.