Silent Afflictions
Silent Comfort
As he left her to shower, Rose turned to the foreign shower unit with a slight frown. It was always a puzzle to her - and apparently a fair few people when she asked - the task of trying to operate someone else's shower. It only took a moment though before she saw the big button and the dial, coloured blue and red for temperature. That was easy.
Hitting the button, she saw the spray of water come down and left it to warm up a bit while she discarded her soaked clothes. Falling into an old habit, she found lyrics on the tip of her tongue, waiting to burst forth with life. Deciding that it couldn't hurt, she sang quietly to herself as she pulled out her bobble, freeing her rain-soaked hair.
Lately I've been, I've been losing sleep
Dreaming about the things that we could be
But lately, I've been, I've been prayin' hard
Said no more counting dollars
We'll be counting stars
Yeah, we'll be counting stars
Stepping under the now very warm stream of water, she felt her temperature creep up steadily, the warmth of the water divine to her frozen skin as it burnt trails of heat down to her feet. Running her fingers through her hair, pushing it out of her face, she smiled slightly, singing away her troubles under the hot water.
I see this life
Like a swinging vine
Swing my heart across the line
In my face is flashing signs
Seek it out and ye shall find
Not even thinking about it, she found her foot was automatically tapping out a light rhythm to accompany her vocals, the water splashing slightly under her toes.
Old, but I'm not that old
Young, but I'm not that bold
And I don't think the world is sold
I'm just doing what we're told
Running her fingers through her hair again she found it had knotted slightly in the rain. Looking around, she saw a bottle of conditioner. Emptying a small amount onto her hand, she ran it through her dark locks, feeling the knots undo themselves in the soft lotion; it saved finding a brush and fighting with her own head when it did eventually dry.
I feel something so right
By doing the wrong thing
And I feel something so wrong
By doing the right thing
I couldn't lie, couldn't lie, couldn't lie
Everything that kills me makes me feel alive
Rinsing the product out of her hair, she thought about her new life; everything she left behind, all that she had now. She didn't bother wondering whether it was the right thing or not - she'd thought about that far too much as it was - she just sang her heart out, feeling better for singing her emotions out in the warm water.
Lately I've been, I've been losing sleep
Dreaming about the things that we could be
But baby, I've been, I've been prayin' hard
Said no more counting dollars
We'll be counting stars
Lately I've been, I've losing sleep
Dreaming about the things that we could be
But baby, I've been, I've been prayin' hard
Said no more counting dollars
We'll be, we'll be counting stars
This was why she loved a hot shower; she was comfortable in the warm water, able to set her mind free to sing whatever she felt like. She lost herself to the music in her mind and the warmth seeping into her skin, her own mind creating a safety net around her where she could be completely herself.
I feel the love
And I feel it burn
Down this river every turn
Hope is our four-letter word
Make that money
Watch it burn
Old, but I'm not that old
Young, but I'm not that bold
And I don't think the world is sold
I'm just doing what we're told
Turning the shower off again, she reset the settings to what they were, making sure that everything was back in its rightful place. Looking around she came to a sudden realisation; her clothes were still soaked. Bugger…
Coming to the logical answer that she needed to wear something, she thought she might be able to push her luck with the gentleman in the next room and borrow something, just while her own clothes dried.
Drying off mostly, she left her hair down to fall in dark ringlets, curling as it always did after a shower if left unattended. It wasn't a bad look, but a little untamed. Putting on her not-so-soaked underwear, she put the rest of her clothes to dry on the radiator, wrapping the towel around her. Pulling her lips to the side in thought, she winced slightly at the ache in her cheek, having forgotten about it in the cold and the rain.
Wiping the steam from the mirror above the sink, she tenderly probed the tender skin with her fingertips. No mark, she noted with relief, just a little tender.
Turning her back on the pale woman with the sad eyes that was staring back at her, she poked her head out the door to make sure that he wasn't in the bedroom as she instead turned her focus on finding something to wear.
Seeing no one, she crept out, still softly singing to herself as she looked around, not wanting to go through his things but needing to wear something other than a towel.
And I feel something so wrong
By doing the right thing
I couldn't lie, couldn't lie, couldn't lie
Everything that drowns me makes me wanna fly
A black dressing gown caught her attention, hung on the back of the bedroom door; the exact same place Sherlock kept his. Chuckling to herself, she put it on, the soft fabric loose on her pale frame, falling down past her knees.
Realising her situation - she'd gone to a guy's apartment, had a shower and nicked his clothes - she blushed slightly, chewing her lip. Ah well, can't actually do much about it, she thought, pushing away her embarrassment.
Opening the door, she found he'd lit the fireplace, the flames dancing to light up the otherwise dark room. Deciding that would be the best place to sit, the warmth sinking in as she neared, she decided to get over the most obvious of facts. "I borrowed your dressing gown..."
Mycroft looked up, not having heard her come out to the living room. He had a hard time not looking shocked at what he saw; the brunette was stood, bare foot in the middle of his living room, wearing his dressing gown - as she had said - hair wild around her face as the light of the fire danced over her. She looked…
"I can see that." He managed to reply. Pulling his eyes away from her - hoping she hadn't seen his far too long lingering gaze - he picked up the glasses and moved over to the fireplace, handing one to her where she had curled up on the floor, preferring to be closer to the fire than sit on the chair.
"Thanks." Rose said, smiling up to him as she took the glass off him.
"Feeling a bit better?" Mycroft asked, ignoring the little voice in the back of his mind that questioned his question.
Having taken a sip of wine, Rose quickly swallowed the bubbling liquid, nodding as she did so. "Much, thank you."
"My pleasure." He replied, starting to wonder about her reasons for a walk at all. "Though might I ask why you were out in the middle of a storm?"
Rose shrugged though, not really wanting to talk about her parents. "I just went for a walk." Looking up, she saw his raised eyebrow, obviously knowing there was more to the story. She just got a little more defensive. "I like the rain…"
"Clearly." He told her, humour colouring his tone. "You were drenched."
"And now I'm not, thanks to you." She smiled up to him, carefully changing the subject. "Quite the gentleman."
An odd expression made its way onto his features as Mycroft thought about what his mother would really say about his actions, eyes widening as he thought of the possibilities. "My mother would be proud…"
Rose smiled slightly, thinking again about earlier events. Then a new thought occurred to her, what were their parents like? Both Mycroft and Sherlock were so unusual, she couldn't even begin to imagine what their parents could be like; they had to get it somewhere after all. "What's she like?"
"Hm?" Mycroft asked, having gotten lost in his train of thought.
"Your mam," Rose clarified, welsh accent showing through in her words, shocking him slightly; no one ever asked about his parents. Rose saw his pause though and thought she may have crossed some invisible line. "You don't have to tell me of course, I was just… wondering…"
Mycroft frowned slightly in thought; it was a long time since he'd had to describe his either of his parents. "She's... good." Oh, well done there, genius, he scolded himself, trying to come up with a better description. "A bit overbearing sometimes. She has some of the maddest ideas too." He remembered some of them; she put Sherlock to shame with the insane things she'd done out of curiosity's sake.
"I think that comes with the job title." Rose smiled, also remembering some of the wacky things her mother had done over the years.
"Very smart." Mycroft continued, praising his mother for her intellect. She may be a bit ordinary at times, but she was beyond intelligent. "She used to be a mathematician."
This shocked Rose slightly, before she just smiled. How could she be anything less? "Really? -Well, I suppose she'd have to be to keep up with you two."
"Quite." Mycroft agreed, once again wondering why she'd bothered asking. It was something she did frequently it seemed; asking if he was alright, asking about his mother - as though she was genuinely interested. "Why do you ask?"
"Curiosity, I suppose." She answered honestly, bringing her wine glass to her lips again.
Mycroft just hummed in thought as she watched the fireplace. She was actually curious about him. It was strange to think about; everyone always saw him as the business official - a suit and tie and that was the end of it. Rose seemed to see more than that though, more than what everyone else saw. This in turn made him even more curious about her. "What about you?"
The young woman just chuckled. "Oh, come on; surely you have a file that answers that tucked away somewhere." She told him, hand coming up to cross over her chest, holding the back of her neck firmly as she stretched the muscle there.
Mycroft frowned slightly at her actions. "Sore neck?"
"Just a bit of stress." She assured him. "It'll pass." Always does, she thought.
Taking a chance, Mycroft put down his glass. "Here…." He said softly, getting down on the floor with her, kneeling behind her. Without thinking about what he was doing, or why, he gently pushed away the thick ringlets that fell down her back, softly pulling down the dressing gown - his dressing gown - to expose her bare shoulders. Holding her softly, he moved his thumbs up the sides of the top of her spine, running along the back of her neck. He could feel the tension, the knots under her skin as he pressed firmly, thumbs rubbing circles along her flesh, finger tips digging in slightly.
Rose felt her breath hitch slightly, back stiffening under his touch, not expecting this from him of all people. He was gentle, but firm. Not hurting her but definitely there, easing away the tension that had built up for so long.
He broke her out of her lack of thought, bringing her back to reality. "You saw her today."
"Yes." She admitted. "She wanted me to come home I think, something like that anyway."
Mycroft frowned slightly. "Sentiment…" If she didn't know him so well, she wouldn't have caught that the word was slightly a question.
"Yeah." She chuckled, smiling at the way he sounded so much like her friend. They really are an odd pair. She sighed though, getting back on topic. "I guess that's what happens when you run away from home." As soon as she said the words though she regretted it, feeling him freeze his movements for a moment before carrying on.
"I didn't know you were a runaway." Mycroft said quietly, trying to think how he didn't know this fact; he always knew.
She just took a deep breath. "Me neither until today, but I guess they're right…" She said, thinking about everything that was said, feeling the full weight of what had happened come down on her.
Mycroft frowned slightly again, not quite following her train of thought. "What about?"
"Everything, I guess." She said sadly. Though he may not be very good with emotional situations - or even emotions themselves - he could hear the sadness and disappointment in her voice. She thought her parents were disappointed in her, ashamed of the person she'd become.
That's not right, he found himself thinking. She's a brilliant person, certainly a daughter to be proud of. He didn't like to hear her so sad. "Rose..." He called to her softly, scooting around to try and look at her face. She just looked away though, not meeting his eyes. He didn't like that either. "Look at me…"
Hearing the soft tone in his voice, she looked up, the un-shed tears blurring her vision slightly. She didn't know why she still got so upset about her parents; it was hardly anything knew. She'd had all these conversations before, all the thoughts of disappointing them, the shame of the person she was but not able to do much about it. She was who she was, and it was never going to be good enough.
As always though, her over active mind pointed out how close he was; close enough to lean in and kiss if she wanted. Mycroft was always a welcome escape from reality, such a brilliant distraction.
However, as the seconds passed, he just watched her, wondering what on earth he should be doing to comfort the upset woman. If she weren't so upset, he might like to kiss her, but it was hardly the time now. His mind was going round in circles though; a needle stuck on a record that only wanted one thing.
As the seconds grew longer, she realised with a cold splash that he obviously didn't feel the same. He could have made a move by now if he'd wanted to, but he didn't. Of course, he didn't, he's not playing the game, she thought sadly, knowing now that that was all it really was - a game. Nothing more.
She looked away from him, turning her head to the fire instead, watching the flames dance as she thought about what she'd done. She knew better and yet here she was, making a fool of herself; knowing better but still not listening.
A game was all well and good but look at her; a rain soaked, common idiot who was just a disappointment, always running away from her problems. She always moved on, never looking back; it hurt too much to look back. She'd lost so much and look where she was now; drinking in another man's home, a mess and pathetic.
She should just leave, go home before she made even more of a fool of herself. He didn't want her, not really. Why would he? He was powerful, dangerous and a true gentleman; a completely different class of person. She could act the part all she wanted but it wasn't her; she'd never be a lady. Even working the high-end cases with Sherlock, she preferred the streets to the posh buildings, the rough crowds that came with the dodgy neighbourhoods over the high-flying pompous men who thought they owned the world.
Mycroft had found that he didn't like it when she turned away from him; he didn't know quite what to do, but he was getting there. He caught a flash of hurt in her shining blue eyes before she looked away; it wasn't right.
Lifting a hand, he gently pulled her back to face him just as a single tear spilled over, slowly running down her pale cheek. Cupping her face, he gently brushed a thumb across the droplet's path, wiping it away lightly. She looked so vulnerable right then, the emotion literally swimming in her eyes as she looked at him.
He lent in, slower than the last time he'd done so, meeting her lips with his softly, kissing her slowly.
She hid her surprise at his movement, only just realising what was happening as he kissed her. This wasn't like before though. Last time it was all passion and lust, the need for the other obvious and consuming. This time he kissed her slowly, lips pressing against hers as he caressed her cheek, the care and gentle emotion sinking into her far better than any wine.
Feeling her hand come up to rest against his chest, Mycroft became a little more aware of his heart beating out a steadily strong pulse throughout his entire self, his whole body alive with just one kiss.
Realising truly what he was doing, he could have slapped himself. Here she was, obviously upset and he was just taking advantage of it. Pulling back, he took her in; lips slightly pinker, face a little flushed, eyes alight with life.
They stared at each other for what could have been forever or just a moment, they didn't know, each lost in the eyes of the other. She knew it wouldn't end well; she would only get hurt. But looking at the man in front of her, she couldn't deny him; and she'd be damned if she backed down now.
Eyes widening slightly, Mycroft felt the hand on his chest move suddenly, grabbing his tie, pulling him back for another searing kiss. That was the end of him, all strength of will he had was lost. He simply gave into the woman who had captured his attention so.
Rose smirked slightly when she saw his shock, happy to have one over on him for once. It was just a game, she knew that now. While she couldn't deny the chemistry, that was all it was; a mind-blowing connection of passion she just couldn't deny. That was all it could ever be; she'd come to know him too well to expect anything more.
She moaned as he deepened the kiss, tongue exploring her mouth, the connection becoming more like a heated dance than a battle. Neither one claiming dominance over the other, sharing the control for once. Pulling a bit more, she lay back as he lent over her, arms either side of her head, fingers wrapped in the still damp locks of hair that had fanned all around her.
Hands roamed his chest, tugging lightly at the bottom of his shirt, un-tucking it from his trousers. Slipping beneath the fabric, she ran her hands over him again and again; fingertips firm while her palms were feather light. He held back a moan as she pulled at the small of his back, pulling him closer still.
After a few minutes of exploring his mouth and chest, she pushed him over, rolling them so that she was on top, straddling his waist as his hands came up to the nape of her neck, pulling her down for another searing kiss, the feeling shooting through her like a wild fire, every nerve sparking into life at his touch.
As she worked on the buttons of his shirt, she could feel his hands roaming her; one running up and down her back, grabbing gently at her hip while the other hand slipped under the dressing gown onto her bare leg, fingertips slowly moving further and further upwards before dropping down again, ready to start their journey again. It was absolute torture and she loved every second.
Wanting to feel every inch of her, Mycroft brought his hand away from her leg, following the shape of her curves over her arse and up her back, one hand meeting the other on their journey upwards. Coming to her neck, they paused, thumbs running over her collarbones teasingly before slipping under the fabric of his dressing gown - loose from the earlier massage - slipping the fabric off her shoulders completely, exposing her full chest.
Drinking in the sight of her, he let one hand slip further downward, a single finger tracing its way down the space between her breasts, feeling her breath hitch at his touch.
Eyes meeting once again, Rose looked at the man underneath her. Smirk slipping into its familiar place, eyes twinkling with mischief and lust.
Mycroft could only watch as she lent back, sitting up properly and giving him a brilliant view. Running her fingers through her hair, she shook her head slightly, the movement not stopping at just her head. He was speechless as she got up off him, eyes glued to her as she walked away from him.
Taking a second to realise where she was actually heading, he saw it was his bedroom. Before he had time to think any further though, he saw her hands move to the front of her as she walked, hips swaying hypnotically, calling him to follow. However, as he propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes flew wide at the sight he got.
She'd undone the belt of the dressing gown, letting the whole thing fall to the floor behind her as she walked, not breaking her stride, but giving him a much better view of those swaying hips. God almighty…
As she got to the door way, Rose turned to look at him, pleased with what she found; he looked gob smacked, almost too shocked to move. Laughing internally, she raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you going to stay there all night?"
That was all the encouragement he needed.
Pushing himself up faster than he thought possible, he took a quick stride across the room, grabbing her by the waist and spinning her to push her against the wall of his room, hands roaming her now bare skin as he kissed her fiercely. Pulling him closer at the waist, she felt his bare chest against hers; skin on skin.
She knew it probably wasn't right, but right then, she didn't care, lost to the man who'd occupied her mind for so long, knowing full well that one day, he would probably break her heart.