John's POV
Saturday he pulls out a few nice chicken breasts, and makes sure he has fresh fruit and vegetables to cook with. Sunday morning he does a quick sweep of the house, making sure that it's not a mess before heading into the kitchen where he starts working on the meal. They're having fresh chicken breasts, vegetable, and fruit stir fry cooked in coconut oil for dinner and raspberry cream pie for dessert.
Just a little bit before Mycroft is supposed to show up, he takes a quick shower after putting their dinner on simmer so not to burn it. One beautiful thing about his time in the military is he can be in and out of a shower in less than ten minutes.
Once he is clean and dressed in a decent pair of slacks and unwrinkled polo, he returns to the kitchen to finish the meal up. He is just pulling the pie out of the oven when he hears the door.
"Hullo Mycroft," he calls out warmly in greeting.
A moment later the taller man is entering the kitchen, "Good evening John."
Turning, he faces his patron with a smile, and suggests, "If you want to take a seat in the dining room. I will bring dinner out."
The older man's lips twitch in a slight smile as he nods and heads over to the other, smaller, attached room.
Humming softly, he makes a plate up for himself and Mycroft, then makes teas as well, all of it goes on a tray that is used to carry it over to the dining room.
"I hope you enjoy," he murmurs as he settles the plates on the table and the takes a seat with his in front of him.
"It smells good," his patron remarks as he lifts the fork and selecting a piece of chicken and pineapple to take a bite of. "Tastes good too," the older man continues a moment later, "Interesting combination of flavors."
He smiles, replying softly, "Thank you."
For the most part they eat in companionable silence, when they are done eating dinner, he takes the dishes and sets them in the kitchen sink.
"If you want to go sit in the living room, I'll bring dessert and drink out?" he suggests with a small smile, happy to see that Mycroft tucked in two plates worth of food. He is quite sure the older man needs to eat more often, and eat healthier, so he is going to try and make sure he does both.
For a moment those sharp eyes study him before Mycroft nods once and gets to his feet. "Shall I get a fire going?"
He smiles at the suggestion and nods, "That'd be great."
Once more his patron nods before exiting the room.
Taking a deep breath because he is not sure where he wants this evening to go, though he knows what his next steps are, he straightens and heads into the kitchen area to make their plates with still warm raspberry cream pie, small bowls of vanilla ice cream, and mugs full of steaming hot raspberry tea.
Putting it on the tray, he carries it to the living room where most of the lights are off except the one on the coffee table closest to the door. It makes the atmosphere warm and inviting, romantic even.
He is happy to see that Mycroft has settled onto the sofa rather than one of the chairs.
Setting the tray down in the middle of the sofa, he settles on the other end, commenting, "Raspberry cream pie, still warm, vanilla ice cream on the side since I wasn't sure if you liked it on top, and hot raspberry tea to complete dessert."
"It smells as good as dinner did," Mycroft comments, "What made you pick raspberry?"
Grinning as he grabs the spoon and picks one of the pieces of pie, he answers, "Well dinner had pineapple, cherries, strawberry, and apple pieces in it. So I didn't want to make pie with them. I didn't want blueberries because it just didn't seem quite right, so I went with raspberries."
Tilting his head, the older man studies him for a moment with a small mischievous smile on his lips, "Understandable." Lifting the second plate and one of the forks, the auburn-haired man carefully cuts a bite off and eats it. Low pleased noise escape the older man's lips as he swallows it, followed by the quiet praise, "Very good."
"Thanks," he happily replies.
The two of them eat in the same sort of quiet companionship as dinner, it's nice, different.
Like dinner, he quickly cleaned it up before making them fresh cups of tea, not that he expected Mycroft to drink it, just that he wanted to offer it in case he was thirsty.
Settling on the end of the sofa once more, he glances at the fireplace before asking, "Everything alright?" He's not sure why he asks that particular question but it seems like the right one to ask.
"Of course," his patron answers vaguely.
Cocking his head to the side, he studies the older man but doesn't push. There is something, his instincts as a doctor telling him that. He was always good at knowing which of his patients needed someone to talk about, probably because he learned early in life to read moods by subtle body language and expressions. There had been plenty of times it had been useful for him.
They spend more time in the companionable silence, something he is used to from fellow soldiers, and happy for because a part of him was worried it was going to be awkward.
"I worry about Sherlock," the older man eventually tells him, sighing as he finishes speaking.
He nods, considering what he had seen of Sherlock that's completely understandable.
When he notices the fire is burning lower, he gets up to stoke it before settling back on the sofa.
Mycroft gives him a very thoughtful expression, studying him with those sharp eyes as if looking for something in particular.
He just smiles in response.
When it is close to eleven pm, the older man glances at his pocket watch and stretches, "I need to be going."
Standing, he moves over to where the older man is standing now.
"Have a good night, Mycroft," he tells him softly, "Remember to actually rest."
One of the older man's eyebrows twitches upwards, the hints of a smile playing at the edge of his lips as he nods slightly.
"Yourself as well," his patron tells him.
The two of them quietly walk to the door, with the older man turning to face him when they reach it, and he is not sure what prompts him to lean in and up, pressing their lips gently together before he steps back and lays a hand on the door handle.
Mycroft seems shocked, standing there and blinking at him as he processes the fact he was just kissed.
"Goodnight Mycroft," he comments gently, opening the door and waiting for the taller man to leave.
Giving a small shake of his head, Mycroft nods at him sharply once before turning on his heel and leaving.
He watches with a small smirk playing at the edge of his lips. If just giving him a surprise kiss is going to cause that sort of reaction, he wonders what other reactions he will get out of the older man. Particularly if he uses those skills he developed as Three Continents Watson as his base nicknamed him. Well that's something to consider later, for now, best make sure any mess is cleaned up and head to bed.
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