Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas folks

Mycroft's POV

Picking John up and going to dinner seems to pass far faster than expected. He had finished his paperwork early, so instead of using two different cars for them, he just rode in the vehicle while it was on the way to pick up his companion. '

The smile that the younger man had directed at him as the blonde slipped into the car made his heart skip a beat, much to his embarrassment.

They had sat in companionable silence on their way to the restaurant, but that had ended after they ordered their drinks. At that point, John had asked how his day was going. Not what he was doing, just the impressions and emotional reacts of it.

He had answered truthfully, even if he wasn't exactly sure why.

From there, their meal and chatter had been about little things. They discussed the fact the doctor had visited with his brother. John was as tight lipped on that conversation as expected. Then they had discussed the fact that his companion finally settled on a major, now he just needed to figure out which school he wanted to major at. Then the discussion had turned to books and that's where it stayed until they were done.

Again, rather than call for a second car he had decided to ride with John back to the house, which is how he ended up in his current situation.

"Come in with me, Mycroft," John suggests, running his thumb lightly over the back of his hand. "I don't have anything nefarious planned."

He's certain their definitions of nefarious might differ," he thinks as he watches in fascination the way their hands are touching. People don't just touch him.

"If you insist," he agrees, noticing the fact his voice is rougher than he is used to.

John's lopsided grin has the hints of a smirk to it as his eyes crinkle in warmth. "Yeah, I do."

"I'll call you when I am ready to leave," he tells his driver as he motions for his companion to get out of the car.

He follows John out of the car, mildly surprised that the younger man didn't head in first and instead waited for him. They walk up to the small house side by side in silence.

Once inside, John gets them drinks from the kitchen, hot teas, though non-caffeinated, with a gentle joke of, "No reason to wire our systems so late in the evening."

He nods as he accepts the cup being handed to him and settles on the chair closest to the fireplace as he normally does. His companion settes on the sofa, almost sprawling as he drinks his tea.

For a time they enjoy the silence together. When John's done with his cuppa, he sets it down on the coffee table, rising from the sofa to start a low fire, turn down the lights, and turn down some music.

"Dance with me," the smaller man murmurs as he offers a hand.

Why would the blonde want to dance? He wonders as he sets his cup on the small side table, considering it. Is there any good reason not to? None that he can think of off the top of his head.

Accepting the hand, he stands up, wondering if this is a good idea, but pushing those thoughts aside to enjoy the way they fit together as John steps closer. Slowly they dance around the mostly empty living room.

He is surprised to say he's enjoying this, despite the fact he's not actually a fan of dancing.

"I wanted to dance while we were at that ball, but work comes first," John tells him, the hints of a smile ghosting over his lips. "Then there was that arse who ruined my evening plans."

"You were planning something similar that evening?" He asks, wondering why the blonde has been considering this for several days apparently.

"Yes," his companion hums, "I was planning something similar that evening."

He doesn't get this entire companion situation, he thinks, he's not currently interested in sex, or so much physical contact, and yet, it seems that John is. At least on the physical contact aspects of it. So far there has been nothing really sex related.

Except those kisses you've enjoyed, however brief they've been, a little voice that reminds him of his brother sneers in the back of his mind.

They continue through several songs before his companion queries, "Thirsty?"

He nods, stepping back as he replies, "I am, excuse me for a minute."

"A'course, I'll make more tea," John agrees with a warm smile, slowly letting go of the hand he was still holding, thumb caressing across the back of it as he does so, sending a bolt of sensation through him.

Nodding once, he pivots and heads to the downstairs bathroom.

Why is John doing this? He asks himself as he washes his hands and face, glancing in the mirror and spotting exactly how flushed his skin is. He doesn't blush so why is his skin more of a peach color than normal?

Normally he would know with just a look. The way he's used to reading people. Yet he has a bit of blind spot when it comes to his companion. He can see things, but they don't always make sense to him. Actually, when it comes to himself, the things he sees with John never really make sense to him. There is no way that he can be considered attractive. His weight fluctuates too much, he's overly pale and not in the 'romantic' manner, he's snotty and arrogant, and he has a receding hairline.

And yet John seems to.

He really should return to the front room before his companion wonders what's taking him so long, he thinks as he washes his face again.

John might not have the ability to read people in the same fashion as him or his brother, that doesn't mean he can't do so using a different skill set. That's a fact that has been repeatedly made clear when they have been around other people and the way the blonde reacts to each person.

Drying his hands and face, he squares his shoulders and leaves the bathroom. Returning to his seat by the recently rebuilt fire.

Instead of another cup of tea, John presents him with a wine glass. A sniff of him declares its spiced wine.

Almost hesitantly, because he's not a fan of wine in truth, he sips at it and discovers that the wine flavoring is more of an after taste.

"Relax, I'm not planning on jumping your bones tonight," the doctor remarks as he sets his mug down. "However you were getting progressively tenser, which is not what I as after either."

"Of course," he agrees, forcing his body to relax, which is surprisingly harder than expected.

Upon finishing his glass of wine, he decides to be the one to ask for the dance, because why not? What's the use of having a companion who's willing to dance with him if he doesn't take the initiative occasionally.

The smile he gets when he offers his hand, makes the entire nervousness and exasperation with himself worth it.

Tonight's going better than expected. He'll stick with that when he starts having doubts in the morning about John's reasoning.

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