Mycroft Holmes could not recall ever feeling this nervous about a dinner. In fact, he couldn't really remember feeling nervous at all, since human emotions had not really been his area until recently.
He smoothed the fabric of his suit and straightened his tie again. It scared him more than he liked to admit that he was actually going on a date. With Gregory. Together. And this suggested a certain relationship between the two of them which was something he wasn't ready to think about. The door opened with a creak and Greg stepped in, leaning against the door frame, equally nervous. "You know, sometimes I wonder how I could have not seen how extremely sexy a man in a good suit is for so many years." he scanned him with his eyes, biting his lip thoughtfully.
"Probably because you haven't many nicely dressed men before." Mycroft said. "Oi posh boy, I might have!" Greg answered. "Did you really have to get limousine for tonight? A simple cab would have done." Mycroft looked slightly hurt, crossing his arms. "I … I just have standards." He said, pushing past Greg, putting on his coat. Greg sighed. How could he have possibly messed up already?

The car ride was frosty and awkward. Mycroft was very tense and Greg felt absolutely helpless. He leaned his head against the window, watching the houses pass in a blur, their lights dancing on the cold glass. Music was pouring from the driver's radio, making him feel like in a sad rom-com scene.
"You're hopelessly romantic, Gregory." Mycroft said softly,"I sometimes envy you for that." He looked at Greg with curiosity, his blue eyes open and vulnerable. "You're taking me to a fancy, expensive restaurant in a shiny car, I'm pretty sure you got some cheesy romance in you." he answered.
The car stopped and the driver opened the door. Greg climbed out, looking in awe at the elegant building in front of him, façade painted a dark gray, the name spelled in shiny letters above the large glass door. Fairy lights decorated the entrance, wrapped around small trees and climbing up the pillars. Mycroft straightened his tie nervously. "You look gorgeous." Greg whispered, before opening the door for his date. A waiter greeted them and led them to their table. On the inside it was even fancier, glass chandeliers casting a romantic golden glow over the red velvet chairs. Paintings and statues decorated the room, classic music was playing. Everyone was so elegantly dressed that Greg was starting to feel self-conscious in his old 'in-case-of-a-wedding" suit. A candle was lit for them and a waiter took their orders (Greg was terribly intimidated by the french names and let Mycroft order for him.).
An elderly couple at the table a few feet away stared at them, whispering. Greg met the old lady's eyes, smiling politely. The lady narrowed her eyes and shot him a venomous glance, before turning her attention back to the gentleman. On the other side of their table, a young woman was conspicuously glancing at them from behind her hair, smiling and giggling.
Greg decided that humans were endlessly weird.
The waiter came back, placing large, shiny plates on their table.
"You know it's a fancy restaurant cuz they serve you tiny meals on huge plates" He murmured. Mycroft rolled his eyes, smiling. "Well, you're not wrong." He began picking apart his food with an impressive elegance, leaving his date to stare at his plate in confusion. Why were there so many forks?
"This is where the conversation part begins." Greg said.
Mycroft looked up, blushing nervously. "Well, what would talk about in a … romantic situation?"
"Tell me about yourself."
"There isn't much to tell."
"How did you end up working for the government?"
"That is too classified to be talked about in the public."
"Fine. Uhm… Have you ever had a relationship? In your youth, silly little two-week crushes?"
Mycroft hesitated, lowering his hands.
"I don't think we should talk about that, either."
"My first relationship lasted eight months." Greg said. "I was 17 and I suppose I was a little desperate at that time. She was looking more for a minion than a boyfriend and constantly ordered me around, but I felt like if I didn't stay with her, I'd be alone forever. Only after she cheated on me for the second time I felt like I really deserved better." Mycroft was watching him curiously, listening with a fascination one might find in a child hearing a foreign language. "A few years after that I met my ex-wive" Greg continued. "And it was pretty much the same story all over again. She was lovely at first, of course, charming and dedicated. The first years of our marriage were really happy. But I guess she got bored. Some day I wasn't enough anymore." He exhaled slowly, realizing that he had never really talked about his failed marriage with anyone. Worrying that he might just sound like a whiny old man, he glanced at Mycroft, but the other man was listening intently. He cleared his throat. "Well you know how it ended. For the longest time I wondered if there was anything I could have done to save it. What I had done wrong. At some point I guess I just realized that sometimes people are just bloody assholes and it's not my fault." Mycroft smiled, nodding slowly.
"Am I… Am I the first man, that you … go out with?" he asked carefully.
"As far as I remember I've never really been interested in any man before." Greg answered. "But then I met you and there was something I couldn't resist. I don't know if that makes me gay or bi and I don't really care. You're beautiful."
Mycroft drew a long breath, straightening his shoulders.
"You're my first." He said."I've had … interests when I was young. But I was not a very confident child and neither did I think I would actually benefit from any romantic entanglements. In my teen years there were some moments of weakness but altogether I always prided myself in keeping my distance from emotion of any kind." he placed his hands over Greg's, curling his fingers around them. "So you are the first one who matters," he whispered.

The air was split with the sound of glass breaking. On the table next to them, the old lady had dropped her glass in shock, her face flushed, she stood up, waving her fist at them. "Disgusting! That you have rub it into our faces! I don't care what you do in your bedrooms but there is no need to bring your lifestyle in a place like this and shove it down our throats!"
Mycroft pulled his hands away, his face hardening, though the pain was clear in his eyes. Greg jumped to his feet immediately, shielding Mycroft from her view. "There's no need for this." He said with the calm, authoritative voice of a police officer, though his heart was beating fast and he felt dizzy. Waiters rushed towards the angry woman, trying to calm the situation, another came to their table, muttering apologies. The lady, was now shouting even louder, complaining to the staff about how 'people like that' were even allowed in such societies. A soft mumbling went through the other guests, but they had turned their heads, trying to ignore the scene.
Greg signalled Mycroft to get up with a gentle touch to the shoulder and told their waiter to send them the bill. As they moved towards the door, he was vaguely aware of the young girl who had watched them earlier jumping up, stating that it was 2017 and people were allowed to date whoever they chose.

The noise of angry customers was muffled by the heavy door closing behind them and died away as they walked down the empty street. Mycroft was walking quickly, without direction, his face cold and hard. Greg followed him quietly, a few feet of distance between them. The wind blew in face, although it was quite warm for a february night, we was shivering. They followed the street for a while, before reaching an empty parking lot. With a few curt words, Mycroft ordered their driver to pick them up. Knowing that there was no chance of talking to him now, Greg just waited silently, his chest aching with the desire to pull him into his arms and tell him that it was alright.

The door of Mycroft's house slammed shut behind them. Somehow, the following silence pierced Greg's ears. He followed his partner wordlessly, watching him put his coat on the hanger with an eerie calm and stalk of into his dressing room. "You should pick up your things and leave." he said curtly.
"I won't" Greg said, closing the door behind him, leaning against it.
"I wish to be alone." Mycroft said coldly, his head raised defiantly.
Greg shook his head. "Don't. Mycroft please, don't do this." He took a step forward, carefully , as if he were approaching a wounded animal. "You can talk to me. You can trust me."
There was a long silence, the two men looking at each other, unspoken words floating between them, filling the air with tension. No sound but their strained breathing.

Then, Mycroft dropped onto the divan, reaching out his hand to Greg. He joined him, kicking off his shoes and pulling up his legs. His eyes were warm with affection, his gaze open, honest and completely vulnerable.

Greg looked at Mycroft and for the first time since their kiss in his office, he seemed to really look back, all the walls crashing down at last. There was fear in his eyes, written in the glistening of tears, the soft creases on his forehead and the nervous biting of his lip. The ice-man, without any masquerade. He ran his fingertips over Greg's cheeks, down his neck and rested his palm on his chest. For a moment, Mycroft just quietly looked in his eyes, feeling the heartbeat under his hand, calm and steady. He drew a slow breath. "I always knew" he whispered "ever since I was a teenage boy, that I – that I was homosexual. But it never bothered me much since I had long decided I would not engage in any type of relationship, romantic or sexual. I found men attractive sometimes when I was young, but the older I got the more I distanced myself from any type of feelings. They got in the way of my thought process. Relationships of any kind were nothing but a distraction that needed to be avoided at all costs. Alone was what protected me, being distanced from any other human being, it felt safe and logical. Sherlock was quite the same. But when he met Doctor Watson, something about him changed."
His eyes drifted of, focusing on a memory only he could see, as his eyes filled with tears.
"My little brother was more alive than I had seen him in many years. We all saw that. And the more I watched him and John the more I began to wonder … And then" he smiled softly "I met you. And you were so different. Everyone, even my own brother, saw the cold man of the British government, the machine without a heart. But you seemed to see so much more than that. All these times you came to report about a case or my dear brother's many worries and you stayed to just … talk. To tell stories and to listen. You gave me your heart so willingly, so full of trust and love." Tears rolled down Mycroft's face, making Greg's heart burst with sympathy. "You wanted to know why I do not want people to know about us - you deserve to know why." his voice cracked as he continued "I am afraid. Not about the comments of people like that dreadful woman but… I don't want to lose you. Yet, if people see us, if people know about us then there will be an "us" and that – that indicates a …a real relationship.
You've been married, you've dated people. But I am not good with human interaction. I don't know what is expected of me, what I am supposed to do, I – I don't want to start something because that means it will end.
Gregory..." he whispered, his voice warm with affection. "I'm afraid. I do not want to lose you. I don't want to disappoint you or to hurt you."
He lowered his head, hands dropping on his knees. Greg gently pushed him against his chest, closing his arms around him, burying his face in Mycroft's hair. "Mycroft…" he took a deep breath "I want you. All of you. I want to be a part of your life. I want to be by your side, to be able to touch you and kiss you, fall asleep in your arms and wake up next to you." he smiled. "I'm hopelessly romantic and hopelessly in love. And I want you to be a part of me. And as long as you want that as well we will always find a way. No matter what anyone thinks or says, because they don't matter, we do. All we are ever going to need is each other." He pulled away slightly, putting his hand to Mycroft's chin, raising his head, looking into his eyes. A spark of happiness bloomed inside his chest. "You are so beautiful, do you know that? And I love you so much."

Mycroft was shaking but his voice was slowly regaining strength. "What do I do?" He asked.
Greg smiled. "Be my boyfriend. Just for ourselves. We don't have to tell everyone immediately. Just you and me, together." "I don't know how." "Don't worry, my love. I'm afraid as well. But we can learn and grow together. That's what it's all about." he felt Mycroft exhale, as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulder. He kissed him softly, his chest filling with warmth, stomache bubbling with glee. He was so warm and soft, gasping a little in surprise as their kiss grew more passionate, embracing each other, all the emotions, held back for so long, pouring out of them. It felt right and safe, there was no room for doubts or worries. Only him and Mycroft.

Greg undid his tie, opening the buttons of his shirt, Mycroft following the example shyly. He pulled back, taking a deep breath, tracing his lover's bare chest with his hands. His heart beat fast as he felt the bare skin under his fingertips. Mycroft admired him as well. He looked curious and frightened and absolutely amazed. Again, he placed his palm flat against Greg's chest, feeling the heart beat under the tough, scarred skin. He smiled. "You are so beautiful. I never knew that was possible. Beauty like that." he traced the muscles on his stomach, slightly cocking his head to the side. " I suppose it is rather… sexy." he whispered and blushed. Greg looked at him, an unspoken question in his eyes. Mycroft bit his lip nervously. "I have. Though it's been a very long time" he answered. "We … should probably not … go that far… if that's okay."
Greg smiled and pulled him close, their bare skin touching, kissing Mycroft's cheek.. "Of course it's okay" he said. "All in your own time." Mycroft wrapped his arms around his neck, burying his face against Greg's throat, kissing the soft skin. "I love you" he whispered, leaning his cheek against his warm shoulder. "Boyfriend." he said, nodding thoughtfully, interlacing his fingers with Greg's.
"Okay. I will be your Boyfriend, Gregory Lestrade."