.III
Mycroft stared at his reflection in the mirror for the hundredth time that evening. He wasn't exactly pleased with the way his clothes fit -or didn't fit, more like- but he decided that that suit would be his best option for the night. Elegant, discrete and not to too unyielding… 'For now' added his mind in a flash of cruelness. Trying not to think too much about the man in the mirror he drew in a deep breath and headed outside.
On his way to Lestrade's place his phone buzzed and lit up. Staring at him from the screen was a text message from Sherlock. Wasn't it a bit predictable, perhaps?
I hope you enjoy your food tonight. Then again, you always do. SH
Mycroft was feeling too anxious already to allow himself to be disturbed by Sherlock's message. He quickly typed a response just as the car parked at its destination.
I will enjoy the company even more. MH
As the DI got in the car Mycroft's phone disappeared into his pocket for the rest of the night.
The conversation between them was surprisingly animated. They had almost always discussed business and it was a pleasant turn of events to find out they could actually talk to each other about other things; not awkward silences, no small talk for the most part. Mycroft actually smiled to himself in relief a couple of times, while Gregory was monopolizing the conversation.
Gregory's face when arriving at the restaurant was priceless. Mycroft knew he had probably never set foot on a place that distinguished and he was doing a terrible job at hiding it too. He smiled in amusement and declared:
-Don't worry. I'll take care of the bill.
Gregory laughed but didn't contradict him. The poor man would most likely have to sell his house to pay even for dessert.
They were placed and served almost immediately, as it was customary for Mycroft. Things were going smoothly so far, so he allowed himself to relax a bit and enjoy his meal. Not his brightest idea. Gregory's question caught him with a not-so-small piece of meat in mid-swallow. It is a wonder he didn't choke to death.
-Mycroft, I've been meaning to ask you; this… isn't a date… Is it?
Mycroft struggled not to die from asphyxiation for a couple of seconds, which also gave him the time to think of a moderately appropriate response.
-It is whatever you want it to be. It may be just a dinner between good friends if that makes you feel less uncomfortable.
Gregory sat back on his seat and smiled broadly
-Actually, I was kind of expecting it was. A date, I mean. I'm having fun, really. I'm glad you asked me to come, Mycroft.
Gregory's smile was timid but honest. Mycroft could feel the piece of meat being released from the knot on his chest and finally descending to his stomach.
.IV
Sherlock was positively furious when he found out everything had gone so amazingly between his brother and his prospective boyfriend. Mycroft wouldn't let the opportunity to see his brother in such a state if it cost him his life. Which it probably would.
He made sure to arrive unannounced to his place one afternoon 'merely by chance' when Lestrade was discussing a case with Sherlock. He sat down next to him, a hand brushing his knee on occasion, devious grin glued on his face.
If Lestrade noticed the building tension between the Holmes brothers he didn't show it at all. He actually looked quite comfortable giving Mycroft enamored looks and pecks on the cheek under Sherlock's death-glare. Mycroft could have sworn he was in fact doing it to piss off his brother even more. He was in heaven.
Sherlock had made a couple of remarks of what a terrible couple they made, or how he could not imagine how someone would want to date Mycroft for other reason that money, but they just both laughed it off.
-But of course, it is a surprise to us all, Detective Inspector, that you have so blatantly chosen to disclose your preference for, how shall I put it? Larger men.
Mycroft's chuckle was not joined by Lestrade's this time. For a second both Holmes brothers were oblivious of what had just happened, even looking at the man's now bright red face. And then it hit Mycroft in the chest like a bag of rocks: it was true.
