JOHN TOOK A steadying breath, a sip and then another breath before he asked, "Could you do me a favour?"
Mycroft waited patiently for him to continue. He watched as John willed his breathing under control. He watched as his eyes flared wide and then narrowed, as the fine facial muscles twitched under his skin, as his too honest body betrayed him. Irritation, frustration and arousal skittered across his face—for Mycroft, it was undeniable evidence of a losing battle being fought within.
"Could you just speak plainly for once? I've been awake for less than a bloody hour. I don't have the energy to deal with one of our usual cryptic conversations."
"That is precisely the point, John,' Mycroft countered, sounding far too reasonable, "this is nothing like our usual conversations. This situation is most certainly unique."
John grimaced and inclined his head slightly. "Mmm. I guess you do have a point." He sighed.
"You want me to speak plainly, yes?" he asked and waited for John to nod. "Then I will." He took a deliberate breath. "Sherlock is concerned that you and I have developed feelings for one another. I believe he is worried that he will lose you to me."
His heart jerked in his chest, he swore it did. While he struggled with that unnerving sensation, his skin started cooking from the inside out. It was only a matter of time until he started shivering. It was shock, he realized, mild as it was. Ridiculous. And yet… not entirely surprising considering the company that he kept. Still, John prided himself on his ability to remain cool under fire and it was an uncomfortable blow to bear at such an ungodly hour. John covered his seething face with both hands before swearing under his breath, "Jesus, Mycroft."
"You asked me to—"
"Yes—Yes—I know," he cut him off, hands still covering his eyes. Palpable tension was strung between them, thick and raw. "Christ, Mycroft. I don't even know what to say to that…"
Mycroft nodded silently, then realized John's eyes were firmly closed so he added, "I understand, John." His voice was soft and sympathetic.
Mycroft waited for what seemed like an eternity, listening to John breathe until his palms slid down his face and he finally uncovered his eyes. "Do you?" He asked quietly, still looking at the table.
Mycroft remained silent and still, feeling a little trapped.
John reached down, not too very far from the surface, found the stillness that comes when danger is afoot and with unerring bravery lifted his head. When finally their eyes met, Mycroft was pleased to find a gentle smile and kindness on John's open, honest face.
He may have smiled back. He must have because John's face shifted, he began searching and his eyes took on a familiar intensity. He saw behind them a determined struggle to understand.
He wasn't usually on the receiving end of this particular gaze. It was unnerving, seeing John look at him with eyes usually reserved for Sherlock.
What John saw there, Mycroft couldn't say for certain but whatever it was must have given him away because John licked his lips nervously and then asked, his voice almost a whisper, "Have you?"
When Mycroft met his eyes, his face was blank, relaxed even. He only hesitated briefly before answering. Prevarication wasn't an option. Not today. "Yes… John. I. Have." His voice was almost preternaturally gentle. It made John's gut clench, among other things.
There was a quick intake of breath and then John asked, "What am I supposed to do with that?" He sounded agonized. "I don't have a switch. I'm not like you. Or him. I can't do that."
MYCROFT PULLED OUT the chair opposite John and sat down quietly, a slight frown on his face now, as he mulled over his thoughts. He was surprised by John's words. He probably shouldn't have been. It was, after all, the demeanour he steadfastly portrayed. For some reason though, it was important that John know him better so he said, "I'm not a machine, John. I do have feelings. I do feel. I just don't choose to most of the time."
John sighed and shook his head. "Sometimes, I envy you."
"Why is that?" Mycroft asked carefully.
"I'd like to be able to do that. Choose not to feel. I wish it were that simple."
Mycroft nodded in understanding. "Our situation is not simple, as I'm sure you know, John. Sherlock made a decision and now he regrets it. At the time, he believed it was the best course of action."
"Well, he's a complete idiot sometimes!" John said sharply.
Mycroft smirked and gave a tight nod. "Yes, he is."
John let his hands fall to his lap and then he leaned forward. When he spoke, it was just above a whisper and to an onlooker his body language would've suggested they were a pair of conspirators. "I knew at the time, you know? But I did it anyways. To teach him a lesson I think." He huffed, and then added, "Kind of backfired though, didn't it?" Shaking his head, he pursed his lips and chuckled darkly.
Mycroft tapped a fingernail against the table top, arched a brow and then agreed wryly, "Yes, a bit."