Chapter 4 – The First Date (Part 2)

"So, Greg…" Mycroft started. "Tell me more about yourself."

Greg looked at the man opposite of him. He cleared his throat and sat up straight. With a smile, he replied to Mycroft.

"You're from the government. I bet you've already looked me up, and I bet there's not much left for me to tell you."

"No, no. I haven't looked up… your hobbies and likes or dislikes."

Greg frowned slightly, but he also had a rather amused grin on his face.

"Did you just dodge–"

"No, please do answer my question. What are your hobbies?"

Greg chuckled. The man was serious, he could certainly tell that, but his embarrassment shined through and Greg found it quite adorable.

"Well, I enjoy reading the newspaper in the morning. I enjoy taking walks. I enjoy my work… now and then."

"Why? What's wrong with your job?" Mycroft leaned in to listen carefully.

"Oh, no, nothing's wrong, really. I'm just not a fan of the paperwork, that's all." He leaned back in a relaxed way, and unknowingly, Mycroft relaxed a little, too.

"I see. I have noticed that you work with my younger brother, and quite often, actually."

Greg nodded and smiled.

"Yes, that's right. What about it?"

Mycroft's eyebrows instantly rose.

"Why?"

"Oh," Greg said, trying to refrain from chuckling. Sherlock was probably no laughing matter to Mycroft. "Because he's good, and we need him from time to time."

Mycroft nodded and raised his hand for a waitress to come over.

"Well, thank you for giving him something to do."

"Not a problem," said Greg with a smile, and he turned his attention to the waitress when she had reached the two.

"How can I help you tonight, sir?" she said, giving them each a friendly smile. Mycroft pointed at the wine menu.

"We'd like a bottle of Chardonnay, please." He looked at Greg for approval. "I thought it would be good if we'd stick with a lighter wine tonight. Business, and all…"

"Yes, you're right. Chardonnay would be perfect." He simply smiled at the waitress and then at the man in front of him. He appreciated Mycroft's efforts to play along, especially for him. The woman left to get the wine, and Mycroft turned to Greg.

"We can do red wine next time," he said with a smile.

"Have you perhaps done this before?" Greg dared to ask, and this, surprisingly enough, made Mycroft chuckle.

"Have I done what before? Going on a date date, pretending that it's a business date on the request of my date partner?" Greg nodded; he meant exactly that. "No. I've only been on a few dates, you see, and all were with women."

"Really? You've been straight? Or bisexual?"

Mycroft shook his head, although he appreciated Greg's curiosity. The date was seemingly going well, although he was hoping for more flirting.

"No, I've always felt the way I do about men. I simply needed to cover it up for my dear old folks."

This made Greg's smile fade.

"Don't they accept it?" he asked.

"Oh, no, they do. I bet they do. But I don't want to go around town, screaming that I'm gay – and dear Lord, I am gay – while not being able to find any other man to go on a date with. I'm not very active in the gay scene, so I have no idea who is actually gay here. You know, from the select group of people that I know and see every now and then."

The conversation fell silent for a moment, as the waitress brought the wine bottle and two glasses. She poured each a sip, and they both tasted the wine and approved it. She then poured them full glasses and set the bottle in a cooler.

"Enjoy. Have you decided on the food yet?"

Mycroft shook his head.

"I apologise. We've been so busy discussing business, that we haven't looked yet. We'll reach a decision soon."

"Of course, that's not a problem, sir. Just call for me when you're ready." She left with a smile, and in the meantime, Greg had thought about Mycroft's explanation.

"But why…" He stopped and frowned.

"Why what? Do continue," Mycroft said, and he took a sip.

"If you're that gay, but you're not in the gay scene, then why did you look in the… straight scene?"

Mycroft sniffed amusedly.

"Ah, right. Well, I obviously had to take care of some business by visiting you, and before that, I looked you up, and… Oh my, you were cute. And single, of course. So I figured, why not? Why not try to convince you to go on a date with me? And honestly, you and I can both see that it has worked."

Greg blushed, but Mycroft managed to keep the conversation going, and after a bottle of wine and three lovely courses, the two were heading home.

"I must say that I enjoyed this d–… business talk," Greg said in the car. He and Mycroft exchanged an all-knowing and slightly cheeky smile.

"Me too, and I hope that you are interested in doing more… business with me."

"Of course… Here's my card." Greg gave him his business card, but it only showed his office number. Mycroft didn't quite understand the trick, so Greg flipped it over for him, revealing his handwritten mobile phone number on the back of the card. Mycroft smiled and blushed a little.

"Great, thank you," he said, storing the card in his inside pocket and patting the spot. "I will contact you soon, then."

The car stopped, and Greg was a little sad that it was over. He had had a great time with Mycroft, and he had learned that he kind of fancied him. He wasn't sure if that made him bisexual or gay, but he was sure that he would find that out someday. The driver opened the door.

"Call me, please," he mouthed in a soft whisper, and he got out, thanking the driver. As the car drove off, Mycroft didn't look out the window, probably to keep up the business date story, and thus Greg didn't blame him. Instead, he was thankful. Thankful that this man would accept his ridiculous terms, just to go on this date.

A silent hour later, Greg laid in bed, thinking. He couldn't help but check his phone every minute, hoping for a text message, maybe something by which Mycroft would confirm that he had gotten home safely, and that he had enjoyed the date, and that he would be interested in a second date… but nothing. No text message, no call… Maybe that was just Mycroft being his mysterious self. Greg moved onto his side, put the phone on his bedside table, and closed his eyes. Tomorrow. Surely Mycroft would contact him tomorrow.