Okay so inspiration is not flowing, but trickling. At least it's something. You'll never know when it'll start again. Then I'll go batshit crazy on you guys. Yes, I just swore. It fit, okay? I'm thinking of breaking my no-swearing rule. It was more of a mind stretcher anyways. Makes it harder to write when you can't use fuck, shit, damn, hell, etc. What do you think, my peeps?

Anyway, review, review, review. Plez.

Enjoy this chapter of my creation!

The next morning Mycroft woke to a horrible headache and a dry mouth that told him everything he needed to know about last night. Or that's what he thought, up until he rolled over, groaning, and slammed face first into his favorite DI's chest.

"Bloody hell, Myc!"

Mycroft stiffened and slowly raised his head. Their eyes met. Greg smiled warmly. Mycroft freaked out and scrambled out of bed, getting caught in the bedclothes and falling to the floor. He stayed there, panting hard and trying to connect the dots. There was a rustling above him as Greg moved to stare at him.

"Are you okay, Mikey?"

Mycroft looked up and growled, "What the hell is with the pet names?"

Greg was taken aback. Pet names? What pet…. Oh. Those. He grinned sheepishly.

"I've always called you Myc, Mikey, or even My in my head. In the morning I have no filter so you're stuck with them."

Mycroft growled again, "What happened last night?"

Greg frowned. "Do you remember anything?"

The British government tried to. The last thing he remembered was Anthea telling him to call the DI so he could actually get some work done. HE hadn't been because he was thinking so much about the older man, his body and lips, the kiss… The KISS!

Mycroft jumped up and ran to the bathroom to retch again. After he finished, he stayed there until Greg pounded on the door and yelled, "Breakfast and painkillers are out here."

He stared at himself in the mirror. Why had Gregory kissed him? It couldn't have been because he was attractive in any way, shape, or form. He just must have been craving physical intimacy. Yes, that was it. The DI hadn't had sex in eighteen months or more. That was all.

Greg, meanwhile, was getting a bit worried. Mycroft was still in the bathroom. He wasn't throwing up anymore, so he must be thinking. Overthinking, probably, he thought, knowing that the younger man was insecure and would be trying to justify the DI's kiss.

Just as Greg was going to pound on the door again, it swung open. One look at the taller man's eyes and Greg knew he was right. Grabbing the pale wrist, he dragged him to the table. Breakfast, consisting of eggs and hashbrowns, was waiting there, as well as two painkillers with a glass of orange juice. Mycroft raised an eyebrow at the last one as he sat.

Greg grinned when he noticed and leaned against the counter. "Trust me on this one, I've gotten bloody smashed before. It helps, no idea why."

Mycroft thought about it, then shrugged and started eating. Pretty soon he was shoveling the food down his throat. It was really good. Why hadn't he known Greg could cook? This was better than most restaurants served.

When the shorter man laughed, Mycroft realized he'd spoken out loud. With food in his mouth. Bloody hell. Greg continued to chuckle as he replied to Mycroft's thoughts.

"I wasn't going to tell you I could cook. For one, I thought you already knew. Two, I like going places with you. I learned before the divorce, because more often than not I cam home too late for supper and had to make my own."

Mycroft swallowed, then spoke before his next mouthful. "So what actually happened last night? I remember nothing."

Greg grinned mischievously. Oh, this was going to be fun.

"Well, the first I knew about it, I was getting a call from you about 10:43 PM. Of course, I picked up. When I did, though, I could hardly understand what you were saying. You were slurring your words so badly. What I did make out, though, is that you were thinking about our kiss." Mycroft groaned at that, burying his head in his hands. Greg moved over behind him, unconsciously stroking the redhead's hair.

"We'll talk about that later. Anyways, I finally got you to call Anthea in and she took your phone. I arranged it so I could pick you up. You were very drunk at that point. It took Anthea and I, plus a lot of shoving, to get you into my car. After that, I got us to my flat pretty quickly and ran you to the bathroom so you could throw up. Then I changed your clothes and put you to bed. You fell asleep pretty quickly."

Mycroft groaned again, lowering his head to the table, closing his eyes. He didn't bang it on the wooden surface, but only because the painkillers hadn't kicked in yet.

Greg chuckled and sat next to the government official. When the taller man didn't raise his head, the DI laid his own head next to the one on the table, looking at the closed eyes. Eventually, they opened and stared with desperation and embarrassment at the man opposite.

Greg knew he had to do something. So he slid forward until their lips were only a breath apart and whispered, "I still want you anyways."

Then he closed the distance between them, pressing his lips firmly against the other man's.

Mycroft froze.

He had never done this before.

What was this feeling? It was…

Mycroft wanted MORE.

He whined and pulled up Gregory as he stood, keeping their mouths connected. Gregory licked the redhead's lower lip, silently asking permission. When the British government opened his mouth just the smallest bit, the DI took advantage, slipping his tongue between the pink, now kiss-swollen lips.

When Mycroft moaned, that's when Greg knew he had him. Pressing them both back against the table, he pushed the younger man down onto the surface. The food had been swept to one side at some point. Half-laying on top of the older Holmes brother, the older man continued to quite thoroughly snog him.

Soon simply snogging wasn't enough, and exploring hands slipped underneath waistbands and shirts, stripping each other, struggling to keep their lips fused. Greg had to break off once, to pull both their shirts off, but otherwise they managed to keep the connection.

Finally, they were both naked and rutting hard against each other. Greg moved his mouth from Mycroft's to suck on his neck and shoulder, leaving bright red marks everywhere he traveled. His fingers crept up to play with Mycroft's nipples, making the younger man moan loudly.

In return, Mycroft wrapped his legs around Gregory's waist, pulling him even closer. He started stroking the older man's back, dipping down towards his arse then back up before touching it. This drew a groan, which Mycroft promptly swallowed. They broke away from each other, panting for breath. A string of saliva still connected their lips.

"Lube. Condoms," Greg breathed into Mycroft's neck, trying to remember where he had placed the items. Mycroft came back to himself at those words. He shook his head to clear it, pushing Gregory off him and standing up to catch his breath.

"No, no, no… I have to go, Gregory."

Greg stared in confusion.

"What?"

"Work. I have to go. I need to go, now!"

Greg watched as Mycroft quickly pulled on his clothes and left, the door swinging shut behind him.

As soon as it did, a hurt expression crossed the DI's face and tears came to his eyes as he let his feelings rule for a moment.

Then he shut it back down and dressed himself, going into work early.

But the pain pf rejection stayed.

Okay, so…. How'd you like it? I think it sucks that I only have one person reviewing everything. Yeah I love my favorite sociopath, but I need a bit more feedback from other readers. Tell me what you think, please please please please pleasepleasepleaseplease

Loves anyway

See ya next chapter!