Greg entered Mycroft's town car after work, and as was expected, the man himself was waiting for him.

Greg immediately felt underdressed. Mycroft was in his usual black suit, with a deep red tie and a gold tie clip to keep it in place. The clip was monogrammed with the initials MCH, and he vaguely wondered about what the C stood for. As always, Mycroft's flawless exterior was almost terrifying.

Greg was wearing jeans, a gray sports coat, and a white button up shirt. His job didn't require fancy dress, but now he wished he had taken the initiative to put on something nice that morning.

"Gregory, dear, smashing as usual. How are you?" Mycroft, for once, wasn't entirely flustered. He'd never let the other man know that he had spent an hour calming himself down and practicing his lines. After their last date, he wanted to make sure Gregory was still interested.

"Not as good as you look. It's been a long day. How was… South America?"

"Confidential." Mycroft's clipped tone did not betray the fact that he wished he could tell the other man everything about his life, including his job. Some secrets, however, had to be kept. He knew that better than anyone else.

"Sorry. I'm glad you're back, I was starting to think you didn't really like me. I'm sure I must seem boring to someone like you." Although he made it seem offhanded, Greg couldn't be more serious.

In response, Mycroft leaned over and kissed Gregory on the mouth. It was a passionate, intense kiss that lasted well over a minute and expressed everything it had been intended to express.

"Never think that I do not find you a most extraordinary man, Gregory Lestrade," Mycroft whispered. Greg was left open mouthed and more than a little surprised. They both sat back, and Mycroft straightened out his impeccable suit.

There was a moment of silence while Greg tried to memorize the feeling of his lips, but then he asked, "Where are we going, anyways?"

"Ah, there's an excellent little restaurant that just opened and serves delicious Thai food. I thought you might like it, but if not, there are a lot of other places we could go to."

"Thai sounds perfect right now!" Greg wasn't about to change his careful plans for any sort of cravings for cake he might be having.

The restaurant turned out to be much bigger than "little," and what seemed to be a lot more expensive than Greg's usual takeout Thai. It was decorated completely in oriental fashions, with dark red walls that matched Mycroft's tie (Greg wouldn't put it past the man to have done research to make sure his clothes matched the restaurant) and Chinese lanterns hung everywhere. It gave the place a strangely intimate feel.

"Wow, I really feel underdressed," he said, watching business men in expensive suits walk by with young girls in kimonos at their sides.

"Nonsense, you outshine the whole room." Sometimes Mycroft blurted out strangely poetic phrases that made Greg wonder if he had a second life as a writer. It made Greg blush, that was for sure.

The waitress escorted them to a private corner of the restaurant where they had a nice view of the scenery outside and still were rather secluded from the other customers. Greg wasn't sure if Mycroft had asked for that to give them privacy, or if he preferred to watch and not be seen.

The food was delicious, and the conversation was sparse because of it. He did his best not to stuff his face impolitely, but he couldn't eat fast enough for his liking. Mycroft, of course, ate very little. They both drank, but a lot less than the last night they had been together. Greg didn't want to do anything to jeopardize what had already started out as a rather fast-paced relationship.

Part of Mycroft wanted to be very civil and take things slow, and part of him wanted to drink as much as possible and go home with Gregory again. He hadn't know sex could feel so good before his detective came along, and now he didn't want to look back to before.

He had been nervous coming to the date, because so many things could go wrong. Gregory could be suspicious of him leaving, or he could not like the restaurant, or he could get angry that Mycroft was gone for so long, or a bucketful of other things that had flashed through the anxious man's head on the long car ride. However, being with him always soothed his nerves.

After the check (which Greg reached for, but Mycroft plucked away quickly) was paid, the men stepped outside to wait for the car. Greg pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, offering one to his date.

"No, thank you, Gregory. I don't smoke." That wasn't entirely true. Mycroft did smoke cigars, but only when offered by important businesspeople in meetings.

Greg put away the cigarettes and didn't take one for himself. He felt weird smoking alone; he had been trying to quit anyway.

"All right then, would you like to come to my flat for a slice of cake, then?"

Mycroft's ears perked up at the mention of cake. It was easily his favorite food, especially red velvet.
"That sounds… quite… enjoyable. You have cake?"

"Yep, got a chocolate one a while ago from the family of a victim or something. I'm not supposed to take gifts, but I wasn't about to throw a cake away." Greg noticed Mycroft's almost orgasmic expression of want. "Are you a big fan of cake, Myc?"

"I find it very pleasing, yes," he muttered diplomatically. To be honest, he was scared that Gregory would tease him for liking it so much. He even ignored the nickname. As a boy, Mycroft had always been one of the heaviest in his class. Even though he had never been "fat," he was constantly teased.

"So do I. Then it's settled. Off to my place!"