A/N: It's been a long time since I posted an update for this story. I am sorry. I've been away for months and then it took me some time to get back into the right frame of mind to write again. This story is not abandoned, I already started next chapter.
This chapter is ubeted. I'm looking for someone who can Brit-pick this story (with maybe a side of beta-reading). If anyone is interested, please PM me.
I hope you will still enjoy this story:)
Greg couldn't tell if Mycroft's avoidance of him was purposeful or not. He hadn't seen the man since their almost date at the party, at least that what he called it in his head, but they were both swamped with work so it was hard to tell if it was coincidental or if Mycroft was putting to practice his many avoiding tactics. And trust Greg when he said that they were numerous; during his first week in the new office Mycroft had taken his time to sit the Prime Minister down like a failing student and tutor him in subtle ways of hiding from people you didn't have time or will to deal with. It was a very useful lesson with a lot of helpful tips drilled into his head, but now it made Greg wonder if Mycroft had techniques designed specifically to avoid any contact with the person of the highest authority because it had been a week and a half since the Prime Minister last saw him. And it was all so casual, like Greg having such a big workload he didn't have any strength to worry about anything else.
That was why Greg firmly believed that it was not his fault that he was reduced to shouting for all the Downing Street to hear to catch attention of the elusive man. "Mycroft!" People turned around to see who was shouting and why and, when they saw it was the Prime Minister, searched who he so desperately was calling for.
Mycroft, irritated frown prominent even from afar, sent him a scathing look but did not dare run away when all the eyes were glued to him already.
"Prime Minister," he inclined his head politely as Greg came close. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
Greg grinned. "Yes, there is a matter of utmost importaince that I wish to discuss with you in my office."
"I am sure it can be arranged, however right at this moment I am late for a meeting." Mycroft made a move to leave but Greg didn't let him, speaking up before he can be turned down.
"Right now, Mr. Holmes. This business can't wait." And with that he led Mycroft away under curious gazes of politicians and their secretaries.
"Gregory, truly, there is no need to be acting this way." The reprimand fell from Mycroft's lips the moment they were alone, hidden from watchful eyes by heavy wooden doors. His face showed no understanding on what the matter could be but it wasn't fooling the Prime Minister.
Greg made his way further into the office, wishing he could have a glass of scotch before starting this conversation, but knowing he had a full day of work ahead. "You have been avoiding me." He said bluntly.
No emotion showed on Mycroft's face, features schooled into a carefully blank expression with no way to read into his thoughts. Greg hated that aloofness with passion at that moment because he could already see how the conversation was going to go. And he thought things were going so well between them…
"I have been busy with work, just as you had been." Mycroft replied calmly.
Greg sent him a knowing look and sighed tiredly, falling into one of the chairs and gesturing for the other man to follow his example. "Unfortunately to you, I am aware of the existence of your avoidance techniques."
Mycroft said down primly, so tense it was painstakingly obvious that he was ready to leave any minute. He didn't reply, thus only confirming Greg's suspicions. "Why?" He simply asked.
Mycroft shrugged as if it wasn't of any importance. "In my opinion this doesn't need any explanation."
Greg let out a sigh through gritted teeth, reigning his anger in. "I'm not going to accept all those ridiculous excuses about press and publicity. I refuse to allow this nonsense to rule my life."
"You are a Prime Minister." Mycroft retorted sternly, almost angrily, his voice rising. "You accepted the rules the moment you took this position."
"That's what you think." Greg pointed out. He steeped his hands on the tabletop and peered at the other man over them.
"That's what you should think." Mycroft corrected irritably. There was finality in his tone and he stomped the umbrella on the soft carpet, leaning on it as he stood up. Umbrella that the Prime Minister had given the man for his birthday, Greg noted bitterly.
"I didn't say we are done with this conversation, Mr. Holmes."
"Pulling your authority?" Mycroft asked, surprised. He waved it away though. "That is not going to work on me."
"I can have you arrested if I wanted. To keep you in a nice damp cell. For a short time sure, but I think it might be enough for you to come to your senses."
"You can try." Mycroft nodded, condescending. And then added carelessly. "And we don't really have any damp cells. Our prisons are well looked after."
Greg regarded him coldly, silently. His hands fell flat onto the cool surface of the desk and he sighed. "Mycroft, let's not…Let's not do this."
"What exactly?"
"Try to one up each other." He shook his head. "This is ridiculous."
"On that I can agree with you."
Greg leveled him with a mild glare and leaned forward in his chair. "Don't play this game with me, Mr. Holmes. I know that you feel something for me, and I am not going to insist that this something is mad passionate love, but it's obvious you are attracted to me at least on a physical level. Don't," Greg raised his voice over Mycroft's protest. "Try to deny it. No use in that after our evening together."
"If you allow me to remind you, Prime Minister, there was never our evening together. It was an official party that both of us happened to attend." With that statement, as if it finalized anything, Mycroft got up to leave.
Greg intercepted him halfway, reminiscent of the way he did it on the evening, but this time instead of gently stepping into his arms Mycroft backed away. "So you dance like that with all the high standing politicians?"
Mycroft narrowed his eyes in anger. "Careful. This sounds too much like an insult. One which you really don't want to make."
Greg deflated a bit, realizing how he might have sounded, but didn't drop his resolve; he needed Mycroft to admit that the attraction wasn't one-sided and Greg wasn't making it all up in his head. "I am sorry. For that comment.'" He paused, taking a breath, throwing away his caution and doing what his instincts told him to do. "But not for this."
Mycroft would have stumbled and fell had not strong hand gripped around his waist as the Prime Minister surged forward to kiss him. Another hand was gripping the side of his face, angling their mouths together and caressing his skin, the tenderness of the gesture a deep contrast with the aggressiveness of the kiss itself. He was frozen in the moment, so shocked and completely unprepared, never did he expect for the Prime Minister to step over the bounds of decency and do something so drastic. When the initial shock passed and the reality of the situation washed over him he lifted both hands, gently extracting himself from the embrace.
"Mycroft," Gregory whispered furiously, desperation in his voice shadowing any other emotion.
"Prime Minister," Mycroft countered, voice under control as well as his expression. He took a step away from another man and it took much more effort than it looked like. "I have more pressing matters to attend to."
Gregory let him go; there was nothing else he could do to change Mycroft's mind – it hurt to admit so, but any continual denial would be unhealthy for his mind and soul. "Of course." He replied, voice low and raspy from the crushing disappointment, and took his own retreating step, clasping hands behind his back as not to reach out again.
The Prime Minister watched Mycroft leave, all composed and full of calm dignity as always; a treacherous tendril of hope sneaked into his heart again as the other man hesitated by the door. When Mycroft turned his face was scrunched into an unpleased frown. "I believe you have a flight early tomorrow morning."
Greg managed to hold in a frustrated groaned until he was sure the other man was out of the earshot. Not only had he ruined all his chances of ever getting Mycroft Holmes, he pissed the man off so much he was sent away on a trip that should have been trusted to the ambassador. There was nothing to make his day worse.