Chapter Nine~
The door was thrust open with such force that it caused poor Mycroft to jump out of the peaceful slumber he had fallen into just a few hours ago. For just a few sacred, precious hours, Mycroft had been able to temporarily forget about the emotional trauma that had been inflicted upon him with the whole "waking Lestrade up" ordeal. And now, with horror, the memories came flooding back.
Lestrade placed his briefcase on the table with a heavy, ragged sigh. He removed his jacket, and Mycroft watched with longing eyes, shivers rushing down his spine. He had a strange urge, a sudden, naughty urge that he couldn't get out of his mind. Oh, how he longed to see Lestrade in his boxer briefs again, but this time under quite different circumstances…
Lestrade, as if he could read Mycroft's thoughts, turned to face his friend. Mycroft's cheeks instantly began boiling under Greg's gaze and he prayed to the dear lord above that Lestrade didn't have any superpowers… like being able to read minds.. or the super vision that would allow Greg to see a bulge growing in Mycroft's own boxer briefs…..
"Myc?" Greg said, and the confused and slightly agitated look on his face led Mycroft to believe that he had been asked a question.
He cleared his throat, shifting on the couch awkwardly. "Uhm… sorry. What?"
He thought he could see a hint of a smile on Greg's lips. "I asked you what you wanted to eat for dinner."
Mycroft's face grew more flushed than it had been before. He knew what he wanted to eat…..
Shaking his head violently to clear his head to clear his dirty thoughts, he cleared his throat. He had also begun a sweat, and probably looked as though he had just ran a bloody marathon.
"Oh," he couldn't think of a response. What did people normally eat for dinner? Food, right? The thoughts weren't processing correctly. "Whatever you normally eat is fine," is all that would leave his dry mouth.
Lestrade pulled a half-eaten box of pizza out of the refrigerator. "Is microwaved pizza okay?" he asked.
Pizza? Ew. Mycroft's face must have revealed his slowly-rising disgust, for Lestrade's face quickly oozed over in color.
The smell of the pizza was quickly blocking Mycroft's breathing pipes. "Greg," he coughed. "How long has that pizza been in there?"
Greg paused, and then shrugged. "Not long," he said.
Mycroft waltzed over to Greg, pinching his nostrils. "Are you sure about that?" He delicately lifted the pizza box lid like he was touching an object that had crash-landed on earth from an alien planet and could be crawling with fatal diseases. Finally, the lid had been opened, revealing the nasty surprise inside….
Ten minutes later, Mycroft finally emerged from the bathroom, having just emptied every last parcel in his stomach into the toilet. A very embarrassed Lestrade stood outside the door.
"Is it gone?" asked Mycroft, looking around as if there had been an unwanted intruder.
"Yes," said Lestrade.
"You disposed of it properly? In the dumpster?"
Lestrade nodded.
"Did you wear gloves?"
Lestrade began to give an honest answer, but after seeing the horror in Mycroft's eyes he changed his response. "Yes."
"And washed your hands?"
Greg finally broke into a smirk. "Yes," he said, his amusement dripping out over his words. "And then I washed the entire house with antibacterial spray."
"it's not funny Greg!" Spat out a fuming Mycroft. "Did you see how moldy that thing was? It looked like a dust bunny had vomited all over it! Do you know how dangerous mold is Greg? Do you?"
The crazy in Mycroft's eyes was breaking Greg down. There was a bubble of joy in his chest he hadn't felt in years…. It had been so long since he been able to laugh at Mycroft's germophobia like this. He clutched his chest, doubling over in laughter.
God, this… felt nice. He hadn't laughed in… he paused as he thought about it. How long had it been anyway, since he had last laughed?
The laughter rippled over his broken body, making his heart both ache and heal. It had been too long. Far too long. Since he had laughed, since he had felt happy, since he hadn't felt alone. It was funny to think that Mycroft was the cause of both his immense pain and this reviving joy.
Although fury was still freshly printed across Mycroft's face, he began to crack, slowly breaking down into fits of his own laughter.
His heart too, ached with this painful and familiar sense of joy that he hadn't felt in so many years.
After they finally caught their breath, Mycroft realized how hungry he really was. He gazed at the refrigerator longingly, and Lestrade finally caught on.
Greg opened the fridge, suddenly closing it, face blushing.
Mycroft walked over, but Greg blocked the fridge.
"What are you doing?"
"Blocking you,"
Myc rolled his eyes. He sidestepped Greg, opening the fridge to Lestrade's horror. There was nothing in there…. Like, nothing.
Mycroft looked up in shock.
"Its not what you think!" said Lestrade raising his hands defensively.
"So you haven't become a drug addict, using your only source of income to douse your addiction?"
Greg was the one to roll his eyes this time. He continued. "No, I'm not a drug addict. And I'm not anorexic or anything."
"I know that, stupid, you wouldn't have such nice muscles if you were anorexic."
The stupid comment had come out of Mycroft's mouth before he could even think otherwise. His pupils dilated, and he was extremely grateful that Lestrade wasn't the most observant person.
However, Lestrade did (unfortunately) have ears. "What?" he said, but he didn't laugh as Mycroft had thought he would. He looked… startled? Scared? But that wasn't quite it. There was something else in his eyes. Something he wanted to keep secret maybe? Mycroft's deductive skills were cut short by him stuttering out an explanation.
"I only meant—I didn't mean, nice, exactly, I just mean, decent. As in… well, you look like you keep in shape. Maybe go biking every day? The firmness of your muscles would suggest weights, but there aren't any in the house, but there was a biking outfit so—" he noticed Lestrade's expression. "I mean. I wasn't paying that much attention to your muscles. I—" he was about to continue, but Lestrade cut him off.
"I'm sorry, by the way." Greg said. He was avoiding Mycroft's eyes.
"What for?"
"Today, that you had to see me like that." He looked ashamed, and Mycroft didn't know why. Why was Lestrade ashamed of Mycroft seeing him naked? The only possible solution would be if Lestrade had enjoyed Mycroft seeing him in his undies… but that was ludicrous.
"Don't be," said Mycroft much too fast. His eyes widened again, and Lestrade finally smirked.
A mischievous smile passed over his face, and he stepped closer to Mycroft, their faces so close that Mycroft could feel Lestrade's warm breath pass over his face. "I know you don't mind seeing these nice muscles," Lestrade mocked, his breath dripping down Mycroft's neck as he pinned him against the fridge.
The whole thing had been meant as a joke, just to tease Mycroft and get him riled up, but when Myc didn't throw back a witty response, Lestrade realized how close he was to Mycroft. His face had drifted close to Mycroft's ear, and he could smell a cool cologne drifting up from his neck. A blush crept up Lestrade's ears as he acutely noticed how warm Mycroft was, and how much he wanted to just grab the man before him and feel his warmth envelope him completely. Their chests rose & fell unevenly, almost touching at times. Mycroft's pulse was beating so rapidly and he prayed that Lestrade couldn't hear it beating.
Realizing that the joke had went a bit too far, both red-faced men flung themselves apart, avoiding eye contact and clearing their throats. Looking for anything to clear the uncomfortable silence, Lestrade finally continued the previous conversation. "I don't have anything in my fridge," he said, "Because honestly I'm too busy to go shopping. I'm not poor. I have plenty of money. I just don't have the time."
Mycroft took the opportunity to get out of the house that so many uncomfortable situations had happened in. "Well we have time now. Why not go?"
"Together?" Lestrade asked, incredulous. "You'd want to do errands?"
"Might as well make myself useful while I'm here, can't just sit around being pretty the whole time."
And as they grabbed their coats and headed out into the chilly London air, Mycroft could almost swear he could hear Lestrade gently say, "I wouldn't mind if you did."