CHAPTER EIGHT

A/N: Spoilers and whatnot in Chapter One.

Greg paused in the doorway of his bedroom the next morning. Mycroft as still asleep on his side, facing the door. Greg couldn't help but admire the sight of him with his tousled hair and how his long eyelashes swept his cheek as he slept.

Greg walked over to the bed and placed a mug of coffee on the bedside table then leaned over, kissing Mycroft softly on the cheek. Mycroft opened his eyes and grinned lazily.

"Morning,"

"Morning. Sorry, love. I have to go to work. There's been a stabbing in Hackney"

"Too bad," sighed Mycroft. "I suppose I should think about getting to work as well." He grimaced at the thought.

"I'll call you when I can," promised Greg.

"Come here before you rush away," said Mycroft. As he sat up the duvet puddled around his waist.

Greg went most willingly. Mycroft was still bed-warm, the musky scent of their night together clung to him, a potent mix which made the goodbye kiss last a lot longer than it should have. When Greg pulled reluctantly away he was breathing heavily.

"Any more of that and I'll have to arrest myself for lewd behaviour," Mycroft laughed, his eyes sparkling with devilment.

"You could just wave from the door next time, Gregory," That comment elicited a hard kiss from Greg.

"Just close the front door when you leave, it'll be fine. Help yourself to anything you need. Bye, love."

And he was gone.

Mycroft drank his coffee then reluctantly got out of bed, straightening and smoothing the sheets and duvet after him. It felt bizarre standing naked in someone else's bedroom so he gathered up his scattered clothes and went in search of the bathroom.

Ten minutes later he shut the door of number 42 behind him and got into the sleek black car that had just pulled up outside and headed back to Downing Street.

Greg didn't often smile at crime scenes but there was one smackhead dead on the floor and a second dead smackhead weeping contritely in the corner. He knew they'd be pushed to stretch this case out till the next tea break, so he smiled.

Forensics were finished and the body transported while smackhead number two was bundled into a panda car.

Back at the Yard, Greg had a lot of paperwork to do. He was due in court later that week and he knew how slippery defence barristers could be. However, he still found five minutes to steal away and ring Mycroft.

"How bad was it?" asked Mycroft.

"Not worth leaving my bed for. Especially not with you in it."

"I quite agree. Will you be free for dinner tonight?"

"I'm sure I will."

"Good. I'll get us a table at the Lotus Garden."

"Eight o'clock?"

"Eight o'clock," confirmed Mycroft with a smile. "And Gregory, you might consider bringing a toothbrush. I think it's time you saw where I lived. Till tonight."

"What the hell has made you so bloody happy, sir?" grumbled Donovan.

Greg didn't reply, but his smile got a whole lot wider.

The Lotus Garden was relatively quiet but the food and service were excellent.

"May I ask you something?" enquired Mycroft after the waiter had cleared their table and they had both ordered coffee.

"Go ahead. I'm pretty much an open book."

"What happened to your marriage?"

Greg sighed. He thought this topic might come up eventually but he knew Mycroft deserved the truth.

"Short version, she cheated on me. Several times with different blokes, as it turned out. So many lies, so much false hope."

He shook his head. It didn't hurt any more, but he had loved her and it had been devastating at the time.

"Long version, we probably shouldn't have got married, really. I think we loved each other and we both wanted kids. I really fancied myself as a Dad."

"But it didn't happen?"

"It didn't," admitted Greg. "We found out that, ironically enough, I'm sterile. And she wouldn't consider adoption, or IVF. She wanted my baby. I think when she realised it would only be the two of us from then on, that's when she started cheating. She also wasn't keen on the fact that I'd slept with more men than her."

Mycroft choked and Greg started to laugh.

"It's fine, Mycroft. Water under the bridge now. But it has scarred me, I won't deny it. I can't abide being lied to. Ever."

Mycroft had to look away. He knew just how well Greg could read people.

"I'll never lie to you," he said, and that was now the truth.

"I hope not," replied Greg softly. "I really do."

"You live in a bloody mansion!" exclaimed Greg later as he hung up his jacket in the entrance hall of Mycroft's house. Mycroft glared at him as he placed his coat on a coat hanger.

"Do stop exaggerating, Gregory," he said, leading Greg into what must be the living room. It was wood panelled and the furniture was typically masculine, dark woods and leather.

There was a scratching sound and a whiff of sulphur and Greg turned to see Mycroft kneeling beside the fireplace, starting the fire.

"It doesn't take long to warm up, "he explained, getting to his feet. "Let's have a drink."

Greg sat on the couch, which could easily have sat five people and watched as Mycroft poured brandy from a crystal decanter into two balloon glasses. Greg thanked him as Mycroft sat beside him. For a while the only sound was the crackling of the logs in the fireplace.

Greg took a cautious sip from his glass. It was so exquisite, he took another one.

"This is gorgeous, "he enthused. Mycroft smiled and dipped his index finger into his own glass, leaning in to place the amber drop on Greg's lips.

"That cognac is older than America," murmured Mycroft. Greg's hand came up, capturing Mycroft's so he could lick every atom of liquid from his finger and his own lips. Mycroft's eyes were half-lidded now, frank invitation plain in both blue orbs.

"You're growing very bold, "whispered Greg, pulling Mycroft onto his lap, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. "I like it."

"Only for you, Gregory," he gasped as Greg found a sensitive spot. "Only ever for you."

They were both soon naked on the couch, the fire creating shadows and light on their entwined bodies as they made slow, unhurried love, warming each other with every touch.

Later, much later when Greg was fast asleep in his bed Mycroft looked at him, his heart breaking just a little.

"I love you," he sighed under his breath. "Please don't make me break your heart."

TBC