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“What kind of uncultured heathen are you?”
Molly knew she should be offended at Mycroft’s face, but the fact he looked so aghast at the fact she made her cocoa with powdered mix and water was just too funny to ignore. She chuckled and leaned over, kissing his cheek. “A lactose intolerant heathen,” she said before going back to stirring her cocoa.
Mycroft frowned at her, looking at his own cup. “Would it offend you if I dumped mine down the drain?”
“No,” she said. “I know it’s not everyone’s taste but I’ve drunk it that way for years. I’m used to it.”
He nodded and then looked at his cup of cocoa again, deciding against it. He set the mug down and then went to the sofa. He wouldn’t drink it, but he wouldn’t waste it. She finished stirring hers and set the spoon in the sink, and then went to join him on the sofa. She curled into him, cradling her mug, and set her feet on the sofa. “Have you tried lactose-free milk?” he asked.
“It really isn’t to my taste,” she said. “But we could try other things, if you want to broaden my horizons.”
“I do enjoy doing that,” he said. “I also enjoy collaborating with you in the kitchen. We do come up with some interesting recipes.”
“Well, it helps we’re both foodies. Your cooking food and exquisite taste in ingredients and my skill at baking makes it a worthwhile endeavour.”
“It does.” She waited for him to start the telly but he ran his fingers along her arm instead. “Have I ever told you that I never thought I would be capable of love until I met you?”
“No,” she said, setting her cocoa down in front of her on the table. “Mycroft, are we about to have a serious discussion?”
“Perhaps,” he said. He continued to stroke her arm lightly. “You are...my favourite recipe. You are just the right volume. You are the perfect temperature. You are good luck. You are the cure. You are soft lighting. You are folded blankets. You are the middle of the night. You are so close. You are ineffable. You are the safest place. You are the reason why.” He pressed a kiss into her hair. “You are the reason I have thawed so much.”
“I can’t possibly be all that,” she said, her cheeks warming and she ducked into his chest.
“You are,” he said. “You are all that and so much more.” He pulled away and reached into the pocket of his suit jacket, pulling out a small velvet box. “It’s not a typical engagement ring, but your mother said it was a ring your father had given her early on in their relationship that you have loved since you were a child.”
Tears leaked at the edge of her eyes and she blinked them back as Mycroft flicked the lid up. It was an opal ring, surmounted by various small size pearls, and it had been the birthstone of her mother and a reminder of her first date with her father when they had decided to try oysters and found out her father had an unbeknownst to them shellfish allergy. He had given it to her mother on the anniversary of their first date. “Oh, Mycroft...”
“I asked her permission to entrust her only child to me, to love and cherish until we were separated by reasons beyond our control,” he said, taking the ring out of the box and setting it on his lap. He picked up her left hand and slipped the ring on the appropriate finger. “She gave her blessing. Will you give yours?”
“Absolutely,” she said, moving her hand as soon as the ring was settled to throw her arms around him and kiss him all about the face. Finally, she kissed him on the lips, melting against him. He was all that he had said and so much more to her, too, and she would spend the rest of her life making sure he knew, always, just how much she loved him.