Work Text:
There was a chill in the air as Mycroft stretched in his bed. It was a grey day outside, dreary clouds threatening snow as he sat up with a yawn. It was his birthday. Not that he ever really did anything for it. No one else, aside from his family and Anthea, even knew when it was. 42. He smirked as he thought of that Douglas Adams book saying that 42 was the answer to everything. He stepped into his house slippers and pulled his black satin dressing gown over his equally expensive navy pyjamas. A quick scratch on his belly as he yawned again and began to plan his day was suddenly interrupted by the sound of someone downstairs. Mycroft froze. Why hadn't he been alerted? Anthea would have messaged him and the alarm system should have gone off. Sherlock would have been noisier and rudely woken him up. Who the hell could it be? He quickly sent a message to Anthea, and then left his phone on the bed. He didn't want to be heard if he could help it.
Mycroft moved to his closet and pulled out his trusty umbrella. A twist of his wrist and a flick of his thumb and the handle came off to expose a small pistol. He made sure it was loaded before he moved quietly through the house. He rounded the corner and could smell something cooking and the sounds of one person moving around in the direction of his kitchen. Who would break in to cook in a stranger’s house? More and more baffled with every step, Mycroft made his way down the stairs and hid outside of the door to his kitchen. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself as he debating on leaving the house or entering the kitchen to see who it could be. He decided on the latter, and in one fell swoop he pushed the swinging door open and entered the room, gun raised. “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY…..Gregory?” His bluster frizzled away as he caught sight of his on-and-off lover.
Greg Lestrade, for his part, was so focused on the task at hand and the song in his head, that he dropped the spoon he had been holding, splashing batter all down his jeans and the counter as he jumped in fright. “Jesus, Mycroft! You gave me a heart attack. Put that gun down,” he said, as he knelt to clean up the mess and put the spoon in the sink.
“You didn’t answer me. Why are you here?” Mycroft lowered the gun and took in the mess around him. Bowls and utensils were everywhere, his griddle fired up on the stove, and all kinds of detritus littered the counters.
“I came to make you breakfast in bed, though it seems the bed part is out. Sit. Im almost done.” With a warm smile, Greg leaned in to kiss his cheek softly and then turned back to work. Mycroft didn’t really know what to do. He was still off kilter from finding Greg in his kitchen without his knowledge. He just headed to the counter opposite and took a seat on a stool. He watched as Greg moved around like he did this everyday, and Mycroft’s heart warmed a bit. It all felt very domestic, something Mycroft was not used to in the least.
“So, I was on a case recently that took way more time and research than I thought it would to solve,” Greg commented with his back to Mycroft. “I called in all the favours I could and even Sherlock refused to help.”
“Really? Was the case too boring for him?” What an odd thing to talk about over breakfast.
“No. Actually, he told me that if he helped me it would put John and his lives in danger. Bit melodramatic, that was.” Greg laughed, a sound Mycroft loved to hear.The next sound was odd. Like silly string, but more wet. Now he was even more confused.
“Well, did you actually solve it? If not, I could be persuaded to look into it on your behalf.” Mycroft offered. Now he heard the sound of a lighter being flicked. Curious.
“Oh, no. I solved it. Just had to make an awkward phone call. But thanks for the offer.” The smile in Greg’s voice was easily heard as he turned the burners off.
“Well are you going to tell me about it, or pussyfoot around the details until it annoys me further?” Mycroft huffed out. Today was not a day on which he liked to be messed with.
“I figured you would enjoy the suspense.” Greg turned then to face him. On two plates were piled stacks of perfect crepes. One was made with fresh strawberries and copious amounts of whipped cream, and the other with what appeared to be..
“Nutella…” came the whispered voice of a thoroughly surprised Mycroft. Greg set them down in front of him and took his own seat. A single candle burned in one stack and it illuminated his smile.
“Yep,nutella. I know how much you love it,” remarked Greg. He reached across the counter and took one of Mycroft hands. “Happy Birthday, love.”
“You...you did all this for me? I was the big case you were so passionate about lately?” Mycroft asked in awe.
“I’m always passionate about you. But yes. I hated not knowing your birthday and you wouldn’t tell me. No one would. To me a birthday is a big deal. Now, make a wish.”
Mycroft closed his eyes momentarily and then blew out the candle. “You said you had to make an awkward phone call to find out. Who was it?” he asked as he opened his eyes and plucked the candle out.
“Your mother, actually. Seems they didn’t know you were seeing anyone. Which is fine.” Greg shrugged. “We’re supposed to meet them for supper next month when they come down for John and Sherlock's engagement party. I told her it would depend on my caseload. That way we have an out.”
Mycroft frowned, his brow furrowing. No one had ever cared enough to put this much effort into finding out anything this important let alone breaking into his house to cook him breakfast for his birthday.
“Thank you Gregory. I am sorry I have not mentioned you to my parents. We don’t speak that often and I forgot. I didn't do it on purpose or because I don't...care for you. I care more deeply than I think I ever have for anyone, and I suppose I fear what that means for a man such as myself.”
“Don't worry about it, Myc. I know that we both live crazy lives and oftentimes dangerous ones as well. I’ll never expect things to be any more than what you think is enough.”
“But I do want more. I dislike waking alone anymore. I miss the warmth of you in my bed, and seeing you like this today makes me want you in my home...well, it would be our home. We have been courting each other for what seems like forever, and I'll be damned if I wait and nearly lose you like Sherlock nearly lost John.” Mycroft explained nervously, rambling a bit.
“Breathe, Mycroft,” Greg chuckled softly, grinning at him. “I'm glad you said those things because that's how i feel too. I love you, Mycroft.”
“And I love you, Gregory. I’ve never said that to anyone before. It feels right with you,” Mycroft admitted breathlessly.
“It really does. Now, let’s dig in before these get too cold.” Greg handed him a fork and pushed the nutella crepes closer to him. Mycroft chuckled a bit, cheeks pink, as he dug in.
“These are really amazing. Thank you. I should have known you could cook.” A soft moan slipped around the fork. As he took another forkful, Greg moved off his stool and knelt beside Mycroft's stool, looking for something, or so it seemed. Then Mycroft took the next bite.
“What?” He spit something hard into his hand with a grimace. In his hand glinted a platinum ring covered in nutella. Mycroft's head snapped up and he found Greg down on one knee.
“Hi,” Greg Said in a slightly shaky voice, reaching out to take the ring. He cleaned it with a towel he had pulled through the belt loop of his jeans. Once it was relatively clean, he held it up. “So, now that we have established that we love each other and hate being apart, and since we have been tiptoeing around this for nearly a decade, and also because I know how much it will mean to you to be able to show Sherlock up... Will you marry me, Mycroft Holmes?”
Mycroft was silent for longer than he wanted to be, but couldn't help it. His brain was firing off all the things that could go wrong, and everything they would have to do, like security clearance and extra protection, if he said yes. He didn’t blink or move as he stared at the band and pondered if it was all worth it. He was so distracted he didn’t see the fear creeping into Greg's face or the panic setting in as he second guessed his decision to propose.
What finally made up his mind was the image of being alone with take away and old movies, watching everyone else get to be happy. That, and the thought of anyone else being with his Gregory. He blinked then and saw the worry he had caused and immediately slid to the floor to kneel in front of him, nearly knocking the stool over in the process.
“Yes,” Mycroft said. “Sorry. You know how my mind likes to do it’s own thing on occasion. I will marry you as long as you will move in here until then so I don't have to be apart from you when we are not at work. And then we can look for a place together. Our own home.” With a smile he leaned in to cup Greg’s face and kiss him tenderly, pouring the emotion he held inside into every moment.
Greg broke the kiss to take Mycroft's hand and slide the slightly sticky ring onto his finger. “I know this all seems cliche but I thought you would appreciate it.” He smiled brightly and helped his new fiance up. They took their seats again at the table.
“Wait, what would you have done if we hadn’t talked first and said I love you?” Mycroft asked before taking another bite of his crepes.
“I would have given you the strawberry ones,” Greg joked. “But seriously, I didn't know which you would want. There is actually a ring in here too.” He fished out the one from the crepes in front of him. “This one is mine now.” He cleaned it and slipped it on. “Happy Birthday, again.”
Mycroft smile the warmest and happiest smile Greg had ever seen. “I guess 42 really is the answer to everything.”
“I knew you were a nerd,” Greg commented. “Oh, and on a weird note, Anthea is the one who helped me get in here while you were sleeping. But she said that I had to tell you to remember to take your vitamins. I have no idea why.”
Mycroft nearly choked as he remembered the video she had shown him recently. “Meddling woman. I'll have to thank her later. But for now, thank you Gregory, this has been the best birthday I've had in quite some time.”
“And it’s just begun. I’ve got a day planned. Only the best for my fiance.” As he reached over and took Mycroft's hand, rings shining in the light of the kitchen, Greg finally relaxed. “To the future.”