Work Text:
Late night work would be the last on Albert's agenda. He liked staying in his office– with the lights dim and a glass of wine to keep him company, he could put his mind at ease while he paced in his pen on tons of paperworks he had yet to complete. Some were to be printed by Moneypenny, some were to be handed over to Mycroft early in the morning tomorrow. He decided he would keep the papers that had to be given to Mycroft as his current top priority. He didn't want to disappoint his superior with poor working ethics and lack of time management, not being able to submit his tasks on time.
He had his gray suit hung on his ebony chair, green tie deliberately loosened and slick hair no longer as tidy as it was when he sat together with William over morning tea before he set off for work. He showed no will to take a break despite the wall clock already ticking at eleven o'clock past eleven, when a knock on his wooden door dismantled the concentration as it shifted to a soft smile. Who else would be knocking on his office at this hour?
A soft "Come in," invited whoever the person was behind to swing the door open with the usual stoic face he has, until it lit up, an expression that was similar to Albert's. Their hearts were filled with content that had disappeared for a brief moment from exhaustion when their eyes interlocked. Albert placed his pen down and leaned to his chair, relaxing his tense shoulders as the man who had just walked in approached closer.
"My, you look as if you are about to fall from exhaustion," Mycroft teased, sat down across Albert and rested his arms on the armchair. "Aren't you tired?"
Albert only shook his head. A lie. "Would you like me to pour you some wine? On the same glass, of course, unless you would like to fetch yourself your own glass downstairs."
"I'd rather not trouble myself with any of those. The wine is yours alone." He spurned. Mycroft was quick to see the truth behind Albert's tired beryl eyes he often got lost so deep in. Like a spiraling tower that made him feel heavy, or a rollercoaster ride that made something hazy in his head spin 'round and heart lit up with diesel of distress.
"If you insist, Director." Albert chuckled before pouring wine to his glass again, this time leaving no more drops of that burgundy liquid inside the bottle.
It is only at times like this they could converse like a normal couple without matters of work blocking them out in between. This night, when the streets of London became quiet, no longer bustling with carriages and streetwalkers, and the only thing shining through was the streetlights that became nests to dragonflies after a day of drizzling that formed puddles on the ground. Dim-lighted rooms at midnight were a comfortable place to be in. Though both of them had just gotten off work, or rather, Mycroft had casted his work aside for the night to visit Albert and walk home together, one felt free from his underlying duties. Nothing lasts forever, but Mycroft is a man who keeps the present moment like a sealed envelope of swooping, sloping cursive letters scented with lavender haze. He didn't want to leave Albert alone like he did to Sherlock, and so he looked at Albert like his past, present and future was right there in front of him. Everything all at once. It feels unsettling, yet oddly comforting.
They don't need words of love to complete each other as a whole. No words were needed, in fact. Because they both knew, the look they gave to each other was something to look forward to everyday after restless days and sleepless nights.
"Then, may I insist you to rest?," Mycroft sounded demanding instead of requesting. "It's not like those papers could walk away. You still have time till lunch tomorrow."
He knew Albert well– one that couldn't let his grip slip away from his prized possession like he had won a contest. A trait Mycroft values from him, so much that he thinks that none could chart the same constellations in his eyes. He knew Albert would try to object.
"And let tomorrow's schedule be ruined like that?," A raise of a brow was made. "No thank you. I promised myself I'd finish this by tonight, and I couldn't bring this home as much as I wanted to.
"However," he continued, tone changing into a fairly playful one. "I do have something else in mind."
And, oh, Mycroft knows this too well. That smug look, sultry sharp eyes, one that Mycroft thinks resembles a snake. He figured he had found himself the catch of the day, wherein it could last a lifetime. Mycroft could play pretend to not know the obvious and increased his webs of opacity before breaking through Albert's solitaire game. "Do enlighten."
"Must I really tell?"
"Among a million and one, I would lend more than just a penny for your thoughts."
Mycroft only wanted to see Albert's composure shatter into a million pieces like a mirrorball. Albert was intrigued and huffed out a laugh, throwing his head back. Ah, he loves it when they start talking like this– just questions but no answers, but neither of them wandered in their heads for answers, because they knew everything about them just fit in so well like gloved hands inside a winter coat.
"Mr. Holmes, I didn't know you were so humorous." Albert decided to tease as he usually would.
"Am I?," He furrowed. He didn't find himself so. "It was just a simple question. How could one not be curious about what's in your mind?"
"Well, if you're that curious…" Albert's cold fingertips slowly caressed the wine glass in a slow captivating manner, sharp eyes returned to how it previously was. "Might as well take a good look at me and figure it out on your own."
Mycroft's eyes were locked to those damned hands of his; how much he wanted it round his shoulders, giving out the same look in a short length of distance. His fantasies ran wild and heart ached unforgivingly with excitement all thanks to Albert. He knew better than to let that excitement spark in his eyes, however. He kept it very well hidden, as he always had for years and years.
"I am looking at you."
"Not close enough."
"Then get closer to me."
To wage every pound, Mycroft won't let Albert win his own game. How daring was he.
"Get closer?" A tilt of a head was done as a voice strung with innocence rang, Mycroft awaits for the electrifying ringing violets.
"Only if you want me to have a closer look on you, of course," Albert wasn't the only one who gets to mind-twist. "Do you object?"
He knew he couldn't. The feather-like stroke of a glass halted in a motion. Albert cleared his throat, eyes wandering anywhere but Mycroft's– like he was roaming back and forth, left and right, venturing every dead end of a maze with no way out. This is what Mycroft has over him: a silent dominance where everything falls back into an ending scene so subtly, closing the maroon theater curtains because this love's not for the audience to sightsee. For a nobleman could win his legacy not by gold, but by a single penny everyone does not deem of.
His cheeks were an evening tide by the seashore, painting blooming peonies with pure bliss. Every melody of speech he wanted to let out was pushed back down by a gravity that's too much, and yet, he got a grip on himself and rowed his boat through the mist. He got to his feet, filling in the blank space in between as he walked closer and sat on top of his table, finally able to get a clear view of his man. Nevermind those paperworks anymore.
"'Of course not," Albert murmured, one that sounded hushed. With his face inching closer, warmth creeping to Mycroft's perfect picture, and as the sand to a silver-lined hourglass came tumbling down, Albert gazed down at Mycroft's tie. "I–"
"My eyes are up here, Al," A finger lifted Albert's chin, forcing him to look up, eye to eye, tongue-tied. "What are you looking at, hm?"
And fuck , a hitch of a breath comes along with notions of lightning, cheeks forcing up the heat intensity.
"N-Nothing…"
Mycroft's lips curved up, eyes forming into a crescendo. This time, he thought, he got him again. He leaned in closer with a smug smile, cold fingertip booping his nose in a lighthearted manner.
"You want me to look at you like this?"
Albert nodded, eyes never leaving the other.
"Your wish is fulfilled, then."
Albert wanted to stay like this for a little while, perhaps even closer. Face cupped with a pair of hands, it was as if Mycroft could see the truth that lay behind his eyes. The lights were low, curtains half-opened, giving the moonlight a way to trespass through the window. Silvery lines beneath his eyes wrinkled like small rivers as he hummed, lost in his current wonder like a priceless wine. That’s Mycroft, his man, wrecking his London bridge and tore his soul in two like a passionate flame of whirlwind, unraveling their moment like a polaroid picture placed inside a photo album. It was as if the wind blew to his brown locks as he laid on a field of dandelions, he reached for his lover’s shoulders and tangled his arms around it like it was a sacred temple to ring out pleads of prayers. Just then, his crystal cherry lips brushed against Mycroft’s, sealing their proximity led by blind faith. He could feel Mycroft’s lips moving in sync, pacing the same rhythm he was having.
This is what Mycroft wanted too, tasting Albert’s sugary sweet flavor. A Sunday dew in the windows of a morning horizon, Mycroft dropped everything he had, finding it impossible to gamble his way out the quicksand that happened to be Albert himself. He was so captivated by everything in him, that he refused to let go and only leaned in even more to deepen their share of passion. The path they walk on is reckless and dangerous, but nothing safe was worth the drive.
“Mm...” a soft whimper escaped Albert, echoing through Mycroft’s mind. Forever going with the flow, Mycroft detached his hold on Albert’s face and trailed his hands to his back and waist, giving it a light squeeze, enough to leave Albert breaking the kiss by accident and gasping for air. He was still sensitive as ever, even after months of being together. Perhaps it burns in the pit of his stomach, or in his chest. Still, he wants it all; he wants all of Mycroft. He wanted more, Mycroft knew from the look of vulnerability in his eyes, glistened with glacé, lending in some delicacy to brush on him with colors.
“Al, sweetheart ,” Mycroft sighed, bringing in Albert’s head to land on the crook of his neck. “We could… stay like this for a little while, if that’s what you want.”
“I do want this, yes,” Albert chortled. Though he had something else he wanted to push himself to, this works just fine too. “Hold me tighter, please.”
And as they said, he is only unfair when it comes to going against all odds.
“Of course.” was all Mycroft replied with.