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Greg slid into the seat beside Mycroft, dragging his chair close enough for their knees to touch.
“Morning,”
“Gregory.” Mycroft’s tone was neutral, but he didn’t move away.
“How was your weekend?” Greg rested his chin in his hands, watching him. “Anything interesting happen?”
“No.” Mycroft opened his book with deliberate calm.
“Really?” Greg’s voice carried that edge of mischief that meant he knew something. “I was walking the dog in your neighbourhood… saw someone delivering flowers. Your mum’s birthday?”
“Wrong address.” Mycroft didn’t look up. He of course recognised the handwriting on the card that accompanied the ridiculously large bouquet. Lestrade had been trying for weeks to coax him into saying yes to a date. Not that Mycroft didn’t want to—he wanted nothing more—but the thought of anyone finding out terrified him.
“I see. Lovely flowers,” Greg said lightly, “Though they were dull compared to you.”
Greg tilted his head, studying him. “Are you blushing?”
“No.” Mycroft tugged his scarf higher. “I might have a fever.”
“Do you?” Greg leaned in without hesitation, cupping Mycroft’s face. He turned even redder.
“Hmmm.” Greg kissed Mycroft’s forehead, his lips lingering for a long while.
“You don’t have one,” he said finally, straightening.
Mycroft’s gaze flicked around the classroom—thankfully, no one seemed to have noticed. “Your medical qualifications are dubious at best.” he tried to remain calm.
“Then stop me next time,” Greg said, smirking.
“Shut up,” Mycroft muttered, but the corners of his mouth curved, just enough to give him away.
“You know how to do that.”
Fine,” Mycroft sighed, snapping his book shut. “Only to stop the string of ridiculous gifts. I’m concerned about your finances.”
“Ridiculous gifts?” Greg pretended to be offended.
“Could you stop acting for a moment and actually listen to me?”
Greg’s grin softened, and he nodded.
Mycroft glanced around the noisy classroom, then leaned in, his voice low enough that Greg had to tilt his head to hear. “No one can know about it. No one,” he repeated, his eyes sharp. “No grand gestures, no public displays of affection—especially not in school.”
“Whatever you want,” Greg’s eyes sparkled with excitement.
“No dates in public,” Mycroft added.
“Then where? Your place?”
“Absolutely not. Figure it out.” Mycroft leaned back.
“Sure,” Greg shrugged, entirely unfazed. “But no complaints when I do.” He smiled, that easy, infuriating smile that made Mycroft’s heart flutter.
Mycroft sighed, already regretting his decision.