Work Text:
Mycroft has approximately 27 umbrellas in total. If he's being completely honest with himself, he isn't sure exactly why he has so many umbrellas. He isn't even sure how he gathered this many, or why he even bought them. Had it been a lack of self control? No, the only thing he struggled to control was his diet. Well, it was better with Greg. Greg made sure he felt comfortable in his body. Greg made him feel safe to be himself and-- God, Mycroft really needs to stop that train of thought. They were barely becoming friends. Mycroft didn't want to ruin his relationship with the inspector detective already. They were just starting to actually get to know each other. For real-- Mycroft already researched Greg very thoroughly.
~~
Mycroft blinks back to reality, realizing that he's been zoned out for some undetermined amount of time. It seems to be happening more and more often. Whenever he spends time with Gregory he'll think about everything the man said and did. He'll examine it and mull it over again and again until he has properly dissected it. Mycroft wonders if he's obsessed. Sherlock would know. Sherlock has no problem telling him these harsh things. Sherlock would notice. He focuses on the mobile in his hand, and at the toy umbrella on the screen. Mycroft had been contemplating purchasing it. Had thought about what he would even do with it. Mycroft's work persona is very important. If he went around with an umbrella like that people would believe he had gone loony. Being honest, they wouldn't be very far off from how he's been acting lately. Anthea has noticed how different he's been acting. He's been letting that annoying man Lestrade distract him from what's important. From what he believes in his very core. Interestingly enough, Mycroft can't stop, not that he'd want to anyway.
~~
Mycroft raises his thumb before finally purchasing the umbrella. He briefly thinks about canceling the whole order, canceling everything he's feeling and investing himself in. His priorities aren't straight. He isn't himself, but it's just an umbrella. There's no harm in an umbrella, right?
~~
After Mycroft has showered and gotten into his pyjamas, he climbs into his oversized bed and lays down. He lays on his side and simply lets his thoughts drift. Whenever he lets them do that they seem to go directly to Gregory. He wonders what Greg would think about his umbrella. Would the man find it humorous? What if Mycroft sprayed him with it? Would he laugh or slam him against a wall like Sherlock? Mycroft wouldn't really mind-- that's the danger zone. He probably shouldn't go there. Mycroft continues to follow this random train of thought. What would Gregory think about his umbrella? Would he turn serious? Scold Mycroft like a child for interfering with his work? He thinks back to their first social outing.
~~
It was a cloudy London day. Mycroft had been dressed in his usual three piece suit while Greg had come in something a little more sensible. The man had abandoned his work suit for a comfortable pair of worn, blue jeans and a tight fitting, simple black tshirt. Mycroft hadn't been sure why, but he had found that he had a hard time maintaining eye contact with Greg that day. They had gone into a small, hole-in-the-wall restaurant that Greg claimed had amazing Thai food. Mycroft had immediately thought of Sherlock. He had had an urge to inform his brother of the restaurant, but then realized he would have to explain why he was spending time with the Detective Inspector. Mycroft had immediately shut that down. After eating, they had talked about nothing in particular really. Usually by now Mycroft would have been bored out of his bloody mind, but with Greg he just... wasn't. The man held his attention like so few things could. It was like reading a particularly complicated book, or figuring out a puzzle that was constantly changing. Greg had had him hooked. Mycroft had done nothing to change that fact.
~~
Mycroft emerges out of his thoughts. He decides that he will in fact bring the umbrella next time he goes out with Greg. Mycroft closes his eyes and focuses on sleep. Despite his insomnia, it doesn't take him long to fall asleep. He will later wonder if it was because he was thinking of a certain Detective Inspector.
~~
A week has passed, and Mycroft's umbrella is delivered directly to his door. He finds the package on his doorstep after a particularly trying day spent with his brother and the annoying doctor that Sherlock insists on keeping around. John Watson is slowly becoming tolerable, if only because he makes Sherlock happy, and keeps Sherlock safer than Mycroft ever could. He picks the long, rectangular box up off of his front step and carries it into the house. Mycroft feels a bit giddy, but quickly represses that embarrassing emotion. He goes to his sofa, which, like everything else in his grand house, is elegant and perfect. Mycroft sits in the middle and starts to open the box. That annoying feeling of happiness comes back, but Mycroft lets himself embrace it. Just this once. Mycroft manages to get the box open and takes out the umbrella. He pulls it out like a sword from a scabbard and holds it in the air like Excalibur. Mycroft quickly and thoroughly examines the umbrella, inspecting it for damage and making sure it is in perfect condition. It turns out that it's perfectly fine, so he let's that bit of worry drift away. Mycroft wants to test the umbrella, but decides against it. He's sure he'll be able to shoot it perfectly fine when the day does come.
~~
It's a dreary Monday evening when Greg and him go out again. Mycroft is getting dressed in something that he wouldn't mind getting ruined, just in case this all goes wrong. He's never liked having to do any physical work. It'll be much easier to just let Greg beat him up if that's what the man wishes to do. It'll make it easier on Mycroft too. He can just see Greg as another brute. Someone lower than him. It would make it easier. It would make everything easier. Mycroft dresses in dark blue jeans and a simple, Prussian blue button up shirt. He pulls on a black suit jacket over it. Mycroft feels a bit naked. Maybe because he's been wearing suits for the majority of his life. He owns normal clothes, but never has a proper time to wear them. Now he does. Mycroft grabs his new umbrella before leaving the house.
He meets Greg outside of the Thai restaurant where they had their first date-- social outing, as friends. Mycroft greets the man and they enter the restaurant in silence. He can practically feel Greg's need to ask questions about his choice of dress today. Mycroft doesn't think it peculiar that he's wearing what he calls 'civilian clothing', but apparently Greg finds it fascinating, if Greg's constant staring at his back while they're walking is anything to go by. They reach their usual table and sit. Mycroft wonders why his face feels hot and after a brief second he realizes he's blushing. From what? He isn't sure. Mycroft looks away and tries to hide it all the same.
~~
They receive their food, chat about nothing, and then finish. Mycroft is constantly casting glances outside the window the whole time, trying to will it to rain. Nearing the end of their date, it does. Mycroft feels his chest compress, and realizes it's because he's happy again. He can't remember the last time he's been happy like this. Mycroft pays this time, for both of them, and he lets himself slip into the simple, harmless belief that this is a date. It makes him feel a little better about himself. They go back outside the restaurant and Mycroft quickly opens his umbrella and steps out into the rain. He can fill the top of the umbrella filling up with the water, and sees Greg's adorably confused expression at the weird shape of his umbrella. Mycroft aims the water gun carefully before pulling the trigger. The water shoots out of the small plastic gun and hits Greg squarely in the face. The man falters and Mycroft is just on the verge of panicking when Greg starts laughing. Mycroft quickly decides that he loves Greg's laugh and would love to hear it more. He drinks in the details of the man's full-body laugh. Greg clutches at his stomach and bends forward, laughing loudly, from his chest. The sound bubbles outwards and Mycroft is sure that everyone in the restaurant can hear the man's angelic laugh. Once Greg straightens, he wipes the tears from his eyes and their eyes meet. Mycroft is starting to get a bit worried again when Greg steps out into the rain and then under the cover of the umbrella. Mycroft will later look back and notice that he had in fact stopped breathing. Greg's hands travel upwards, cup Mycroft's face gently, pull him down a bit, and they kiss. It's one of those kisses straight out of the cinema. Soft lips, perfectly melded together, as if made for only each other. It's absolutely perfect... until Mycroft's grip loosens on the umbrella, and all the water caught in the umbrella comes pouring down on them both. It's a shock, and Mycroft jumps away, yelping from the feeling of the cold on his previously warm skin. Suddenly it's freezing outside, and Mycroft kind of wishes he could get hypothermia and die on the spot. He's embarrassed, ashamed, but Greg just looks amused again. The man chuckles, walks closer to Mycroft again, and plants a gentle kiss on the man's lips. He mutters a few words about getting them both dry and warm, but Mycroft doesn't really seem to hear it. He's still focused on the last small kiss that was so kindly delivered to him by one Gregory Lestrade.
Mycroft decides he's going to buy Greg an identical umbrella.