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The first time he noticed they were strolling through a garden exhibition. It was their second date after years of acquaintance-ship and Greg had just pointed out a flower he found particularly beautiful. It had mainly caught his eye because it matched the icy blue colour of Mycroft’s eyes but had then be surprised by an eloquent speech about the Victorian flower language and in particular this flower’s meaning delivered by the man it reminded him of. Only that Mycroft stopped himself someway through, somewhat abruptly ending his remarks with a „Sorry. I suppose what I was trying to say is, you are right. It is a beautiful flower.“
The next time he noticed was over dinner. Mycroft had taken the first forkful of an exquisitely looking fish with beluga lentins and what Greg guessed to be cauliflower foam, given ist colour and texture. Mycroft’s eyes closed in bliss and he seemed to revel in the taste of his meal. Honestly, Greg would have killed for that expression. He absolutely adored it when Mycroft enjoyed himself. When they had finished, he asked whether Mycroft liked it, if only to get to see a fraction of that pleasure on his face again. And he did, for a moment, as Mycroft started to describe to him his exact thoughts. After a few moments though, it was as if a switch in Mycroft’s head had been turned. „And the composition with the white wine was just- Oh, well, you know how it is. Did you enjoy your meal as well? Should we proceed with dessert?“
It got Greg thinking, then, if Mycroft had always done this and he’d just never noticed before. The thought lingered in his head for several days, and the more he thought about it, the more instances he could recall. A time when he had complained about work, only to suddenly go silent and ask Greg about his day. Everytime he read a particularly sad chapter of a book and cried his heart out to Greg afterwards, only to suddenly remember there was something he had to take care of. When he had cuddled up to Greg during a particularly nasty thunderstorm, only to suddenly braven up after ten minutes and assure him it was alright if he needed to go back to work. He was unsure what to think of it.
And now, as they were about to make love for the first time, there it was again. Greg had been tracing kisses down his torso, but as he reached Mycroft’s belly, he could feel him stiffen. Greg looked up in time to see the wince on Mycroft’s face, only for it to be swiped away in the blink of an eye. „Mycroft, what’s wrong?“
„Nothing.“ It came out convincing enough and if he hadn’t known him so well and seen the look on his face just five seconds ago, he might have believed him. But he did, and so he sat up, leaning back to get some distance between them. „Why do you do that?“
„Do what?“ Mycroft seemed puzzled.
„I’m not stupid, My. I may not be Holmes-smart, but I notice things, you know. Like you stiffening when I started to kiss your belly.“
„I thought that was a good thing in this situation?“ he asked with a suggestive look on his face, but Greg didn’t let him change topics. „And now you just brush your feelings aside, as if they were never there. As if they didn’t matter.“
„I have no idea what you’re refering to.“
„Really My?“ Greg actually sat back now, breaking any contact he and Mycroft had still had. „Do you actually think that low of me? That I wouldn’t recognize this pattern? Whenever you are excited or frightened or sad or frustrated and let it out, it’s like you’re remembering half way through that you’re expressing emotion and then stop immediatly. I have been wondering about that for quite some time now, but I can’t figure for the life of me why.“
„I’m sorry“ Mycroft stated, all potential feelings hidden behind the icy mask he was so used to.
„What for? What is this, My?“
„Well, I am usually quite well at keeping a conversation… normal, I suppose. Around you, however, I seem to have a tendency to lose grip of my… emotions.“ He said the last word with the most distaste. „So I appologize.“
Greg started to shake his head violently. „Love, you misunderstood. I don’t want you to hide your feelings. To hide who you are. I love listening when you talk about your passions and I am proud to be your shoulder to cry on. And I couldn’t stand to do something to you that brings you pain or displeasure, so please, talk to me about it. With every emotion I learn a little more about you and fall a little deeper in love with you. Please, don’t hide them away. Be you. No one else can.“
Mycroft stared at him with wide eyes that were glistening with tears. „You… you love me?“ he asked, his voice a barely audible whisper. „Every single piece and with everything I am“ Greg answered with a smile. „I love you, too“ Mycroft said, taking his lover into a tight embrace and crying against the crook of his neck. „So very much…“