Any Port in the Storm [Chapter 2]
Title: Any Port in the Storm
Author: aislingdoheanta
Fandom: Sherlock
Characters/Pairing: Mycroft/Lestrade
Summary: The aftermath of The Fall is causing more problems for the pair than either of them anticipated.
Rating: T
Word Count: 3349
Notes: This chapter is only one night and takes place one day after the previous chapter.
Warnings: SPOILERS for The Fall.
Disclaimer: Obviously Not Mine
Greg sat on the sofa aimlessly flipping through channels, looking for something to watch that would pass the time but wouldn’t make him fall asleep. Mycroft was due to be home any minute.
Greg had missed him.
He knew it was ridiculous because it had only been one night, but he had. He had stupidly fallen asleep the night before and woken only when Mycroft was about to leave. Greg barely remembered it. He had been mostly asleep.
Mycroft had texted, of course, to inform Greg of his safe arrival. But Greg felt something was just…off between them lately. He knew that changes were to be expected when facing something as heartbreaking as losing your brother, but it was more than Mycroft just taking a while to grieve and move on.
Greg would have been more than happy to let Mycroft mourn his brother for months, if he was actually mourning him. He just didn’t think Mycroft was mourning his brother. He wasn’t even sure Mycroft truly realized his brother was gone. Greg didn’t know anything Mycroft was thinking lately because Mycroft hardly spoke to him.
Greg started beginning to wonder if Mycroft was avoiding him after Sherlock’s funeral. Mycorft had been quieter than normal and had actually cried twice-thankfully Greg had been there to help in any way he could. Obviously, Mycroft was not a man to let something as trivial as emotions get in the way for long, but Greg hadn’t expected the complete stone mask Mycroft wore now. The fact that he even wore it around Greg was the most difficult thing to accept. He knew Mycroft’s job was demanding, stressful, and often took up a lot of Mycroft’s time, but this was different. It wasn’t simply that Mycroft was putting on a mask as to get on with his life, but rather to shut everyone out, including Greg. Lately, Mycroft never seemed to truly want to be around him anymore and would only come home late into the night and be gone before Greg had woken up.
He just wanted to make sure Mycroft was doing or feeling something, or at least still taking care of himself.
Greg stood as he heard the locks click open and the door open quietly. He walked toward the kitchen where Mycroft was already quietly removing his coat and scarf. “You didn’t honestly think I’d be asleep and not welcome you home, did you?” He questioned with a smile as he leaned against the frame.
Mycroft glanced up and gave him a tired smile. “I hadn’t been certain and didn’t want to risk waking you,” he said as he began walking toward their room.
Greg reached out and snatched Mycroft’s hand, pulling him to him. “I wouldn’t have cared if you had.” He placed on hand on Mycroft’s face and kissed him gently before wrapping his arms around Mycroft and holding him tight. “I missed you.”
Mycroft wrapped his arms around Gregory, but it wasn’t an enthusiastic embrace. “I have missed you as well,” he responded in purely diplomatic tones.
“Did you really?”
“Of course.” That same tone.
“Then show me,” he whispered before capturing Mycroft’s lips again, the kiss much more desperate and pleading than the first one. He gripped Mycroft’s suit coat in his hands, willing him to meld closer. He begged that Mycroft would respond and help ease his troubled mind. Just have Mycroft actually kiss him in return, hold him, touch him, anything at all, to show that he still felt something for Greg.
Mycroft did respond, but not in the way Greg had hoped. He pulled away and gave Greg an apologetic smile. “I just want to have a quick shower. You know how I feel when I return from a flight.”
Greg smiled and nodded. “Yeah. Okay.” He watched as Mycroft retreated into the safety that a closed door would give him. What had he done to cause Mycroft so much discomfort? They had been together for over five years, and he had thought they were past this point. Apparently they were not.
Greg sighed as he made his way to their bedroom to get ready for the night. He really didn’t want anything except time with Mycroft. He didn’t need sex, he just wanted Mycroft close. If that wasn’t what Mycroft wanted, then Greg wouldn’t push him. But, at the very least, he wanted Mycroft to tell him something, anything. It could be as trivial as what he had to drink during the flight or how he folded his clothing back into bag. Although he would prefer in Mycroft told him honestly, how he was doing.
When Mycroft’s upset with someone, he becomes this cold and calculated man and normally is the King of Avoidance. His avoidance wasn’t due to any sort of discomfort on Mycroft’s part but due to the inconvenience of the other person. It also makes quite a statement when Mycroft Holmes refuses to acknowledge your presence because Mycroft is, above all, a proper diplomat.
Now Greg felt like Mycroft was beginning to shove him into this category since he’s never around and hardly ever talks to Greg whenever he is. However, Mycroft hadn’t ever used this technique with Greg before, even when he was uncomfortable.
When they first started becoming physical, Mycroft was obviously not comfortable with giving up control. He would make excuses or try to divert the attention, but he never simply ignored Greg just so he wouldn’t have to deal with him. Why was he starting now?
What had Greg done to upset him so much?
He thought he had done as much as he could for Mycroft considering the man hardly ever let his guard down. Maybe he should have done more, should have pushed Mycroft just a little harder into opening up. Then that would cause Mycroft to be uncomfortable in a whole new sense because admitting and allowing emotions was not one of Mycroft’s best traits.
Besides, Greg would rather have Mycroft angry at him for something else than because Greg had pushed him too far.
He changed into his pajamas and crawled into bed, suddenly not having the energy to do anything more at the moment. He just wanted to curl up and go away because everything seemed to be against him: his job, his friends, his life…Mycroft.
I have to go and check on John tomorrow, he thought to himself. He hadn’t talked with him recently since he had been staying with his sister since Sherlock’s funeral. Greg wasn’t sure if he was thinking about moving out of Baker Street permanently or if this was just a temporary thing. Either way, he still felt for John. To lose a friend like that. Well, it was no wonder the man was suffering so much.
Despite what happened between him and Mycroft, which Greg still didn’t know the full details, John was still his friend. It would be nice if his partner and his best friend weren’t feuding, but it wasn’t up to him. Whatever happened was between them-especially since neither of them was too eager to share it with him.
Honestly, Greg had enough on his plate at the moment. He wasn’t even sure if he would be able to handle dealing with their situation on top of everything else.
Greg glanced at the door when he heard Mycroft shut the door quietly behind him. He was in his silk pajamas, complete with his silk dressing gown tied at his waist. He didn’t even look at Greg when he walked to the bed.
Mycroft might as well have ripped Greg’s heart out when he slid under the covers and deliberately faced away from Greg. Mycroft always laid down facing Greg so they could talk or Mycroft could cuddle up to him. It was the only time Mycroft truly relaxed throughout the day because there was no one here.
Greg reached out a hand, ignoring the nagging fear that had been plaguing him lately, and gently squeezed Mycroft’s shoulder. “Long day?” Mycroft stiffened under his touch and he pulled away as if burned.
“Yes. It was,” Mycroft said softly without turning around.
“Mycroft,” Greg whispered shifting a tiny amount closer. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything’s alright, Gregory. I’m okay. I’m simply a little tired. There’s really no need to make a big deal of it.”
Greg narrowed his eyes. “I asked you a simple question, Mycroft. That is not making a big deal out of anything.”
Mycroft chuckled bitterly. “You asked me in the hopes that I would break down again. You would be much happier if I was a proper mess, wouldn’t you?”
Greg sat up. “Why the hell would you say something like that? I asked you if you were okay, because you are clearly not, Mycroft. I may not have the Holmes genius, but I’m not a moron. I can, in fact, tell when there is something bothering you.”
“Lately, every time you see me, you ask if I’m alright. I know that you are only waiting for me to shatter again.” Mycroft took a deep breath. “It’s not going to happen again.” The ‘in front of you’ was so obviously implied someone watching without the sound on would have noticed it.
“Right.” Greg threw the duvet off and got out of bed.
“Where on earth are you going?” Mycroft questioned, still without turning to face him.
“I’m not going to sit here and have you say shit like that to me, Mycroft.” Greg glared at his back because that infuriating man still refused to even look at him. “We’ve been together for five years and when have I ever given you the impression that I enjoy watching you suffer? That I even like the thought that you could be upset or hurt?”
Mycroft finally turned to look at him, but his face was blank and that just infuriated Greg even more. “It is all you can talk about lately, Gregory.”
Greg laughed. “Because you refuse to let me know how you are doing! I ask because I don’t know otherwise. I’m not you, Mycroft, I cannot just see how you are feeling from the way your tie is folded or the slight crease of your trouser by your shoe. I actually have to ask-lot of good that does me too.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t ask you much, Mycroft, but don’t lie to me. I’m not asking you to spill your entire life story. I’m only asking if there’s something wrong!”
Mycroft’s brow furrowed. “I have said time and time again that I am alright.”
“Every day is a new day, new emotions. I ask because I care about you. I love you, you impossible man, and don’t like to see you suffer! I ask out of the off chance that you might actually tell me honestly what you are feeling or what you need from me!” Greg’s hands were fisted and he really wanted to hit something. He tried to take a few calming breaths.
“I do not require you to treat me any differently than you normally do. I am not made of glass, Gregory. I am not fragile and there is no need to treat me as such.” His face was still blank.
Greg grabbed the handle. “Would that have really been so difficult to say to me earlier? Like after your brother’s funeral? All you had to do was say, ‘Gregory, I’m not as fragile as everyone thinks I am and I need you to treat me like you normally do.’ You know that I would have moved hell and high water to do whatever you asked of me Mycroft. But that’s just the thing. You didn’t ask. You never ask.” He threw open the door and shut it behind him. He would sleep on the sofa tonight, if he slept at all.
So much for those plans for a cuddle before Mycroft had to leave again.
______________________________________________________________________________________________
Mycroft watched the Gregory storm out of the room and felt his heart start to race. Why was this happening? He was keeping his emotions at bay because he wasn’t even sure what he was feeling anymore-it didn’t actually matter. Nothing matter until he found Sherlock. Maybe after that he would be able to tell Gregory everything and he would understand.
Why wasn’t he understanding now?
Mycroft had thought that this wouldn’t happen if Gregory never saw him vulnerable. If he remained the strong and stoic man that everyone knew he was, Gregory wouldn’t think he was weak. Or worse, pity him. He didn’t think he would have been able to handle seeing The Look on Gregory’s face.
Why was that so difficult for Gregory to understand? Mycroft didn’t want his pity and he certainly didn’t want Gregory walking on eggshells around him.
He was fine.
At least, that was what he continued to tell himself. He would be fine as soon as he figured everything else out about what happened to his brother.
Why was this so difficult? Why was this affecting him so much?
Because you love him, you foolish man.
Mycroft turned on his side and reached a hand out and still felt Gregory’s residual warmth on his side of the bed. He couldn’t really sleep without Gregory anymore, especially in their bed. It was too lonely without him. Mycroft would never admit it, but there was something very pleasant about waking up next to Gregory, or falling asleep wrapped up with him.
Mycroft was dependant on Gregory and it frightened him more than anything. He had never been dependant on anyone in his entire life-not after his father’s death-and it terrified him that somehow Gregory had somehow become the one person Mycroft couldn’t live without. He wasn’t able to even think of life without Gregory anymore. It no longer seemed normal to think of himself alone.
You have to go and make this right. You will be miserable on your trip if Gregory’s upset with you.
He didn’t want to go because he wasn’t entirely sure what to say or do to make this right. But he had to; he knew he did. Gregory at least deserved that much from him.
Mycroft carefully got out of bed and padded to the living room where Gregory was already lying down and glaring at the telly. He paused in the doorway, hesitating.
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He took a deep breath. “I apologise, Gregory, for acting cross with you.”
Gregory shook his head and brought his gaze to rest on Mycroft. “You don’t have to apologise for getting upset, Mycroft. You are allowed to get angry with me. It’s not a crime.”
“But I’ve upset you. That wasn’t my intention.”
“What was your intention, then?” Gregory asked softly. “The truth, Mycroft,” he added at Mycroft’s hesitation.
Mycroft looked down and was thankful his dressing gown had pockets. “I don’t want you to treat me as everyone else does.”
“I hope not everyone treats you like I do…I don’t like sharing,” he said with a chuckle, true to his form of trying to lighten any situation.
Mycroft’s own lips twitched, knowing that had been Gregory’s intention. “You know what I mean.”
“How does everyone else treat you?”
“Like I am a shattered vase, held together by plasters, and could fall apart at any moment. They treat me as though I am made of glass. They walk on egg-shells around me so as not to upset me. And the pity, the looks of pity.” He took a deep breath. “I cannot stand those.”
Gregory nodded. “You mean, you wouldn’t be able to handle it if I started looking at you with pity.”
Mycroft looked up at him. “You do, Gregory. Every so often, I can see it in your eyes.”
“It’s not pity I look at you with, Mycroft. It’s love, concern, worry even. I worry about you.”
“I have insisted that I am alright.”
Gregory nodded. “Yeah. But that doesn’t stop me worrying. I worry about you every time you have to go on a trip somewhere because I can’t know what you are doing. Every time there’s any sort of situation with in the country I worry about your safety. Whether you are eating or not.” Gregory chuckled at Mycroft’s surprised look. “I know it’s strange, but that’s what you do when you love someone, isn’t it? Worry about them because sometimes that’s the only thing you can do. Even if they insist they are fine. Sometimes, especially when they insist they are fine.”
Mycroft was silent for a moment as he thought of all the times he had worried about Gregory. He knew that Gregory was a perfectly capable man and able officer, but he still worried when he had to handle a particular case or act as hostage negotiator if there was no one else around. When he had to put himself in danger to try and save someone else. He had always thought that his worry meant that he didn’t truly believe in Gregory’s ability or thought him weak. He could remember Sherlock shouting something very similar to that at him one night.
Mycroft shook his head and looked down. “Oh.”
Gregory smiled gently at him. “I know you worry about me, Mycroft. And I can see your mind working behind your eyes. It’s not a lack of faith in someone when you worry about them.”
“Isn’t it? Worrying is what you do when you are convinced that they can’t handle it and something will go wrong.”
Gregory shook his head. “Not entirely. My concern for you has nothing to do with your ability to run the country or a negotiations meeting or stop the next world war. I know that you can, and probably do, handle all those types of situations. I still worry because one small thing could go wrong and cause you a heap of problems.”
Mycroft sighed and chanced a look up. “We’re alright now, correct?”
Gregory shrugged. “For the moment.” There’s still a lot you’re not telling me.
Mycroft could hear the thought running through Gregory’s mind. He took a breath. “Right. I’ll just leave you to it then.”
“Mycroft.” Gregory held out an arm and glanced down at the space next to him.
Mycroft smiled as he made his way to where Gregory was lying. He chuckled as Gregory, who was laying on his back, shifted forward so Mycroft could squeeze between him and the back of the sofa.
As gracefully as he could, Mycroft slipped in beside Gregory and rested his head on Gregory’s chest. Gregory made sure he was covered before wrapping his arms around him and kissing him.
Mycroft sighed and glanced at the telly before chuckling. “This film again?”
Gregory grinned and nodded. “Of course. You know how much I fancy Gene Kelly. And he reminds me of you in this film.”
Mycroft coughed. “I beg your pardon?”
“You know, he is an attractive man with an umbrella. Just like you.”
Mycroft shook his head. “He also sings and dances and acts.”
“You can do all of those, I’m sure.” Gregory ran his hand along Mycroft’s spine. “We both know that being a politician requires you to have a little acting skill. And I know how wonderfully you can dance.”
“There is quite a bit of difference between the Foxtrot and choreographed routines.”
“The only thing I’m unsure of is your ability to sing.” Gregory regarded him carefully. “I’m certain that you can. I feel like it was one of those things you were expected to do as a child.”
Mycroft shook his head, but didn’t say anything. Gregory just chuckled and kissed his head before turning his attention back to the film.
Mycroft lay there, listening to Gregory’s heartbeat. He knew there was a lot of trouble still under the surface since there was so much that he couldn’t say to Gregory-so much he couldn’t tell him. But for right now, this moment, they were alright.
More than alright.
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