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Greg was dozing off on the sofa at his flat on Saturday night when he heard the soft knock at his door. He woke with a sharp intake of breath and stretched out on the couch, looking at his watch he exhaled heavily, groggy from sleep, and ran a hand over his face. Ruffling his hair, he rose from his sitting position and walked over to the door with a happiness he couldn’t contain in his heart. As soon as he swung the door open, he grinned sleepily at the exhausting looking man.
“Gregory…” Mycroft sagged as he dropped his briefcase inside the threshold and began shrugging off his coat. “I’m so so sorry, my darling, I’m so late-”
“Don’t sweat it, love.” Came the murmured reply and Greg took Mycroft’s coat, hanging on the rack and reaching for his hand to pull him inside the warm, cozy flat.
“No” Mycroft insisted, shaking his head as his eyes were trailed on the ground. He looked fatigued and stressed, and Greg wanted to get them both fed and in bed to cuddle away the ache. “I should’ve been here over 3 hours ago!”
“Mycroft, it's ok babe.” Greg said warmly, pulling his beloved into a hug and melting at finally being able to touch him and shelter in his comforting embrace. “You made it in the end. I couldn’t be happier.”
Mycroft cradled his Gregory in his arms carefully and kissed his forehead, closing his eyes for a brief moment and nuzzling into his hair.
“I’m still deeply sorry, my dear.”
“Thanks love.” Greg answered, hiding his face in Mycroft’s neck, his breath ghosting over his skin. “I know you didn’t mean to. We can warm up the food again…probably won’t be as good as fresh but hey, still something to cure the hunger no?”
“You are an angel, my dearest Gregory. Of course it will be delicious. It is all my fault that it has gone cold…you shouldn’t have waited for me…”
“And what would be the point of that?” Greg chuckled and led Mycroft into the kitchen. Mycroft felt his heart clench at the spread before him, Gregory had spent so much time and effort on their dinner date. Said man began to fire up the oven and gas stove to reheat everything from earlier that night and made quick work of plating it all up for the both of them to share. Mycroft slid onto his seat and immediately began digging into the hearty meal presented before him.
Their feet were playing lazily with each other under the table, eventually resting one on top of the other in a simple way of touching despite sitting across from each other. They were talking softly, enjoying each other’s presence despite the tardiness of the long awaited moment.
“This is fantastic Gregory.” Mycroft praised and leant forward to capture Greg’s hand in his to run his thumb over the ridges of his knuckles delicately. Greg smiled warmly at him and squeezed their hands in a silent thank you.
As Greg finished up the last of his potatoes, he glanced up to say something to Mycroft, but immediately stopped himself at the sight of the Holmes propped up with one hand on his cheek, elbow planted firmly on the table. His other hand held his fork still against the plate and his eyes were closed. His poor man was truly so exhausted that he fell asleep with his chin on his hand. Greg gazed at him with a deep fondness, not a single ounce of anger in him at his beloved being late to their dinner date and falling asleep in the middle of it on top of it all. On the contrary, he knew Mycroft would have a busy day that day, and despite it all his beloved made the effort to meet him still. Even if it meant putting his own needs aside. Carefully Greg got up and stacked their plates in the sink before reaching out a careful hand to Mycroft’s shoulder and giving him a gentle shake.
He woke up a shark jerk.
“Gregory” He called out, a bit of confusion adorning his sleepy features. “I-”
“Shh its ok, lets go to bed.” Greg murmured and led him to his bedroom.
It was rather a painful task to get both he and Mycroft out of their restrictive clothing, but he managed and soon they were curled up in bed. Mycroft was out cold the moment he hit the pillow and Greg had chosen to cuddle up on his chest, pulling him close and letting himself drift off too.
—
The next morning, Greg was rudely awakened by a sudden violent shove. Mycroft woke with a start at 5 o’clock in the morning, like he always did, and jerked up into a pin straight sitting position as his body rang its internal clock. Greg groaned out sleepily and a bit annoyed at the time of morning he was suddenly being accidentally pushed off the warm body of his beloved.
“Gregory?! Wha-?! I must get to work-”
“Issnda” Greg’s muffled voice was hidden by the pillow he was burrowing into.
“Pardon me?”
“Its sunday.” He said as he lifted himself on his elbows and roughly tugged Mycroft back down on the bed, throwing his leg over his hips dramatically and draping an arm over his chest before finally burying his face into Mycroft’s neck comfortably.
“Oh.” Came the soft realization, and Mycroft wrapped an arm securely around Greg’s waist, holding him close. He let himself take a few deep breaths before he spoke again. “I fell asleep last night…I was an awful lover, Gregory how will you ever forgive me-”
“Isse thought dat count.” Greg slurred, “If you wanna mak me a happy man, then hold me until morning.”
And that was a wish Mycroft was certainly able to grant.