Brother, Mine (VI)
Perfect. Was it possible? Mycroft stared into Greg’s eyes, breaking apart inside.
If he’d been asked a month ago what he wanted, above everything, he’d have said peace and quiet. It was the most he could ever have asked for. It was the most he thought he could deserve - to be left alone, peacefully, safe in his solitude.
His fingertips trembled slightly on Greg’s jaw, cupping the other man’s face. He was gorgeous. He was perfection, he was everything, and he was looking at Mycroft like nobody else existed in the world.
Mycroft swallowed, hard; the muscles in his throat worked.
In the moment he started to believe it - to believe it was true, and this was happy ever after - he felt a strange shudder somewhere from his pocket.
He stiffened a little.
As he realised it was his mobile phone, his expression creased.
“Hell,” he whispered. “That’s - … damn it all, if this is work…” He fumbled inside his jacket, trying to find the phone. “Let the damn country burn,” he breathed, located the phone at last, and pulled it out.
An unfamiliar number.
He glanced at Greg, uneasy.