Name: It is… a pleasure. Part 3
Pairing: Mycroft x reader
Summary: Mycroft and the reader have dinner together, and the reader is worried about being stupid.
(Part 1, Part 2) And it went weird now. I’ve no idea what I did. Don’t hate me.
It is the Sunday. The dreaded Sunday. The expected Sunday. You don’t know what feeling is stronger - the fear or the happiness. To say it shortly - you are nervous. Hella nervous.
“Ma’am?” a man knocks on your door again, then steps in. “It is time to go.”
“Did he seriously have to send a car for me?” you ask sadly, and the man nods again - it’s been a dozenth time you asked him that. “And what other instructions do you have? Kill me in a dark alley? Bring him my brain? Why would he even want it?”
“I simply have to make sure you get to the restaurant on time, ma’am,” the man stands there like a mindless statue, as you grab your bag and put the coat on. “An umbrella is not necessary, ma’am.”
“But it is raining.”
“Mister Holmes said you do not need one,” you sigh and leave the umbrella at home, then just head out of the door, knowing that you do not really get a say in what will happen this evening. The roads are clean. No cars to stop you, no traffic, nothing to slow the car down, as if the road is prepared for you, but you have a feeling that it is exactly what happened. Not surprisingly, the restaurant is empty as well, except for Mycroft sitting by one of the windows, reading a newspaper, even though he probably already knows all the important news.
“Y/N,” he quickly stands up to greet you, as you quickly walk towards the table and sit down, feeling rather weirdly, as Mycroft smiles at you. “I am glad you came.”
“Not that you gave me an option, did you?” you try to smile, as he hands you the menu. “Mister Holmes… Mycroft, I would be here even without this patrol following me.”
“I had to make sure you would get here safely,” Mycroft explains. “There have been some attempts to get to me for quite some time now. Wouldn’t want me risking your life, would you?”
“Uhm… I guess no.”
“Good. You… You look amazing,” you blush for a second and can’t help but smile back him, feeling how his insecure smile suddenly widens, turning into an actual smile, as if you are teenagers on your first date. “Now just order,” you look through the menu, trying to find something you would know from the list, but all the titles seem terribly unknown and absolutely luxurious. And absolutely out of your budget. “Is there a problem?”
“Would like for me to order?” he asks softly, obviously knowing what is wrong. “Or we can just ask the chef to do his best?” you nod, and Mycroft smiles, giving a sign to a waiter standing by a wall. “You must realize that I will not let you pay for this dinner, no matter how it goes, don’t you?” you stop for a second, then nod slowly, seeming to accept the terms. “You seem stressed.”
“Now, why would I be?” you ask as sarcastically as possible.
“Is that because this place is not one of those you go to usually?”
“Yeah, one of the reasons,” you answer, and Mycroft leans back in the chair, smiling. “And it is not funny. You drag me here with all this… stuff - the car, and the people just serving… Can’t you just… ”
“I apologize for making you uncomfortable. I didn’t consider that you may find it overwhelming,” he frowns for a second. “Would you like to go somewhere else?”
“No, no, it’s fine… Just… Urgh, it is so embarrassing.”
“It sure is,” the waiter walks back with the plates, and you just start staring at the table, until Mycroft takes your hand. “Y/N, you should just be yourself, it is alright. Forget about the food, and the people, and the way I made you feel. Let’s just chat.”
“Yeah, until I embarrass myself.”
“That is the purpose,” you exchange quick smiles. “Ask questions, Y/N. Whatever you wish to know…” you sigh, deciding to just try and give it a chance, as nothing good will come from just sitting there like two idiots.
“Are you really the British Government?” you ask quickly, and Mycroft leans back, letting go of your hand.
“Really? Seriously, THE government?” Mycroft nods. “Wow… That is cool. Do aliens really exist?” he laughs quietly and changes the topic.
“Do you really kick Sherlock every time you argue?” he asks back, and you laugh back, nodding.
“Did he complain?”
“No, Sherlock pretends that he is the boss,” you both smile, knowing how much the boy loves feeling like he is in control.
“Why the purple tie?” you ask the most random question you can.
“Because I like purple,” he shrugs his shoulders. “And my… employee does not appreciate this color. So I wear it when I am communicating with people outside of my usual circles.”
“It fits you,” you note quietly.
“Thank you. Do you like sorbet?” another random question.
“Lemon,” you nod. “Very tasty, very sour and sweet. Do you read?”
“Of course, I do. Spending an evening with a cup of tea and book near a fireplace…”
“You have a fireplace?” he nods, and you giggle. “Do you make marshmallows in it?”
“Do I look like a kind of man who would?” you raise an eyebrow, and he finally nods. “Yes, once a month,” you can’t stop giggling, so Mycroft asks the next question. “Do you…”
“Why do you ask questions?” he stops talking, and you rush to explain. “I mean, you already know everything about me.”
“I simply want it to look like a natural conversation.”
“Mycroft,” you sigh. “It can’t be a natural conversation. Just look at you, then look at me. Even at my brightest, I will never be as cool as you are when you are casual.”
“You are mistaken,” Mycroft corrects you. “You are special, as I said before.”
“I can hardly believe that you are actually interested in me,” you smile sadly. “More probably, it is about taking care of Sherlock, but I will do that even if you don’t have dinner with me, so it really makes no sense…”
“Gosh, you people sometimes can’t understand simplest things,” Mycroft stands up and leans over the table (which you are pretty sure is frowned upon all over his world) to grab your chin with one hand and lift your face to make you look him in the eye. “I am bloody in love with you, Y/N, and I have no idea what to do with this annoying feeling, but I have no choice, do you get it?”
“Your tie is dirty,” you notice, as the tie falls down and touches your sauce, so you lift it, avoiding Mycroft’s eyes. He groans.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes, sir, even though it is rather impossible to be in love with someone from just following them… Wait… If you followed me everywhere… Are you seriously in love, like in love with me?” he quickly lets go of you and sits back down, embarrassed with his behavior - you are certain that is not how he behaves ever. Maybe, it’s just because you are being very stubborn.
“And I am emotional, no matter what that brother of mine has told you. I am just good at hiding stuff.”
“So you are emotional? Did you cry when you watched Titanic?” you ask quickly to fix the tension.
“I didn’t watch it.”
“Seriously? Man, you have to!”
“Yeah, as well as a dozen other things like Jane Austen movies, I was told so.”
“You never watched them?” Mycroft shakes his head, and you just stare at him for a good minute. “Mycroft Holmes, you have no idea what world you are living in. You know what… I will make you a list of stuff you have to read and watch and give it to you the next time we meet. Deal?” Mycroft lets a smile out and nods. “You will watch them?”
“Come on! Then I will have to watch them with you,” you shrug your shoulders. “I do not mind doing that, so you will know what people are talking about, Mycroft.”
“I know what they are talking about.”
“Not when we discuss the fandoms.”
“Fine,” he nods, trying to look serious, but you catch him smiling at his plate. And yes, it most probably will be a date.
I dunno. Part 4? I have no idea if it’s worth it. Sorry for disappointing you.