Mycroft awakened to thunder.
He reached out, surprised to find the empty space beside him.
After years of secretly pining for the man, they were together at last. Still, a part of him marveled that he had become familiar with Greg’s presence, enough that he was now missing the man who should be beside him.
It took a moment for Mycroft to realize not only that Greg had not returned, but also that he was not in the en suite.
He frowned, remembering when Greg once told him he did not sleep during night storms. It dawned on Mycroft then that this was the first time they had shared a bed together through such a heavy storm. Naturally, Greg would not want to disturb him with his restlessness, so he left him to his slumber.
Mycroft donned his dressing gown and made his way to the home office.
The skies were dark and ominous, clouds laden with imminent rain.
Greg stood outside the slightly opened French door to the balcony, oblivious to the wind blowing madly, the silver strands of his hair whipping about his head.
With his eyes closed rapturously, Greg took a deep breath.
He raised one arm out to the sky, five fingers outstretched…
One… Greg’s fingers flew open just as lightning cracked across the sky and…
It looked as though Greg were Summanus, the dark god of night storms, summoning the elements at his command as the clouds unloaded their burden.
Greg ducked inside, locking the doors with rich laughter just as heavy drops splashed hard against the panes.
Warm brown eyes raked over Mycroft, “Hello, Luv…”
Mycroft thought Greg’s restlessness had stemmed from a childhood fear of storms.
It was not because of fear.
Mycroft could not help kissing him, laying a hand on Greg’s wet chest. “...I know that smile.”
“And I know yours…” Greg opened Mycroft’s dressing gown. “Whatcha gonna do about it?”
“What any zealot does before a deity…” Mycroft placed his hand inside the waistband of Greg’s pajama bottoms, “...genuflect and…” and pulled them down as he dropped to his knees.
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