Sherlock preferences

Mycroft oneshot - jealousy

Being the rational and complex man he is, Mycroft is not really the kind to get suspicious over things easily. He believes that there is always a rational explanation and, even if you are involved, there must always be an explanation for it and the situation can be swept under the carpet. However, now and then, he does have the odd tendency to let his imagination run wild and allow his emotions to get the best of him...

For the past few nights, you had been staying back late at the yard. You would wander home when the sunlight began to dull down and set an auburn musk over the London skyline. Mycroft had begun to notice your late returns but brushed them off as nothing to worry about.
"Oh, hello Mycroft. I didn't know you'd still be up" you noted, walking through the door to your living room and placing your wooden jacket over the regimented pegs beside you. As you looked, you saw that his face was set with a rather odd expression, not emotionless... But not emotional either... Sort of, deep in thought or some kind of mysterious reverie of consciousness.
"Hello?" You asked again, approaching him and playfully clicking your fingers in his face to gain his attention. Mycroft jumped a little and half smiled at you before his mouth stretched out again to a default 'I'm a bit annoyed with you but also concerned' facial expression. Tentatively, he scratched the back of his neck with the tips of his work worn fingers and sighed, a slight air of nervousness creeping over the glazed look in his eyes as he did so. Chills ran up and down his spine as you continued to talk at him
"Mycroft? Are you ok babe? You...don't seem yourself..."
His fingers crossed round from the back of his collar to massage his closed eyes instead, for a brief moment, he didn't know how to handle this... Mycroft... The stone heart... Was beginning to doubt you...
"I'm asking once more myc, if you don't answer, I'm going to bed. It's almost midnight" you folded your arms in frustration, rapidly losing patience when Mycroft suddenly rose from his seat and looked down in front of you. Admittedly, it was a little intimidating.
"(Y/n)... Precious... I've noticed you stay out at night a lot later these past few weeks. I'm not an imbecile."
He straightened his suit and raised his eyebrows, not expecting a response as immediately as you did.
"Mycroft, I was with Sherlock.."
"Sherlock??!" He instantly cut you off "I knew it!" He brought his hands back to the familiar setting of his concerned face and proceeded to pace around the flat, spouting nonsense at both you and himself.
"I knew it!... I feared it was happening... You like Sherlock don't you? I wouldn't blame you... Even when we were kids, he was always the 'handsome' one always the 'thin' one always the 'confident' one! I was expecting it to happen sooner or later!"
Your face, as he spoke, had graduated slowly from confusion to sympathy as he unfurled his yarn of tied up emotion. His spool was unraveling and you were forced to sew the pieces back together. You instinctively ran to him, taking him by surprise as you wrapped your arms tightly around his waist and squeezed lovingly until your shoulders ached. Teary eyed, you tilted your view up to see him, looking down, sadly upon you.
"You idiot... You stupid stupid man" you wept into his waistcoat as you slid one of your hands up to grab behind his shoulders and the other slid downwards to rest on his thigh. He blushed a little.
"You didn't let me finish!... I said (or was going to say) I was with Sherlock AND Lestrade, working on a case we've been trying to crack for weeks! Of course I don't like Sherlock! He smokes, wears that violet or whatever the hell the colour of that stupid shiny shirt is, he is WAY shorter than you and he could never love me the way I love you!! I LOVE YOU MYCROFT!!"
Mycroft was completely awestruck. He felt awful for even suspecting you of cheating and swiftly lifted you up in his arms and spun you round like a child as you grabbed his face with both hands and planted a passionate kiss on his lips. He pulled you in closer, prolonging your contact before finally coming to a halt and dropping down onto the sofa; you adorning his lap. You sat for a while, your foreheads touching, just listening, calmly to the frequency and deepening of your breathing. You eventually moved away, breaking the silence
"Do you really think all that about your brother?.... That, he's so much better than you?... Are you that jealous?" You made sure that your questioning was not too forward or harsh as not to startle him or make the situation unnecessarily awkward. He sighed and laid back, allowing you to rest on his suited chest before replying
"People have always complimented Sherlock on his looks... He's been lanky since his early teenage years and pale as death too..." He shuffled slightly, remembering every time he had ever been insulted by his brother, mocked, jeered at, made to feel less than adequate... You looked at him, sorrowfully.
"Well myc... If you weren't all those things now... Tall, handsome, intelligent, well-dressed, formal, mature, loving, caring, an all round amazing boyfriend? Do you think I'd still be here?"
He laughed a little as he stroked your hair and let a seldom tear trickle down his cheek and spot down onto your lap. His warmth engulfed you and you felt completely enveloped in satisfaction that you had played some role in the building up of his self esteem.
"It's the suit, the suit really does it for me" you giggled as he wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your head. His fingers knitted and interlinked with yours, a metaphorical tapestry of your love, built up over time and untouchable.
"Thank you precious... I love you and I'm sorry for ever doubting you"