“Daddy, up,” came Oliver’s little voice next to Greg, as he was standing in the kitchen working on dinner. With a smile, he glanced down to see his son standing next to him, reaching up with his arms and wiggling his fingers.
“All right, Ollie, for a moment,” Greg said, bending down and settling his hands under Oliver’s armpits, grunting dramatically as he lifted him and rested him on his hip. “But daddy’s cooking, okay? See?”
“Yes,” he nodded, big brown eyes turning and staring down at the pots that were on the stove. He reached out to touch the steam that was rising, fascinated by it, before pulling back and giggling.
In his short time speaking, Oliver had perfected some words. He sounded quite sophisticated, which Greg could never help but smile proudly over. He still had shortened versions and baby talk, but he was becoming much more specific as of late, and there was no doubt that it was due a lot of Mycroft’s influence.
Greg had always had a shite temper. It was easy to get him fired up, and it was something that had gotten him into a lot of trouble in his youth. The worst thing about it right now was that, as he paced around the empty room still fuming, he could hardly remember what the catalyst of his fight with Mycroft was.
It had been a stupid fight. Both of them were on edge, Mycroft snapped, and Greg flew off the handle. They hadn’t looked at or spoken to each other in over an hour, and Greg was still thrumming with an irritated energy that made him want to leave the house completely and either go to the pub or pop over to Baker Street. In the back of his mind, though, he knew that would have not been the best choice, so he remained inside.
He kept pacing and fretting and fidgeting with his shirt, until finally, he slumped his shoulders with a sigh and headed towards bed. The bedroom was empty, so he could only assume Mycroft had holed himself up in his office. With a grimace, Greg worked on changing into clothes he could sleep in, tugging on sweatpants and an old baggy t-shirt and tossing the day’s clothes in a hamper. He plugged his mobile up and wandered into the en suite to brush his teeth and splash water on his face, before getting the nerve up to go find his husband.