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You Don't Have To Convince Me

Characters: Mycroft Holmes x reader

Summary: Mycroft’s second year of university is quite eventful, and there is nobody else he would rather have spent it with.

Word Count: 2912 words

Prompt: Fluff. Best friends. Roommates. Blurted out confession. Falling asleep on them.

A/N: @royalydamned and @savvy-devine666 both had similar requests, so I merged them to create this bit of fluff, and it made my heart very happy. This on kinda got away from me if I’m being totally honest and ended up being three times longer than anticipated, so please reblog if you like it.

Placing the last of his boxes onto his bed, Mycroft straightened up and surveyed his new room for the year. This would do nicely. Definitely better than the cramped first year building which was situated outside the college walls. This room was much more what he had thought of when he had first applied to Oxford. The beautiful ornate stonework of the leaden windows which looked out onto the courtyard would provide the perfect light for studying. The simply exquisite fireplace with its original blue tiles could hold a multitude of books on its mantle. He smiled to himself as he spotted the door to his very own ensuite, no more shared bathroom!

The soft knock on his doorframe had him turning his head, his smile only growing when he saw who it was had interrupted him.

“I wasn’t even the highest up on the ballot this year, can you imagine what sort of rooms those guys got?” You asked with a bright smile as you folded your arms across your chest and leaned against the doorframe.

“Well, they most likely are not finding they have to share a vestibule with their neighbour.”

“Oh, yes, because sharing this small space right here, with me, that would make your stunning view almost unbearable.”

“It does take the shine off it somewhat, but I will soldier on.”

“I bet you will. Just letting you know, I’m putting my umbrella stand out here. Feel free to use it.”

“I will, thank you.”

“Right, well, I’m going to unpack a little before dinner. I can’t believe they made the first dinner back a formal one! I’m not even sure which box I’ve shoved my robes in.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle as he watched you go, a warmth in his chest that he couldn’t quite explain. He had missed you over the summer, and to find you were now practically roommates gave him high hopes for this year, such a contrast to his last.

The unlikely friendship between the two of you had come about because you had decided it would. His first term at Oxford had been truly miserable; the accommodation was basic, the food even more so, having to share his space with strangers, many of whom had no concept of cleanliness or hygiene, his courses were elementary, although many of his peers appeared to struggle to keep up. Mycroft had found himself as lonely and bored as he had at school, leading him to spend his time alone, something which you had noticed around late October.

He had been sitting in the cloisters, sheltered from the wind as he read, reluctant to return to the halls of residence and the chaos that would bring. You had sat down beside him, not even asked, just sat there. Curiosity eventually got the better of him, and he had looked up only to find you smiling sweetly. You had introduced yourself to him and immediately began talking about the architecture that surrounded you both. The information was rudimentary, obviously what you had picked up from your campus tour, but he found himself hanging on your every word. From that moment on, you seemed to appear by his side, and after a few weeks, Mycroft had found himself seeking you out too. A strange sort of friendship, but it worked. You were his best friend. His best friend who, he had realised over the summer, he was hopelessly in love with.

Spending time with you was so easy. Although you would often offer him an excuse to be in his presence, he had never really needed one. You didn’t have to sell him on spending his time with you. In fact, that was probably one of the only things he never needed convincing of. Just sitting quietly with you as you both read, or as he read and you talked about anything that came to your mind, that was more than enough for Mycroft. He cherished it, and so he knew he would never risk losing you by expressing his growing desire to be more than your best friend.

“MYCROFT! THERE’S A SPIDER!” Your shriek had him shaking his head fondly as he made his way to your room, prepared to save you from the errant arachnid.

Bundled up against the chilly April wind, the two of you wandered through the grounds. The idea had been to get some fresh air. This was an idea that both of you were now regretting as the sky above grew grey, filling with foreboding clouds. So much for the joys of Spring. The thought that it was more likely to snow at this time of year than December entered his mind, but he decided to keep that to himself. Despite the poor weather, he had you all to himself out here and he wanted to hold onto that a little longer.

As you made your way along Addison’s Walk, Mycroft felt the silence between you was rather loaded. That had been happening more often, what had once been a pleasant, peaceful quiet had now become thick with all the things he tried not to let escape him. In an attempt to diffuse the situation, he endeavored to make small talk.

“C.S. Lewis wrote Chanson d’Aventure about this walk.” He said stiffly as he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets in a bid to negate the urge to reach for your hand.

“That knowledge would indeed be more impressive if I didn’t also know about the plaque by the Holywell Ford gate that tells you that. Although you probably have known that fact since you were three.” You teased with a soft smile, glancing up at him as his cheeks flushed slightly.

“Okay, well…” He stopped and looked out over the meadow, eyes searching. “…ah, there. You see those purple flowers over there?”

“The ones that look like drooped tulips?” You asked, moving to his side and following his gaze. For a moment, Mycroft could neither deny nor confirm your question as you had now successfully invaded his personal space, and his brain seemed to lose half its IQ points.

“Erm, yeah. Yeah.” He nodded, no longer looking out at the flowers.

“What about them?” You asked, always interested in whatever fact your friend wanted to impart.

“Oh, erm, they are called Fritillaria meleagris, or snakes head. They are incredibly rare, and they have been growing here in this meadow for over 200 years. If you get up close then you can see they have this beautiful pattern, like the scales of a snake.”

“Hence the name.”

“Yes, rather.” He smiled. You never told him to stop showing off, or that he was boring. You rather seemed to enjoy his breadth of knowledge, even if most would deem it useless.

“Probably best not to pick a whole bunch then.”

“I suspect that might get you into trouble.”

“Well, if I am going to get into trouble, I would want it to be for something much more fun than picking flowers. I mean, they are pretty, but they aren’t my favourites.”

“I am aware.” Mycroft hummed, having committed any and all facts about you to memory.

“I have no idea how you fit it all into that brilliant mind of yours. I swear, when we are old and grey and in a nursing home, you will still be able to tell me what I was wearing the first day we met.” You chuckled, looping your arm through his as you began to walk back towards Buckingham Court.

“Would you not think that strange? Creepy, even? If out of the blue, I told you something like that?” Curiosity and nerves tinged the edge of his voice as the two of you fell into step. He was used to people being repulsed by his manner, his mind, him in general. Yet, here you were, not trying to change him or fix him in any way, just happy with who he was. Still, he couldn’t quiet the noises in his head, the voices of the past telling him he was weird, peculiar, not right.

“I think it’s rather impressive. I mean, to be honest, you could tell me I was wearing almost anything, and I’d probably agree because I have no clue what I was wearing on the day we met. I think you could tell me a different thing each time.” Your laughter hung in the air like a beautiful melody that he longed to cling to.

“Blue denim jeans which were too baggy for you, rolled up at the cuffs, an oversized grey knitted jumper with pink lines across the bottom that hung off your shoulder and showed the white t-shirt you had on underneath, and white trainers with scuffmarks on the toes from where you kick them off. Your hair was in your face, and you had a blue bic biro in your mouth.” The memory was engrained in his mind, the way you had smiled around that pen before removing it from your lips and launching into talking as if you had simply been paused mid conversation.

“See. That sounds like something I would wear but I can’t say for sure you’re right. I’ve just got to trust you, Mycroft Holmes.” You shrugged, totally non-plussed by his revelation, an action that made his heart race. You saw who he really was and didn’t run away screaming, how could he ever find the words to tell you how much you meant to him?

“I still can’t believe you got tickets for this! They are like gold dust.” You grinned at him as you took your seat on the blanket.

“Well, we do get first dibs, I believe that is the term.” Mycroft smiled as he sat beside you, leaving a respectable distance between the two of you, a distance you wasted no time in irradicating.

“I know, but the Magdalen film night is one of the social events of the year! I wanted to come last year but tickets were all gone so fast.”

“And that’s why I ensured we got some this year.” He didn’t feel the need to tell you that he had practically bribed everyone who had any influence to make certain you could join the other students on the lawn and watch a film on a large makeshift screen.

The film wasn’t one Mycroft had any deep desire to watch, but sitting with you, on a blanket on the lawn, as the last warm rays of the summer sun set and gave way to a stelliferous sky, that was something he could tolerate a below par film for. Anything to make you happy. Mycroft had realised that he was much better at compromise, but only when it came to you.

He had to admit, the organization of the event was excellent, and he was glad that he had brought enough cushions to ensure you were comfortable. At some point, he had lost the thread of the film, too distracted by the weight of your body pressed against his as you leaned on him. Your head rested against his shoulder so perfectly it was as if it was molded to be right there and he slowly gave in to the desire to rest his cheek on the top of your head, his eyes fluttering closed as he held his breath.

The evening began to cool, and he found you snuggling into him a little more, seeking out his heat to fight the goosebumps erupting on your bare skin. Shifting slightly, he picked up his discarded jacket and draped it over your shoulders, his fingers lingering on your upper arm before returning to the blanket as a joist to prop you both up. Despite being surrounded by people, this felt incredibly intimate, even more so when you let out a soft, sleepy sigh and laid your head more against his chest.

The film eventually came to an end, but the mixture of fresh air and long days studying had resulted in you dozing off at some point, your arm resting around his waist and nose pressed to his chest. Mycroft was at an absolute loss for what to do, uncertain of the etiquette in such circumstances. He was aware of people noticing his predicament, met with knowing smirks as he fought the urge to tell them that this wasn’t what they thought, desperate to protect your reputation.

Deciding that the only course of action was to wake you, he gently brushed the hair back from your face and leaned down to speak softly.

“Darling, the film has finished.” He tried, but there was no response from you at all. “You really would be much better sleeping in a bed, my dear. I cannot imagine that I am that comfortable.”

“hmmmm.” You sighed softly, nuzzling into him as you stretched a little.

“I would have offered to carry you, but sadly I am unable to carry both you and all the cushions and blanket. A failing, I know, but sadly I am sorely lacking in these situations.”

“You need a hand, mate?” One of the rowing club had wandered over and Mycroft immediately felt even more inadequate. “Your other half seems to be deep in a REM cycle. How about you carry them, and I’ll grab the blanket and stuff?”

“Thank you.” Mycroft managed a tight smile, he did not wish to correct the boys mistake for two reasons, the first was that it sent a heat through him hearing someone else refer to the two of you as a couple, and the second was the concern that if he admitted you were not his, then perhaps this attractive young man would take you from his arms.

As he walked towards your halls, he felt you nuzzle into him, your warm breath fanning across his skin, and just for a second he could have sworn your lips brushed across his neck, an act that almost caused him to drop you. Surely it had been a sleepy accident, not intended. There was no way you could see him as more than a friend. Right?

“I don’t see why we have to move rooms every year. It seems like unnecessary upheaval if you ask me.” You huffed as you sat down heavily on his bed, surveying the many boxes that were stacked around his room.

“Perhaps your new room will be even better than your current one.” Mycroft reasoned, leaning against his desk.

“Not possible. My room this year is perfect. I don’t want to move to Mallory Court. Why can’t we stay right here?” You pouted, your brow furrowing in a way Mycroft couldn’t help but think was adorable. “I mean, I’ve got to lug all my stuff into storage and then all the way to Mallory! At least you get to stay here in Buckingham.”

“I still have to move my things into storage and then back out. One might argue that my moving things is more pointless than you moving things.” He tried to make the situation light even though the thought of residing so far from you twisted his stomach. You had been so close all year and now…

“You’ll come visit me, right?”

“You do realise you are not moving to another city, just another courtyard. It is a five-minute walk at most.” He chuckled.

“Yeah! A whole five minutes!” You said dramatically. “What if I need you?”

“Well, if you need me, then I will be right there. You’ll just have to give me five minutes.”

“Are you sure you need your own room? Can I not convince you to come live in my wardrobe?”

“Darling, as much as the idea of living in a wardrobe is intriguing, we both know just how much you cram into your wardrobe. I fear there is simply not room for me in there as well.”

“You will miss me though, right?” You looked up at him and his knees felt weak as he gripped the edge of the desk. “You won’t go spending all your time with your new neighbours?”

“I will not miss you, because we will still see each other all the time. I promise.” He said softly as you got up and made your way over to him. Your arms wrapped around his middle, and you placed your head on his chest, hugging him in a way that felt familiar and new all at once, despite the increased frequency of such interactions between you.

“God, I love you.” He murmured into your hair. It wasn’t until he felt you stiffen that he realised his inner monologue had escaped his lips. His eyes widened and he looked down to find you looking at him curiously.

“I- Just to clarify, for my own clarification really, were you saying that to God? Because I didn’t think you were a deeply religious person. OR was that about me? And IF it was about me, was it like ‘I love you, like a sister’ or… or was it more like ‘I love you so much that the thought of being parted makes it hard to breathe’?”

His mouth opened and closed a few times, his vast vocabulary failing him at such a crucial juncture. You must have seen something in his eyes though, because you took a deep, determined breath.

“Because, if I am being honest, at the risk of completely fucking this up and you leaving for the summer and never wanting to see me again, I am really hoping it’s the latter, because I think that I have actually been very much in love with you since first year.”

“Really?” he spluttered, not quite believing this was real.

“Shit. I’ve really fucked this up haven’t I? Sorry. Pretend I didn’t just say all that and we can go pack up our rooms and have-“ Your rant was interrupted by Mycroft’s lips pressing against yours.

As far as first kisses go, it wasn’t perfect. Although he was technically aware of how these things were done, his inexperience was very evident, but that didn’t matter in that moment as he felt you melt into him. When you did finally pull back to catch your breath, you both had goofy smiles on your lips.

“It was most certainly the ‘I love you so much I cannot imagine my life without you in it,’ kind of I love you. The ‘I am not sure how much studying I am going to be able to get done next year because all I want to do is kiss you,’ kind of I love you. Just for clarification.” He smirked, earning a light smack to his chest as you chuckled.

“This moment, this one right now, it’s one you will absolutely tell me about in that nursing home. You’d better be adding it to the list.”

“Oh, trust me, my dear, it is forever committed to my memory.” He hummed as you nuzzled his nose before leaning in for another of many kisses.

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