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Title: Thinking About Us
Pairing: Will Graham/Sherlock Holmes
Table: 9, 50ficlets
Prompt: 10, Romantic
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Hannibal Lecter or Will Graham, unfortunately, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.
***It was odd how being in the country brought out his romantic side.
Sherlock smiled at Will across the table, glad that he had thought to gather some wild flowers and use them for a centrepiece. They added just the right touch.
He had driven their rented car into the town that was only a few miles away, telling Will that he had a few things to do and leaving his boyfriend reading a book on the couch, with Winston at his feet. Will hadn't asked where he was going; he'd just smiled and told him to hurry back.
And he'd done just that, getting the food that he'd ordered very quickly, and picking up some candles for the dinner table while he was there.
He knew that he didn't have to make these little romantic gestures for Will; his boyfriend loved him whether he was romantic or not. And he'd never thought of himself as a romantic person -- but then, he'd never had anyone in his life to be that way for.
He wanted to make these kinds of gestures for Will. He wanted his boyfriend to know that he was loved, and appreciated.
The look in Will's eyes told him that he appreciated the romantic gesture.
"This is really nice," Will said softly, his blue eyes almost seeming to glow in the candlelight. "You went to so much trouble to do this, Sherlock. Thank you."
"It really wasn't any trouble," Sherlock demurred, for some reason not wanting Will to think that he'd spent a great deal of time going out of his way to do this. "I only had to ring up and order our meal, and get a few candles for the table, and pick some flowers."
"And you didn't have to do any of it," Will told him with a smile. "You went out of your way for us to have a romantic dinner. And it's beautiful."
"Thank you, love," Sherlock said with a smile. "I'm glad you like it."
It didn't occur to him until a few moments later that he'd used the word "love" so easily, so freely. It had come to his lips without a moment's thought.
He glanced at Will across the table, nothing the slight pink flush on his normally pale cheeks. So, he had noticed that Sherlock had used that particular four-letter word. He probably hadn't expected to hear it, just as Sherlock hadn't expected to say it.
But using that word in his mind had become easier over time, and now, it just seemed to slip out when he least expected it to. And he didn't mind that at all.
Will didn't seem to mind it, either -- in fact, he used the word, as well. He blushed when he said it, which Sherlock thought was endearing.
Both of them still had so much to learn about that emotion, and about relationships, he told himself as he leaned back in his chair and surreptitiously watched Will. But they seemed to be doing well, without many problems cropping up to impede their forward progress.
He was learning how to open up, how to be part of a couple, and Will was, as well. They were like flowers, blooming in the sunshine of each other's love.
Now that was a romantic thought if he'd ever had one.
How had he become so romantic? he wondered. He'd never been this way before. He'd never even thought of it, and if he had, he would have snorted in derision.
Before Will, he'd always thought that love and romance were something that would distract him from his work, that the two could never be compatible. But of course, that was before he'd fallen for someone whose work was much the same as his own.
He had been lucky to find Will, and he knew it. The two of them fit like the proverbial glove, like two puzzle pieces that had been meant to link together.
Lucky was the least of it. It hadn't been luck, it had been fate.
Fate wasn't something he'd believed in, any more than romance, before Will had come into his life. Will had changed him in so many ways, Sherlock reflected.
And all of those ways were good ones, in his eyes. He had come out of a self-imposed exile, one that he'd always been in, out into a world that seemed fresh and new. He looked at so much in a different light now -- and for the first time, felt that he was actually part of the world around him.
He was happy with Will, he realized. Happier than he'd thought he could ever be, happier than he had ever dreamed was possible for someone like him.
How could this kind of happiness belong to him? How could it be that he'd found this kind of joy, that it had come from simply falling in love with the right person? It didn't seem possible that an emotion he had always pushed aside as being irrelevant could suddenly be so important.
Yet it was, and he couldn't deny it. Love had found him, and he never intended to let it go. He would hang onto it, and he would keep making these romantic gestures.
He would do it for Will. For the two of them.
"You look awfully serious all of a sudden." Will's voice broke into his thoughts, and he raised his head to smile at his boyfriend. "What are you thinking about?"
Sherlock's smile broadened as words came easily to his lips. "Us," he said softly, knowing that his words were nothing more than the unvarnished truth. "I'm thinking about us."
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