turante: (john watson medical badass)
[personal profile] turante
I am almost back! I promise! *shifty eyes* I need a proper post to celebrate Italy beating France today! I mean, REALLY!!! I still can't believe it! And something for my trip to London and home, hmm, and finally something new after a (much needed) brain reboot.
My brain was/is/(I have no idea) kind of stuck on John/Mycroft fluff-ish fics. WTF?

Rating: Pg
Pairing: John/Mycroft (I try to write Lestrade but it never sounds right lately)
Word Count: 650
Summary: Mycroft had only gone to the surgery to talk to John in private; it became a full check-up as soon as he absentmindedly mentioned his headaches and the last time he had the time to get himself examined.
A/N: This one is a quick birthday present for [livejournal.com profile] 2ndskin, who asked for glasses!porn. Sorry, still unable to draft proper porn, but I offer the rare sight of John in glasses for you collection.
Title: Headache

"Can you describe these headaches a little better?" John asked Mycroft, as the man rubbed his forehead to ease the pain, frustrated by the incapacitating pain pulsating inside his skull around his forehead and temple.

To think that he’d only gone to the surgery to talk to John in private; it had become a full check-up as soon as he absentmindedly mentioned his headaches and the last time he had the time to get himself examined.

Mycroft described the recurring pain as best as he could, turning his whole torso to follow John with his gaze when the man examined him because turning just his head made the throbbing unbearable. "Have you had your eyes tested lately?" the doctor asked after finishing his examination.

"No, my eyesight is fine. Why?"

"Humour me, then." Mycroft observed in silence as John prepared the silly panel with the letters for him to read, then asked him to cover one of his eyes and had Mycroft read the letters without difficulty. John nodded and told him to cover the other eye, which had Mycroft bite his tongue not to curse out loud. Things at a distance had suddenly become blurred, their contours indistinct. John patiently pointed at the letters for him and he couldn’t be sure about a few. It hurt his pride.

"Well, you shouldn't worry,” John said quietly as he turned off the light behind the panel. “It’s one of the few inevitabilities of life: death, taxes and fading eyesight."

Mycroft thought he remembered the proverb differently, but had to admit that John had a point, even if he had a hard time accepting his own vulnerability.

"You should book a visit with a specialist," John suggested, and Mycroft tried to take his advice with a good-humoured smile. It was harder than he imagined making it look honest.

The next time he saw John the man winked at him, sharing in the secret of his contact lens while looking up from his own desk at him above the rim of some old-fashioned reading glasses.

Mycroft had never felt so shallow. "I didn't know you wore glasses."

"For reading and a few other meticulous tasks."

Mycroft studied him, discovering that those little contraptions did not diminish John in any way.

“Are the headaches gone?”

“Yes, finally.” Mycroft let himself smile a little in relief as he walked closer to the desk and eventually sat in the chair.

“Anything else that troubles you?” John asked, all professional courtesy, as he took off his glasses and put them down on the desk.

“Not medically speaking. There’s the Queen’s Jubilee, the Royal Wedding, the Olympic Games...”

John chuckled. “See that you get enough sleep. One collapsing Holmes is enough.”

Mycroft nodded, perfectly aware of the situation. They remained in silence for a few minutes.

“It’s a pity that you chose to opt for contacts,” John dared afterwards, “you would have looked good in glasses.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, doubtful.

John got up and circled the desk, stopping in front of him. “Let me show you,” he said, taking his own discarded glasses and placing them on Mycroft’s nose. They were heavy and too tight on the bridge of his nose, more importantly they made everything close to him too big and blurred.

Mycroft didn’t even see when John leant closer to kiss him, and was genuinely surprised by the gesture.

“Very clever,” he murmured, taking the spectacles off and placing them back on the desk as John grabbed both armrests and remained within kissing distance from his lips, waiting for him to do the next move.

“I wasn’t lying, just taking advantage.”

“I see.”

Perhaps it would be worth it to invest in a pair of glasses to use at home, or when he had less pressing matters to attend. After all, putting on contact lenses was a far too complicated affair to do each morning.
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