Predators and prey didn’t mix. This was common wisdom. A relationship between the two would only end in tears, if not worse. But Greg Lestrade, who’d been born of the wolf, had never met a more formidable rabbit then Mycroft Holmes. And Mycroft Holmes, with his stately ears standing tall, had never met a more gentle wolf then Gregory Lestrade.
Greg could tell by the turn of Mycroft’s ears that he was pleased. The day had gone well, then, the secret negotiations Greg knew nothing about. He watched his lover remove his suit coat and carefully roll up his sleeves as he came into the kitchen, eying the bubbling pot on the stove.
“Almost done, love.” Greg smiled. Wolves were not often known as good cooks either, but Mycroft had nothing but praise for him. After giving the pot a stir, he turned and kissed him.
Mycroft scratched just behind the silver ears, making Greg kick involuntarily. He chuckled as Greg pulled away.
“Oi, watch it or you won’t get any supper.” Greg waved the spoon at him.
Smiling, Mycroft fetched the wine and set the table for stew. Greg put the finishing touches and served it out, watching for the warm smile that would tell him Mycroft approved.
The rabbit took a few very proper tastes. “Excellent,” he said, favoring him with that smile.
Greg relaxed and started in on his own supper. Mycroft’s stew had a bit more veg and Greg’s had a bit more meat. But that was the way things were with them and if anyone were to question how these two were together, well, Mycroft would fix them with his withering glare and Greg would hold his arm and that would be all the answer they would get.