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Mycroft balanced a plate of cookies on top of a mug of tea as he climbed the stairs. The house was all his for the weekend. His parents accompanied Sherlock to a violin competition. No one to bother him, he could do whatever he wanted without his parents or Sherlock commenting on it.
He put his bounty down, he picked up the book he just bought for himself and settled in the window seat. He glanced out of the window and then took another look.
“Lestrade?” he opened the window leaning out.
“Hi.” he smiled up at him. Mycroft always felt mesmerised by it, his knees turning weak, his insides trembling, ears burning up.
“What are you doing in my garden?”
“I heard Sherlock is in a violin competition.”
“Yes.”
“I thought…” he started to climb up to his room.
“What are you doing! The vines might not support your weight.”
“Am I fat?” he smiled cheekily.
“Not what I said.” Mycroft would never say that. Greg was perfect, in every way, the cause of Mycroft’s internal turmoil.
“I know.” Greg chuckled. “I’ll be fine Mycroft.” Greg soon reached his window. “So, may I?” he smiled at him.
“Why would I let you in?” Mycroft smiled at him. “You never talked to me before.”
“I did.”
“When you are forced to.”
“I want more.”
“More?” he raised an eyebrow.
“Yes Mycroft. I…I…you have to understand that it wasn’t an easy decision. I never fancied boys before and…here you are, perfect in every way.” Mycroft blushed. “You look amazing, you are funny, caring, clever…and all I want is to be with you, get to know you better, to make you feel special, to make you smile….damn…”
“I’ve got you.” Mycroft grabbed his hand when Greg started to slip.
“Thanks.” he grunted, Mycroft pulled him in.
“Told you so.”
“You did.” he chuckled not moving away from Mycroft.
“How do you know I’m interested?” Mycroft whispered, his face close to Greg’s, staring to his deep brown eyes, not being able to look away.
“Even a blind could tell. Why do you think they started to bully you again?”
“All because of you.” Mycroft wrinkled his nose.
“I’m sorry.” Greg said half heartedly, Greg kissed his nose. “My parents made me like this.”
“I will have to send a thank you note to them.” Mycroft leant closer and closer.
“And I to yours.” Greg closed the remainder of the space and kissed him.
Mycroft dreamt of this, fantasised about it so many times, but reality was way better. The mug and plate landed on the floor, breaking to pieces but none of them cared.
“Why today?” Mycroft panted when they finally broke the kiss.
“It is a special day.” he smiled at Mycroft stroking his ginger locks.
“Is it? Why?” he frowned.
“Because it is your birthday. I checked at school.”
“You did what?”
“I rather want to know why you’ve forgotten about your birthday.” he sat up.
“Not a day worth remembering.”
“By your parents you mean.”
“It’s just another day, the sun comes up and sets and it is forgotten. I don’t mind.” he shrugged.
“Not today!” Greg jumped up. “Ops…” he stepped out of the pool of tea. “Not today! Come on Mycroft.”
“Where to?”
“It’ll make this a special day for you.” he smiled at him.
“It’s already is.” Mycroft whispered taking his hand. “But you may spoil me today.” he chuckled, his face flushed, hand trembling in Greg’s.
“I plan on doing that every single day.” Greg pulled him to a kiss. “Happy Birthday My.”
“Happy it is.”