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Mycroft couldn’t believe himself. Eleven days before Christmas and he still hadn’t found a present for Greg. Now he was panicking and it was his own fault for leaving it so long. He’d never been great at gift-giving, and his husband was particularly hard to buy for. The man was content with anything and, therefore, never even gave a hint as to things he wanted. Instead, Mycroft was left helplessly scrolling shopping sites with no ideas whatsoever.
It was during one scrolling session seated at the kitchen table that Will came up behind him.
“Dad doesn’t need any of that junk.”
“He needs something!” Mycroft insisted. “He can’t wake up and not have a gift under the tree, especially because I know he’ll have – completely unnecessarily, mind you – spoiled me.”
“It’s not a competition, but do you really think you’ll win with some generic mug or t-shirt? You have a ridiculous amount of money. Use it. Get him something custom.”
“Such as?” Mycroft challenged.
Will shrugged. “New leather jacket? Then I could keep this one.”
Will currently looked quite cozy in the well-worn item that now spent more time in his closet than his Dad’s. He practically lived in it.
Mycroft rolled his eyes at the motivation behind the idea, but it wasn’t a bad one. He opened a new tab....