Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade had been dating for a month exactly today, the 21st of April. They hadn't planned anything special for after their classes, save for the usual 'study' session (that frequently turned into a snog session) they normally had, except maybe going out together to grab something to eat.
"Your room or mine?" Myc asked the older boy as they met in the courtyard between their buildings.
"Mine," Greg instantly replied, smoothing his blackish-brown hair down on one side of his head. He's obviously just spent his last class sleeping. "Jacob's off on a family holiday. Easter thing they do every year."
Mycroft nodded but stopped walking. "Hold on, I need to fetch a book from my room." He started off towards his dorm building, turning to walk backwards. "I will be up shortly!" he yelled, whirling once more and taking off at a brisk jog.
Greg shook his head at the younger boy, but remembered what he had to do in his room before Myc got back. He sprinted up the 3 flights of stairs, not even getting winded. Perks of being a football player is that 3 flights of stairs is nothing to the 3 miles ran every match. Greg fumbled with his key, cursing at it as it jammed. "Not right now you bloody thing. Damn you." He yanked it back out ran a hand through his short hair to calm down and went to try again. A small sigh of relief escaped as the handle turned with ease.
He stepped into his room and straight away tripped over a pair of his Jacob's pants. The room was a mess, Jacob having strewn his clothes all over whilst packing for his holiday. "Christ, I'm gonna kill 'im," Greg muttered. He kicked the pants and they landed on Jacob's bed with a soft 'fwp'. Greg gathered the rest of the scattered clothes and piled them on top of the pants on the bed. His side was clean, as always. Bed made, nightstand clear, and not a sign of dust on his prized collection of Tolkien and King books on his small shelf. His desk had some open books on it, but that was about it. Myc always nagged him about his desk being cluttered. It's how he worked. He liked his living space spotless but his work space needed to be disorderly. 'Organised mess' he called it.
After clearing a bit of the papers to the side, Greg reached under the large desktop calendar he had and pulled out a thin package, wrapped in dark blue tissue paper. He slung his bag from his back and pulled out the white paper gift bag he had bought from the schools shop, along with a package of blue plastic cups. Opening the small refrigerator he shared with Jacob, he pulled out the cheap wine he had bought and smuggled into his dorm a couple days ago . Even though they were of legal age to drink it, it was not encouraged and if the administration caught you with it, you faced consequences as extreme as expulsion, not that Greg cared at all.
He took the cork out with surprising ease with the corkscrew on his pocket knife, also another thing he wasn't supposed to have in the dorms. He let the wine set to breathe, learning that much from his mum.
Greg was re-hiding the present in the leg space beneath his desk when a soft rap at door signaled Mycroft's presence. "Justa sec, Myc," he called glancing about to see if he had forgotten anything. When he was sure he missed nothing, he went and opened the door.
"Hey," Greg said, his face flushing slightly at the sight of his boyfriend. Mycroft had changed from his uniform into a light blue dress shirt (no tie, for once), navy trousers, and a charcoal waistcoat. He had his canvas satchel's strap crossing his chest.
Greg glanced down at his own attire, his black blazer still on over his own blue and gold sweater vest, his black tie hanging limply from around his neck. He mentally slapped himself. He knew he'd forgotten something. He hurriedly shed his blazer and ripped his tie off over his head, the knot still in it. He hung both on the back of the door as Mycroft stepped through and shut the door.
It was shaded in the room, the only light coming from the lamp on Greg's desk and what filtered in from the large, draped window. Mycroft's keen eyes spied the wine and cups instantly, but he didn't say a word. Instead, he turned around and plopped on Greg's bed scooting back to sit against the wall, his satchel bumping against his long legs as he pulled it up next to him. "What subject first? I have work in chemistry but I do so despise it, so it's up to you."
Scratching his the back of his head nervously and rocking on his heels, Greg's face flushed a bright red. "I was thinkin' we just…" and he nodded at the wine. He knew Myc had noticed it; he always does.
Mycroft grinned. "Oh, I was hoping you would say that," he stated as he slid back off the bed. "May I?" he asked politely, gesturing towards the beverage and the two cups on the table.
"Be my guest," Greg nodded as he clicked on the small stereo, light instrumental music playing softly from it. Mycroft expertly poured an equal amount into the cups, filling them only half way.
He then took Greg's hand and held up his cup. "To one month."
Greg touched the rim of his own cup to his boyfriend's. "And to many more after," he replied.
They each took a sip, the fingers of their free hands twined together. Mycroft let his forehead fall and touch Greg's, staring into the older boy's deeply brown eyes. "I love you, Gregory."
Greg smiled and reclined his face up, his lip touching Mycroft's for a brief moment. "I love you, too, Myc."
The two of them swayed to the music, chest to chest. They exchanged kisses and sweet words until their cups ran dry.
As Mycroft went to pour them some more, Greg reached under the desk and pulled the white gift bag out. Mycroft turned with their drinks in hand as Greg held it out to him. Mycroft stared wide-eyed at the bag. "But we agreed we were not-"
"Yes, I know," Greg stated his cheeks growing warm again. "But… I couldn't help myself."
"Oh, Gregory…" Mycroft shook his head, closing his eyes. Then, his lips curled into a coy smile. He dove for his satchel on the bed, rifling through it. He pulled a small, elaborately wrapped box from its depths.
Greg laughed loudly. "I love how we don't follow our own rules," he chided, sitting across from his boyfriend, their knees touching.
"For shame," Mycroft said, cocking his head to the side with a look of mock-disapproval on his face.
They exchanged the gifts, just sitting there for a moment, facing each other. This was the first time they had give each other anything beyond a surprise kiss and treating the other to dinner or something.
Nudging Greg's hand, Mycroft bobbed his head. "Open yours first."
Greg ogled at the long, small box in his hands. He carefully tore the paper off of it, revealing it to be a velvety case of a sort. His eyes widened as he opened the case. There, on a smooth leather cord, was a silver 'G', measuring about 2 ½ centimeters. A small 'M' was clipped to the cord and clinked against the 'G' when Greg held it to the light. His eyes shifted to Mycroft, who was reaching down his shirt. He pulled out a matching necklace, an 'M' in place of the 'G' on Greg's.
"Matching," Mycroft beamed. Greg just gaped at his boyfriend. He looked back to the necklace still nestled in its case in his hand. He pulled it out and undid the small clasp, lined it up, and fastened it around his neck.
Greg fingered the letters, the backs of his eyes burning from holding back tears. "Th-thank you," he whispered softly, pulling Mycroft into a tight hug. "Thank you so much." Holding Mycroft out at arm's length, Greg just tilted his head and smiled. Then, he suddenly remembered about his own present. "OH! Open it!" he happily said, pointing at the white gift bag set against the wall on the bed.
Mycroft laughed quietly as he reached into the bag. He unwrapped the square from the dark blue paper and his heart immediately jumped into his throat and his hand slapped into his mouth. In his hand was a cardboard backed, pencil depiction of himself, sitting on this very bed with a book laid across his lap and his head angled downward. The details were astonishing, from the slope of his shoulders to the wrinkles in his waistcoat. "G-Gregory…" Mycroft faltered, his voice barely audible. His eyes darted up to Greg in amazement. "Did you draw this?"
Greg nodded slowly, his face heating once again at his boyfriend's reaction.
Studying the portrait more, Mycroft grew more and more at awe. Each new aspect he noticed amazed him further. He had never known the Greg could draw. Mycroft gazed back up to the older boy across from him. He slid the picture back into the bag and set it on the floor. He crawled into Greg's lap and pressed his lips to Greg's. It was a long and passionate kiss, one that said what Mycroft couldn't find the words for.
Greg leaned back, pulling Mycroft on top of him, their lips still locked together. Cupping the back of Mycroft's head, Greg tipped his head to the side to get a better angle. He felt Mycroft's lips part and could taste the wine on his breath as his breath mingled with Greg's. Mycroft's nimble fingers found the bottom of Greg's shirt and quickly traced lightly over the soft skin of Greg's side. Greg's arms slid up to encircle Mycroft's neck, leaning into the younger boy's touch.
Breaking the kiss, Mycroft nuzzled into Greg's neck. "I love you so very much, Gregory," he murmured, his lips pressing into Greg's jawline. "So much."
Greg ran his fingers through Mycroft's light auburn hair. "I love you too, Mycroft," he sighed, the weight of his boyfriend comforting and warm on his chest. "Forever and always."