Chapter Nine: Hitchin' A Ride


Beta: chasingriver


Chapter Title: Hitchin' A Ride by Green Day


Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far, or just read the story. Really, I can't believe how many people are enjoying it, you guys make me write faster. Just to let you know, I've written 21 chapters so far, so the updates will continue to be daily.

Now, on with the chapter!

{Dreamer}


There was an awkward silence after Mycroft left. BJ was glaring at Greg, like somehow Greg had forced Mycroft to jerk him off, and Dimmock was gaping openly. Finally BJ snorted and went back into the house, Greg immediately turning his back on his best friend.

'What-the-fuck?' Dimmock demanded again.

'Not now, Dimmo,' Greg said.

'Now now?' Dimmock said, stalking to the other teenager. 'Now now? I just walk out here to see you and Mycroft Holmes- you and Mycroft Holmes- with swollen fucking lips, you looking like you'd got a fucking blow job, Holmes with his goddamn belt open and dressed like some type of bloody emo-goth-punk-fucking-rocker, and you say not now?'

Greg sighed.

'Seriously, what the fucking fuck, Greg?'

Greg pulled his cigarettes out and lit one quickly, staring across the dark lawn as he smoked. Finally he said, 'I have no fucking idea.'

'What?'

'Honestly, mate, no fucking clue,' Greg shrugged as Dimmock stood beside him. 'Last weekend I ran into Mycroft- dressed like fucking sex-on-legs-' Dimmock smirked, '- and acting like some fucking... I dunno, acting like me,' Greg said. 'He pushed me into a wall and was swearing and rubbing at my goddamn cock, and then he takes off. The next night I ran into him again and he fucking snogged me.'

'Mycroft Holmes snogged you?' Dimmock asked.

'Fucking hell did he snog me,' Greg said. 'Seriously, Dimmo, I have never been that thoroughly kissed in my fucking life- no, it wasn't kissing, he fucking tongue-fucked me.'

Dimmock snickered.

'I'm fucking serious here,' Greg scowled. 'He tongue-fucks my mouth and then takes off, and at school he acts like nothing fucking happened. Then he pulls me out here 'bout an hour ago and sticks his hand down my jeans, what am I supposed to do?'

'Offer him a hand job in return, obviously,' Dimmock said. Greg rolled his eyes and leaned against the railing, puffing on his cigarette. 'Jesus Christ,' Dimmock said suddenly, 'my mind's fucking imploded from the sight of Mycroft Holmes in tight jeans.'

Greg snorted. 'How do you think I've been feeling?'

'Wait, so this is why you've been acting so weird all week?' Dimmock asked. ''Cause Mycroft Holmes snogged-'

'Tongue-fucked,' Greg corrected.

Dimmock rolled his eyes. 'Tongue-fucked, whatever. This is why you've been acting all weird?' Greg nodded. 'Wait, were you waiting for him tonight?' Greg squirmed and didn't look up, effectively answering Dimmock's questions. 'Holy fucking hell, Greg Lestrade waiting for Mycroft Holmes like some giddy little fucking girl.'

'Fuck off, cunt,' Greg replied.

Dimmock smirked and leaned against the railing too, tapping at the wood. 'Well,' he finally said, Greg glancing at him, 'I gotta admit, he looked damn fine in that outfit.'

'Mm,' Greg nodded.

'I mean, I've always thought he was kind of cute,' Dimmock continued, Greg scowling, 'but I never paid him any attention because he seemed like such a tit. But after tonight...' He trailed off and tilted his head, no doubt thinking about Mycroft in jeans and a tight shirt.

Greg continued to glare at his best friend. He didn't know why Dimmock thinking Mycroft was hot pissed him off so much, but it did. Until now Greg had been the only person- besides BJ Masters and his mates- to know that Mycroft Holmes could look like a goddamn sex God. But now Dimmock knew, and Dimmock had noticed what Greg had; Mycroft Holmes was a sexy piece of fucking man.

When Dimmock looked back over Greg was glaring hard at him. 'What?'

'Nothing,' Greg said, looking away quickly and finishing his fag.

'No, what is it?' Dimmock asked. He smiled slowly when Greg shrugged and flicked his cigarette butt over the railing. 'What, you jealous?'

'What?' Greg practically shrieked, making Dimmock smirk. 'Fuck off, why would I be jealous?'

''Cause you want into Mycroft Holmes' trousers?' Dimmock supplied.

'So what if I do?' Greg sniffed.

'Oh, there's nothing wrong with wanting into his trousers,' Dimmock said. 'I would too if I wasn't with Molly.' Greg growled audibly and Dimmock grinned. 'You fucking like him.'

'Don't be a dickhead,' Greg spat.

'You fucking like him,' Dimmock repeated, standing back and folding his arms. 'Don't fucking deny it, Greg, you like him!'

'I do not!' Greg shouted. 'He's fucking hot, alright? I want a shag, maybe two, and that's it!'

'Bull-fucking-shit,' Dimmock said. 'You couldn't care less if any of your conquests are off shagging some other bloke five minutes after you've fucked them. But I mention Holmes looking shaggable and you start growling like some fucking caveman.'

Greg smacked his fist into Dimmock's shoulder, making the other teenager wince and stumble back. 'Fuck off, Dimmo, you're a fucking idiot!' Greg spat and stormed away.

'And you fancy Mycroft Holmes!' Dimmock shouted as Greg stormed into the house.

{oOo}

Dimmock's words replayed over and over again in Greg's head all weekend, and well into Monday morning. He didn't fucking like Mycroft Holmes. So what if he wanted to shag Mycroft? So what if he got pissed off because Dimmock thought he was hot? So what if Mycroft wasn't the boring, posh tit Greg had always thought he was?

So what if Greg wanted to see more of him, hang out with him, kiss him and fuck him and do a hundred other fucking things with him.

That didn't mean he liked Mycroft.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

Absolutely-fucking-not.

Besides, they barely knew each other. Greg couldn't fucking like someone he'd known for all of a week and spent about six hours with. Okay, so yeah, he'd known Mycroft since they were about fifteen when the Holmes family had moved to town, but Greg had only known the "public" Mycroft; the posh, polite, abso-fucking-lutely boring Mycroft Holmes. He'd known this... awesome-smoking-drinking-damn-fucking-shaggable Mycroft Holmes for all of a week.

So no, Greg did not fucking like him.

'Greg, are you alright?'

Greg jumped, ripped from his repetitive thoughts about Mycroft by his mum. He was sitting at the kitchen table ripping his toast to shreds. His mum was tired- she'd only walked in from the night-shift about half-an-hour earlier- and was yawning as she watched Greg.

'Huh?' he said when he realised she was still staring at him.

'Are you okay?' Maggie asked again.

'Yeah, fine,' Greg nodded, going back to pulling his toast apart.

Maggie frowned. 'Greg, come on, I know when you're upset about something. And I know you don't want to talk to your mother about it, but I am here.'

Greg chewed on his lip, wondering what his mum would say if she knew that perfect Mycroft Holmes was just as fucked up as he was.

'Well... erm,' Greg mumbled, 'have you ever thought you knew someone, and then they turn out to be a completely different person?' he asked. 'Like, you thought you knew everything there was to know about this person, and then they go and completely blind-side you?'

Maggie frowned, thinking over her son's words. 'Are you saying that someone's surprised you?'

'Yeah,' Greg nodded. 'It's like... like finding out that small, nerdy Peter Parker is Spider-Man, and it just completely blows your mind because you thought he was a wimp, when he's actually this super-awesome person.'

Maggie raised an eyebrow. 'Did you find out that someone you thought was a wimp is actually a super-awesome person?'

Greg flushed darkly and his mother smirked. 'Um... well, I...'

'Greg, people aren't always who they appear to be,' Maggie said when her son continued to stammer. 'Who people are in public isn't necessarily who they really are, especially teenagers. Young people face a lot in today's society, so it's not surprising that a lot of you hide who you really are.'

Greg just stared at her.

'All you can do,' Maggie continued, 'is accept people for who they are, even if who they really are completely surprises you.'

'I suppose,' Greg mumbled.

'Is this really bothering you?' Maggie asked, sipping her tea.

'Um... kinda,' Greg admitted. 'I just don't know what to do.'

'Is this person close to you?'

'Erm, not really,' Greg said, 'at least we haven't been until recently.' Maggie raised an eyebrow and Greg blushed harder, thinking about exactly how close he and Mycroft had got at the party last night. 'Um, forget it, doesn't matter.'

'Are you sure?'

Greg nodded. 'It's not really a massively big thing, it's just something that's been on my mind.'

'Well, you've thoroughly confused me and I have no idea what's going on,' Maggie admitted, Greg chuckling as he stood. 'But I hope you work it out.'

Greg smiled and kissed his mum's cheek before grabbing his helmet and heading off to school.

{oOo}

Greg was actually really early for once; a by-product of not getting wasted the night before and actually getting up when his alarm went off. He pulled into the carpark and turned his bike off, tugging his helmet off and just sitting.

He didn't know what had possessed him to talk to his mum about Mycroft; he was going completely fucking insane. Greg just didn't know where he stood with Mycroft, or why Mycroft wanted him. Why, all of a sudden, had Mycroft shown Greg who he really was?

It was absolutely fucking insane and Greg just wanted to sit down and talk to Mycroft without anyone interrupting or without Mycroft touching him and kissing him; because really, Greg couldn't think when Mycroft's tongue was involved.

A car pulled into the carpark behind Greg but he paid it no mind, just straddling his bike and staring. He didn't even realise he wasn't alone until there was a tap on his shoulder.

Greg nearly went flying but a hand shot out, steadying him and saving Greg's bike from tipping over. When Greg had his balance again he looked up.

Mycroft smirked when Greg's mouth dropped open. The other teenager was dressed in tight purple jeans, a black button-up open and showing a My Chemical Romance shirt, with eyeliner and eyeshadow marking his face, as well as purple nail polish.

When Greg continued to stare, Mycroft said, 'Any particular reason you're sitting on your bike and staring?'

'Erm... I... just...'

Mycroft smiled and grabbed Greg's helmet, tossing it between his hands. 'Have you got another one?'

'Uh... yeah, in my locker, in case a mate ever wants a lift,' Greg said, swallowing thickly. 'Why?'

'Go get it, you're taking me for a ride,' Mycroft said, handing the helmet back over. Greg just stared at him. 'Gregory, are you just going to sit there all day, or are we going to have some fun?'

'You... you want to skip school?' Greg asked.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. 'Like you've never done it before.'

'Well, yeah, I have,' Greg said, 'but... but...'

'I think it's time you realised that I'm not the person you think I am,' Mycroft cut in. 'And if you go get your spare helmet I'll explain everything to you, deal?'

Greg nodded and climbed off his bike, handing Mycroft the helmet. 'I expect a lot of fucking answers, Mycroft.'

'Just hurry up,' Mycroft said.

Greg scowled and took off, quickly running through the school and to his locker. He practically tore the door open after unlocking it, pushing his books aside to grab his spare helmet. Greg slammed the door shut and ran again, and when he re-joined Mycroft he was panting.

Mycroft smirked and took the helmet, Greg straddling his bike and Mycroft climbing on behind him.

'Anywhere in particular we're going?' Greg asked.

'Do you have spare clothes in your bag?'

'No.'

'Then to your house; you can sneak in, yes?'

Greg nodded and Mycroft squeezed his shoulder. 'Excellent, well hurry up.'

Greg scowled and was about to shout at him when Dimmock's BMW pulled in to the carpark. 'Jesus Christ,' he sighed.

'Problem?' Mycroft asked.

'Just shut up, would you?' Greg said.

'Ooh, someone's getting tougher around me,' Mycroft snickered.

Greg ignored him as Dimmock climbed out of his car, eyebrows shooting up when he saw Mycroft on the back of Greg's bike.

'Erm... what the fuck?' he asked.

'Fuck off,' Mycroft said.

Dimmock's mouth dropped open and Greg said, 'Dimmo, I'll explain later, alright?'

'What-the-fuck?' Dimmock repeated.

'Later,' Greg insisted, pulling his helmet back on while Mycroft did the same. 'I promise, mate,' Greg added. He turned his bike on and Mycroft wrapped his arms around Greg's waist, the older teenager feeling his stomach flip.

He was sure he heard Mycroft chuckle as he guided his bike out of the carpark, leaving Dimmock standing beside his car gaping as they took off.

{oOo}

Greg parked around the corner from his house and left Mycroft with his bike. His mum would hear him if he got any closer and he didn't want to explain why he wasn't in school.

He climbed through his bedroom window and quickly changed into a pair of black skinny-jeans, a red-and-black checkered button-up shirt, and his ripped high-top Chucks. Greg stuffed his school uniform back into his bag before climbing out the window and running down the street.

Mycroft told Greg to go somewhere they wouldn't get caught, so Greg rode to the carpark near the local train station. He parked on the roof and pulled his helmet off, Mycroft doing the same behind him.

Greg watched as Mycroft set the helmet down and went to lean on the concrete barrier, looking over the edge as he dug around for his cigarettes.

'So,' Greg said, joining the other teenager. He accepted a cigarette from him and waited.

'So,' Mycroft echoed before adding, 'I suppose you want answers?'

'Erm... yeah, that'd be pretty good,' Greg admitted.

'Ask away,' Mycroft said, blowing smoke rings.

'Okay, first; what the fuck's with the sudden personality change?' Greg demanded. 'You got multiple ones or something?'

Mycroft chuckled, leaning further against the barrier. 'No, I don't, Gregory. What you see right now is me; Mycroft Edwin Holmes, in the flesh.'

'So why the posh act at school and everywhere else?' Greg asked.

Mycroft tilted his head. 'I'm expected to act a certain way,' he admitted, 'which includes being a gentleman, doing well in school, and not showing any real emotion in public. I was taught to be like that from my father, who was taught by his father, and so and so forth. I have an image to maintain, Gregory.'

'And you can't just be yourself?' Greg said, looking at Mycroft as they spoke.

'No,' Mycroft shook his head. 'My father isn't the kindest man, and I'd face boarding school, a therapist, disownment, or something else equally thrilling if he learned that I was gay and liked wearing make-up.'

'Right,' Greg said, 'so... you just act like a posh dick during the day, but at parties you're... this?'

Mycroft nodded. 'If I want the job I'm aiming for than yes, I have to act like a posh, well-respected young man. But at parties and when I'm home alone, I dress how I want and act how I want. It's easier than fighting my father and losing my home.'

'I can see that,' Greg said, suddenly thanking whatever higher power there was that he had such an awesome and understanding mum. 'And shagging every bloke you can get your hands on? What's with that?'

Mycroft chuckled, blue eyes moving slowly to rest on Greg. 'I'm seventeen-years-old, Gregory.'

'Right, but-'

'I haven't found anyone who satisfies me sexually,' Mycroft admitted. 'If I did I wouldn't be-'

'A whore?' Greg supplied.

Mycroft snorted. 'Look who's talking.'

'I never said I wasn't a whore,' Greg smiled. 'I should have business cards made up. "Gregory Lestrade: Boy Slut".'

Mycroft chuckled and took a long drag of his cigarette while Greg looked over the barrier, watching cars and people go by.

'Why do you sleep around?' Mycroft asked.

'You know why,' Greg said. 'Everyone fucking sucks in bed.'

'Hmm, seems we have the same problem,' Mycroft mused.

They lapsed into silence, just staring at the world around them. When Mycroft lit another cigarette Greg asked, 'Why me?'

'Why you what?' Mycroft asked.

'Why are you telling me all this?'

'I think we've had this conversation,' Mycroft said.

Greg rolled his eyes. 'Telling me I'm interesting doesn't help, Mycroft.'

'That's why, Greg,' Mycroft said, making the other teenager frown. 'You're the only person who's ever wanted to know why I'm doing this,' Mycroft continued. 'All the guys I've fucked didn't bother looking past my cock to see who I am. They just wanted me to fuck them, or to ride them, they never even looked and realised I'm Mycroft Holmes.

'But you questioned me, you demanded to know why,' Mycroft said. 'You're actually curious.'

'Well... yeah. I mean, this is really fucking bizarre,' Greg said.

Mycroft chuckled. 'You're also amazingly good-looking,' he admitted, eyes looking over Greg slowly. 'You're smart, funny, and just... you. I don't know what it is, but I like it.'

'So, what, you fancy me?' Greg asked.

Mycroft just smiled and turned away, inhaling cigarette smoke as Greg stared at him.

'So... what are we doing, exactly?' Greg finally asked, breaking the silence that had descended. 'I mean, you snog me, then give me a hand job, but at school you act like we barely know each other.'

'I just thought it'd be easier to pretend nothing had happened,' Mycroft admitted. 'After all, why would you want to be seen at school with Mycroft Holmes?'

Greg looked down and Mycroft chuckled.

'It doesn't matter, Greg, I don't care what people think of me... well, I care what you think.'

'You do?' Greg asked, looking back up.

Mycroft was smiling at him. 'Did you like me kissing you?'

'Of course I did.'

'And the hand job?'

Greg rolled his eyes. 'What kind of stupid-arsed question is that?' he demanded. 'Of course I fucking liked it; best hand job ever.'

Mycroft smiled. 'So you want to continue this?'

'Define... this.'

'Why?' Mycroft asked.

'What, you just want to continue doing whatever it is we're doing?' Greg asked.

Mycroft inclined his head. 'I don't see why we need to establish exactly what it is. I'm attracted to you, you to me, and we have fun together, don't we?' Greg nodded. 'So let's just see where it goes.'

'Okay...' Greg said, turning back to lean on the barrier. He lit another smoke and Mycroft went back to staring over the edge.

'No more questions?' Mycroft asked.

'Um...' Greg thought, 'when did you start acting like this?' he asked. 'I've never seen you at any parties before that one where you fucked that James guy.'

'Believe me, I've been there,' Mycroft smiled. 'I just didn't let you see me.'

'Oh.'

'All of this didn't happen overnight,' Mycroft continued, 'but I suppose it really started when I hit puberty. I wanted to listen to music my father and mother didn't approve of, I wanted to dress in clothes they certainly wouldn't like. I started hanging around certain people at my old school; smoking, drinking, and looking at boys.'

Greg smiled, remembering when he'd started fancying the local boys.

'It all kind of progressed from there,' Mycroft said. 'And as you know, I moved here when I was fifteen, and I decided I'd continue to hide it. It's just much easier keeping it from my parents when everyone thinks I'm boring, posh Mycroft Holmes.'

'I can see that,' Greg nodded. 'Any particular reason you suddenly decided to show me last week?'

'Well, I've heard of your reputation, of course,' Mycroft said. 'And I was steadily working my way through all the gay and bisexual men from the neighbouring towns. When our mothers started having tea more often I found that I wanted to spend time with you, so I bumped into you at that party.'

'Wait, that was planned?' Greg demanded.

Mycroft smirked at him, smoke streaming from his nose. 'I never leave anything to chance, Gregory.'

'I don't think I'll ever fucking understand you,' Greg admitted.

'Do you have to?' Mycroft asked.

Greg chuckled. 'No, I suppose not.'

'Good.'

Greg smiled. Yeah, he thought, glancing at Mycroft from the corner of his eye. It was really good.