Chapter Twenty-One: Firsts

Author's Note: To all you reviewers... I can't express how much your words have meant to me! Whether it be massive reviews or just a few words (or the occasional lone exclamation mark), I love each and every one. It's you people that I write for; you, the readers. Without you I'd have no reason to write.

Anyway, this is the chapter where everything changes. So please don't hate me if it doesn't meet your expectations or if you dislike it. Although let me know; I like to know when things aren't working.

So yes... on with the show!

'I still remember the first words you said to me,' Lestrade said suddenly.

'Really?'

'Mm,' the DI nodded. 'I bumped into you and you said, 'Excuse me, sir, could you not spill your drink all over me?'' Mycroft chuckled. 'I thought you were so damn cute.'

Mycroft snorted.

'No, really,' Lestrade said. 'I'd been staring at you all night. I couldn't believe I was attracted to you.'

'Or I to you,' Mycroft said with a small smile. 'First and only time I've ever been attracted to a man.'

Lestrade smiled. 'I asked if I could buy you a drink and you looked so lost, like no one had ever asked before.'

'No one ever had... but you did.'

'I did,' Lestrade nodded. 'And I bought you another one and another.'

'Which led to you pushing me against a brick wall,' Mycroft said and grinned. 'I've never been that scared of exhilarated in my life.' He paused and closed his eyes. 'That's when you said–'

''Are you sure about this?'' Lestrade mumbled, echoing the words he'd spoken over twenty years ago. ''I'll stop if you aren't... if you are I'm never, ever stopping'.'

Mycroft felt a tear escape his eye and wiped it away. 'I didn't want you to stop.'

'So I didn't.'

'You did.'

Lestrade sighed. 'Mycroft–'

'I know,' Mycroft cut him off and swallowed. 'I know.'

Lestrade turned to look at him. Mycroft's left hand had dropped to draw patterns on the bunk and Lestrade watched his long, thin fingers dance across the vinyl.

'Do you remember the first time I held your hand in public?'

Mycroft nodded without looking up. 'It was after the first time we had sex in an alleyway.' He blushed a little and Lestrade smiled. 'Two police officers walked around the corner as we were pulling our pants up. You grabbed my hand and shouted–'

''Run!''

Mycroft smiled. 'So we did.'

'I nearly coughed up a lung.'

Mycroft chuckled.

'Afterwards we just sat in bed together...' Lestrade began.

'... and you promised me we'd... we'd always be together,' Mycroft mumbled. He blinked back fresh tears and his hand curled into a first. 'But you broke that promise.'

'Yeah,' Lestrade nodded. 'I broke a lot of promises.'

'You promised no one would ever hurt me,' Mycroft whispered. 'You promised I'd never be alone... you... you promised you loved me.'

'I did... I do...'

Mycroft looked up at him. 'What?'

'Mycroft, I've always loved you,' Lestrade said, 'that hasn't changed.'

'But you're married.'

Lestrade snorted. 'Married,' he muttered. 'My marriage... God, it's not even my marriage, it's always been one sided. It was her idea. She planned it, she planned our lives. I was just an outsider looking in. And now... well, now she's gone.'

'Gone?' Mycroft asked.

'She's at her sister's with our son,' Lestrade said. 'Ever since Christmas. Sherlock told me she was still cheating on me.'

'I'm sorry.'

'I was relieved,' Lestrade said, 'can you believe that? Molly Hooper asked why I was at 221B and I said I'd worked everything out with my wife. I was so scared that I'd have to spend another year pretending to love her. Then Sherlock said she was cheating on me with a PE teacher.'

He paused to brush a hand through his hair, Mycroft following the movement. He'd never forget how Greg used to brush his hair back and smile.

'I was relieved,' Lestrade repeated. 'I was so goddamn glad that she was with someone else. I couldn't handle pretending to be invested in the relationship anymore.'

His heart hammering, Mycroft asked, 'Why?'

Lestrade turned to look at him, brown eyes soft. 'Why do you think?'

'I've learned not to listen to my thoughts or feelings when it comes to you.'

'Really?'

Mycroft nodded. 'I just... it just hurts.'

Lestrade sighed. 'I'm sorry.'

'Don't be.'

Mycroft's hand was still drawing patterns on the mattress and Lestrade wanted to grab it. But he held himself back; now wasn't the time to jump Mycroft.

'When did you first realise?'

'Hmm?' Mycroft murmured.

'When did you first realise,' Lestrade said slowly, swallowing before continuing, 'that you loved me?'

Mycroft stretched out, letting go of his legs and leaning back. Lestrade stared at his long, lean body, remembering that he hadn't touched that soft skin in twenty-three years.

'Well,' Mycroft said and fiddled with his shirt, 'when I realised I was willing to let you fuck me that was an indicator.'

Lestrade snorted and Mycroft smiled. 'God,' the DI giggled, 'everyone thinks you're this pompous, polite guy. You should hear John talk about you.'

'John talks about me?'

'Only when he complains about Sherlock,' Lestrade smiled, 'says you two bicker like little girls.'

'Hmm, I'll have to do something about that,' Mycroft mused.

'I can't believe I never realised it was you,' Lestrade said and Mycroft smiled, 'John says you're so uptight and posh... I remember you being like that until I got you in the bedroom. Actually, you were pretty nice in the bedroom too.'

Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

'You were all, 'Oh, I quite like that',' Lestrade said, making Mycroft smile, 'and you always said please and thank you.'

'Well in my defence, you were very good.' Lestrade snorted. 'Hey, at least I said something.'

'I talked!' Lestrade defended.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. 'Oh yes, I forgot. Screaming, 'Fuck me harder, right there!' is definitely talking.'

Lestrade nudged Mycroft with his shoulder and both men melted into the contact. They drew back quickly and Mycroft felt a blush creep up his cheeks. Lestrade swallowed and tried to ignore the heat pooling in his stomach.

'I was a mess after I left you,' he confessed softly after a few minutes of silence. He felt Mycroft's eyes on him but didn't look up. 'I did a lot of drugs until my partner did something like this.'

'Brandon threw you into a cell?'

Lestrade smiled. Mycroft remembered the name of his old police partner even after all these years. 'No, he handcuffed me to my bed until I detoxed. Not a very pleasant time but he stayed and helped me clean up.'

'That was nice of him.'

'He helped me a lot,' Lestrade said, 'especially when I started crying.'

'Why did you cry?'

'Mycroft, I'd just left the love of my life,' Lestrade said. 'I was devastated.'

'We keep doing this,' Mycroft said.

'Doing what?'

'We start fighting and then reminisce about the good times... then we fight again.'

Lestrade sighed. 'Sorry.'

'It's my fault as much as yours.'

Lestrade leaned back to look at Mycroft better. 'Why is everything so messed up? Why does everything have to be messed up?'

'I don't know,' Mycroft shrugged.

'I just wish...'

'What?'

'I wish things could be different,' Lestrade said softly. 'I wish we could be together.'

Mycroft felt his heart hammer in his chest. Suddenly everything was hot and he shifted, eyes on Lestrade.

'You... you want to be together?' Mycroft asked.

'Of course,' Lestrade said. 'I never wanted to break up, Mycroft, but we had to; it was the right thing to do.'

Mycroft swallowed. 'And now?'

He watched Lestrade shrug, brown eyes down. There were dark bags under his eyes, sweat across his forehead, and stubble on his jaw. He still looked more beautiful than anybody Mycroft had ever seen.

'We're older,' Lestrade said, 'wiser... well, I'm not wise but I'm assuming you are.' Mycroft managed a small smile. 'Everything's different.'

'We're still the same people.'

'I know.'

'And we still have a drug problem.'

'Why are you ruining my moment?' Mycroft's smile was proper then. 'I just think... I think things are different now,' Lestrade continued. 'I don't know about you but I've tried to live apart and it's just not working. I've felt better in the last hour than I have in twenty years.'

'Really?' Mycroft asked.

Lestrade nodded. 'Even throwing up and shivering and yelling at you... I still feel better with you here.'

Mycroft swallowed and looked down. Hesitantly he reached across and took Lestrade's hand in his own. Lestrade shivered at the touch and twined his fingers through Mycroft's, squeezing tightly.

'I feel the same.'

'Really?'

Mycroft nodded. 'Really.'

Lestrade smiled and they sat in silence, hands together and eyes drifting to each other's faces every so often. Memories of being together crashed through both their minds; afternoons at the pub, nights in the street, time spent rubbing against each other and swearing into each other's mouths. They both remembered mornings and breakfasts and showers locked together at the lips.

Neither had felt that in years, in what felt like centuries. Mycroft would never forget the feeling of Greg entering him the first time, of swearing as another man made him feel so good. Lestrade would never be able to forget the small smiles and soft touches Mycroft gave him and only him; no one else had felt that from Mycroft since Greg.

'Myc,' Greg sighed, reaching up to touch the politician's face. He couldn't resist anymore; he had to touch that soft skin again.

'Greg,' Mycroft murmured, hand grabbing Greg's thigh and stroking.

Mycroft and Greg looked up at the same time, eyes locking together. Suddenly nothing else mattered but each other; the years apart, the abuse they'd put their own bodies through, the hurt, the tears, the drugs... none of it mattered in that moment.

Greg and Mycroft shifted forward at the same time and their lips pressed together.