Greg sighed before entering the pub. A sigh of relief.

His week had been hard -it always was- and the prospect of a weekend of rest with his lover seemed more and more appealing.

Suddenly raising his hand to open the door, he could not prevent a smile from adorning his lips. Mycroft, John and Sherlock sat at a table talking animatedly, which was the case with all discussions when the Holmes brothers were together. They all had a drink in their hand, but what warmed Greg's heart was that there was a fourth drink, for him.

Even now, he felt that kind of wonder, the sense of having been accepted into a special circle. A sense of belonging.

The three men hadn't seen him enter and he stopped when he heard John's surprisingly drunken voice, "Mycroft, your brother is sure he knows how you and Greg ended up together, but he won't tell me!"

Mycroft had his back to him and Greg didn't move forward, curious as to what his answer would be.

"Haha John, I don't know if I should reveal all our little secrets, but just by saying that, I'm sure my beloved brother here will be happy to tell you, only to annoy me."

Mycroft didn't let his brother's offended exclamations faze him and continued, oblivious to Greg's amused gaze as he watched them.

"I'll tell you the circumstances, my dear John. That night I had a choice between a fancy dinner with ambassadors at a classy five-star restaurant and dear Greg inviting me to eat at Pellicci to have pasta."

To say Greg was surprised would have been an understatement, he remembered that night, of course he remembered it. The beginning of their relationship. But he didn't know that Mycroft had other plans. They had once again both mended fences because of Sherlock's turpitudes and it was an impulse due to exhaustion that had pushed Greg to propose this dinner to Mycroft. With no ulterior motive. Or at least that's what he told himself at the time.

Mycroft had chosen him. Greg's smile widened and a pleasant warmth settled in his chest.

He saw John take a knowing look, "Ooooh... I knew it, all those times Greg mentioned you, when you appeared as if by magic...Come on Mycroft, we want more."

Mycroft didn't answer and shook his head softly, laughing.

Sherlock for once the voice of wisdom, or because he had just seen Greg, took John by the shoulders, "John, dear... I think you've had enough. It's time for us to go home."

Greg's smile turned fond when he saw Mycroft address Sherlock in a concerned manner, "Do you need help?"

Sherlock shook his head, helped John to his feet, and led him to the exit. He nodded and gave a cheeky wink to Greg who watched them leave before moving closer to Mycroft.

"Come sit down Greg, I know you're there. Your beer is almost warm." Mycroft addressed him without turning his head. This didn't even surprise Greg anymore, it had been a long time since he had given up on surprising the Holmes brothers.

He put his hand on Mycroft's shoulder and kissed his temple before sitting down opposite him.

As he grabbed his beer and took a sip, leaving his other hand on the table, Mycroft's hand slid across the table and rested on his, their fingers intertwining in a gesture now so familiar.

After putting his glass back down, Greg raised their entwined hands and kissed the knuckles of Mycroft's hand.

He said softly, "So, between a meal in a five star restaurant with fancy ambassadors and a spaghetti dinner with me, you chose me?"

He couldn't hide the pleasure that this thought gave him. Actually he didn't want to hide it, after all Mycroft knew him, he would have guessed it right away.

Mycroft replied softly, tightening his fingers around his, "Of course I chose you. I will always choose you."