There were strong arms around him almost immediately, pulling him close and holding him. Standing like this, warmed against the bitterly cold air by a soft embrace…well, it made Mycroft wonder why he'd been so worried about seeing Greg again. Mycroft's arms moved around Greg too, ducking his head slightly and resting it on the slightly shorter teen's shoulders, head nestled in the crook of his neck. He was warm, smiling; he knew that Greg was too. It was exactly what he needed, no words, no looks or pitying eyes, just a hug. Admittedly a rare thing for Mycroft to need, but he wasn't questioning it this time.
"I missed you." Greg whispered, not moving away from Mycroft just yet, clearly he too didn't want to have to step away. That was perfect for Mycroft. To know that Greg hadn't moved on while he'd been away, to hear the honesty in his voice. Perfect.
"I missed you too." He said just as softly. No other words were exchanged for a long moment, both too happy, too comfortable to say anything else. They just stood there, waiting until they were both too cold to last any longer out there. Mycroft may have been wearing a jumper but it wasn't warm enough to keep out the chill. Greg sight softly stepping back from Mycroft with that unfairly beautiful grin on his face. He made a point of not looking at the rest of Mycroft eyes just searching his face. It was a sweet gesture, but one that Mycroft could see though easily. Mycroft retuned the favour, scanning over Greg carefully, picking up on everything he could from the amount of time the other had spend deciding what to wear and the number of extra training sessions he'd been to for rugby…he didn't want to miss a single point.
Greg was well used to Mycroft's deductions by now, so he didn't ask what he was looking at, didn't even blink at the way his eyes were flicking from point to point. When Mycroft had finished scanning over him Greg moved closer again, arms finding their way around Mycroft's neck, lips mere centimetres away. "I'm glad you're home." He said. Mycroft didn't respond, just moved his lips to Greg's, hands on the other teens waist as he pulled him closer. Greg was all too happy to return the kiss. Lips moving softly against Mycroft's. It was soft, tender, and they were both smiling.
At least until someone wolf whistled from the door.
"Oi, having fun you two? Careful or you'll give the neighbours a heart attack." Greg pulled back, giving Mycroft an apologetic look as he turned around.
"Piss of Dimmock, If you're so eager to watch people kiss then go sit by Sally and Phillip." He called, it was mostly joking, but then he sounded a bit peeved about being interrupted. Mycroft was too, but he didn't voice as much, more than happy to let Greg handle that one. He didn't really have any problems with Dimmock, he was on of the more popular boys in school, didn't get terrible grades, was secondly only to Greg in sports. He was much more abrasive though, making jokes when he shouldn't, commenting on things that could be offensive. He just didn't think about other people much. Not someone Mycroft would choose to spend time with, but he was one of Greg's best friends so he begrudgingly put up with him.
Dimmock just grinned from the doorway and slipped back inside, presumably to have another beer. Mycroft sighed softly, slipping his hand into Greg's and entwining their fingers. "We should go inside, I don't want to make you a bad host." He murmured. Greg nodded, his own sigh echoing Mycroft's.
"And I'd be a bad host if I stayed outside to just kiss you some more?" he asked, signature smirk in place. As always Greg looked perfect, mousy brown hair cut just long enough to run your fingers through, skin that was always tanned – courtesy of playing outdoor sports – the sports also gave him an envious physique. Anyone could see that he was fit, perfectly toned and strong. A fact the Greg liked to flaunt by training shirtless, the merciless flirt that he was. Today he was wearing his ACDC shirt with ripped black jeans, combat boots and a leather jacket. The look was perfect for him and he knew it. Standing next to him was both wonderful and shameful. They were just so different, opposite ends of the spectrum once again.
"Not from my perspective, however you'd most certainly be a cold host." Mycroft said, a small smile tugging at his lips. Greg sighed again, smirk lifting into a grin that made his cheeks dimple adorably.
"Fine, let's go inside then." He conceded, leading Mycroft into the house and closing the door behind him. Mycroft took the opportunity to reacquaint himself with the house. Even with the group of teenagers there it was still unusually quiet for Greg's house. Pictures of family lined the cream walls, school pictures, family pictures and paintings by the little ones. It was wonderfully cosy. You could look anywhere in the house and find something with sentimental value to them. Admittedly it might have helped that the house was small. Greg shared a room with two of his younger brothers, and his sisters all shared a room as well. A point that often sparked debates and arguments between them – although perhaps not as dramatic as the feuds he and Sherlock had.
Mycroft didn't fail to notice that as he was surveying the house Greg was surveying him. He knew that he would, humans were curious, one of their saving graces. He made sure not to look at Greg, giving him due time to look. He also made sure not to change his breathing pattern or to change his posture, that would give it away more than his slightly imperfect posture already was. It felt better to at least attempt to appear smaller even if it was just a slight deviation from him usual perfectly graceful posture. Mycroft's heart was still beating rapidly. Greg wouldn't say anything, but Mycroft might read it, he might be disgusted, even relieved that he was only going to be there for a month. That was what was daunting.
Greg looked away after a moment; hold tightening on Mycroft's hand without even realising that he had. Not disgust then, or at least not yet. "C'mon Myc, I can't keep you all to myself." He said wistfully, a smile on his lips but Mycroft could hear that his mood had gone down, that'd he'd started to register that Mycroft hadn't been lying about his weight when he called. Even Greg pitied him. He couldn't change that though. Mycroft allowed Greg to call him Myc, he was the only one that was allowed to do so, it was a compromise in return of calling him Gregory. Mycroft followed Greg through the hall, noting that they'd re-painted it a few weeks ago. As they neared the kitchen though the topic Sherlock and John were discussing became painfully obvious.
"Really Sherlock? Stop being dramatic it can't be that bad, I know he probably won't have kept it all off but I can't believe that." Even Greg froze beside him at John's muffled words. It technically wasn't eavesdropping, they should have known that Mycroft was in ear shot.
"Trust me John, it is. He's back to what he was before, bigger even. I doubt he moved a muscle except to lift his fork to his mouth the entire time he was away." Sherlock's scoff was just as pleased as aver, obviously glad to have some gossip to share with John. Mycroft gritted his teeth, forcing the blush on his cheeks to retreat. Greg had gone very silent beside him, staring at his feet and absolutely not looking at Mycroft. He didn't expect anything else. Greg had not problem telling Sherlock off for things, but they weren't supposed to be listening to that conversation in the first place.
Mycroft sighed and stepped forwards, deciding to get this over with, stepping into the doorway with his hand still entwined with Greg's. "Jesus. Poor sod." John said, having the misfortune of speaking just as Mycroft caught his eye. It was all the teen could do not to let his jaw drop, clearly he still hadn't believed Sherlock. "Holy shit." He said, a blush forming on the shorter teen's cheeks as soon as he had spoken, he had the courtesy to look ashamed and down at his feet, "Sorry Mycroft I...uh…I didn't mean it like that, I just didn't expect to see you there." He said with a wince.
"Yes, thank-you for that John, I'm flattered…As for you Sherlock, please refrain from sharing your false presumptions, guessing like that is doing nothing for your deductive skills." He said flatly, allowing some sharp sarcasm into the first part of his sentence. Sherlock merely rolled his eyes, but clearly he was slightly perturbed at not hearing their approach, John apologised quietly again, and it was quite clear he meant it honestly too. It was a shame that his manners – when he chose to use them – didn't rub off on Sherlock.
Mycroft watched them for a few seconds longer before nodding once and turning from the door. He took a few steps, before noting that Greg had slipped his hand out of Mycroft's. He turned to see Greg in the kitchen with a very stern look on his face, no doubt reiterating Mycroft's words in a much less polite fashion. When he turned to see Mycroft's raised eyebrow though he stepped from the kitchen and smiled at him. "You wouldn't believe the amount of times I've had to remind Sherlock about manners, tell me again, why didn't he go to Eton with you?" he asked. Mycroft smiled slightly in response, taking Greg's hand again.
"He didn't want to go. According to him it's full of 'posh twats destined to bribe their ways through life.' He thinks he'll learn more about people if he goes to an average secondary school." Mycroft had jumped at the chance to go to Eton, it had a huge influence on future universities and jobs to go to such a school. When he'd first started he hadn't even had being away from Greg for so long to think about. It had been simpler back then, but having Greg in his life was something he simply wouldn't trade. Greg laughed at that, and God had Mycroft missed that laugh. It was so out of the ordinary for him to miss people in general, let alone miss individual parts of people.
"Ah, so he wants to know about us common folk then?" he asked, this time making Mycroft chuckle, the first time since he'd gotten home.
"Yes, God knows why, but he clearly thinks there's something intriguing about you normal people." The smile was on his lips again, John and Sherlock's discussion about him fading already. Greg laughed again, leaning up slightly and pressing a kiss on Mycroft's cheek.
The living room was just as warm and comfortable as always, except where the usual bunch of Greg's siblings sat it was a group of teenagers. Sally, Phillip and Dimmock were sitting on the love seat. Technically it was only for two people but then Sally was sitting on Phillip's lap, trying to suffocate him with her lips providing enough space on the seat for Dimmock, who like everyone else in the room seemed mildly disgusted by the very public, very affectionate display. Irene was in one of the armchairs, one leg delicately crossed over the other, and that self assured smirk on her painted lips. She and Dimmock seemed to be debating over a trivial matter.
Clearly there was some drinking going on, Dimmock already seemed halfway to drunk, but showed no sign of slowing down as he popped open another beer. Sally and Phillip seemed too busy to drink, and Irene had a glass of red wine on the coffee table. Mycroft wouldn't stop Sherlock from drinking if his brother decided to join in, but he wouldn't let him get too drunk. Mycroft observed everything from the doorway, eyes scanning across the room before he stepped in after Greg. It was a good thing that he'd scanned before entering.
As soon as he stepped inside Irene and Dimmock stopped talking – it was now clear that Irene had been threatening to expose the crush he had on a teacher – and turned to look. In the wake of their silence Sally untangled her tongue from Phillip and turned to look too. Uncomfortable was an understatement. All noise ceased as they saw Mycroft, Phillip's jaw physically dropped, giving Mycroft yet another reason to dislike the unfaithful idiot. It was more unexpected for them, they hadn't been called or told by Sherlock. They would have been expecting thin Mycroft to step into that room, not him the way he was now.
The mood in the room was so tense that you could cut it with a knife, the shock from the others and the tension Mycroft was doing all he could to hide from them wasn't the headed over to the empty sofa and took a seat, Greg sitting right besides him. "Oi, someone throw us a beer…what was that about you having a crush on Miss. Andrews eh Dimmock?" Greg asked with a grin, but it was painfully obvious to Mycroft that it was fake. There was no smile in his eyes, no mischievous twinkle. He was just trying to ease the shock and move everyone on.
Despite Greg's efforts no one moved eyes still trained on Mycroft and his new size. "Not Miss. Andrew's Gregory, not actually a Miss at all, but rather a Mrs. Someone Dimmock has been forced to spend a large amount of time with recently after school, where he's forced to write large amounts of text, I'd suggest essays." He said, eyes flicking over the teen only once. "He's might be an idiot, but he's not stupid enough to be caught that often…" Mycroft looked away, seemingly disinterested in the others, a few of which had turned to look at a blushing Dimmock now. "He's been purposefully getting himself on detention in order to see the teacher that supervises after school detentions."
It was a different type of silence now, shifting from shock to a lighter mood. They just need to be reminded who he was and what he could do. Greg started laughing at Dimmock, giving Mycroft's hand a small squeeze; clearly he knew exactly what Mycroft had done that for. "Mrs. Monroe? Really Dimmock?" Greg laughed, leaning forwards and picking up some beers for himself and Mycroft who took it appreciatively and murmured a thanks as he popped it open. He didn't like alcohol, but e had a feeling that it'd make this situation somewhat more bearable. He settled back in his seat as the conversation started up again, Dimmock still pink in the face but not really all that displeased with taking centre stage.
After that the conversation flowed much more easily, Mycroft only cutting in to correct people when they were wrong. At one point Sherlock and John slipped back into the room, taking a seat on the floor rather than trying to share the remaining table chair with one another. Just like Mycroft Sherlock stayed quiet, speaking up now and then when he had an option – and considering he had an opinion on everything he actually spoke up a lot.
"Greg, John, you remember the time in football when the ref gave me a red card so we irritated him until he took it back?" he asked, grin on his face. Greg laughed again, and John hummed.
"You deserved that red Dimmock, you used a bloody rugby tackle in a footy match." John scoffed rolling his eyes, but there was a smile there too. It didn't slip Mycroft's notice that each time John smiled Sherlock relaxed a little. He made a note to keep an eye on that but not interfere or ask yet.
"Oh God the ref was pissed at us, I think the poor bastard just couldn't take another moment of your singing." Greg grinned. Mycroft took a sip of his beer, eyes on Greg. He hadn't seen nearly enough of the other teen for the last few months, he'd be damned if he wasn't going to get a look now, especially when he seemed so happy and relaxed. "What was it you were singing again?" he asked, but it was easy for Mycroft to see that he already knew the answer. Dimmock and John's laughing showed that they remembered perfectly well too.
"Sex bomb, Tom Jones." He laughed, and then proceeded to sing a verse in one of the most horrifying impression of Tom Jones that Mycroft had ever heard. He stopped short when Irene spoke up again.
"If I were you Dimmock, I'd stop singing or you're going to find the rest of my wine on that pretty white shirt of yours." She warned him coolly, taking a sip of said wine. Irene was someone to be careful around. Outgoing and admittedly beautiful she was easily accepted into the top cliques at school. She knew everything that was going on, every iota of information that could be useful to her. With a smirk of her ruby lips and a few whispered words she could send people's lives crashing around them. She was good to have on your side, but dangerous to cross.
Dimmock tapered off cocky grin still in place. "Well, I happen to think I sound Great." He said. Sherlock scoffed loudly, raising an eyebrow when everyone turned to look. Aside from John that was, he already had his eyes fixed on Sherlock.
"Either you're tone death or you're even stupider than I first thought." He said, in his usual 'You're all wasting my time and energy' voice. Mycroft couldn't help but smile at that, an action which caught Dimmock's eyes.
"Hey Greg, maybe you should bring Mycie to practice this week, looks like he could do with some exercise." He said, smirk playing on his lips. Mycroft stopped himself from freezing, turning to look at Dimmock instead. The room fell silent again, Sherlock's laughing stopping when John elbowed him in the side. Clearly they were waiting for Mycroft to snap, to show how he felt about it all. Except it wasn't him that snapped a response first.
"Apologise. I swear to God Dimmock apologize to Mycroft right now or I'll kick you out the house." Greg hissed, only the hand Mycroft had quickly placed on his arm preventing him from standing up. Anything that Mycroft may or may not have felt about the comment – he refused to admit that it'd had an impact on him- quickly faded in light of Greg's explosive outburst. He knew that he wanted to defend Mycroft, that of all the people in the room he probably knew what Mycroft was feeling the best. But he hadn't expected such a reaction.
Neither apparently, had the rest of the room.
Dimmock had paled a shade or two. Greg didn't use it often, but he had one hell of a glare too, and the threat was entirely possible too. He recovered quickly though, playing of his surprise with the usual cocky indifference, "Alright…Jesus Greg I was just joking…Sorry Mycroft, I shouldn't have said that." It wasn't honest at all, but he sounded convincing to the rest of the group. Only Sherlock looked over Mycroft again, conveying that he knew the apology was just as false as the number of girls Dimmock has apparently 'scored with'.
As quick as Greg had angered he settled back again, leaning against Mycroft he took a swig of his beer and nodded smiling again. "Good." He huffed. Practically the entirety of Greg and Dimmock's friendship was like that. They'd be joking or messing around and then Dimmock would say something too harsh or take something that step too far, leading Greg – being the kind and caring person that he was – would take it upon himself to stop him and make him apologise. Judging by the other's reaction though, threats and genuine anger were reserved for defending Mycroft. He was admittedly flattered by that. There were very few people that would do such a thing for him, much less mean it honestly and do it because it was instinctual.
Mycroft decided that there was no need for him to add to the conversation, and so he didn't. Sitting back on the sofa and enjoying the warm weight of Greg against his side. Sitting like this – the odd comment aside- it was all to easy to push his weight out of his mind, not to have the new clothes at the front of his mind or worry about how he looked to the others. Of course all of that was still there, just the majority of his mind was focused on Greg. Conversation picked up soon enough, Greg, Dimmock and Irene striking up a conversation on staff room gossip that held no interest to Mycroft. John was trying to convince Sherlock that he should, in fact, watch James Bond. Sally and Phillip were far too busy entertaining themselves, she was still on his lap, barely managing to get a few sentences out at a time before they were on each other again. A quick scan over them proved that they'd been drinking before the party.
Not being involved in the other's conversations didn't bother Mycroft, He was rather enjoying listening to Greg speaking, hearing the familiar dips and changes in his tone in person rather than just over the phone. It also gave him the perfect opportunity to appreciate Greg in general. Mycroft was well aware that he wasn't good with people, he didn't host parties, he didn't hold conversation with people he didn't find interesting for long…but Greg did. The other teen was so at ease there, casually working swigs of beer into the naturally occurring lulls in conversation. Slipping in and out of the other's conversations as he pleased.
He was just so very different from Mycroft, everything from his tan skin, adorable button nose and general physique to his comfort around people. Greg was as close to perfect as it was possible for someone to be, and so Mycroft easily reasoned that if that was the case he was perilously close to being the exact opposite of that too. The only thing that set him above most of the others was his mind and the control he had over it. Sure, he couldn't control some things, his eating habits came to mind, but his mind was more efficient than the others could ever dream of having. His mind was what he valued the most.
Mycroft wasn't exactly sure how long he'd been observing Greg though, but he estimated it to be around seven minutes. He would have gladly stayed saving every centietre of Greg as he was in that moment to his memory, but the quiet entrance of Anthea pulled him away from that. She looked just the same as ever. Brown hair perfectly curled and flowing past her shoulders, lithe frame in a pair of black skinny jeans and a white blouse, clearly she'd some straight from her shift in TopShop, and had redone her makeup in the bathroom mirror before leaving. She was on her phone, texting what Mycroft could only assume was her boyfriend Joseph.
Taking a seat on the kitchen chair moved to accommodate everyone she still didn't speak or glance up. Irene was the first to greet her, sparking a wave of greetings from the others. Still Anthea didn't look up, "Hello" she greeted them all at once, smiling without lifting her eyes from the phone. "I put a bottle of Rosé in the kitchen…Mycroft, a word please?" she said all at once, only then lifting her eyes from the phone and tucking it into her pocket. Mycroft froze. Anthea was one of Mycroft's closest friends. She knew what he was feeling sometimes before even he had figured it out. Their relationship was so different to what Mycroft and Greg had, but it was just as important to Mycroft. He knew her well enough to know what was coming, and he just didn't want to deal with it. Surely she knew this wasn't the time?
Anthea didn't wait to look at Mycroft as she strode out of the room, remarkable graceful for someone sporting four inch stilettos. One of the things Mycroft appreciated most about Anthea was the fact that she could seemingly be typing on her phone, but in reality survey a room. In her look around the room earlier – although peripheral vision wasn't detailed – she had clearly noted that Mycroft weight had increased again. He gave an assuring half smile to Greg before standing and following after her into the kitchen.
She was leaning against the counter, eyes fixed immediately on him as he entered the room. Again he felt the tightness in his stomach, but did his best to push it aside. Standing rigidly as she slowly looked him up and down. He didn't say anything, didn't move, just looked right back at her and let her think, allowing some of the insecurity to creep back into his veins. Anthea sighed quietly, taking a step forward and putting a hand on his arm.
That simple, small gesture meant so much more than met the eye. It was her telling him that she was there, that even if he didn't want it she was going o be there to help him. It was comforting, and it was a condolence. She knew him well enough to save the pity for when she was alone, although it was clearly quite a struggle to keep it back. "It's not overly terrible Mycroft…" she said stopping when he arched an eyebrow at her. Lying wasn't going to help, she knew that already "...Alright, so it's not good, but it could've been worse." She conceded.
"Not much worse." He muttered sourly, again, his irritation was directed at himself, not Anthea. Sherlock was right earlier. He was bigger than he had been before she'd gone on the diet. Anthea had a good enough eye to see that – something that around half the people in the other room just didn't posses. Anthea sighed softly on his behalf and nodded, understanding that right then he didn't need a debate about it, he just needed someone that could understand the severity of it without hurling barbs at him.
"Your weight isn't a fixed thing Mycroft, if you want to change it you can." She told him, reiterating what he already knew and dreaded. It'd help with all of this and he knew it, he just couldn't bring himself to go back on that diet. It'd been miserable and he'd been in a foul mood…it was his Christmas holidays for God's sake, surely he could work a good excuse somewhere into that. ""I'll get some new clothes for you when you feel like telling me your sizes, don't bother with getting them yourself you take ages in the shops." He said, her cheeky smile in place. She knew him far too well.
Mycroft nodded and smiled slightly in response. "That'd be appreciated, I'll inform you later on." When he'd plucked up the nerve to find out his new sizes for himself. "I believe we should be getting back to the party, something about being 'guest of honour'" he said with an eye roll waiting for her to pour a glass of the Rosé before heading into the living room. Thankfully his entrance that time didn't cause as much of a reaction. Greg just looked over at them both and practically beamed.
"Sit down you two…we can't call this a party without drinking games." Even his tone was full of mischief. Mycroft couldn't help but smile at him as he took his place next to Greg again. Drinking games. He just hoped it wouldn't be as bad as expected.
AN: And there we go, I hope you enjoyed that! Thank-you so much for the comments, they really do mean a lot to me.
And I've started a companion blog! Basically I have some free time and I just can't seem to get Mycroft out of my head, so I decided I may as well set something up. It's basically a Q&A blog on Tumblr where you can ask Greg, Mycroft and anyone else that pops up in this fic your questions. I'm sure it'll be a lot of fun, and you'll get to find out more about them than I can fit into this fic, so please do go and check it out and ask away! The blog is on tumblr under: greg-and-mycroft-answer