(For Pin. Merry Christmas from Johnny & Frank)
That last Christmas, as Mycroft always thought of it, had been the best. Nothing before or since had even come close to matching it. That one perfect moment in his life that he knew if he lived forever he would never find an equal to. It had started out the same way every Christmas did, with them coming home. The car swung in through the gates and up the driveway and the pink sandstone towers of the old hall loomed in to view. And they got out of the car and were met by Mummy, fussing about how Mycroft had grown, yet again, which would mean another trip to the tailors. At fifteen, nearly sixteen, he was already the tallest boy in his house, unlike Nick, who was the shortest boy in their year. But it didn't matter.
And then Sherlock appeared, slightly hesitant and sulky, he was not getting on well at his new prep school. But his face changed completely as he ran to greet Nick. Later on Mycroft would come to realise just how close their tastes in men were, but at the time they were children, and it meant nothing. And that was how the holidays always began.
This holiday had shown no signs of deviating from the normal pattern of games and general festive silliness. Presents had been handed out. Carols sung, Christmas dinner eaten and Mycroft and Nicholas had been excused to bed a little before eleven.
Only there was something slightly different that Mycroft had not quite been able to put his finger on. Perhaps on the first night when they were getting ready for bed and Mycroft had been reading and Nick had sneaked out to take Sherlock a book he had promised him. When Nick returned and began to strip off in front of the flickering glow of the fire, Mycroft had watched. Of course he shared a dorm with Nick at school, and changing rooms, and had seen him undress hundreds of times before. But tonight was different. Because it was just the two of them. And Mycroft had secretly taken notice of every curve and angle of Nick's body. The way that his shoulders had just started to broaden, and the dusting of gingery blond hair all over his chest and belly. Mycroft felt a strange sensation in his stomach. A warm, tickly feeling. And then Nick had thrown a pillow at him.
On Christmas Night, of that Last Christmas, the tickly feeling was back. Along with something else. Something Mycroft did not understand.
"Hey Mikey. Close your eyes."
"What?"
"Close your eyes. I've got something for you." And like an idiot he shut them. And felt the soft brush of lips against his. He could taste coffee and Christmas pudding, and smiles. He reached out, eyes still closed and pulled Nick closer.
They were shaking, both boys terrified that they would be discovered at any moment, even though the door had a lock. Terrified of the absolute certainty that what they were doing was very bad. And at the same time wanting to keep doing it. They had slowly undressed, until they were both standing in just their underwear, those bloody awful school issue white things. And then Nick had removed his, slowly, shyly. Like the rest of him, his erection had been perfect. And when they were both naked they had just stared at each other. Of course they had read books about it. Laughed about it with their friends. But faced with the literal naked truth of it, neither knew what to do.
They had fallen onto the bed and lay pressed against each other for the whole night. When Mycroft had woken up the following morning, with the warm weight of Nick pushing on to him and a warm sticky fluid covering both their stomachs Mycroft knew everything was going to be all right. They both wanted the same thing.
"Nick?" Mycroft was still trying to come to terms with the strange feeling in his groin.
"Mikey?" A huge sleepy smile.
"Is it okay?"
"It's all fine Mikey."
"Really?"
"Yes. I want to spend the rest of my life with you Mycroft. Can I do that?"
"Yes." Mycroft thought he was about to explode. He had never felt so happy in his life. Before or since.