Chapter Ten~

The store was empty, but to the two men, it had never felt more alive. To anyone else the voices of the handful of workers echoing across the cart-scarred floor and barricading off of shelves cleaned of its boxes of cereal may have felt empty and barren. But to the two men, the store was alive with their laughter and, most of all, with the energy of the other man.

They stopped at the end of the aisle, Mycroft gasping suddenly and picking up a box of sweets, his eyes glistening.

"Do you remember these?" he asked the other man, turning and looking up at Lestrade with such an innocent expression on his face.

Nostalgia came rushing into Lestrade's chest, making him feel happy and satisfied and overwhelmed. That look on Mycroft's face, just now, made him look just like the boy he had known all those years ago. For five years Lestrade had been asking himself where that boy had gone. And now it looked like he had never left at all.

He took the box gently from Mycroft's hands, examining the packaging with a gentle smile tugged around his lips. "Of course I do," he said softly. "We spent an entire summer saving up coins in our piggy banks just so we could buy a shitload of these."

Mycroft laughed—really laughed. That had been such a rare occurrence the last five years, and yet now it seemed natural once again. Between giggles, he said, "How much did we end up buying?"

A familiar mischievous grin spread across Greg's lips. "oh it must have been… what… twenty packages?"

Doubling over, Mycroft guffawed. "Twenty packages? Greg, no that's ridiculous."

"Alright…. Fifteen from what I remember." More dubious laughter.

Mycroft's eyes were misty, but he didn't know if it was from laughter or memories. "Do you remember that we ate the entire thing in one night? We got sick all over your mum's rug and she nearly had our heads."

Lestrade's grin widened. "I'm surprised she didn't kick us out of the house."

Mycroft's eyes widened. "Oh, but she did! Don't you remember? We had to spend the rest of the sleepover in your backyard, and it was so cold that we ended up sharing a blanket…." Mycroft's words slowly faded off, his voice thick with a memory, his eyes deep in thought. He'd never forgotten that night. They'd been so close… he could see Greg's breath rising slowly beside him, feel his warmth enveloping him, and nearly hear his heart beating. That, in his mind, was the closest to heaven he'd ever get.

The last rays of the golden sunset wafted through the store windows, gildening everything in its golden beauty. It hit Mycroft's face softly, lighting up his already bright eyes and making them sparkle. Lestrade watched him fondly, wondering how long he could hold onto this feeling that had grown in his chest. He felt happy…. He had been so chokingly lonely these past five years. And now, finally after all that pain, he felt happy. It made his chest seize up and he suddenly felt very emotional. Clearing his throat, he grabbed five of the sweet packages, tossing them into the cart and rolling away.

Mycroft snapped out of his temporary trance, laughing and following the other man. "What are you doing? Those are horrid, they're pure sugar."

"And?" Lestrade asked, the mischievous grin playing on his face again.

Mycroft shook his head, still smiling, and the feeling in Lestrade's chest grew. The thing that he had been missing for so long had finally seemed to return—a purpose. Lestrade felt this sudden, suffocating need to make Mycroft smile every day for the rest of their lives.

The rest of the shopping trip was spent in silence, but that didn't seem to matter to either of the men. They didn't need to say anything—they just needed to know that the other man was beside them, alive and well and breathing. That was all that they ever needed.

When they arrived at the end of the trip, both men stopped for a second, gently idling, not wanting to make their way back towards the checkouts. They felt so light and free inside, something that they hadn't felt since they were children, something they were so afraid would melt back into that usual heavy feeling once they left the store.

They began to pull their carts around (both of them had their own—Mycroft had decided to buy a few things himself) when a brilliant idea occurred to Lestrade. Grinning madly, he dashed in front of the other man, jumping onto his cart and riding on it as he launched noisily down the aisle.

"I'm going to beat you, Myc" he called cheekily, causing the other man to curse under his breath before shaking his head, hiding a smile. Of all the stupid things a person could do, this had to be the most immature, childish, and ridiculous thing Mycroft had ever seen—a middle-aged man riding through the store on the back of his cart—and there was no way in hell that Mycroft would be caught dead taking any part in it.

Lestrade had made it nearly halfway through the store. "Myyyyccccccc," he called. "I'm winningggggg," Mycroft scowled back at him, and Lestrade laughed to himself. Myc was horrible at hiding his amusement. He knew that he wanted to join. He had to up the ante.

Lestrade launched himself again on his cart, managing to somehow turn himself around, sitting on the handle bar, reaching his arms up in the air as if on a rollercoaster.
"Look mum!" he called, "No hands!"

"Greg!," Mycroft growled, "you idiot! Look out for the—"

But it was too late. Lestrade had already been launched into the fruit display in the middle of the aisle, oranges spilling across the floor like a liquid sunset.

Mycroft pinched his eyes shut, already feeling the humiliation creeping into his face, and the hint of a headache already throbbing in his temples. Oh god. They'd never be allowed in this store again.

After a few deep breaths, repeatedly telling himself that he was not going to kill Lestrade, he trod over to him, lifting him up gently.

As much as he appeared to be livid, Lestrade could see real, genuine concern in Myc's eyes. "Are you okay, Greg?"

"I'm fine," Lestrade said, picking himself up. "But my dignity is bruised badly." He brushed his clothes off, and Mycroft shook his head.

"You're an idiot, Lestrade." He could feel laughter bubbling up his throat. "A down-right idiot."

"But I'm your idiot, right?" It had been a joke, but again Lestrade's words seemed to cross some sort of invisible line. Both men began to blush, and Lestrade grinned to remind both of them that it had been a friendly joke.

But immediately, horror crossed Mycroft's face. "I didn't mean it like that Myc," Greg said hurriedly, trying to cover up his tracks. "I just—"

"Shhh," Mycroft shushed him, eyes filling with still more horror. "Greg? Where's your tooth?"

"What?" There was a strange sensation in Lestrade's mouth, and he felt around it with his tongue. There was a gaping hole where one of his teeth had been just a minute ago. "oh god….."

"you knocked your bloody tooth out, you wanker," Mycroft swore, but there was no more reprimanding to be done, for employees were already barreling towards them.

"We're in so much trouble," Lestrade said, and he sounded like a scared innocent little boy. Honestly, he was just relieved his missing tooth would clear up his muddle of words.

Mycroft began giggling, studying Lestrade's face, feeling this sense of real, true affection come flooding into his chest. This man was such an idiot. A real, total, complete idiom. He rode his cart straight into a fruit display, spilling it everywhere, and they were going to be in so much trouble.

An hour, several sincere apologies, and a whole lot of money later, Lestrade and Mycroft were finally out of the store.

They drove down the street, back towards the house. Darkness had settled across the city. It was strange to think that nights just like these had been so suffocatingly lonely for Lestrade. And now, as he drove towards home, he didn't feel the least bit lonely.

He looked at the seat beside him, a gentle smile playing on his face and he gazed affectionately at the man almost-but-not-quite dozing off beside him.

A warm feeling had settled deep in his chest. He wondered, for the second time today, how long he could make that feeling last. But it didn't matter. Not now. Tonight, he wasn't going to be lonely. Tonight his best friend would be sleeping in his bed, and him on the couch.

And as they dozed in separate rooms, neither of them felt closer, both of their thoughts wandering to a night several years ago that they had slept together under a blanket in Lestrade's backyard.