Chapter Text
For days after Greg officially became his partner, Mycroft felt as if he was young once more, perhaps even the youngest and the lightest that he had ever felt in his life. He had found a new enthusiasm for life that he hadn’t experienced in decades. He had found himself experiencing an inexplicable sense of happiness that he hadn’t experienced in decades and wanted not to let go of it.
He had normally been too jaded to allow himself to embrace happiness. He didn’t see the point in allowing himself to do so, life always had the terrible habit of getting in the way of his happiness on the occasions when he had allowed himself a rare moment of levity and found himself able to relax. He had been too busy for the most part to take the time off or he had kept too many secrets before and they had managed to find a way to come out, no matter how much effort tried to suppress them, namely his brother.
Sherlock had been the reason why previous relationships of his had never worked or why Mycroft or the party had to end things before too many feelings were inverted. His previous short-term relationships could not understand why he would leave date nights or just leave in the middle of the evening from just one phone call and would not return until the next day. Sherlock was unconventional out of all things, never minding the fact that he was an addict.
Mycroft could not explain why there was a dead owl in the fridge or why his flat was somewhat a mess, or one occasion, why there was a man on his sofa that looked as if he was needing a good wash, on the very few occasions that a previous suitor had turned up in his flat in the year that Sherlock lived with him after he had just come out of rehab. He had decided to only visit suitors in their homes after that incident even after he had gotten Sherlock settled in a flat in Montague Street. It saved him the embarrassment.
He didn't tell James that he had a brother until more than a year into their relationship, conveniently forgetting to mention that he had one. He didn’t ever tell James that his brother was an addict due to the embarrassment and the shame, and partly out of a feeling of resentment for his brother. Sherlock had taken up all aspects of his life and he had Mycroft running around London at three in the morning in a doss house without question. He felt a strong feeling of guilt that he wanted to have one person in his life who didn’t know that his brother was an addict. He had been looked down upon. People had made comments about him and assumed things about his life and who he was as a person because of his brother. Mycroft could not stand the pity. It was what he disliked the most.
He had tried to keep Sherlock separate from his work life but the two overlapped no matter how Mycroft had tried, and people had wanted to know why he was walking into rough areas of the city at three in the morning when they caught him on the CCTV. In a previous department, there had been much speculation about why he needed to take some time off sick, he had mentioned to HR in confidence that he was needing to take time off work due to his brother going into treatment and needing to focus on supporting him. It was workplace gossip by the time that Mycroft had returned to work and he found a new post shortly after that. He was unable to stand the pity and the gossip, not to mention the unhelpful comments about if his brother tried raw veganism and yoga to help his addiction as someone had read about it online. ‘
He found it strange that he didn’t have to keep that Sherlock-sized secret with him as he went into a new relationship with Greg. Greg had been a constant over the years with Sherlock’s habit and he never once looked at Mycroft with pity or made Mycroft feel any of his usual feelings about his brother. He was kind and he was accepting of both of them. Greg was a good man. He was loving and consistently and genuinely kind. Not many people were. It was Mycroft who had fallen for him in the first place all those years ago.
He and Greg had met another because of his brother and they had spent too many hours sitting next to one another in uncomfortable hospital plastic chairs and drinking awful coffee together. They had shared cigarettes under an umbrella in a hospital smoking area. Greg had accompanied Sherlock to NA Meetings and appointments at the facility with the bribe of getting chips and a cold case file once the meeting was over. The two of them had gone around London in the early hours searching for Sherlock.
Mycroft had once confided to him about his concerns about his brother in a particularly low moment years before Sherlock’s last stint at rehab in a hospital car park as they shared a cigarette. He had even confessed to Greg that he felt that he hadn’t done enough for Sherlock and that perhaps it was his fault that Sherlock was the way that he was. Greg didn’t even pity him and listened to him without judgement. They ended up going out for chips that evening one Sherlock was stable to a 24-hour cafe and they stayed up all night in Greg’s flat watching films, neither man wanting to be left alone that evening.
Mycroft had started to develop feelings or had become aware that he possessed them for Greg after that evening with how kind he had been and how safe he had made Mycroft feel. He rarely felt comfortable in his skin around most people but could hide it well but Greg was the exception. He wasn’t most people.
He felt lighter than he had done in years and felt content, nothing bothered him too much at work. He had smiled when Anthea had walked in with a small mountain of files and placed them on his desk. He thanked the new office boy who came over with the tea trolley and did not mind too much when the tea that he made was appalling. He hadn’t even mind too much that there was severe traffic that afternoon due to roadwork and he took the tube to Greg’s flat.
He tried to ignore the concern about not being a good partner or not remembering how to be in a relationship. It had been an awfully long time since his last proper relationship and it had been his fault why it had ended even if James had been kind at the end of it. He never blamed him or anything, not even when they went to the dreaded couples counselling sessions that James had insisted on taking.
Mycroft still couldn’t believe that he had willingly paid money to sit in a room that was full of incense and being interrogated by a woman who looked as if she had just come out of a festival, about if his mother had been the reason for his problems with his communication and if he used his work to avoid his problems and why it was the reason he spent so much time in the office. It was a waste of money as Mycroft already knew that he spent too much time in the office and he didn’t want a councillor who called herself ‘Sunshine’ though her degrees said that her name was ‘Susanne’- a much more professional name in Mycroft’s opinion- to tell him things that he was aware of. There was only so much guided gong meditation that he could sit through.
He and James had split up after three meetings with Sunshine as they realised they had grown apart and wanted different things. Mycroft blamed the meetings with Sunshine to be the end of it, as James was the one who picked Sunshine out of all the professional councillors from what looked like to be a yoga class or a festival which was in a field instead of the yellow pages. Mycroft knew that the relationship had ended as he spent too much time at work, partly as his way of coping with Sherlock’s habits. He could reluctantly admit that it broke his heart that James had fallen out of love with him and believed that it would hurt less if James had an affair as it would give him reason to be angry and make it easier to distance himself from his feelings for the other man which lingered for a year.
He did not want to go through the same process when it came to Greg, unsure if he was able to cope with any more relationship counselling or possibly deal with Sunshine again even after ten years. He had already started to look at his work schedule and try to find adjustments and find aspects of his life that he could adjust to accommodate Greg and have him fit comfortably in it.
He was willing to even watch football with Greg even if he had no interest in it. He loved the other man and he was willing to be utterly bored watching football if it was a way to prove to Greg that he loved him. No one could deny that he loved Greg if they knew about the effort that he was willing to make for the other man.
-
He went to Greg’s flat after work and was grateful to be off the tube after spending the commute during the rush hour, becoming rather acquainted with a stranger after he had spent five minutes pressed up against their armpit. He felt the need to take a shower immediately upon leaving the tube, feeling as if he was coated in a thick layer of grime and horrified by the fact that he had seen a rat. They had always made his skin crawl and half the reason why he had avoided the tube at all cost.
He found it bizarre that he was coming to Greg’s flat without the pretence of coming around for ‘coming around for a cup of tea.’ He found himself almost not quite sure what to do, he had never been to Greg’s home as his partner before and had only been around to his flat for anything other than sex only a handful of times.
He was not sure if he was supposed to bring wine and went to the small supermarket which was close to Greg’s flat. The selection of wine which was on the shelves was poor and cheap and awful, he knew that it would be the end of this relationship if he was to pour Greg a glass of wine which could function as a paint stripper. He decided to settle for a box of shortbread, believing that it was hard to go wrong for biscuits and if they were terrible and Greg did not like them, he could put them in the staff kitchen at his work. Mycroft doubted that police officers would ever refuse a biscuit. He hesitated for a moment and picked up a box of tea bags before he went to the till. He assumed that since he would be visiting Greg’s flat more, he would need to at least get some decent tea bags.
He knocked on the door, not quite sure if he was to do that now or if he was to let himself in or not. He had a key to Greg’s flat from when he had been looking after his cat when Greg was on holiday. He had only used it a handful of times and he had let himself into Greg’s flat a few times to save some time before they went to bed, and he had only done it after Greg’s expressed permission. He would need to ask Greg the rules about the key and if they had changed given the nature of their newfound relationship.
There were so many rules that Mycroft did not know. It had been years since he had a partner and he doubted that they had changed too much, however, he believed that it was best to be prepared.
Greg opened up the door and kissed him. “Hey,” he said and glanced at the box of teabags that were in Mycroft’s hand. “You don’t need to come around for a cup of tea these days, you know that?”
Mycroft grimaced and wondered if perhaps he was being too forward bringing tea to Greg’s flat. “I was assuming that I would be visiting more often and I thought that we should have tea that I like.”
“Do you not like the tea that I have?” Greg asked as he let him in the flat, closing the door behind him.
“Why do you think that I was very insistent on having sex when I would come to your flat? You never even got the chance to get the kettle on,” Mycroft replied with a raised eyebrow as he took off his coat and hung it up.
“You should have told me about the tea being awful,” Greg commented briskly, seeming a bit flustered about the matter. “I would have got you better tea.”
“But that would have wasted time,” Mycroft commented, causally. He smirked, enjoying how flustered the other man was.
They stood in front of one another, not quite sure what to do. It was their first time being at another’s flat as partners. Mycroft smoothed out the imaginary wrinkles from his suit and wished that he knew what to do, other than to suggest to Greg that they have sex. It was what they had always done before and it had worked splendidly until then.
“Do you want me to make you some tea?” Greg asked awkwardly as Mycroft felt. He lifted the box of tea bags to Mycroft’s eye line and wiggled the box.
“Tea would be lovely,” Mycroft said, not quite sure what he was to do. A bundle of nerves formed in his stomach, wondering if their relationship would be like this, awkward and uncomfortable, now that it was more than just having sex.
“What shall we do?” Mycroft asked.
Greg rubbed the back of his neck and shuffled on his feet. “It’s strange that we aren’t just having sex. No idea why I’m so nervous, it’s not like it’s the first time that you are in the flat.”
“It’s the first time that I’m in your flat as your partner,” Mycroft corrected him lightly. “Do you think that things are always going to be this strange ?”
Greg shook his head. “It’s just different than strange. It’s just going to be like any other time that we’ve been together. I don’t think much has changed now that we are boyfriends- I know that you don’t like that word, sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Mycroft said lightly. “We can just have a cup of tea and see if it helps us to shake off any nerves?”
“Should I get the kettle on?” Greg asked.
“I was thinking about sex,” Mycroft offered with a raised eyebrow. “But I wouldn’t object to you making some tea. I’ve got biscuits as well.”
Greg put down the box of tea bags and kissed him, taking hold of his hand and leading him to the bedroom without another word.