Pick Your Poison {Mystrade}

Confessions In The Park

Mycroft averted his eyes by looking at the ground in front of him. He didn't want to talk to the person, who was moving closer to him every second.

The person sat down next to him on the bench.

"Good morning, Mycroft." The person said.

Mycroft only grunted his reply, as he was beginning to tear up and didn't want his voice to sound warbled.

"Are you okay? You look a bit sick and the sun isn't that bright, you don't need sunglasses." The person tried to take the sunglasses off of Mycroft, but Mycroft hit the person on the hand.

"Leave me alone, Lestrade. I'm a queer, remember? A faggot, a homo." Mycroft felt the warm teardrops rolling down his face. He wiped his cheek with his sleeve and turned his head away from Lestrade.

Lestrade placed his hand gently on Mycroft's shoulder. "I didn't mean those things, Sally and Anderson were with me. I didn't want them to know that I had feelings for you. I didn't want them to know I was bi."

Mycroft began to cry harder. "But you didn't have to say those things! Those horrid, hurtful things!" He choked. He set the whiskey on the ground and held his head in his hands. "It's like you're trying to make me kill myself, Lestrade!" He rolled his sleeve up, revealing the red marks of self harm that had been done a few nights prior.

Lestrade gingerly took Mycroft's arm in one hand, using the other to lightly trace his fingers over the cuts. "Oh, Mycroft."

Mycroft felt something wet hit his arm. He looked down to see Lestrade crying over the scars, soaking his arm in tears.

"Mycroft, I'm so sorry." Lestrade cried. "I'm so, so sorry. I'm a fucking awful person. I can't believe I pushed you to do that!" He got up off of the park bench and rammed himself into the tree behind the bench. Mycroft jumped up and tackled Lestrade to keep him from doing it again.

Mycroft pinned Lestrade down by his arms. "Don't do that!"

Lestrade was bawling. "Why not?! I fucking deserve it! I'm a shit person, why did you ever love me?!"

Mycroft wiped Lestrade's face free from tears with his sleeve. "Because I saw the good in you. I know you're not a bad person, you just care too much what other people think. I never stopped loving you, Lestrade. Not once."

Lestrade seemed to stop crying. He looked at Mycroft for a minute, his brown eyes still shining wet.

Before Mycroft could react, Lestrade wrapped his arms around Mycroft's neck and pulled his head closer to his own.

"I'm so sorry, Mycroft." Lestrade said. He kissed Mycroft softly at first, only for Mycroft, who was still a little tipsy, to kiss him harder. They rolled, switching positions, with Mycroft now on the ground and Lestrade on top of him. They pulled apart from each other.

"Well..." Lestrade whispered sheepishly.

Mycroft smirked and kissed Lestrade on the cheek. "I love you."