Coping

Chapter 6

Greg

The door to my dorm opened as Mycroft stepped in, a mask of emotionlessness covering his face. "Back so soon?" I asked, motioning for him to sit on the bed, next to me. I draped my arm around his shoulders, but he didn't take much notice.

"Sherlock is being... Sherlock," he sighed. "He won't let me help him." Worry started to creep past his mask, and I looked at him, tilting his face up to look back.

"He's Sherlock, Mycroft. He's going to be like that. He doesn't want your help-"

"But he needs help," he said, his blue eyes searching mine.

"I'm not so sure about that, mate. He's got a dog, and for God's sake, he's Sherlock! Nobody needs assistance less than him." Mycroft didn't look reassured. "Hey, maybe what he needs is just a good friend," I said.

"Yeah, that's likely," said Mycroft. I laughed, trying to make him feel better.

"Hey, it could happen," I protested. "I mean, look at you! You always say you never had any friends. Well, look at you now, best friend of the football captain," I grinned and winked. Mycroft leaned in closer.

"Best friends? Surely, after this summer, we're a little further than that..." I could feel his breath on my nose. A blush started to creep up my neck as Mycroft stroked my cheek with one finger.

"Yeah? Maybe we are," I said softly, locking his gaze again. He smirked.

"Late-night phone calls, emails, love letters..." I blushed deeper. I had forgotten about the cheesy letters I sent to Ireland. "I think we definitely are," whispered Mycroft, closing the already small gap between us with our lips. I was startled at first, but soon worked with him. His hands rested on the back of my neck, pulling me closer into him. I snaked my arms up his back, untucking his dress shirt. His skin was soft and warm, and my fingers were rough and cold, after many years of sports. Mycroft bit my lip ever so slightly, and I could feel him smile at my small gasp. We moved in perfect unison, and after a long - very long - while, we broke apart, gasping for air. I grinned at him, resting my forehead against his.

"Yeah," I said, and laughed. "We are." He laughed with me, and lightly kissed me again. "Is the door locked?" I asked.

"Yes, why?" I grinned and removed Mycroft's suit jacket. "Greg," he said. "We shouldn't."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why not? School doesn't start for another week, and nobody has to know..." He contemplated for a moment.

"Okay," he said, and I grinned and began undoing his buttoned shirt. "But, first," he took my hands in his to stop me from unbuttoning his shirt. "Sherlock knows."

"What?! Did you tell him?" I asked.

"No, dear, of course not. But, he heard us on the telephone one night. He would have figured it out anyway." He had a sorry look in his eyes.

"It's - it's fine. It's not your fault," I said, squeezing his hand for reassurance, or something like that.

"He's not going to tell anybody," Mycroft said. "I made sure of that. And it's not like he really cares," he added. I nodded. We were silent for a moment. "That's all," he said, releasing my hands in permission to continue. I beamed again and pulled off his shirt, tossing it over onto his bed. Mycroft raised my arms into the air himself, and tugged mine up and over them. We stood and he pressed me against the wall, kissing my neck.

"God, I've missed you," I said, smelling his lemon-scented hair. He giggled - yeah, Mycroft giggled - and pressed his hand against my abs that had been worked stronger this summer, and I couldn't help but smile.

"You have no idea," he said, and kissed me. "I've been stuck in Ireland with my family," I turned us around, pushing Mycroft against the wall, melting into his lips. We sank to the floor and I landed on my back. I found myself looking up at Mycroft hovering over me, smiling. "Greg," he said, and closed the interstice between us once again.

A phone began to ring, and Mycroft sat up instantly. "Christ," he said quietly, and stood up to answer it. "Hello? I - yes. Thank you, headmaster. I will - yes, I will be there shortly." He sighed and clicked his phone off. "I have to attend a meeting with the staff," he said, sliding on his shirt. I stood and began to button it for him.

"You have to go?" I knew the answer already, though.

"I'm afraid so," he said, kissing me. "I promise we can resume later, alright?"

I nodded and finished up his last button, brushing a thread off with my fingers. Mycroft tucked in his shirt and retrieved his jacket from across the room. I pulled on my t-shirt, walked over to the door that Mycroft was unlocking, and flattened his tousled hair.

"It should only take about an hour," he said, checking his watch.

I kissed him one more time. "I'll be waiting." He smiled and left the dorm.

Sighing, I kicked back on the sofa, picking up a book to finish my summer homework. I couldn't concentrate, though. All I could see in my head was Mycroft - his hair, his lips, his eyes. My lips were swollen still, and I could almost taste him. At this point, I didn't care who knew. All I wanted was to hold his hand and be with him everywhere I went. Besides, I was the football captain and one of the most popular kids at Wilham's. Nobody would say anything about us, would they? Whatever. It didn't matter. All that mattered was him, and that all that mattered to him, apart from his job, was me.

-------------------------------------------

I could feel the warmth of the sun on my face, and the warmth of Mycroft on my chest. I opened my eyes to see the late morning sun beaming in through closed curtains.

A small noise came from Mycroft as he stirred, his eyes fluttering open. "Mornin'," I said, grinning down at him.

"Wha- What? Greg? What time is it?" He asked, moving his head so that he could look up at me, but not removing it from my chest.

"It's about 11:30," I said, he jumped up suddenly and reached for his phone.

"What?! No, no, no, no, it can't be! How- argh." He picked up a shirt and went to pull it on, but I caught his arm to bring him back down on the bed. "Greg, I really must-"

"Mycroft," I strengthened my grip on his arm, just slightly. "You don't have anything today. It's Monday, and term doesn't start until next week. Calm down," I ruffled his hair and he glared at me.

"I'm head boy, I shouldn't be sleeping in all day-"

"Why not? It's fine, nobody is going to know - well, except maybe Sherlock, but he'll just deduce it, or whatever he does - that you slept late. It's not like they put cameras in every room. If anybody asks, which they won't, because it's totally normal for people to stay in their dorms all day, just say that's all you were doing. Having a day in. Okay?" Sighing, he nodded and settled on the bed. I sat up and moved behind him, wrapping my arms around his bare chest and resting my head in the crook of his neck, delicately placing a kiss there. I could feel him smile.

"You were asleep when I got back," he said, leaning into me.

"Yeah, well, your meeting ran long, and I was bloody shot. I'd been up all day getting here, just to see you," I said. Mycroft nodded slowly.

"Well, a deal's a deal..." He turned to look at me, and when I raised an eyebrow, he kept talking. "We were interrupted, by the beckons of the headmaster..." I grinned into his neck.

"Ah," I said, kissing his neck again. "Shall we proceed?"

Mycroft's chest shook in small, silent laughter. "I believe we shall."