Give Me A Label (I'll Make Confetti)

Chapter 10: Shut Up

Chapter Title: Shut Up by Simple Plan

Greg never thought he'd have anything in common with Mycroft Holmes. But as he and Mycroft talked, swapping cigarettes, heated-glances, and the occasional touch, he learned that he had a lot in common with Mycroft.

They both listened to the same bands (Green Day, Muse, My Chemical Romance, and various others), they both liked dressing in black, swearing, drinking and smoking, they both really liked shagging guys, and they both enjoyed school.

Of course, Greg would never admit to anyone else that he actually liked learning. There was something about filling your brain with new information that was satisfying and interesting to Greg. He just never bothered with school work because he was too busy trying to find a guy who could fucking shag him properly. Mycroft, of course, did excellent in school and was always top of the year. Greg knew he was a genius, but had never really understood just what that meant.

Mycroft had an eidetic memory (not that he believed in such things, he just said he knew how to use his brain) and could speak six languages (German, Mandarin, French, Italian, Spanish, and English). He knew everything there was to know about world politics, the stock market, mathematics, and technology.

He also knew how to fight (he was a black belt in something, Greg had just stared at him, mouth gaping, when Mycroft had managed to pin him to the ground in three seconds flat), how to talk himself out of anything (or talk people into things, like when he'd shagged John Ralling), and, of course, he knew how to deduce people.

He told Greg that it was the small things that people missed that made up the bigger picture. If Greg had had toast for breakfast, there would most likely be crumbs on his shirt, his lips, or his breath would smell like peanut butter or jam. All Mycroft and Sherlock did was see that, run the information through their brains, and produce the most likely answer.

It made more sense now that Mycroft had explained it, but Greg still didn't see how the Holmes brothers actually did it.

There was also the rebellious attitude Mycroft and Greg both had. They found it immensely fun to drink while underage, smoke while underage, skip school and break the law in small ways, and just have fun. Greg knew he was your stereotypical hell-raiser; he smoked, he drank, he fucked. It didn't make him cool and it wouldn't help him later in life.

But Greg thought, and Mycroft agreed, that your teenage years were when you were supposed to fuck up and make mistakes. What was the point of getting a good job later in life when you hadn't actually had fun? Greg didn't want to have any regrets. He didn't want to one day be sitting in an office somewhere and think that he'd wasted his life.

So yeah, he fucked around, but he still passed all his classes and he never really hurt anyone. He always used a condom when having sex and helped his mum out around the house. Mycroft then pointed out that really Greg was a good-little-boy who just pretended to be a screw-up.

Well, the only way Greg could wipe that fucking smirk off Mycroft's face was to kiss him.

Mycroft gasped in surprise, and Greg was once again hit with the thought that Mycroft wasn't used to anyone taking control. Mycroft always came in, cock out, and fucked whoever he'd picked for the night until they couldn't remember their own name. And even if he was technically on the bottom, he still topped; he was always in control.

What Mycroft really needed was for someone else to take over and fuck him, whether that meant actually fucking him, or letting Mycroft fuck them. Mycroft needed a partner who fought his dominance every step of the way; someone who made Mycroft work for their submission. But that someone also had to be able to dominate Mycroft, to push him down and screw him into the mattress.