Give Me A Label (I'll Make Confetti)

Chapter 38: Fell For You

As promised, Mycroft turned up at Dimmock's in his Jag. He wasn't wearing any make-up and he looked exhausted; there were dark bags under his eyes and his face was a little pale.

'Are you sure you're up for anything?' Greg asked as he pulled his seat belt on. 'Maybe you should go home and get some rest.'

'I'm fine,' Mycroft said. He pulled onto the road and Greg sat back. 'Besides, my father's working from home today.'

His fingers tightened minutely on the wheel, and Greg remembered all the stuff he'd picked up about Siger Holmes; it was clear Mycroft didn't like his father, and John didn't either. Well with what Greg knew, he wouldn't like him either. In fact, he didn't like him. Anyone who hated people just because of who they were attracted to deserved to be hated.

'You sure?' Greg asked. 'We could just hang out somewhere.'

'I assure you I'm fine,' Mycroft said before hesitated. 'I didn't embarrass myself last night, did I?'

Greg thought about Mycroft's behaviour the previous night, and what the other teenager had let slip. 'Nah, nothin' I haven't done myself.'

'Good,' Mycroft breathed a sigh of relief.

'Um... you said some bloke hit on you?' Greg said. He noted that Mycroft sighed slightly, fingers once again flexing on the steering wheel.

'Some guy from Artemis Catholic School kept hitting on me,' he told Greg. 'His name was Aaron, I think. He kept putting his arm around me and suggesting we go to his car and do all manner of things. I kept telling him no and then he kissed me. After that he was almost introduced to my fist.'

Greg felt a flash of jealousy course through him; he didn't want anyone touching Mycroft but him. At least now he knew why. Maybe Dimmo will stop with the teasing now that I've admitted it, Greg mused. He snorted. Yeah, right. The jokes'll probably get worse.

'After almost punching him, Benjamin and Matthew threw him out,' Mycroft continued. 'I was fairly drunk by that point and they offered to call me a taxi, but I told them I'd walk to your house. Dimmock and Molly walked out with me and made sure I got down the street okay.'

Greg opened his mouth to ask where this Aaron lived- maybe he could go and whack him, make sure the guy knew that Mycroft was taken- but was stopped from asking anything when Mycroft's mobile rang.

Kill The DJ by Green Day started playing and Greg grinned at the lyrics; Someone kill the DJ, shoot the fuckin' DJ, someone kill the DJ, shoot the fucker now.

'Damn it,' Mycroft huffed, digging into his pocket as he drove. 'Can you get that?' he asked.

Greg nodded and leaned across the console, sliding his fingers into Mycroft's pocket. Mycroft squirmed and Greg made sure to poke him good and hard, making Mycroft scowl at him.

Greg pulled out the BlackBerry and saw the caller ID. 'It's Sherlock.'

'Just answer and ask what he wants,' Mycroft said.

Greg did as told, answering with a high-pitched, 'Mycroft Holmes' phone, this is Gregory Lestrade speaking; how may I help you today?'

Mycroft giggled and Greg heard Sherlock huff through the phone. 'What the bloody hell are you doing with my brother's mobile?'

'Mycroft's indisposed at the moment,' Greg answered.

'Doing what?' Sherlock demanded.

'I have him tied to my bed; he ain't goin' anywhere,' Greg said, grinning when he heard Sherlock choke. 'Now, how can I-'