(02) The World Will Never Ever Be the Same

Summary: Greg takes Mycroft back to the park where they had their first date all those years ago. You see, he has a question to ask...

Title: Hey There Delilah by Plain White T's

Warnings: Mild language

'I can't believe how much Greyson Lake has changed,' Mycroft commented.

Greg smiled as he leaned against the railing. 'It's actually a lake now.'

'It was a lake, once upon a time,' Mycroft said, 'before it became...'

'A shit hole?' Greg said. Mycroft chuckled and leaned against Greg's shoulder. It was too cold to be out, especially at four in the afternoon. But Greg had insisted, so they'd left their stuff at Maggie and Phil's and headed out on Greg's bike.

Greyson Lake had turned into a nice family area. The lake was large, with ducks and geese and various other birds swimming about and ducking their heads below the water. Trees lined the circumference, there was a boardwalk and picnic areas, they'd even built tables, a playground, toilets and an in-door barbecue area. If you wanted to spend a nice Saturday afternoon out you didn't have to go to the beach; just pop by Greyson Lake and have a nice meal.

'We should come back in summer,' Mycroft said. Greg hummed. 'Or maybe spring; before it gets too hot.'

Greg smiled and tilted his head to look at his boyfriend. 'When are we ever gonna have time to do that?'

'Francine's birthday is in spring,' Mycroft reminded him.

'Now you just gotta convince Mum and Phil to have her fifth birthday at Greyson Lake,' Greg said. 'You know, the place where idiotic teenagers used to come to get drunk and have sex.'

Mycroft chuckled. 'We used to be those teenagers.'

'That's my point. Not sure Mum'll wanna come here, even though it's all sparkly and nice now.'

Mycroft shook his head and pushed back from the railing. He tossed the last of the bread Greg had brought into the water, watched the hungry little ducks gobble it up. 'Can we go now?' he asked and pulled his coat tighter around his body. 'I'm cold.'

'But you're adorable,' Greg said. He turned to face Mycroft properly and grinned as he looked the red-head up and down. Mycroft was wearing black jeans and a simple black t-shirt. But the coat was charcoal grey, slim-fitted and accented with a black and red scarf that hung down to his belly. Smart, casual, yet with a hint of the old punk Mycroft that Greg had first fallen in love with.

Mycroft frowned and shoved his hands into his pockets. 'M'cold,' he mumbled.

Greg had to laugh. Goddamn it, Mycroft just got cuter the older he got. 'Okay,' he agreed and Mycroft breathed a sigh of relief. 'But we have one more stop.'

Mycroft groaned and grumbled but followed along when Greg led the way back to the carpark. His bike was parked beneath a tall tree, their helmets hanging from each handlebar. Greg tossed Mycroft his and smiled at the scowl Mycroft wore as he pulled it on.

It took them just under an hour to get to their final destination. When Greg turned his motorcycle off he realised that Mycroft was shaking. 'Something wrong?' he asked when he tugged his helmet off.

'One stop,' Mycroft growled. 'One stop, Gregory.'

'This is our final-'

'It took a bloody hour to get here!' Mycroft snapped.

'Calm down,' Greg said. He pushed Mycroft when the taller man climbed off of the bike and Mycroft nearly tripped over. He threw Greg a foul look and nearly dropped his helmet. 'There's a reason we're here.'

'Is there?' Mycroft drawled. 'Do you, perhaps, have a nice hot soup waiting for me? You'd better.'

Greg smiled and locked his bike before putting his helmet down. He held his hand out and wiggled his fingers, the leather of his gloves rubbing together. 'Come on.'

Mycroft sighed and muttered something in French that Greg couldn't quite make out; it was probably a few choice curse words. But Mycroft took Greg's hand, hung his helmet off of one of the handlebars, and allowed Greg to drag him through the trees.

Mycroft clearly didn't recognise the area. Greg did. Then again, he'd scouted out the area the week before to make sure that it was still nice. He'd made sure to draw a detailed map so that Maggie and Phil could leave the basket of goodies in its proper spot. He was pretty sure that they were still there, actually. He wouldn't put it past his mum to be hiding in the bushes with her mobile out, just waiting.

Greg didn't care. He just wanted to do this here, right now, before he and Mycroft officially moved to London. Their new house was filled with boxes, nothing in its right place. Mycroft had taken two weeks off work so that they could sort everything out and Greg didn't start training for another three.

Greg definitely wanted to go into their new place as a new couple. He wanted to start his life with Mycroft... properly.

'Gregory?'

Greg pulled himself from his thoughts and glanced at his boyfriend. They'd reached the picnic/playground area and Mycroft was frowning, blue eyes scanning the area.

'Yeah?' Greg asked.

'Is this...' Mycroft's frown deepened before he remembered; 'This is where we had our first official date.'

Greg smiled. 'Yeah,' he said, 'it is.'

'Why did you want to come here?' Mycroft questioned. He turned to look at Greg, one eyebrow up. 'It's nice, of course, but it can't be more than ten degrees out and it's getting late.'

'Just come with me,' Greg ordered. Mycroft was clearly confused- and annoyed- but once again allowed Greg to lead him forward. Greg manoeuvred Mycroft until he was sitting on one of the swings and stood in front of him.

'Gregory-'

'This is where we had our first official date,' Greg interrupted. Mycroft's eyebrows rose and he frowned.

'Yes, we just established that,' he mused.

'Just shut up for a minute,' Greg said, pointing a finger at Mycroft.

Mycroft snorted. 'Very well.'

'Okay... okay...' Greg ran his fingers through his hair, then groaned and tugged his gloves off. He shoved them into his jacket pocket and tapped at the left pocket of his jeans. Yup, still there. 'I'm gonna be really bad at this,' Greg admitted.

'Bad at what?' Mycroft asked.

'Um...' Greg took a deep breath and glanced to his right. The concrete area across the park was covered and atop the table Greg could see a picnic basket. He smiled. 'Mum came through.'

'Pardon?'

Greg chuckled and turned back to his boyfriend. 'So, I wanted to do this right; take it slow,' Greg said. 'But you're right; it's fucking cold, and I kinda wanna eat something nice and warm. I think Mum bought some new thermoses and made some soup for us.'

Mycroft was frowning proper now; eyebrows furrowed, lips turned down. 'Gregory, are you feeling al... right?'

Mycroft trailed off and finished with a question mark. Because Greg had decided, fuck it. This was Mycroft Holmes; Greg's best friend, his boyfriend, the guy he'd been living with since upper sixth form. There was no right way to do this... probably a lot of wrong ways, but Greg was pretty sure that this would be okay.

So he got down on one knee and spent a good minute fighting to get the ring box out of his jeans pocket.

'Greg?' Mycroft gaped.

'I wanted to do this here,' Greg said. 'I mean, I coulda taken you to Baker Street Academy, or done it at Greyson Lake, or... fuck, my old house probably woulda been just as romantic.' Greg chewed on his bottom lip before taking a deep breath. 'But this was where we officially had our first date. We were actually dating when we came here; we both knew that we liked each other. And it was a nice day, a nice date, and... I really wanted to do this here.'

'Greg,' Mycroft repeated. He wasn't crying but definitely sniffing. He reached up to rub at his pink cheeks, clearly taken aback.

'Mycroft Edwin Holmes,' Greg said and smiled when Mycroft chuckled, 'you're the love of my life. I can't believe how unbelievably lucky I was to have met you in high school. Most people have to wait years to find their other half. I met you at fifteen and got to be with you at seventeen.'

'I was sixteen,' Mycroft interrupted, 'when we started fooling around.'

Greg scowled. 'Hey, don't steal my moment.' Mycroft giggled and apologised; wiped at his cheeks and then his eyes. 'My point is that I know we're meant to be together,' Greg continued. ''Cause we've fucked up a lot, and we've fought, and we've ignored each other and... we've always come through, together, stronger than we were before.

'We're probably gonna fight some more in the future 'cause that's what people do,' Greg added. 'And... the next time we fight, I want us to be engaged. And then I want us to be an old married couple, just fighting and bickering and making up so that we can have sex and tell each other we love each other. Because stupid fights are fine when you can work through them with the person you love.'

Greg licked his lips and opened the box. Inside were two plain gold rings; he knew that Mycroft wouldn't want anything fancy.

'Mycroft,' Greg said and looked back up at his boyfriend, 'will you marry me?'

Mycroft launched himself at Greg. He tossed them both to the ground and mounted Greg, cold lips finding cold lips and mashing them into one. Greg groaned into the kiss and wrapped his arms around Mycroft's neck, because hell yeah.

'Is that a yes?' Greg panted when they finally broke apart.

'YES!' Mycroft shouted. 'Fuck, Greg- yes, I'll marry you!' He laughed wetly at the end; and there were the tears, streaking Mycroft's cold cheeks. Greg grinned and shoved Mycroft up so that he could slide the ring onto Mycroft's right hand. The gold ring clinked against the black one that Greg had bought Mycroft years ago.

'Remember?' Greg said as he and Mycroft both stared at it. 'I told you that it was just a temporary place holder; to get you used to wearing a ring all the time so that when I proposed, you'd be used to it.'

Mycroft laughed. 'I do,' he said. 'And I told you that I'd prefer it on my right hand.'

'Yeah,' Greg said. 'So, do you wanna...?' he trailed off and held the ring box up for Mycroft.

'I'd be honoured,' Mycroft said. He took the ring out and slid it onto Greg's ring finger; on his left hand, 'cause Greg was definitely a traditionalist... at least with this. 'Will you marry me?' Mycroft asked.

'Duh,' Greg muttered. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Mycroft's. This kiss was soft, sweet- and wet, because Mycroft was definitely crying.

'I love you,' Mycroft murmured.

'Love you, too,' Greg replied. 'And I brought soup.'

'You did?'

Greg nodded and pointed at the table to their far right. 'Mum knew I was gonna propose. I asked her to bring some food. We can have a quiet moment here before heading back to her house. I'm pretty sure that Mum has a whole party planned.

Mycroft giggled and sniffed one last time before getting to his feet. He helped Greg up and wrapped his arms firmly around Greg's waist. 'That sounds like Margaret.'

'Yeah,' Greg agreed. He led the way, Mycroft hanging off of him every step. Not that Greg minded; he was pretty sure that he and Mycroft were gonna be physically attached for a while.

'Just one thing,' Greg said when they reached the table.

'What's that?' Mycroft asked.

'Frankie said that she wants to be the flower girl.'

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. 'Did... did everybody know that you were going to propose?'

Blushing, Greg said, 'Um... maybe? I might of told Sherlock because I didn't want him deducing it and telling you. And John, Dimmock and Phil helped me pick the ring.'

Mycroft smiled and glanced down at his right hand. The band was simple, a light gold, and Mycroft adored it. He really wasn't one for flashy jewellery (unless he was going out partying, of course). The ring was simple, something that Mycroft would definitely be wearing right up until Greg put the wedding ring on his finger.

'I love it,' Mycroft said. 'Thank you. And of course Francine has to be our flower girl.'

'Yeah, that's the easy part,' Greg said. He sat down and Mycroft slid onto the seat beside him.

'What's the hard part?' Mycroft asked. 'Besides planning and paying for the wedding, of course.'

Greg groaned and flopped forward onto his arms. His voice came out muffled; 'Who the hell am I gonna pick as my best man?'

Mycroft fell into a fit of giggles, not caring when Greg called him an arsehole and slapped him over the back of the head. For Mycroft it was easy; Sherlock would be his best man. But for Greg?

That was a choice that Mycroft wanted no part in.

'Shut up!' Greg growled when Mycroft finally stopped laughing.

'S-Sorry,' Mycroft panted, 'but who... who are you going to pick?'

'I dunno.' Greg frowned. 'There's Dimmock, John, Doctor Phil, Yasha... hell, even Anthea!' He glared at Mycroft. 'Your choice is easy.'

'If I didn't pick Sherlock he'd no doubt have a meltdown and set something on fire during the wedding,' Mycroft said. 'Of course, he'll pretend that he doesn't care that I've chosen him, only to hug me and thank me when no one's looking.'

Greg smiled. 'Gotta love Sherlock. Oh!' He jolted and once more dug into his pocket, tossing the empty ring box on the table as he pulled out his phone.

'What's wrong?' Mycroft asked.

'We need a little music, don't you think?' Greg said.

'Do we?'

Greg nodded and swiped through his music selection before finding the song. As soon as the guitar started Mycroft shook his head.

'Our song?' he asked.

I'm sitting here all by myself, just trying to think of something to do...

'It's our song,' Greg said. 'We gotta listen to it.'

'Will we play it at the wedding?'

'Maybe you can.'

Mycroft smiled. 'I just might.' Greg put his mobile on the table and grabbed the picnic basket.

'Let's see what Mum packed us,' he said.

The song continued on in the background- on repeat until Mycroft grew sick of it and forced Greg to play some Fall Out Boy- as Greg and Mycroft dug into the warm soup, crunchy bread, and cold drinks that Maggie and Phil had packed for them. It grew darker and darker until Mycroft had to pull out his own phone to light the table.

That was until Greg found the candles that Maggie had packed, too.

Mycroft couldn't have asked for a more romantic, simple proposal, and told Greg so when they'd finished eating. Greg kissed him afterwards and called him "my fiancé".

Mycroft wanted to jump him. But he'd just have to wait until they got home, he supposed.

After all, they had the rest of their lives to look forward to. They weren't in any hurry.

Author's Note: So... I was trying to sleep last night because I had work at midnight (have work tonight, too, but whatever) and I suddenly just... came up with this. I felt like this version of Greg and Mycroft would like a nice, simple proposal; a nice, simple wedding, too. So I wrote this in my head while half-asleep. I haven't written any Mystrade since the first Confetti Drabble that I wrote, so I'm a bit rusty, but it was a lot of fun.

And yes, I used "A Lonely September" again because it's THEIR SONG. It had to be done.

So yeah, this was short, but I hope you enjoyed!

Cheers,

Dreamer