AN: My first Mystrade one shot. Enjoy :)
Written based on this photo: mystradedoodles . tumblr post/29598478365/thewonderfulworldofsherlock-mystradedoodles
Thanks to mystradedoodles . tumblr . com for the prompt. :)
"He always takes home straight guys. He plays One Night Stand on Legendary Mode."

Greg Lestrade opened his eyes to near-complete darkness. He glanced at the clock on his bedside table and saw that it was 2:53 AM. Groaning in exasperation and wondering what had woken him up so early, the Detective Inspector rolled over in an attempt to gain a few more hours of sleep before having to wake up for work.

The yelp that escaped Greg's mouth was so loud that he was surprised it didn't wake the entire street. For lying next to him was none other than Mycroft Holmes, who was sound asleep.

Greg gasped quietly and quickly launched himself backwards in an attempt to put as much space between himself and the elder Holmes brother as possible. However, Greg hadn't taken into account that he was already on the edge of the bed, and so he managed to fling himself off his bed, and fell to the floor, dragging the blanket with him.

The resounding thud that resulted from Greg's backside hitting the floor was enough to wake Mycroft, who sat up and yawned.

"Good morning, Gregory," Mycroft said with a slight smile, seemingly unconcerned with the fact that Greg was lying on the floor groaning in pain.

"What the bloody hell are you doing in my bed, Holmes?" Greg shouted, untangling his limbs from the blanket and pulling himself to his feet.

"As I recall, you said yes. So here I am," Mycroft replied matter-of-factly.

Greg's eyebrows knitted together as he tried to remember the night before. Something about a party at the pub after a successfully-closed case…alcohol…Mycroft showing up. Greg struggled to remember the night before, working through the haze of the alcohol still in his body, but slowly he pieced everything together.

"I just came to inform you that my baby brother is safe at home," Mycroft said, leaning ever-so-lightly on the umbrella he was holding. "And I'll tell you this: he is thoroughly upset that it was you who captured the criminal this time and not him."

"He'll get over it," Greg said in an amused voice, "We'll have another case for him within a week, and then he'll be fine."

"Quite right," Mycroft said, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

"Stay," Greg said, offering Mycroft a glass of beer, "We're celebrating."

Mycroft shook his head. "I really do have work…"

"You always have work," Greg noted, "Do you ever stop working?"

Mycroft considered the question for a moment. "Not really, no," he replied, "Okay, I suppose it won't hurt to stay for a bit…"

"You officially need a ride home," Mycroft said, pulling Greg away from the bar, "Come, I'll have my driver bring you."

"But…I was gonna have 'nother drink," Greg insisted, his words slurring together slightly.

"I believe you've had enough," Mycroft insisted.

Greg sighed and turned to face Mycroft, tripping over his own foot in the process. He stumbled for a moment before Mycroft caught him, Greg's face pressed into his chest.

"Lesgo home, then." Greg said, standing up and staring at Mycroft expectantly.

Mycroft led the tipsy detective to his car, where the driver was waiting. When Greg was securely in the back seat, Mycroft walked around the car and climbed in next to him. He informed the driver where Lestrade lived, and they were there within minutes.

"How did you know where I live?" Greg inquired, not drunk enough to forget that Mycroft had never been to his home before.

"I am the British Government, and I keep files on anyone associated with my brother. You are no exception. May I come in?"

Greg nodded and walked up to the door of his house. After several failed attempts at putting the key in the lock, Mycroft reached for Greg's hand and helped him unlock the door. The pair of them entered the house together and Mycroft led the older man to his bedroom.

Greg fell face first onto his bed, fully clothed and already half asleep. Mycroft sighed.

"You can't sleep like that," he said.

"Why not?" Greg asked in a muffled voice, his face still pressed into the sheets.

"You've still got your jacket on, and it can't be comfortable to sleep in jeans."

"I'll sleep in whatever I please, Mycroft," Greg yawned, "Go home."

After a few moments, Greg felt the younger man's hands grasping at his shoulders. Mycroft pulled him into a sitting position, much to Greg's annoyance, and began to remove his jacket.

Greg pulled away from Mycroft, causing the both of them to fall onto the bed, Mycroft landing on top of him. Greg flushed at the sudden contact.

"Well, well, Gregory," Mycroft laughed slightly, not getting up, "And here I thought you were straight."

"I am," Greg stated, looking anywhere but Mycroft, which was difficult considering their faces were less than two inches apart. Before Greg could argue further, Mycroft's lips crashed down onto his own. Mycroft snaked his fingers into the other man's hair and tugged at it softly, causing a small, involuntary moan to escape Lestrade's lips.

When Mycroft finally released him, Greg was gasping for air.

"You didn't pull away." Mycroft raised an eyebrow, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

"I'm not gay," Greg insisted.

"Please, you sound like John Watson," Mycroft scoffed, propping himself up on his elbows so he was leaning over Greg instead of pressing all his body weight onto him, "And we all know that's not true."

He gave the man beneath him an uncharacteristic grin, challenging him. Greg glared up at Mycroft, determined to not give in. He was not gay. After a few moment of silence, Mycroft moved in for the attack once again, pulling Greg into a rough kiss. He rolled over, pulling Greg with him so it was the Detective Inspector's turn to lie on top.

Rather than pulling away, Greg found himself deepening the kiss, a sound of pleasure escaping his lips. Meanwhile I am not gay was still floating around in his head being ignored.

"You-. We-," Greg sputtered, trying to figure out how he'd gone from straight to apparently gay overnight.

"I really should go," Mycroft said, "I wasn't lying last night at the pub when I said I have work to do." He walked to the corner of the room to retrieve his trousers and jacket and casually pulled them on. Greg stared at him, dumbfounded.

"But I-…But I'm not gay," he said.

"Keep telling yourself that," Mycroft said with amusement, "Anyway, it was fun. Let me know if you decide to be 'not gay' again sometime."

With that statement and a wink, Mycroft left Lestrade alone and very confused.

Reviews would be fantastic. :) It's my first Mystrade fic, and only my second Sherlock fic, so I crave feedback. :D