Archive of Our Own

"God, you're beautiful" Greg murmured.

Mycroft was sweaty, his cheeks were tinted with a flattering amount of pink and his hair had been sprawled across his forehead in a way that made him irresistibly attractive, due to their previous lovemaking session.

"You're only saying that because of what we just did" Mycroft replied back to Greg. He wanted to keep up the pretense of annoyance, but the twinkle of mischief still shimmering in his eyes gave him away instantly.

"If you believe that then I should really say it to you more often, until you start to believe me" Greg replied, wearing nothing but his boxers and the scars on his chest, exactly how they started off their evening of exploration.

His cheek laid connected to Mycroft's chest, feeling the rise and fall that occurred on each breath, making him aware of the lack of dream-like state he was in. This was real. And God, did he love it.

He only moved his head off of Mycroft's chest to place kisses on his cheek before he kissed his husband passionately on the lips, the same way that got them into this beautiful mess in the first place.

"I'm just excited about what we're going to create" Mycroft murmured, mostly to himself, once Greg had settled back on his chest.

Absentmindedly, Greg started to play with Mycroft's chest hair. 'I really need to get Myc to wear my shirt more often' Greg thought.

I mean, if he thought that was a good idea - and, well, I don't blame him, Mycroft was hot - he certainly didn't a few months later...

Greg clutched the toilet bowl as his dinner from the night before made itself present. Yep, that's the chicken that Greg had the following evening.

His wretching brought his lover into their shared bathroom."Still feeling excited after seeing this?" Greg replied, a smirk would have appeared on his face if he wasn't throwing up with such frequency that it rendered impossible to move away from the toilet for any length of time.

"Any part of this journey that we are going on will forever be exciting to me" Mycroft replied, a genuine smile placed upon his face.

Although, his face turned quite sour, even more than usual, after he realised that Greg had been throwing up - non-stop - for the past three quarters of an hour.

A phone call to John was definitely in order.

Greg took the anti-sickness medication that John had perscribed months ago, thus finding out about Greg's current condition - his very hormonal condition. He took it every morning. It became part of his morning routine - even despite how much he hated it.

Yet, this morning was something special. He tightened his tie, fixed his hair in a way that waved like the ocean and put in some mint flavoured chewing gum (mostly for some sort of distraction).

It was going to be okay. He knew that. For some reason, he couldn't quite swallow down the anxiety he felt as he walked into the restaurant with his partner in tow.

Sitting down, he decided to fiddle with the menu as he chose what he was going to eat, other than his nails that he began to bite as the anxiety bubbled inside him.

"So, what is the news that you wanted to tell us?" John asked, trying to ease Greg's anxiety, despite him already knowing the answer. Lying did not work well for him - no wonder Sherlock could read him like a book.

The silence lingered as everyone around the table looked over at Greg, even though it wasn't just Greg's news to tell.

With Mycroft still staring at him, Greg decided that he would have to be the one to tell everyone. Even in his condition he had to be the bearer of this news - with Mycroft leaving him stranded (the audacity).

"Well, umm.." Greg stated, stuttering despite the fact he had just started to speak. God was it hot in there, or was it just him?

"Me and Mycroft are expecting a child" Greg stated, more calmly than he felt. How he wished that the confession would ease the twisting, crushing and warping he felt in the pit of his stomach. The beads of sweat clutching to his palms, like a snake with its prey, were certainly not helping his nerves; it only caused his leg to start shaking amongst the uncertainty.

A hand snaked its way along Greg's thigh until it reached its desired location; gently squeezing the palm of - the one and only - Gregory Lestrade. Mycroft repetitively squeezed his palm against Greg's in the rhythm of a much slower heartbeat to allow Greg to control his breathing.

Drumming each beat inbetween with his free hand - that wasn't clutching his sweatheart's hand like his life depended on it - on his lap, he breathed in for 4 and breathed out for 4 (matching the rhythm of the squeezing demonstrations that came from Mycroft's hand). It didn't crush the anxiety, but it sure did help reduce it slightly - and that meant something.

"I'm so happy for you guys. Congrats!" John stated, trying his hardest to sound like he hadn't already known this news. Trying being the key word here - well, at least, his statement managed to be successful at one thing: relieving the remaining tightness in the pit of Greg's stomach.

"Yes, congratulations Mycroft, Graham" Sherlock said, after being nudged in the rib by John - the very man that was supposed to love him.

"It's Greg!" Greg corrected with a bit more anger in his tone than he meant to emit. Mycroft began to rub his arm in an attempt to comfort his husband (although, what he really wanted to do was kiss his husband silly so he would forget this whole stressful scenario, but that would have caused too much of a public scene - and he knew how much Greg hated being the centre of attention).

"How far along are you, Greg?" John asked, keeping the conversation flowing to try and prevent the current disagreement turning into a full on fight. John remembered what happened the last time his finance got into a fight with someone at a bar and it wasn't pretty. Well, maybe Sherlock was pretty but the whole operation to get Sherlock out of the fight before he got his ribs crushed in wasn't.

"Oh, umm..." Greg looked at Mycroft, he had never been good at remembering dates. He even forgot his own anniversary, twice. "About 6 months, I think" Greg continued after Mycroft mouthed the answer to him.

"What do you mean how 'far along'?" Sherlock stated, confused by how a man could be- "Wait, you're pregnant?!" he exclaimed.

"Well, when two people love each other very much-" Greg began to tease Sherlock.

"I know how babies are made, Gwen. I just don't understand how a man can be pregnant" Sherlock interrogated Greg.

Greg would have been scared by Sherlock's sudden outburst if he wasn't so used to them by now. And the way that he acted like a toddler could never be scary to Greg. If anything, he saw it as practice because before long he and Mycroft would have a tantruming toddler of their own.

"I'm transgender, Sherlock" Greg managed to say.

Finally, after much covincing from Greg and much complaming from, well, both Sherlock and Greg, Greg was in the safety of his three favourite things: his bed, his duvet and the warm embrace of his husband.

"This evening didn't go that badly" Mycroft said as he turned over to face his husband, despite the death stare given by his lover saying otherwise.

"I know Sherlock may have overreacted slightly" Mycroft stated before Greg gave him another one of his famous stares."Okay, maybe he overreacted more than slightly" Mycroft changed his previous sentence to.

A slight chuckle erupted from Greg's chest, Mycroft's chest vibrated against his as he did so. God, Greg's laugh was certainly on the list for the top three best things of all time: with it only being trumped by letting out a silent fart when you think no-one's looking, only for your younger brother (Sherlock) to walk into such concoction of deadly gases. But, Greg's laugh was a close second, Mycroft thought.

"I know he's just curious but having to answer that many questions after a long case - which he knew about - has made me more than exhausted" Greg told Mycroft, the lack of sleep present on his flawlessly tanned features.

"Although" Greg started to say, running his fingertips up and down his sweetheart's arm as he did so. "I can't wait for Sherlock to be an Uncle" he continued to explain.

It was Mycroft's turn to chuckle. Although, he would describe it more as a laugh that lasted for a brisk period of time as a Holmes does not chuckle.

"I would have to agree with you, Gregory, as always. He has proved to be a great father with Rosie" Mycroft claimed, getting almost sentimental. 'Almost being the key word' as enforced by Mycroft; a Holmes does not get sentimental, or at least not very often.

"He's better than that, he's a good one" Greg smiled to nobody in particular, his grip on Mycroft growing tighter yet more gentle. He normally got this handsy with Mycroft when he was being sentimental, or drunk, or usually both at the same time.

A hand travelled across the Mycroft's chest. A cheek rested between the crook of the Mycroft's neck. A brief yet comfortable silence broke between the two of them. Greg's eyes wondered to the corner of the room as he thought.

"I'm just scared that I won't be a good dad" Greg responded quietly, not uncertain in his feelings but in how Mycroft would handle them. Maybe that was more due to his inherited, childhood fears than from personal experience.

"Of course you will, my love" Mycroft reassured Greg, despite it not being the strongest skillset he'd been dealt with.

"I feel like when she's inside me and I can feel her moving, that I'm protecting her, but when she's born, and goes into the big bad world, then I feel like I won't be able to protect her anymore" Greg murmured, a bit more loudly than his last confession.

"You've got me, and we're going to do our best to protect our little girl" Mycroft comforted Greg as he tangled his soft fingertips gently in his lover's hair in a way that always calmed his Gregory down.

"But what if I drop her or I'm unable to properly take care of her and you'll be working so I won't be able to get your instant support. What if she gets sick or I-" Greg spoke urgently. He knew he was rambling, of course he did, he just didn't know how to stop himself.

"Darling, you're rambling" Mycroft stated, cutting Greg off as he kissed him lightly on the lips. "For one, you will be able to take care of her because you've proved that by being able to take care of Rosie when she was very little, even when I wasn't present. Also, you'll have people around you to take care of her" Mycroft told Greg, kissing his husband on the forehead, who still looked uncertain.

I mean, it didn't help that Mycroft was spewing a lot of clichés in his speech, but maybe, ever so slightly, he should do something he doesn't usually do unless in vulnerable situations like these; he should speak from the heart.

"Look, you met my brother when he was, let's just say, in a not so good state of mind and you still managed to take care of him" Mycroft continued. He wasn't sure if he was helping but he really hoped he was.

"Even when he acted like a toddler" Greg added.

"Even when he acted like a toddler" Mycroft agreed.

"When I said that any part of this journey that we are going on will forever be exciting to me, I meant it. I'm here for you, Gregory, in every way that counts and in every way you need me to be. I would buy you those God-awful pickles again and again and again for you to understand the amount of love I have for you and the level of safety our future family will freely explore life in - and you know how much I hate pickles" Mycroft replied, in a way that calmed down the last of Greg's fears and even brought forward a few tears of laughter at the pettiness of the pickle-hatred Mycroft cartoonishly expressed.

"Even the birth of our child doesn't even seem that scary compared to everything else" Greg spoke after a moment of pondering. Mycroft really had been helpful in calming his nerves.

Well, Greg would soon eat his words (or maybe, more accurately, scream his words)...

"GET IT OUT OF ME!" Greg yelled, cutting into Mycroft's hand with his nails. He didn't mean to - well, at least not digging in as hard as he was - but the pain that was attacking his lower region was enough to last him a lifetime.

"Just one last push then you can see your baby girl and you'll officially be a father" the doctor encouraged Greg.

"That's it, love, you're doing so well" Mycroft said, heightening his pitch like you would when speaking to a child.

"Myc, I love you but don't you dare speak to me like I'm a fuckin-" Greg explained before he was cut off by a "waaaa!" from their baby.

The doctor rushed to hand the baby over to her new parents to have a cuddle before being taken back to be weighed and cleaned up, in which Greg had taken his shirt off to have some skin-to-skin contact with their baby.

The baby - named Lilian or Lily for short - laid peacefully on Greg's chest, her head placed right between his top surgery scars. Greg's hand was carefully situated under their baby's bottom, preventing her from falling, as the other found itself circling the sleeping baby's back. The blanket covering them both provided warmth and security.

The pink hat on Lilian's head - bought by Mycroft's parents - provided extra warmth to the young one. He was so glad that Mycroft convinced him to bring this hat to the hospital as it made her look adorable.

He was also glad that it was only him and Mycroft in the room when delivering their baby. He just couldn't imagine giving birth with Sherlock whining in the corner of the room with John shouting at him to shut up, and don't get him started on imaging his mum in the room constantly asking if he was alright or Mycroft's mother trying to break up the fight that would most certainly occur being Sherlock and John in that high pressure scenario.

Even though it would have distracted him long enough to have their baby without hardly noticing a thing, he was glad it worked out this way. Yes, even if it would have gave him something to gossip about.

He planned to let both of their parents visit when Lily settled into their home - and that was enough for him.

After only one night in the hospital, Mycroft carried Lily into their home. Lily wouldn't see the place properly until three hours later due to her being asleep, in which after a guided tour was lead by her father.

"I don't think I can do this alone" Greg admitted, absentmindedly wondering slightly ahead of Mycroft - so absentmindedly that he wasn't even aware his statement had left his mind nevertheless his mouth.

"Good job I'm limiting the amount of hours I will be working then, isn't it?" Mycroft answered - as nonchalantly as one could whilst smiling like an idiot wrapped in a blanket of joy and love - as he came into line with his partner.

"Wait, really?" Greg asked "you're allowed to do that?" Greg continued, yet Mycroft wasn't sure if Greg was teasing him with that last question.

"Yes, really. I thought about what you said about being scared and, anyway, I don't want to be the kind of father who's always working away from his family. Anthea knows to only contact me if it's an emergency and can't be done from home" Mycroft replied.

"God, I could kiss you right now" Greg growled at Mycroft. Well, it was less of a growl and more a mere rumble from the back of his throat as exhaustion still clouded his mind. Yet, he always had enough energy to give his husband a passionate kiss.

Oh yes, everything was going to be alright.