A/N: Shall we talk about babies, my dears?

My usual disclaimer about not owning anything and my blanket apology for playing with other people's toys still applies.

It had been just about two years since Greg had found himself in the position he was in right now. The only difference was that he had asked Michelle if he could talk to the kids alone. She had agreed, though somewhat reluctantly. It took some assurances on his part that he wasn't dying, or moving somewhere that would keep him too far from the kids, or, worst of all, that he and Mycroft were not splitting up before she agreed to leave and not come back to the house for a few hours. Greg chose to ignore that Michelle was more worried about him getting divorced than his untimely death.

He wasn't planning on staying long at all. He wanted his kids to talk this over with him, but he didn't want them to have too much to process at once. This was a potentially huge change that could be happening, and he wanted them to be able to make the most informed decision possible.

After Mycroft's surprise confession about wanting children, Greg was too shocked to actually answer him. It took him several seconds before he could properly process what he had just heard, and by that point the look of humiliation on Mycroft's face was too much to bear. He suggested that they go home and talk about it there because, while he wasn't closed off to the idea, he didn't want to have this conversation in public, let alone in such close proximity to his colleagues.

When they got home, Mycroft uncovered a bit of his past that Greg hadn't known about. When he was a small child, Mycroft had wanted a younger brother or sister more than anything. He was frustrated by the fact that despite the fact that his parents told him that perhaps one day he would have a younger sibling to play with, no sibling showed up. It was later that he learned that his mother had fertility issues and that she had miscarried several times during those seven long years between himself and Sherlock. To assuage the somewhat broody part of him that wanted to be a big brother, Mycroft had tried to play with younger children, but they were confused by how cerebral he was. It wasn't long before he realized that the only person who would understand his way of being a loving big brother would be someone who was genetically related to him.

When Sherlock had come along, Mycroft was ecstatic, and until their parents had died he had lived that dream of being an older brother and taking care of someone in the special way that only an older sibling can. Even with Sherlock in the picture, Mycroft had still felt that he desired more. It wasn't until he reconciled with himself the fact that he was gay that it hit him that he had wanted children of his own. It broke his heart that he would never be able to have children that he and his partner were both the parents of. When he came out to his parents, he had cried because he felt that he would be failing them by giving them grandchildren that were either part surrogate or a combination of his partner and a surrogate. His parents had waved that off and told him that it didn't matter to them if their grandchildren were biologically his or not, they just wanted him to be happy.

Though he had been nervous to meet Greg's children, Mycroft had been excited. He knew that what they had together was special and that they would likely get married. The children wouldn't technically be his, but he hoped that they would learn to love him the way he was sure that he would love them. Things had obviously turned out better than Mycroft had imagined, and he was sure that he would be content to live with six fantastic step-children who he cherished more than he could have dreamed. It wasn't until after the wedding that he had acknowledged that, to his horror, he wanted more than what he had the good fortune to have.

Greg's heart broke.

"I'm so sorry, Gregory," Mycroft mumbled, his eyes downcast. "I never meant to have you find out. I don't want you to think that this isn't enough, because it is more than enough. I am just a terribly selfish person who wants more than he has."

Greg had patted his hand. "Don't give me that. You and I made a deal, remember. We need to tell each other when we want something or when something is bothering us. No judgment."

"Yes, but I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable," Mycroft replied. "I don't want to put you in an awkward position. Six children are already enough and I wouldn't want any of them to feel as if they're being replaced by a child that you and I might have together. I will be more than content to live the rest of my life with you and the six of them."

"Well what if you weren't putting me in an awkward position?" Greg asked. Mycroft cocked his eyebrow at him. "Well, alright, it is a bit awkward, but what if I ran it by the kids. I haven't even had time to process this. What if I talked to them about it and gave them a good chunk of time to think about how they would feel about having a little brother or sister? I wouldn't guarantee a yes from them, and to be honest I don't know if I would want to say yes to this myself. I love kids, but I'm rapidly approaching the wrong side of fifty and children are bloody exhausting."

"What exactly do you propose?"

"I'll talk to the kids. If all of them are on board with this idea, then I'll start thinking about this. I can't make any promises about my answer, but I will tell you that if my kids are okay with it, I'll give it my full consideration. How does that sound?"

Mycroft leaned over and laid his head down on Greg's shoulder. "You are the most accommodating person that I have ever met. I love you very much."

"Yes, and I you," Greg answered with a smile.

It was two days after the conversation about babies. Greg and Mycroft had agreed not to talk about it unless they had answers, which meant that Greg had practically been bursting at the seams to tell someone about it. He thought about calling John for a pint, but John would have told Sherlock and then Sherlock would have given Mycroft shit about it. No, better to wait until he could talk to his kids and get the input of the people who would be affected most by this potential change rather than have extraneous pressure.

Greg sat in the armchair across from the couch and alternated between staring at his children and looking at his hands. This was not going to be easy.

"Dad," Ian piped up, breaking the silence. "You can't just keep us here like this. You're scaring me. What's wrong?"

"Mycroft and I have been thinking about having a baby," he blurted out. Shit. Well, that could have been a lot smoother. He looked up at their faces and saw a strange mix of emotions spread among them. "It isn't a very well developed idea," he added. "He brought it up the other day. I didn't even- I had no idea. But we talked it over and this is something he really wants. I told him that before I started thinking seriously about this, I needed to talk to the six of you." He paused, waiting for some input, but as his eyes swept back and forth along the row of them he realized he wasn't going to be getting any answers yet. "You're under no obligation to say yes, and neither of us will resent you if you say no, but we want to know what you think before we start to seriously consider this. I will still love you more than anything if any of you say no, and Mycroft is besotted with every single one of you. I hope you know that." Slight nods rippled through the row of them. "I'm going to leave, and I want all of you to take your time thinking about this. If you have questions, please call me and I'll come out and talk to you some more. Does anyone want to ask anything now?" There was no answer to that. "Right, I'll be off then."

Greg walked up to the couch, thankful that they had invested in a ridiculously long one that could fit grown bodies as well as bodies that were still growing at the same time. He kissed every one of them on their forehead and told them that he loved them, and then walked out the door and into the car he had parked in the driveway.