A/N: Sorry I'm not sorry for the angst. It seems like someone cries in everything I write.

"You never mention your family," Greg commented one morning over the morning paper. He and Mycroft were eating breakfast, enjoying the rare silence in their days. He had his feet propped in Mycroft's lap, and Mycroft was running his hand over the top of Greg's sock-clad feet while reading a file on something Greg was sure was top secret.

Mycroft froze with a cup of tea halfway to his mouth. "Why are you so curious?"

Greg ripped off a piece of croissant and popped it into his mouth, chewing it thoughtfully. "Dunno. I mean, you've met everyone. My parents, my brother, my sister, my kids, hell we've had a double date with my ex-wife and her boyfriend. I've only ever met or heard about Sherlock, and it isn't like we were dating when he decided to storm onto my crime scenes."

Mycroft sighed. "I do not have the luxury of seeing my parents like you do."

"Did they kick you out?" Greg asked, his brows furrowed. He had heard plenty of tragic stories of parents kicking their children out after they came out or were outed by others.

"No, nothing like that." Mycroft squirmed.

"Do they know?"

"I'm sure now they do," he shrugged.

"Have you told them about us?"

"Yes, in some form or another."


He looked up at Greg. "Please, Gregory. Don't make me do this just yet. I'm sure you remember when you took things slowly with me with certain aspects of our relationship. Just please, please, don't make me do this yet."

"Are you ashamed of me?" Greg asked, his stomach coiling in fear. He knew how posh Mycroft was, and he was sure his parents were just as posh, if not more so. He wouldn't blame Mycroft for not wanting to introduce him to posh people. If Greg was anything, he was not posh. He swallowed his hurt and prayed that he was wrong.

"Gregory, I've never been more proud of anything in my life," Mycroft whispered.

Greg breathed a long breath of pure relief. "Then why won't you let me meet them?"

Mycroft sighed. "You won't let this go until you meet them, will you?"

"Probably not," Greg smiled.

"Fine. We are free this afternoon. I shall take you to see them then."

"Don't you need to give them some warning that we're coming?"

"I'll let them know in a bit. They won't need much time to prepare."

"Always ready for visitors, then?"

Mycroft shrugged. "I suppose you could say that. I should pop out and get some flowers for my mother. It has been an unpardonable amount of time since I went to see them."

Greg nodded. "What should I wear?"

"Something comfortable. Just be as you would normally be on a Saturday. They will love you if you showed up in a tracksuit."

"God forbid," Greg rolled his eyes.

Mycroft planted a kiss on the crown of his head. "I'll go out and grab those flowers and let them know we're on our way. They'll be delighted. Be ready to leave as soon as I get back."

Rather than having one of his drivers take them, Mycroft said that he wanted to drive. "It's just easier this way," he said. "Driving relaxes me, but I normally need to be doing work while I'm in the car."

Greg squeezed his thigh affectionately. "I'll keep that in mind next time I need to take a long drive. My own personal chauffer in the form of my boyfriend."

Mycroft smiled one of his smaller smiles and was silent for most of the rest of the ride.

"They won't say much," he said eventually as they drove into a winding road in a forest. "They're rather quiet people."

"After my family, that would probably be a welcome relief," Greg replied, looking out the window. They were passing a cemetery. Greg was a bit confused when Mycroft turned into it. "Taking a shortcut?"

"Of sorts," Mycroft replied. He, again, was silent until he put the car in park and unbuckled his seatbelt. "Come along, Gregory."

Greg stepped out, a bit confused. Perhaps Mycroft had family buried here that he always made sure to visit before he saw his parents? But that didn't explain why he had his mother's flowers as he got out of the car…

Three rows into the section, Mycroft stopped. Greg caught up to him, and his breath caught when he read the headstone.

The names on the headstone were Violet and Siger Holmes, both born in the 1940s, and with the same date of death in 1997. Below that, they inscription read, "Beloved Parents."

"Mycroft," Greg whispered softly.

Mycroft didn't say anything to him. Instead, he placed the flowers on the headstone. "Hello Mummy, Father. I'm sorry it's been so long since I came to visit. I brought Gregory with me. He's the one who I've been telling you about. The one who has helped ground Sherlock and who has changed my life." Mycroft grabbed his hand and gave him a watery smile. "I wish you were here to meet him," he choked. "You would love him, probably almost as much as I love him. He's the most wonderful man I've ever met."

Greg kissed the back of Mycroft's hand. He then let it go and sat down in front of the headstone.

"Gregory," Mycroft sniffed. "What are you doing?"

Greg ignored him. "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes," he said softly. "I just wanted to thank you. For Mycroft. He is the love of my life, and if I didn't have him, I would be drifting. I would be so lost, feeling that there was something missing but not quite knowing what was missing. He has brought me back from one of the darkest times of my life, and he has loved me more than I could ever deserve. I'm so lucky to have him in my life. You raised an incredible man."

Mycroft sat next to him, getting his bespoke suit messy. He buried his head in Greg's shoulder and sobbed. Greg wrapped his arms around him, but he continued to talk.

"I'm so sorry that I won't get to meet you in this lifetime. I want you to know that I am going to take care of him to the best of my ability for as long as he will let me, and I hope to God that will be forever, because I can't imagine my life without him now. On a slightly related note, I will do whatever I can to keep Sherlock on the right path and focused. He's got a friend now, his flatmate. They're perfect for each other, and John takes better care of him than Mycroft or I ever could. Even still, I'll do what I can to take care of both of your sons."

Mycroft continued to cry onto Greg's shirt. Greg rocked him gently, cooing into his ear and telling him that he loved him over and over again.

"I just miss them so much," Mycroft choked, tear still flowing freely.

"I know, love," Greg sighed. "They must have been wonderful."

"They were," Mycroft sobbed. "Most people would assume that Sherlock and I were brought up in some household where we weren't loved, but it was quite the opposite. Our parents were just given two very socially inept children and they did everything they could to make sure we were able to lead the most normal lives possible. They loved us more than anyone could imagine."

"I'm sure they did. How did it happen?"

"Drunk driver," Mycroft said shortly. "They were both killed on impact. I am thankful for that much and that they didn't suffer, although I would have appreciated the time to say goodbye once more before they were gone."

Greg paused for a moment and then asked, "Is this why Sherlock is.. Sherlock?"

Mycroft nodded. "He was sixteen, and I was twenty-three. I moved him into my townhome with me so I could take care of him, but he had shut down. He remained in somewhat of a fugue state for several months after the accident, and I feared he would never function properly again. He was locked in that lovely yet terrifying brain of his, and I couldn't find him." Mycroft paused, taking a few deep breaths and composing himself. "When he emerged, he was how he is now. He was always that distant with nearly everyone that wasn't myself, Mummy, or Father, but he was all I had left, and suddenly he was treating me like I was someone else. Like I was someone who judged him for his personality and who had never loved him."

Mycroft paused again, letting a few tears leak out. "I don't know if he can't remember me before the accident. Sometimes I can see bits and pieces of the old Sherlock when he is talking to John, and once in a very long while I can see it when he addresses me, but I don't know if he remembers that I loved him more than anyone when we were younger. I still love him so much that it pains me, but he doesn't know. Or if he does know, for some reason he's chosen to shut that emotion out. It breaks my heart."

Greg kissed his temple and stroked his hair. Mycroft melded into him and they sat there in silence for a very long time.

"Mycroft." Mycroft hummed in response. "I just wanted you to know that I will love you forever. You don't have to say anything about that yet, but I figured this was the best place to tell you that. So your parents would know that. You're my soul mate, and I'm going to fight to keep you with me for the rest of my life."

Mycroft kissed his cheek. "I feel the same way, Gregory." They sat in silence again for a few more minutes until Mycroft said, "I feel that we should go home now. I'm getting a bit chilled."

"Right," Greg groaned, untangling himself from his boyfriend and standing up, brushing himself off. "I swear, I'm getting too old to be sitting on the ground like that for too long. It was definitely worth it today, though. Do you need a hand-"

Greg stopped abruptly when he turned and saw Mycroft kneeling on one knee and holding out a simple silver band.

"What are you doing?" Greg asked breathlessly, even though he knew exactly what was happening.

"Gregory." Mycroft swallowed. Christ, he was nervous. "I know that it's a bit old fashioned, but when your parents were here, I asked for their permission to do this. I am so deeply in love with you that I want to be bound to you in every possible way I can. Whether that's legally, physically, or any other way, I want to be attached to you for the rest of our days." Mycroft drew in a deep breath. Greg realized how ridiculous they must look, the two of them covered in dirt from sitting down on the ground, Mycroft with it in streaks running down his cheeks – how had he managed to get it on his face? – and with tears still on his face from just a moment before, and him looking completely dumbstruck and forgetting how to breathe. "Marry me. Gregory, please, I will be the happiest man in the world if you would say yes and marry me."

Greg stood there breathless for another half of a second (although it felt like ten minutes to both of them) before he whispered thickly, "You asked my parents?"

Mycroft nodded. "I know it's a bit… unconventional when there isn't a woman in the relationship, but after your previous marriage I wanted to make sure that your parents approved before I asked."

"God," Greg choked. Fuck, now he was crying and just couldn't stop it. "Of course. Yes, Mycroft, I'll marry you."

Mycroft bowed his head and let out a sigh of relief. He stood up, took Greg's face in both of his hands, and kissed him deeply. When they broke apart, they were breathless and both of them were still trying to stop the tears from running down their faces.

"I love you so much," Greg sighed.

"I love you, as well," Mycroft breathed back. "Oh, I forgot to put the ring on."

"Wait," Greg said, holding his hand out. "Just wait." He got down on one knee. "I've been carrying this around in my wallet waiting for the right time to do this, but I guess you beat me to it. My father gave me this before they left. It was my grandfather's. I want you to wear it, but for now, can we each wear the rings that we got, and then during the ceremony, we'll give each other the ones that we proposed with? Unless you think it's a stupid idea or we should each have two rings."

"No, it's lovely," Mycroft said, pulling Greg up and kissing him again. "It's a wonderful idea." He then slipped the ring that Greg had pulled out onto Greg's ring finger, and Greg did the same with the ring that Mycroft had proposed with.

The two of them stared at each other, smiling goofily.

"We're getting married," Greg said aloud, as if he couldn't believe it.

"Yes," Mycroft smiled. "We're doing this forever."

"Want to change your mind," Greg winked.

"Never," Mycroft replied, kissing Greg deeply once again.

"Thank Christ," Greg said against Mycroft's lips.

They continued to kiss in the graveyard until the sky became dark and the air grew too cold to ignore. They said goodbye to Mycroft's parents with a promise to come and visit them again soon.

They stumbled into Greg's flat late. They had kissed their way into the building, then onto the elevator, down the hall, and somehow they had unlocked the door, made it over the threshold, and relocked the door behind them. They shed clothes in the entry way, in the living room, in the hall, and by the time they were in Greg's bedroom, they were just wearing their pants and socks. They fell messily onto the bed and Greg straddled Mycroft, grinding their hips together and turning his attention to Mycroft's neck and he threw back his head and moaned at the contact.

"I love you so much," Greg groaned. "You are mine, Mycroft Holmes. Never anyone else's again. Just you and me for the rest of our lives."

"Gregory," Mycroft panted, moaning as Greg continued to thrust their crotches together and began violently sucking on a nipple. "Gregory, there was never anyone else. There had only been you, my love. Only you."

Greg stopped his assault on Mycroft's body and stared at him. He felt as if Mycroft was peering into the very core of him and lunged up to gently pull on his lip and continue his work on Mycroft's lips.

"There has never been anyone else like you, love. Nobody. You own every bit of me and God help me I wouldn't have it any other way," Greg moaned into his fiancé's mouth. They kissed messily, with hands grabbing and rubbing wherever they possibly could until Greg pulled back again and panted, "I won't last much longer if we keep going like this. I need for you to fuck me now."

Mycroft's pupils blew impossibly wider at that point. "Are you sure? You wouldn't rather me be receiving tonight?"

"Only if you absolutely don't want to be on top, but tonight I would dearly love to mount you so you can see in my face just how much I adore you."

Mycroft swallowed and said, "If you insist." He reached over to the bedside table where there was always a bottle of lube waiting for them. He smeared it on two of his fingers and proceeded to bury them inside of Greg, who was still looser than normal from the night before. Greg moaned at the intrusion and ground his hips down, trying desperately to somehow sheath Mycroft's fingers deeper inside of him.

"Patience, love," Mycroft managed to get out. "I'll take care of you."

"I know you will," Greg sighed blissfully. "For the rest of our days."

Mycroft smiled and slipped a third finger in relatively easily and watched in amazement as Greg continued to bounce up and down, fucking himself on Mycroft's fingers.

With one thrust up, Mycroft wriggled his fingers out from Greg's pucker and slicked his cock up. Impatient to have some part of Mycroft back inside of him, Greg gently seized his cock at the base and eased himself onto it, lifting himself up after he hit a point where he couldn't take Mycroft as easily. Soon, Mycroft was buried inside of him, and Greg was making small circular movements around his cock. He leaned back, bracing his hands on Mycroft's thighs and enjoying the sparks of pleasure tingling up his spine from this new position. Mycroft, for the moment, laid back and enjoyed the sight of his fiancé pleasuring himself on his cock.

After a few minutes of this, Mycroft bent his legs so Greg's back was braced by his thighs and his hips were cradled in Mycroft's. Mycroft then hauled his torso up and scooted them back so he was sitting against the headboard and could properly admire Greg from up close. He gripped Greg's lower back tightly, changing the trajectory that his cock was entering Greg's body at. Greg leaned forward and grabbed the headboard, using the leverage to allow for deeper thrusts into him, crying out as Mycroft brushed his prostate frequently.

Dropping one hand from the headboard, Greg cradled Mycroft's cheek and leaned down for a kiss that was really more of a lick where they kept both of their mouths open because they were panting so hard. Greg was doing his best to squeeze Mycroft every time he bottomed out inside of him, and Mycroft was moaning loud enough that if Greg hadn't been so caught up and moaning just as loudly he would be worried that his neighbors would hear them.

"I need to be touched," Greg managed to sob out. "Please, Mycroft, please."

Mycroft released one side of his back and began to rapidly stroke Greg's now purple cock. Greg kept his hand on Mycroft's face and wiped away stray beads of sweat and tears of pleasure. They continued to kiss messily until Greg began to stutter and Mycroft pulled his head back a bit, never detaching Greg's hand from his cheek.

"Let go, love," he whispered, lowering his hand a bit and squeezing, never separating the other one from Greg's cock. Greg let out a filthy moan and came. Long, hot ropes of semen shot onto his chest, his chin, and Mycroft's stomach and hand. The clenching sensation around Mycroft's cock was too much for him, and within a few seconds of Greg's orgasm, he was tumbling into pleasure, crying at the ceiling until his world faded to black.

It took both of them about ten minutes to come back to themselves. Greg was still on top of Mycroft, although he had softened enough that he had slipped out without either of them noticing.

"Mycroft," Greg panted, his throat sore from all of the moaning he had been doing.

"Mmmmmm," Mycroft managed. He didn't seem quite capable of speech yet.

"God, you're incredible," Greg whispered, kissing Mycroft's forehead. Mycroft leaned into the kiss, his eyes still closed and his muscles looser than normal.

Greg, too sated to move too far, reached onto the far end of the headboard and grabbed his pants (how had they ended up there?) and gently tidied both of them up. He even managed to take care of the semen that had dripped out of him and back onto Mycroft's cock as soon as Mycroft had slipped out. He then rolled off of Mycroft, not wanting to crush him or make his legs fall asleep. He didn't go far, just resting his head on Mycroft's ribcage and loving the feeling of Mycroft's hand making light, lazy circles on his bicep.

"Gregory," Mycroft slurred.

"Yes, pet," Greg murmured.

"I think I rather enjoy sex as an engaged man, even more so than before."

Greg chuckled. "I'm happy for you, darling."

They were silent for a few moments, until Mycroft sighed, "How do you feel about City Hall for the wedding? Nice and quiet."

Greg tilted his head up at him. "I thought you would want the excuse to show people at work who is important enough to come and who you don't deem important enough to come."

"City Hall is the perfect opportunity for that, Gregory, because none of them are important enough to come to our wedding. I'm thinking your parents, your children, Michelle and possibly her boyfriend, if you feel so inclined, Sherlock, John, Mrs. Hudson, Anthea, and of course, the two of us."

"That is my ideal guest list, love," Greg sighed. "You pick a date, and I'll get everyone there. I do have one issue with that plan, though."

"What is it?" Mycroft asked.

"I think we should have it in the graveyard. It's a special place. It's where we got engaged, but that way your parents will be there as well."

Mycroft was silent for a moment, and his hand stilled. Greg felt a tear drop onto his head.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, scrambling up to embrace Mycroft.

"Thank you," Mycroft swallowed thickly. "That is perfect."

Greg proceeded to kiss Mycroft's tears away, and the two of them fell into a blissed out, post-coital sleep wrapped in each other's arms.

A/N: I just got so antsy waiting to put this chapter up because I really wanted y'all to read it and I'm really proud of that sex scene. Usually when I'm writing it takes me *weeks* to get through a scene like that, but I cranked this entire thing out yesterday afternoon and wrote the smut without a second thought. Hooray for making progress as a writer! Now I can shock my professors next semester when I finish my creative writing minor.

I feel like I've caused Mycroft too much pain in this series because he just keeps crying. Poor dove. Don't worry, I've outlined some angst on Greg's part a bit later on.

As always, reviews, favorites, and general love are greatly appreciated! xoxoxo