So, yes, technically this is my first fic. But, this is also like my seventeenth version of this, so that's gotta count for something too, right? There are many amazing stories out there about these characters, so I hope I got it right.

I got the idea for this from a song, in which the artist captures like the growing up of his daughter in Sunday mornings. If that makes sense. It's a Dutch song titled Dochters and by Marco Borsato. In this story Bobbi and Hunter don't have kids, but there are Sunday mornings.

I do own this piece of gum but that absolutely not these characters. I hope you'll enjoy it.

o0o

The buzzing of her phone is what wakes up Barbara Morse, it is Sunday morning at approximately seven am. She wiggles in an attempt to break herself free from the man cuddling her, because well fuck this was a mistake. This should've never happened. One glance at her phone makes it quite clear that she's not the only one who agrees with her about bad decisions being made the night before. She slides out of the bed and starts assembling her clothes-completely disregarding the man in the bed.

"What are you up too, love?" he asks, his voice laced with sleep; it startles her and suddenly makes her very aware about how naked she is.

She replies with some vague excuse about overstaying her welcome, and she silently curses herself for her clumsiness. Who's the superspy now? This is just pathetic.

"You have syphilis or something?" the man speaks up again.

Bobbi is taken by surprise by this question, and also slightly offended. "What? No! Why would you even say that?" she questions.

The man takes his time, sitting up against the headboard. In that moment Bobbi decides she hates it when her targets are attractive, dirty old men aren't everything either but this makes it harder to focus. This was embarrassing, nothing makes mockingbird lose focus. She bites her lip, a nervous habit, she's acting like some hormone controlled teenager with a stupid crush- "Married then?" the British voice interrupted her train of thoughts.

She raises one eyebrow at him. That accent too, she never knew British accents were a thing for her but damn was it sexy. "This whole walk of shame thing you've got going has to have a reason right," he continues. "Since last night was awesome, and my handsome features haven't disappeared overnight, at least let me get you a decent breakfast before you run off."

Bobbi opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it again because she had absolutely no response to that. It rarely ever, correction: never, happened that a guy messed up her mind so bad. Barbara Morse was never left speechless. An annoying smirk appeared on the Brit's face -Lance Hunter, mercenary, target, source, she corrected herself in her head- and Bobbi couldn't decide whether she wanted to kiss, or slap that stupid smirk off his face.

Apparently he took her silence as an agreement, as Lance got up –how was he wearing underwear while she was so naked- and kissed her on the cheek while making his way to the kitchen. "That's what I thought, love. And as much as I like ogling you, put on a shirt or something please." And there she was, dumbfounded in this stranger's bedroom. Okay, so he wasn't really a stranger since she read some long and boring file on him, but you get the idea. She weighed her options, last night when they came in here she already noted twelve exits and only four of them would include taking him out, temporarily of course. On the other hand, the harm was done now anyway so why not enjoy it a little longer.

ooo

"Do you ever sleep in," Hunter mumbles, his low voice tickling in her neck. Hunter glances at the clock, 7.15 am, and he groans.

Bobbi allows him to pull her back to bed and can't help the smile taking over her face. "It's the job," she whispers back. "And a waste of my time." She doesn't really mean that last sentence, because honestly, she can't think of a better way to spend her Sunday mornings right now than snuggled up with Lance Hunter.

"Sure," Hunter says, smirking and he placed sloppy kisses in her neck.

"What are you doing to me, Lance," Bobbi sighs. She's had been asking herself this question way too much for the past weeks, and she didn't really mean to say it out loud but she also didn't really care.

"I'm teaching you how to sleep in," he whispers in response as he snuggled closer to her.

Barbara Morse wakes up three hours later to the smell of bacon and eight missed calls from her work. And surprisingly, for a second her priorities are in that order. So she put on one of his shirts lying around and follows her nose, but not before quickly checking in with S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Your other boyfriend really wants to know where you're at," Lance informs her casually as she hugs him from behind and whispers a good morning in his ear.

"My other boyfriend? So you see yourself as one of my boyfriends too then?" she asks jokingly. She doesn't expect him to turn around with such a serious face. But that's what he does, take her by surprise. All the time.

"Am I?" he asks.

Bobbi bumps her fist into his chest, only softly. "What are we, fifteen?" she questions, rhetorically before actually answering his question. "Yes, you are." She initiates the kiss, which tastes like bacon, he must have eaten some without her. Bobbi is sure she gets the same feeling in the pit of her stomach when she jumps out of a plane. When did she become such a sap.

ooo

It isn't even seven in the morning on a Sunday morning, a few months after Hunter and Bobbi had met, when he wonders if giving Bobbi a key to his place wasn't one of his better ideas. When will she learn Sunday mornings are for sleeping? He almost groans when he hears his front door almost slammed shut, erupting a loud bang in the early morning. Just as he opened his mouth to call out and tell her to be careful with his door, he heard glass shattering. He sat up quickly, ready to investigate when she stumbles into his room-confirming his suspicions that it is Bob.

She's wearing some kind of black skin-tight suit and he can't help but admire how amazing she looks in it. He silently wishes she would stand there a little bit longer but instead she drops on his bed face first. Well her back isn't that bad of a view either.

"Good morning, love," he speaks first and grins when he notices a smile making its way onto her face from the side view. As he slips his arm around her waist he notices something completely different. "Shit, Bob! Are you bleeding?" he questions-the flirty tone completely gone-pressing his hand gently to her side and sitting himself up completely.

Instead of replying to his question, Bobbi pulls him down to properly kiss him. "Good morning to you too," she mumbles as she pulls away and turns onto her side, leaving a suspiciously large streak of red on his covers. Lifting her hands she takes ahold of his face, looks straight into his eyes and pouts, "can't we just make out?"

"If that's your last dying wish, of course we can," he sarcastically replies, and receives a weak punch to the chest.

"It's not even my blood," Bobbi defends. However, when he is un-zipping open her suit, she adds,"I think."

He grins at her attempt to not be wrong and to his credit doesn't mention the bruises which have already began showing, "You probably should've gone to the hospital instead of coming my place."

Bobbi rolls over so she's lying on her back instead. "I came here because your hands are so much softer," Bobbi mumbles in a way that makes Hunter suspect she already got her hands on some strong painkillers before she arrived here.

"If that's the case, don't move; I'll go grab my first aid kit."

When he gets back Bobbi had removed her tactical suit which showed all the bruises and injuries over her body. It would be nice if it was someone else's blood, but that was not the case. He tries his best to clean and wrap her wounds in bandages, any professional doctor would probably get a headache if they saw his messy work. But it was okay, because it worked.

"Did you skip first aid classes?"

Hunter couldn't help but grin as he throws the bloodied covers onto the floor and pulls the clean covers from the cupboard over them both, it is not even eight yet so they might as well get some sleep.

"Your soft hands make up for it though."

"And here I was, thinking it was my kissing," he replies playfully before giving her a little demonstration.

ooo

Bobbi's first thoughts, when she feels something scraping against her feet, was 'have I been abducted?' and 'will they torture me for information?'. It was then that she heard the giggles which accompanied the scraping against her feet and remembered where she was. It took her another second to wake up enough to confirm that she was indeed not tied down; she was being held down by her husband's arm. She was lying on her back with Hunter supposively asleep next to her, his face is hidden in the pillow his arm resting around her waist. Both their feet were exposed to the cold morning air, due to the little devils Hunter's sister called children. Apparently he had noticed it too and was awake, as he grunted and snuggled closer to her. Bobbi tilted her head slightly to glance at the clock, 7.16 am. Wonderful.

Down by their feet the little devils must have realised that tickling their feet wasn't getting their desired response from their aunt and uncle. Bobbi let out a relieved sigh and pressed a kiss to her husband's shoulder as she heard the retreating little feet.

"Brace yourself," he grumbled in his pillow. Just when Bobbi was about to ask for what, she heard the little feet approaching their bed again at a very fast pace. Hunter pulled his wife closer, lying half on top of her, in a protective way. Bobbi smiled, she was convinced that in any other situation she would be the one protecting him. But in his defence, it was sweet. Bobbi wasn't yet sure what the protection was for until the first kid landed on their bed. And then the second, quickly followed by the third.

The three young children jumped up and down the bed, and them, all the while excitedly chanting; "Wake up! Wake up! It's Christmas morning, you have to wake up!"

"I'm sorry I dragged you here, we might not make it out alive," Hunter mumbles in her ear, accompanied with a kiss before he pushes himself up, slightly turns and grabs the youngest by her ankles. "What do you think you're doing?" he asks.

The girl squeals and kicks around to get away, screaming for her brothers help. Bobbi grins and protects her head with her arms. The little girl gets away when Lance grabs one of the boys. As the girl tries to get away from uncle Lance, Bobbi tickles her sides. She's sitting up now too, her back resting against the headboard. She has a much better view on her husband torturing the little brats like this. As the girl squirms away and tries to tickle back, Bobbi let's herself savour the moment. This domestic bliss is not for them, but that doesn't mean she can't enjoy it for as long as it lasts. For just a moment to imagine they're just a husband and a wife with nine to five jobs and a cute house with a white picket fence-

"Bobbi! We gotta go open the presents," the girl breaks Bobbi away from her daydreams, tugging on her arm. Hunter is already by the door, two boys hanging from his arms.

She gets up and lifts the girl in the air, she can't let Hunter be the more fun one. "Let's open some presents, then."

ooo

Hunter pulls up into the driveway and walks up the porch normally. He unlocks and opens the front door, letting it close a little too loudly for this time in the morning-but he's tired. He stumbles as he walked through the living room and halts outside of their bedroom door, taking a breath as he wasn't entirely sure whether or not she would be angry at him. With one hand pushing the bedroom door open and the other resting on the wall he pokes his head in-mainly to make sure she wasn't holding a gun. When she's not holding one and looking at him, his signature smug smile makes its way onto his face as he enters the room fully, "Sorry, Love. Did I wake you?" he asked as he strips off and throws his clothes into one neat-ish pile.

She glares at him, but doesn't respond.

"You didn't have to wait up for me," Hunter adds as he leans down and kisses his wife on the cheek.

She pulls him close and kisses him properly, "You asshole, it's been nearly twelve hours," Bobbi says, unable to let this slide and sitting up. "I thought you were dead in a gutter somewhere, Lance."

He doesn't dare grin, or mention that he still arrived at seven, just am instead of pm. Is this a good time to point out she has done this to him plenty of times? For now he pulls her back down and whispers in her hair how sorry he is and explains. He simply doesn't think it's worth it to add bitterly that she does these things without explanation, because it's classified.

They yell about it after a well deserved sleep in. Where they accuse each other of everything and more. It's sad really, that this all started with just worrying about the other's well being, something they're never really sure of ever.

ooo

Her first missionless Sunday morning alone, Bobbi gets up at seven. She makes herself breakfast, never bacon anymore; bacon reminds her of him. So maybe their divorce was healthy in more than one ways. She starts the day with a good run and a long shower before finally unpacking the last of her things. It's not much but she needs something on her hands and it hits her how a piece of paper can change Sunday's from a day that could never last long enough to a day that never seems to end.

It's not like she can't live her life without a man, she was made for this. Alone. Or rather, independent. On any other she has no problem with this, but Sunday's are for sleeping in. Sunday's are for Hunter. Were.

o0o

I'm all for feedback, constructive criticism, reviews and PMs.