So this brilliant idea came to me at the urging of various beautiful art pieces by various beautiful artists. I have attempted, and unfortunately failed, and other long fics, but, obviously, none have come out this successful. I'm not sure how long this will be or the specifics of what will occur, but I'm excited and optimistic! If you have any suggestions, please share them. And without further ado, to the story!

"Alty! Clay's hitting me!" Desmond squealed. The four year old ran into Altaïr's room and promptly hopped onto the occupied bed in an attempt to escape the abusive blonde that followed.

"I am not!" Clay defended himself even as he hit his younger brother on the head with a plastic sword. Even though Clay was only one year older than the brunette, he was often the terrorizer of the little kid.

Desmond fell back, tripping over an arm hidden beneath blankets, and landed on Altaïr, who had still been attempting to sleep through the racket. He gave a loud growl when the brunette's heavy force hit his gut and shot up, casting the bickering boys a glare. The children squeaked and quickly ran from the room, smart enough to know not to mess with Altaïr when he was in that mood.

The abandoned nineteen year old groaned and rubbed his tired eyes. Couldn't they just let him sleep until his alarm went off once? He grumbled incoherently and grabbed the clock on the bedside table, squinting at it for the time.

6:25

Shit.

"Shit!" He was going to be late! Altaïr jumped out of bed and ran from his room, wearing nothing but the t-shirt and boxers he slept in, and headed straight for the door across the hall. He didn't even bother knocking before barging in and flicking on the light, shedding illumination on the two sleeping forms that occupied one of the two bunk beds of the room.

"Get up, boys, gotta get to school!" he called briefly, before flying off down the hall. Who the hell's idea was it to let him sleep in?

The brunette zipped around the kitchen, working on preparing breakfast for the boys before it was time for school and work. He grabbed the various ingredients for making pancakes, one of the many meals he had been forced to learn over the past few months. As he cooked, Altair dreaded going to work. His boss, a man taller than even himself with a long white beard and seemed a thousand years old, was stern and cruel and certainly wouldn't be very considerate of Altair's tardiness. Altair was very certain that the man hated him.

"Can I help?" a voice inquired, followed by a tug on Altaïr sleeve. Altaïr looked down and found Connor at his elbow, staring up at him with those big brown eyes of his.

"Sure, get a stool." Altaïr motioned to the yellow plastic footstool by the pantry door.

Connor quickly retrieved the step stool and positioned it in front of Altaïr where he was making pancakes at the stove. The older gave the younger the flipper and showed him how to toss the pancakes. Connor stuck out his tongue in concentration as he worked to not dump the soft cakes out of the pan.

By now Connor was only nine years old but already seemed more mature than Ezio who was two years older than him. The young boy was brave and meticulous, acting more adult like than even Altair at times, but never forgot his childish side. Connor has always been a momma's boy, sticking close to their mother's side.

Altair sighed at the thought of their mom. It had been seven months since he'd seen her face. Seven months since the accident.

Quickly, the memory was shunted to the back of his mind. He never liked to dwell on bad thoughts.

"Oh, Ezio," Altaïr called to the boy just passing by. "Breakfast is almost ready, get some plates and set the table." he instructed.

"Okay." Ezio went off to do as asked. He grabbed a stack of plates and headed for the table.

Before he arrived Clay swept under his feet and snatched up the plate on top.

"I'm helping!" he declared with a grin.

Ezio laughed and smiled down at the short boy. "Careful, you rascal, don't drop it."

"I won't, I won't." he promised, carefully balancing it on his head between his hands.

"I wanna help!" Desmond cried, feeling left out of the fun.

Altaïr grabbed the little boy by the waist and hoisted him up onto the counter, resting him between the stack of already cooked pancakes and the batter bowl.

"Don't knock anything over." he told Desmond, before returning to his post by Connor, guiding the youngster in flipping properly.

Of course it didn't take long before there was a sound of disgust from Ezio.

"Ew, gross!" Ezio exclaimed angrily.

Desmond had dipped his hand in the batter and was smearing it in Ezio's hair when the eleven year old had gotten too close.

"Desmond, get your hands out of there!" Altaïr scolded.

He hooked Desmond around the stomach, holding him so his torso faced the ground, and carried him to the sink. Desmond just hung limply laughing at the, to him, upside down kitchen. Altaïr held his up to the sink and rinsed off his hands then dried them, before letting the little devil free again. As soon as he hit the ground, Desmond scurried off, no doubt to go get into something else.

"Altaïr, the pancakes are done." Connor called as he flipped the last one onto the stack.

"Breakfast time!" Altaïr announced. He scooped up the plate of pancakes in one hand and the syrup in the other and carried them to the table. It took another trip to the kitchen to retrieve the various toppings for the breakfast. It had become tradition in the Ibn-La'Ahad household to have personalized pancakes so the topping ranged greatly.

"Alright, what do you guys want on your pancakes?" he asked around.

"Ooh! Ooh! Chocolate!" Desmond begged, his hand shooting up high and his eyes widening at the prospect of sugar. The child's entire torso was draped across the table as he leaned eagerly forward, his feet kicking in the air.

"I want chocolate too!" Clay agreed. He sat on his folded legs and planted his palms firmly down on the table. "And butter! So much butter!" He let out a sort of maniacal giggle.

"Can I have meat?" Connor piped up, the only child sitting still in his seat.

"I want peanut butter too." Desmond added, interrupting Ezio who was about to speak.

"I want bananas and caramel and pecans." Ezio said, his eyes wide and excited for the delicious meal, a half smile playing on his lips.

Altaïr set to work assembling the desired pancakes and dishing them out. It didn't take long for the littlest two to make a mess, mashing up and spreading their food around before finally eating it. Altaïr groaned at the thought of cleaning the sticky materiel off them before they had to go to preschool.

When breakfast was over Altaïr cleaned them up the table and the boys and the readied them for preschool, which was really just so Altaïr didn't have to worry about them while he was at work. He scrubbed the sticky syrup from Clay's and Desmond's skin, regretting now making pancakes. Next he had to coerce the two vibrating demons into suitable clothes to leave the house in, wrestling them to stay still long enough.

"Okay! Everyone, out to the car!" he ordered once all the boys were ready for their respective schools.

The boys obeyed and filed out to the silver-blue minivan that Altair had recently inherited. Connor and Ezio climbed into their seats without much of a fuss, but the youngest had to be forced into their booster seats and strapped in manually by Altair. When that was done, he got into the driver's seat and headed off. He could tell already that this day would be just as tiring as all the others.