Disclaimer: All publicly regonizable characters and settings are property of their lawful owners. I am only borrowing these characters for entertainment purposes and they will be returned unharmed. No profit will be made with this piece of fiction.

Rating: T to be on the safe side

Spoilers: In the Line of Duty (S02E02) & Frozen (S06E04) if we're being accurate.

Summary: Two kids and a golden retriever. On paper their family is as normal as they come. A Saturday morning in the O'Neill residence, full of memories, humor and pancakes. Family fluffiness. S/J established relationship.

A/N: I always end up writing one shots when I'm in the middle of plotting or writing a longer story. I wanted to write something light and fluffy. This one is bit flooded with details because once I got the basic setting figured out, I just kept getting these random little facts about this little family.

Warning! Things I know nothing or very little about:
- Dogs
- Lasers
- American pancakes
- The effects of naquadah in a human's bloodstream
- If there are rules about how to write what someone signs in ASL. I only know Finnish sign language and there the word order is different from spoken language. In this case I just wrote how it would roughly translate to English. Yes, I'm obsessed with details. I know it.

(I'm sure you're thinking "What the hell did I just click myself into" right now. Maybe I should just start using these warning lists instead of summaries. Lot more interesting.)

Oh, English is still not my first language and I apologize for any and all mistakes you will find in this piece of writing.

I'm dedicating this one to Laura because the reason why this story is finished and not sitting in my "unfinished" folder is that she's busy with exams and I wanted to cheer her up with a fic.

Of Pancakes and Quiet Mornings

I wake up when Gracie climbs on the bed and straddles my waist. I open one eye first and my little girl grins at me when she notices. Then I open the other one and glance at the clock on the nightstand. Seven minutes past six on a Saturday morning. I sure wish I could have slept later but it's not as bad as it could be.

Grace gives me an elastic and pulls her hair back to indicate she wants me to braid her hair.

Pretty, she signs.

French braid? I ask, signing as well, and the girl nods.

Let's go to the living room, I sign and she gets on the floor so I can slip from underneath the covers. I glance at Jack who's still fast asleep, drooling on his pillow.

"Couldn't sleep?" I ask Grace when we're walking down the hallway.

"Jake is loud," she sighs and I chuckle.

Jake was born deaf and although he can't really talk in his sleep, he sometimes makes noises when he dreams. If it happens in the middle of the night, Grace often wakes him up and orders him to shut up. She's come up with her own sign just for that purpose, a sign they both refuse to show us so I can only imagine what it could be like. She's learned, though, that if she wakes up after six, it's useless to go back to sleep so usually she just gets up and comes up with something to do until the rest of the house wakes up.

We have enough bedrooms in the house that they could both have their own but they want to share. I know it won't last forever but it's kinda nice to see that they get along so well for now. They build wicked blanket fortresses in their room and sometimes sleep in them for days.

There was one time when they managed to rope Jack into one of their projects and the end result was a gigantic blanket fortress that covered most of the living room and even part of the kitchen, using the kitchen table as a "second floor" where Gracie got to sleep. We all slept in the fortress for the whole week between Christmas and New Year and watched movies and read books.

I love observing Grace and Jake when they're watching a cartoon. Grace often translates to Jake what's being said, at least the really funny parts, but most of the time he seems content just watching the events and silly-looking characters.

If Jake's parents were any other two people on this planet, he would probably have a cochlear implant already but the naquadah he inherited from both of us doesn't work well with sensitive electronical devices like that. I'm working on finding a way around it but it doesn't seem likely at the moment. And even if I could create the device, I'm not sure if we could find a doctor who's familiar with the procedure and has the needed clearance.

Gracie is practically fluent in sign language. Jack and I are pretty good as well but Grace is a natural. It's probably because she started learning it so early on that in a way it is her first language as much as English is. She's taught it to her friends, too, because it's very handy when they want to share secrets. Apparently five-year-old girls have a lot of secrets.

I make Grace sit on the floor in front of the couch and grab the brush from the table. There was an era when all my belongings were in alphabetical order but those days are far gone now and the hairbrush permanently lives on the coffee table. So do a dozen other things, including toys and books. But since they're always there, it kinda counts as organized, right? As long as I know where everything is, it can't be referred as chaos, no matter what it looks like. That's what I keep telling myself in those rare moments when I stop to think about it.

After Jack and I moved together, I still had the energy to complain about his habit of leaving dirty socks everywhere and putting the empty cartons of milk back in the fridge. After Grace was born, I gave up with the nagging but still got sudden burst of energy that forced me to clean up the whole place every few weeks or so.

But after Jake? God, no. Especially after we got a puppy when Jake was six months old, a golden retriever who got named Ray by Gracie because the dog's fur looked like a ray of sun to her. A two-year-old, a deaf baby and a puppy, plus a husband who seems to be stuck in the mental age of eight made it sure I didn't have time to worry about such trivial things as cleaning up the house.

I take my time brushing Grace's hair because I know she likes it when I do that. And often she returns the favor and brushes my hair once I'm done with hers. Mornings are our time, girltime, before the boys get up and start causing trouble.

Grace inherited Jack's brown hair and my blue eyes, a combination that will no doubt mean trouble later on when Jack has to scare away the possible boyfriends. She's a witty little girl, wise beyond her years and very protective of her little brother.

One reason for getting Ray was that he would keep an eye on Jake, in a way. We've taught him a couple of tricks that might come in handy in case of emergency. For example, if the fire alarm goes off, Ray will go wake up Jake and bring him to us or if he can't find us, he opens the door and gets him to the backyard.

There was one incident with cookies that I forgot in the over for fifteen minutes too long and the end result was that Ray carried Jake to the kitchen, his teeth having a firm grip on his diaper. He lowered the baby in front of me and looked at me with an expression that reminded me of Teal'c so badly that I actually laughed out loud. "The young one refused to co-operate," it seemed to say and I could almost imagine the dog raising an eyebrow. Jake didn't even cry, barely stared at me with a confused look on his face.

"Can we go to the park today?" Grace asks when I start braiding her hair. She speaks softly, a little louder than whisper, and I know she would be signing to me if we were face to face. When we're all together, we often slip to sign language only but we try to encourage Grace to speak when Jake is not in the room.

"Sure we can," I reply and Grace nods a little.

Our household is oddly quiet compared to a lot of families with two young children. I've noticed Gracie prefers the silence and often gets uncomfortable in loud rooms. I hope that won't cause too much trouble when she starts school in four months. She once confessed that if she could, she would want to be deaf like her brother so he wouldn't be alone. But I reminded her that then she couldn't translate things to him and that Jake is not alone just because he can't hear.

Once I finish the braid and secure it with the bright pink elastic, Grace makes us change places. She pulls off the elastic that holds my sleeping-braid in place and carefully untangles the strands before she starts to brush my hair. I know my hair will puff out and look absolutely ridiculous but I don't care how much Jack will laugh at me because if Grace wants to brush my hair, I'll let her brush my hair. I'm going to take a shower before we leave for the park anyway.

We rarely speak during these morning moments we share. Grace often gets up early but that doesn't mean she's a morning person any more than I am. If she was an adult or even a teenager, we would probably sit at the kitchen table, both nursing a cup of coffee and looking grumpy. But usually we do something nice together, in companionable silence. If it's not the hair, we're probably cooking breakfast.

Gracie has a liking for weird flavors so we've ended up testing about every possible combination of things you can throw into a pancake batter. Her current favorite is anise which is acceptable compared to oregano or the orange-ham combination that held the first place for the last three months. Jack refuses to eat the anise pancakes, though. He says it brings back memories of over-friendly snakeheads.

I let Grace brush my hair and let my thoughts wander. I snap back to reality when I hear a strange sound coming our way. When I recognize the sound of Ray's paws, I decide I probably don't need to worry about the rest of the odd mixture of noises.

I open my eyes just in time to see Ray and Jake emerge from behind the armchair. Jake is sitting on his plastic car that's supposed to move by kicking but since he's a lazy little man with a creative big sister, there's a rope attached to the car and Ray is pulling him.

Jake keeps trying to rub the sleep from his eyes, still looking half asleep. Ray stops and looks at me like he's asking for instructions.

"Come here," I say and gesture him too come closer. I give the dog a good scratch when he's close enough. He drops the rope, jumps on the couch and curls next to Grace, his head on her lap. I swear, if us girls weren't here to look after them, the male population of this house would just sleep 24 hours a day. Jake climbs off his car and slowly walks to me, still rubbing his eyes and yawning.

Morning, I sign to him and he replies with a wet kiss on my cheek before he snuggles against my chest.

Grace keeps brushing my hair and I stroke Jake's head, trying to tame the wild blond hair that points in all directions but it's an impossible mission. His hair got its color from me but the texture is all Jack, as is a big part of his personality.

"Guess it's my turn to make breakfast," the man in question says in a way of greeting when he makes his way to the living room.

He's only wearing his pajama pants, his bare feet making soft sounds on the hardwood floor. I let my eyes wander from his face down his bare chest and the gray hairs that cover it. I wiggle my eyebrows and he raises his, silently asking if he should go put a shirt on. I shake my head and he shrugs before he makes his way to us.

"Chocolate pancakes?" Jack asks, signing at the same time.

"Cinnamon?" Grace suggests.

"Cinnamon pancakes?" Jack asks, still signing at the same time, and looks thoughtful for a moment. "I guess that would be acceptable. Jake? You OK with that?"

I can't see his hands because he's sitting on my lap but I know he's signing something.

Jack chuckles and I raise my eyebrows again, asking for explanation. "He thinks pancakes are always good. Except with the green stuff."

I adjust the boy on my lap so that I can see what he's signing.

Which green stuff? Jack signs and then laughs out loud when the boy replies All of them.

Then Jake looks very thoughtful for a moment before he elaborates: Except gummy bears.

Right... The tale of gummy bear pancakes. The kids were excited but I found the texture very disturbing. And the sight was even more disgusting. Half melted gummy bears sticking in the pancakes, like they were drowning in the batter and calling for help. I don't know why it disturbed me as much as it did.

"No gummy bears today," Jack replies. "Anybody want to help me?"

Did you go to potty? I sign to Jake and he shakes his head.

"Gracie?" Jack asks and the girl jumps from the couch and walks to her Dad. I take the hair brush from where if fell between the sofa pillows and return it on the coffee table next to the Finding Nemo DVD and the Rubik's cube. For a brief moment I consider buying a woven basket on the coffee table where we could gather all the things but in the end I just can't be bothered.

Jack lets Ray out to the backyard while I take Jake to the potty. I decide not to bother with his clothes just yet because it's weekend and the rest of us are in our pajamas as well.

Say stop, Grace signs to Jake before she starts sprinkling icing sugar on top of his pancakes. Jake just sits there and stares at the process and the sugar keeps piling up. Grace slows down and looks at Jake who signs her to keep going. Grace glances at us and Jake gives us an adorable little grin that makes it pretty obvious he knows he's doing something he shouldn't but he wants to see if he can get away with it.

"They're his pancakes," Jack says with a shrug and Gracie keeps going until the pile of icing sugar is as high as a pancake. Then I order her to stop. Jake looks a little disappointed but lights up again when I start to cut his breakfast in pieces and he realizes how much sugar there really is.

Spoon? he signs and I chuckle. It is weekend after all, I decide and reach out to get him a spoon so he can scoop up all the sugar once he's done with the pancakes. He even licks the plate afterward and plants a sticky kiss on his sister's cheek, thanking her for the best pancakes ever, before he runs to the bathroom to wash his hands.

We lounge in the living room, just being lazy and doing nothing in particular. We decided to go to the park after lunch and take some snacks with us so we can stay there a little longer. Jack is sitting on the couch and I'm lying down, my head on his thigh. Gracie is trying to read a book to Jake. She's five years and four months but she's already reading better than most second graders, or at least that's what we've been told.

She's come up with a system for when she reads to Jake. The book is on the floor between them so that they can both look at the pictures and still see each other as well. Gracie keeps her eyes on the book all the time and her hands keep signing like they had a life of their own.

Grace uses her toes to turn the pages so she doesn't need to lower her hands. It took a while before she learned how to do that without getting paper cuts between her toes. Based on the decibel level, those are the most painful injuries ever. I grimace a little just remembering that.

We used to play with the idea of getting a third child but when I remember Gracie's cries over a papercut, I have to agree that I couldn't handle the constant crying of a baby and the midnight feedings anymore. I know it was the right call in the long run but sometimes I find myself a little sad because of the child we never got.

"Our family is perfect," Jack whispers and once again I wonder if we came across an alien device that gave him the ability to read my mind but he never reported the incident. He always denies my accusation but I'm still not fully convinced.

I whip up a nice little mental image of Teal'c dancing macarena in a turquoise bikini and a lei, but Jack doesn't grimace or acknowledge the thought in any way so I once again decide that I'm probably just imagining this telepathic link between us.

"Yes, it is," I agree.

"Those two are such a tight knit unit that a third one would be an outsider," Jack says and I know that's true. "Besides, I don't think I could go through another one of those 27-hour labors."

"You couldn't?" I ask.

"Well yeah. I mean... I think the fact that those two are here proves that you're a lot tougher than me. My hand, however..."

I roll my eyes at him. Yes, I broke his thumb when I was giving birth to Gracie because I squeezed his hand too hard and at a weird angle. That was five years ago and he still keeps reminding me of it. He's never mentioned all the nasty names I called him, though, and the cuss words I screamed at him in at least four different languages or how I threatened to cut his manly parts in a millimeter thick slices with a laser and feed them to him so he'd never stick his penis in me again.

I remember making very scientifically accurate points about why laser would be better than a regular knife, mostly because laser minimizes the bleeding so he wouldn't bleed to death and he might even stay conscious through the whole operation. The midwife fainted at that point and Jack had to catch Gracie when she was finally born, after 27 hours of labor.

"I don't think our marriage could take another one of those labors, either," I admit because I really do feel bad about all the things I said to him, even though I know he's forgiven me.

"Nah," Jack dismisses my worry. "Our marriage can survive anything. I think we've proved that by now."

"True," I agree and watch how Gracie once again replaces 'And they lived happily ever after' with a 'And they kissed and had lots of babies'.

At first she did it because she didn't know how to sign the real thing but now it's bit of an inside joke between the two of them. Jake giggles and claps his hands and Gracie closes the book.

Jake climbs on his car again and Ray dutifully takes his place in front of it. He bites on the rope and looks at Jake for instructions.

He signs To infinity and beyond and Gracie giggles before she translates that as "Around the coffee table" to Ray.

"Yep," I agree with a happy sigh. "Just perfect."

A/N: Thank you for reading!

The idea of Ray came from AT6. One charity that benefits from the event is "Hearing Dogs for the Deaf" and we saw a demonstration what the dogs can do. The only thing I could easily adapt to a deaf 3-year-old was waking up the owner in case of fire alarm.

Oh, and the orange & ham pancake idea has its roots in reality because my youngest brother used to eat his breakfast toast with orange marmelade and ham. Yuck!