Rating: T- Soft M for hints of sexy times.

It was the firm, knowing slide of her husband's fingers along her hip that drew her from the heaviness of sleep into the soft light of dawn, his stubble scratching along her shoulder as he hummed a good morning that held as much promise as the press of his hard length against her backside.

"Well, hello there, Captain," she purred, voice rough as she pushed back, desire pooling hot in the very center of her at the feel of him. "What time is it?"

"Early still..."

"Early enough to take care of this?" she teased, rolling her hips, her own sigh echoing the throaty growl he bit into her shoulder.

"Aye, love. We should have just enough time before – "

His words were cut off as the bedroom door leaped inward, knob banging against the wall as two wild mops of hair bobbed into view before circling the bed like sharks – if sharks could clamber up the side of a bed.

"Mama, mama, mama," the little blonde boy with freckles piped, rolling bodily over Emma and plopping heavily into the narrow space between her and Killian, drawing a grunt of discomfort from his father. "I'm hungry. Can we have waffles for breakfast?"

"No, I want pancakes!" whined his counterpart, her dark curls wild and tangled, lips pressed into a stubborn line and green eyes narrowed as she crawled across the top of the pillows and nuzzled her father's head.

"You weren't the only one," Killian grumbled under his breath, but a small smile tugged at his lips as he reached up and tickled the little girl's dimpled chin.

"Killian!" Emma hissed, reaching over their son and pinching him as her cheeks reddened. "Don't say that!"

"What is it you like to say, Swan – over their heads, I believe?"

"Still," she mumbled, rolling beneath the sheets so she could press a kiss to their son's head as he picked at the threads on the comforter and looked between his parents hopefully, "no need to ruin breakfast for them at such a young age..."

Killian hummed in agreement, slowly easing himself from the bed, any amorous intentions he may have had very well squashed by their children's exuberant arrival.

"I suppose you're right, love. I certainly would be a shame if pancakes went the way of tacos."

"Tacos for breakfast?" Liam asked, his brows shooting together before rising quizzically beneath his tousled bangs in the spitting image of his father.

"No, I don't think so, my boy," Killian placated, ruffling his head that so resembled his own, except for the shade, "but we can add chocolate chips to the waffles."

"But I want pancakes, Papa, can you make waffles for Liam and pancakes for me?"

Killian opened his mouth to respond as he pulled on a pair of pajama pants, but Emma beat him to it, well aware of what a complete push over – as she liked to say – he could be when it came time to saying no.

"Hope," Emma warned, tugging on her daughter's dark curls with a soft smile and watching as she scrunched her freckled nose in response, "don't ask your father to make breakfast twice. It's waffles with Dad, or pop-tarts with me, up to you."

"Ew, those are gross. I'll have waffles," she stated. "Are you coming, Mama?"

"Let's allow your mother a few more moments of peace," Killian cut in, reaching across the bed and swinging his daughter into his arms as she squealed loudly, arms and legs flailing against him. "You see, she'll get no such thing with a sea monster like you rolling around."

"I'm not, I'm not!" Hope screamed, giggling between shrieks and pink from her cheeks to the tips of her pointed ears as Killian tickled her. "Mama, help!"

"I'll save you!" Liam yelled, tearing back into the bedroom from wherever he'd disappeared and launching himself against Killian's legs forcefully enough to draw a breathless exclamation from his chest.

"Now that's not a very wise course, lad," Killian pointed out, half carrying, half dragging the both of them into the hallway, "siding with the sea beast over your own father who's promised waffles with chocolate chips..."

Emma buried her grin in the sheets as the ruckus faded, the thump of footsteps sounding down the hallway and stairs. While she and Killian had, admittedly, fewer quiet moments than they used to have before the twins came along – her life had never felt more full or well-lived.

And sure, maybe that meant they didn't get to enjoy lazy mornings in bed in the same way they used to, and some nights were spent cuddling sick kiddos, or with Killian telling stories to keep nightmares at bay – but as she headed downstairs just in time to watch her pirate serve up waffles with little chocolate eyes and smiles to their son and daughter, she knew she wouldn't trade what they had now for anything.