It was early. Too damn early for all this crap. Ever since the twins arrived, they'd started running in to wake him up and demand breakfast. A chorus of his name being said over and over again. Hell, he loved those two to death, but goddamn it was a little irritating.

Especially when he was in bed with you. He wouldn't call you anything sappy like the love of his life - not to your face, anyway - but he did thoroughly enjoy your presence more than anyone else's.

Today was one such morning, and there was a chorus of "Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Stan, we're hungry!" From the twins outside the bedroom. He rolled over with a groan, the motion waking you up.

"...Your kids are awake," he murmured, half-teasing you.