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The morning light filtered softly through the curtains of their bedroom, casting long golden stripes across the floor. The world was quiet and warm, wrapped in the kind of stillness that only came right before a new day.
That was, until the unmistakable feeling of a small body launching itself onto the bed with the confidence of a superhero.
“Oof-” Euijoo made a noise halfway between a grunt and a laugh as a familiar weight landed directly on his chest. His eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep, and were met with wide brown ones blinking up at him through messy bangs.
“Papaaaaaa,” Harua sang, voice still raspy with sleep but bubbling with mischief. “Wake up! You were snoring!”
Euijoo let out a soft groan, half-laughing. “You said that yesterday, Ru-bear…”
“And the day before,” A deeper voice rumbled behind them, amusement lacing every word. Fuma’s hand reached over to ruffle Harua’s hair and then settled on Euijoo’s waist, tugging both of them closer into the warm, still-sleepy tangle of limbs.
Euijoo rolled onto his side to face him, Harua still wedged snugly between them like a tiny heater. “You’re the one who snores.”
“Never.” Fuma closed his eyes again, pulling the blanket over their heads. “I’m an alpha. Alphas don’t snore.”
“Then explain the grrrffrrrhhh sounds you made last night,” Euijoo teased.
“Yeah!” Harua chirped. “Like a grizzly bear! Grrrr! Like that!”
Fuma opened one eye, looking personally betrayed. “First of all, how dare both of you. Second of all, I do not sound like a bear.”
“You do,” Euijoo and Harua said in unison, then burst into giggles.
Fuma groaned but leaned in anyway, pressing his face against Euijoo’s shoulder and nosing at the gland just below his mate’s ear. The familiar scent, sweet and calming like fresh spring rain, soothed him instantly. He nuzzled once, twice, then pressed a slow kiss to the spot, making Euijoo shiver slightly.
“Cheater,” Euijoo whispered, eyes fluttering shut again.
“Not cheating,” Fuma replied against his skin. “Just reminding you who you married.”
“Papa married Appa because Appa makes pancakes,” Harua announced matter-of-factly. “With the stars.”
Euijoo raised a brow. “You think I married your appa for his pancakes?”
“Yes!” Harua grinned. “And ‘cause he’s strong. And he carries you like this!” He mimicked lifting something heavy over his head and nearly fell off the bed doing it.
Fuma caught him before he could tumble, swooping him up with practiced ease and flipping him gently into the middle of the bed. “He did marry me for my pancakes,” he whispered conspiratorially in Harua’s ear, making the boy burst into delighted giggles. “Don’t tell him I know.”
“I heard that!” Euijoo called, but he was smiling too, heart full to bursting.
<><><><>
The kitchen buzzed with sleepy energy and the sound of Saturday morning cartoons playing quietly from the living room.
Fuma stood at the stove, flipping pancake batter into star-shaped molds while Harua sat beside him on a step-stool in a dinosaur apron three sizes too big, armed with a tiny whisk and an even tinier bowl of pre-measured flour (a decoy bowl, really. One that wouldn’t ruin breakfast if he accidentally dumped the whole thing in).
Euijoo leaned against the counter nearby, cutting strawberries into little heart shapes, still in his oversized pajamas with a sleepy smile tugging at his lips.
“Okay, Harua,” Fuma said, offering the boy the mixing spoon. “Can you give this a few stirs while Appa flips?”
“Chef Harua is ready!” Harua declared, tongue sticking out in concentration as he stirred very seriously, even though there was barely anything in the bowl.
“You look like a very professional chef,” Euijoo commented, leaning over to brush flour off his son’s cheek.
“Chef Harua only makes pancakes with stars,” Harua informed him gravely. “And he only shares with good papas and appas.”
“Am I a good papa?” Euijoo asked with mock worry.
“You are,” Harua said, patting his arm reassuringly. “Even though you don’t like carrots.”
Fuma snorted from the stove. “Called out.”
Euijoo shrugged dramatically. “I stand by my choices. Carrots are suspicious.”
Fuma slid a pancake onto the plate, turning to his omega with a grin. “You’re suspicious. I married you anyway.”
“You married me because I let you scent me first on that rainy day in the library.”
Fuma paused, then gave a slow, fond smile. “I did.”
Harua looked up. “What’s ‘scenting’ mean again?”
Euijoo crouched down to his eye level, brushing a soft kiss to his forehead. “It means Appa and Papa like each other so much that our scents mix and feel safe together.”
“Like when you and Appa cuddle on the couch and you smell all warm and sleepy?”
“Exactly like that.”
“Then I wanna scent too!” Harua threw his arms out and flopped dramatically into Euijoo’s lap. “Cuddle time!”
Euijoo laughed, holding him close. “After pancakes, little koala.”
<><><><>
Their little round table was set, a plate piled with golden, star-shaped pancakes, a bowl of heart-cut strawberries, and a mountain of whipped cream, and warm syrup in a tiny ceramic pitcher shaped like a bear.
Harua sat between his parents, holding a fork in one hand and bouncing lightly in his seat. “Can I put the cream on myself?”
“With supervision,” Euijoo warned. “Last time you made a whipped cream mountain the size of Mount Everest.”
“It was a volcano!” Harua declared. “With strawberry lava!”
Fuma chuckled, passing him the canister. “Let’s do a smaller volcano this time, kiddo.”
Harua squeezed gently and ended up with a reasonable puff of whipped cream, which, in his four-year-old world, was a miracle of restraint.
They ate together, laughing in between bites and telling stories of the past week, like the time Harua tried to “water” the houseplants with orange juice, or when Fuma fell asleep mid-sentence during a bedtime story and Harua finished it himself in his best deep voice.
Midway through breakfast, Harua looked up at them with syrup on his cheeks and said, “I like when we all eat together.”
Euijoo’s heart tugged. He reached out to wipe Harua’s face gently. “I like it too, baby.”
Fuma leaned in, resting his chin on his palm. “This is my favorite part of the day.”
Harua beamed. “Mine too.”
<><><><>
The table was cleared, mostly, and Harua was now tucked between them on the couch under a fluffy throw blanket, happily watching cartoons. Fuma had one arm wrapped around Euijoo’s shoulders, the other resting across Harua’s tiny back.
Euijoo, now dozing against Fuma’s chest, murmured, “How did we get so lucky?”
Fuma pressed a soft kiss to his hair. “I asked you to get coffee with me five years ago.”
“You had whipped cream on your nose.”
“You still said yes.”
“I still would.”
Harua turned to them and whispered, “Are you gonna kiss again?”
Fuma blinked. “Should we?”
Harua grinned. “Yes. But only a small one. I’m watching.”
Euijoo chuckled and leaned in, pressing the softest of kisses to Fuma’s lips.
Harua clapped once, satisfied. “You pass.”
They stayed curled up like that well into late morning, with no grand plans, no urgent errands, just love layered in small moments, pancakes and cartoons, warmth and scent and sleepy smiles.
This gentle, joyful, chaotic little life was everything they ever wanted.