Chapter Text
You shifted in bed, the sunlight in the window interrupting your sleeping state. You groaned quietly and turned away, only to be met with more sunlight. Where were your dads? You had a feeling one of them took away the curtains to get you out of bed on a Saturday morning, or possibly both. With much effort, you pulled yourself from the warm comforter and shielded your eyes from the brightness. Trudging down the stairs, the smell of coffee and tea filled your nose as you gave a content smile.
“Dad?” you called as you reached the bottom step into the hallway.
“Morning, sunshine,” a deep voice returned. You trudged to the kitchen to see your father, Sherlock, at the counter with a mug of tea, presumably for you. You flopped onto one of the chairs and set your head on the table.
“You took my curtains, dad,” you said in a whiny voice.
“That I did,” he replied in an almost amused voice.
“But it’s Saturday!”
“Don’t give me that, you always get up at noon, and not even that often. It’s nine right now, which is a perfectly good time to be awake.” You heard your other father, John, walk in the room from behind you.
“Did it work?” he asked Sherlock with a grin, with which you returned a hidden scowl.
“Yes,” he smirked. “Can’t you see the glare on her face?” John turned to look at you, your eyes closed and small, concentrated breaths coming from your mouth. He set his hand on your forehead and lifted you up, causing a mocked painful groan to come from your throat.
“Get up, (Y/N),” he said and let your head fall back to the table.
“I don’t want to,” you muttered.
“If you do, I might get you something special.”
“You said that last time.” John sighed and looked to Sherlock, who was still at the counter.
“Can you please make sure she gets up and about?” he asked before placing a small kiss on his cheek and leaving. You lifted your head for only a moment to see your dad walking out the kitchen.
“Where’s mum going?” you asked.
“He’s going to work,” your father replied, as if that was obvious. He turned towards you. “And why do you call him ‘mum’?”
“Because I can’t address you both as ‘dad’. It’ll just be confusing. So he’s mum and you’re dad.” He shook his head and turned back to grab the tea and set it next to your face.
“Fifteen years and I’ll never get used to that,” he muttered before going to the couch and flopping on his back to think. You looked at the mug that was close enough to your nose that you could feel the heat radiating off it and smiled. Your mum and dad were the best parents ever.