Malcolm stirred, cracking open one eye and sniffing the air. The aroma of slightly overdone toast wafted into the bedroom from the kitchen below. He could hear the giggles of pre-teen children and sighed. Charles and Mary Elizabeth were undoubtedly testing the limits of their culinary skills, again.
Next to him in the large bed, his husband turned and slid an arm around his waist. "It's Sunday. Go back to sleep," he muttered, nuzzling his nose into Malcolm's hair.
Malcolm smiled and sighed, soaking in the warmth of Trip's body. "Someone needs to teach your children to sleep in on weekends." Malcolm's voice held a note of mock-irritation.
"My children? I'll claim Charlie, but Mibs is your girl through and through."
"Excuse me, but which child rebuilt that water reclamation device you declared hopelessly bollixed?"
Trip licked the back of Malcolm's neck. "Well, they both have our DNA, so. . . our kids?"
"Who are on their way upstairs as we speak."
"Good thing we wore boxers last night."
A tapping at the door interrupted Malcolm's retort. "Poppa? Daddy?"
"Good morning, Mary Elizabeth."
The blonde girl smiled as she entered the room. "Morning, Daddy."
Her twin, another cheerful blonde, followed behind with a tray piled with breakfast items: toast, eggs, cereal, and two steaming mugs, one of tea and one of coffee. Charlie's gray eyes, the same color as his sister's, twinkled as he set the tray on the bed next to his parents. "Happy Father's Day, Daddy, Poppa."
Trip blinked as he sat up, leaning against the headboard. "Wow. Breakfast in bed. Daddy never does this for me anymore."
Malcolm smacked Trip's shoulder as he sat up. "I did too--our last anniversary."
Trip's blue eyes twinkled. "Oh that's right--I used the maple syrup to--" he stopped as Charlie slapped a hand over his mouth.
"Poppa!"
Malcolm laughed as he picked up his tea. He slung an arm around his daughter, who tucked herself by his side.
"Trip, they're only twelve."
"Goin' on forty-five," Trip said with a scowl at Charlie.
"Cool! Does that mean I can finally date?" asked Mibs.
"NO!" both men said in unison, causing her to pout.
"Hey, they're not letting me date, either," Charlie pointed out.
"You're too much like your father," both parents said in unison again, causing both of their children to giggle. Trip picked up his coffee and smiled at his family. Next to his anniversary and the twins' birthday, Father's Day was his favorite day of the year. A time to be grateful for the lives of his children and for the love of his husband, who had given him such wonderful children.
Malcolm smiled at Trip, and he knew his husband felt the same way.
Light years away, on another planet, another father celebrated Father's Day with a toast to a son who had been declared missing in action by Starfleet. Stuart Reed stared at the picture of his son. The son who had defied Reed tradition and shunned the seas of Earth and a berth in the Royal Navy for deep space and a bunk on Enterprise.
The son he missed desperately. The son he had always been proud of.
Now he would never have the chance to tell him.