I don't own it, never have, never will, never want to because I would probably break it.

Stiles sighed sleepily as he rolled over in his bed, hearing his dad call him down for breakfast for the third time that morning. It was Sunday, the weekend; sleep-in time, he didn't need to get up. What confused Stiles the most as he shifted deeper into the warm blankets, was the fact that his father was awake on Sunday morning, his only day off... and if his noes was a reliable source (which it almost always was), his dad had made breakfast.

"Young man, this is the last time I call you. Don't make me come up there and throw water on you!" his father warned.

Stiles cocked an eyebrow at that, and rolled over mumbling unintelligible curse words under his breath. His feet hit the floor and his legs went into autopilot, steering him down the stairs and into the kitchen. As Stiles sat he noticed a few things at once; there was a bright checkered table cloth over the normally bare kitchen table. There was a full stack of pancakes... his dad never made pancakes, ever. Finally he noticed his dad was sitting at the table reading the newspaper, wearing a cleanly pressed dress shirt with a look on his face that Stiles hadn't seen for a long time: a look of pure contentment. Stiles sat himself up in the chair, a bit more awake.

"Hey, dad, what's going on? Is the president coming for breakfast or something?" His dad shot him a half amused half confused glance and Stiles looked around the kitchen again and sniffed the air.

"Why does the air smell like flowers?"

His dad set his paper down and looked a Stiles with a fully amused stare. "Stiles it's called air freshener, it's the stuff that makes the air smell good and the stuff you refuse to use in your bedroom."

Stiles rolled his eyes and then became serious again, now fully awake. "You know what I mean. What's with the frills and food? " Stiles spasmodically gestured around the room."I didn't even know you knew how to make pancakes."

"I'll have you know, I make great pancakes," defended his father. "but I didn't make these." "Then... who did?" Stiles asked, leaning forward slightly.

"I did, silly." Came a light voice behind him.

Stiles' jaw dropped as he spun around, almost falling off his chair in the process. "Mom?"

Author's note~ I don't know when or if I will continue this. But I'll try to, I promise I will, if you guys like it.