Claire Standish never thought being married to John Bender would be... well... for lack of a better word, dull.

Twenty years after detention and three kids later, perhaps it was that they fell into some sort of routine. A routine where they got up in the morning, got the family ready, got themselves ready, left for their respective jobs, and came home to eat dinner and fall into bed with exhaustion. Or any variation of that. Sometimes they would bicker for old time's sake, and sometimes they were intimate. But it was always soft and warm, none of the biting need and anger that brought them together in the first place.

Claire sighed as she stared at the ceiling. She was such a cliche. Marrying her first. Her first kiss, love... lover. And he was the resident bad-boy. Her parents had almost had a heart-attack when she introduced him, and when they got married her last year of college, they had almost disowned her. Almost. She was sure they would have if she hadn't ended up pregnant several months later. Now, they seemed to like John. Maybe it was because he had cut his hair, discarded his grungy clothing - at least on the weekdays - and owned one of the most reputable construction companies in all of the North Shore. Or maybe they just finally accepted that he wasn't going anywhere.

She felt said resident bad-boy stir beside her, rolling over towards the front of the room, his arm sneaking around her waist, his fingers tugging at the hem of her nightshirt. She felt his scruffy face against hers as he kissed her cheek. His body was warm and large behind her, his muscles no longer long and lean, but filled out from days lifting lumber and climbing construction sites. But he still had those skinny chicken legs. She smiled as he once again kissed her, lower this time, his full beard tickling her neck. She knew what he wanted.

"John, we have to get up," she said quietly, placing a hand on his smooth chest and pushing lightly.

"The alarm hasn't gone off yet," he breathed into the darkness, moving on top of her in one smooth movement, separating her legs with his knees. Claire could already feel herself giving in, his large fingers starting to unbutton her nightshirt, his lips pressing against her neck.

A female scream interrupted what felt like old times. Claire immediately sat up, slamming her forehead into John's, and they both groaned with pain.

"Ow! What the fuck, Claire?" he complained, clutching his eyebrow as she shoved him off her. Their alarm went off loudly on the bedside table as she heard the scream again.

"GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY ROOM, YOU LITTLE BRAT! MOOOOOM! JOHNNY'S IN MY ROOM AGAIN! TELL HIM TO GET OUT!"

"Christ, we should have Big Bri remove her vocal chords," John muttered, still clutching his throbbing forehead as Claire threw back the blankets and fumbled with the alarm clock, trying to turn it off. It continued to screech at her as her daughter continued to screech at her younger brother until John threw out an arm and smashed the alarm clock into pulp with one swing of his fist.

She glared at him as she turned on the bedside light. "That's the third one this month, John. You go and buy one next time."

"You know how much I hate those god damn things."

Claire sent him another glare as he rolls back over in bed, shoving the pillow down over his face and groaning as the sounds of Elise chasing her brother down the hall thundered past their bedroom door. She grabbed her robe, pulling it on as she threw open the door to see her teenage daughter pinning her teenage son on the ground, trying to grab something from his hand.

Elise glanced over her shoulder, her long copper-coloured hair swishing with the movement. "MOM! TELL JOHNNY TO GIVE IT BACK!"

Claire swore she was never this unruly when she was 16.

"Alright, alright, quit yellin. It's 6:30 in the damn morning," John muttered as he stalked out of the room behind her, wearing only a pair of pajama pants, his long muscled back smooth and tanned and she felt a pang of regret at being interrupted a few minutes ago. She watched as he stomped over to their children, grabbing Elise by the upper arm and hauling her to her feet. She protested loudly until he did the same with Johnny, the 14-year-old boy muttering as he stared at the floor.

"GIVE IT BACK!" Elise was still yelling, trying to reach her brother again, but John kept a tight grip on her arm.

"Alright, Kid, what'd ya steal this time?" John asked their son.

"Dad, Johnny stole my cellphone!" Elise complained, still struggling to get free.

"She's sexting Daniel Krakowski!" Johnny yelled suddenly, pointing an accusing finger at his sister, who turned bright red.

"Shut up, you little-"

Claire could already tell this was going to be a long day.