Disclaimer: I own the OC's and the story. That's it.

Author's Note: Thought up when driving around with my mom. We're both Burn Notice fans, so this was fun to talk about with her. ^_^

When you're a spy, you get used to living on little-to-no sleep, that's why most spy agencies recruit either former military personnel or college students.

You learn how to spend weeks living on the few hours of sleep you can snag while in a tree or a cave or wherever you can sleep safely.

They don't warn you, though, that you will be using this talent for one very critical, non-work, reason:



Michael snorted awake, his arm flying out from under his pillow with a pacifier in his grasp, scrambling to try and figure out just what that alarm was for: Air raid, nuclear attack, home invaders, or car alarm.

At Fiona's groan from under the pillow next to his, though, he figured it out.

"Baby." He groaned, collapsing face-first back onto his pillow, the random pacifier returning to it's cushy place under there.

While the baby's cries kept coming through the monitor, Michael was slowly drifting back to Dreamland when...

"Michael!" Fiona groaned from under her pillow. "It's your turn to take care of the baby!"

Michael sat up partway and gave her a partially annoyed look that screamed, "It's always my turn to take care of the baby".

My mom warned me that sleep is the rarest element in the world when you are a parent, and at the time she told me that, I didn't consider just how true her words could end up being.

I should've.

I'm just lucky, though, that Fi takes care of the kids during the day...

When my mom hasn't volunteered to baby-sit them.

With a world-weary groan, Michael dragged himself from bed and out of the room.

After he and Fi had gotten married because, to quote his mother, "I will not have any grandchildren borne out of wedlock! Marry her, Michael!", they had moved out of the loft.

Barry had known a guy who knew a guy who was married to a realtor and the newly-married couple had been able to find a house that was in their budget, was near Michael's mom's place, was on a block with a nonexistent crime rate, and had about a billion escape options.

After moving in, though, Fi found she had another reason to hate Barry: The realtor had neglected to tell them that there was mold in several of the walls...

Fast-forward five years and three kids later and the mold was gone, but construction on the house was still underway. Fi kept finding one more thing that needed work.

Michael was beginning to suspect that she was doing that deliberately.

Back to the current situation, Michael dragged himself down the hall, heading towards their youngest child's bedroom. Thus far they hadn't named him. Michael had absolutely refused Fi's suggestion of naming the baby after his father, and she refused to name the baby after her's, so... They were now drawing a blank on name options.


Michael stopped in front of his daughter Claire, who stood in her bedroom doorway in her flashy pink Barbie nightgown, clutching a fat orange bunny named Captain Flufflepaints. Yes, "paints". It had been a gift from Maddie to Claire when Claire had turned two. They were inseparable.

"Daddy..." Her lower lip trembled as Michael looked at his oldest child, who was only 5 years old. "I had a bad dream." She said in a quiet voice, obviously on the verge of tears.

Michael sighed, looked in the direction of Baby's room, and then knelt in front of Claire. "Was it the one where pirates took Captain Flufflepants- paints-" Michael instantly corrected himself with when tears filled Claire's big green eyes, "away?"

Claire shook her head as she started crying. "Th- the- they took you away!" She wailed. And then she threw herself into his arms and started crying against his shoulder.

Michael held her close, rubbing her back, as Captain Flufflepaints' hard plastic nose dug into his ribs.

"I didn't want you to go!" Claire cried, growing louder, as her younger brother, Phillip, appeared from his room right next to hers. At 3 years old, Phillip was already a force to be reckoned with.

"Claire?" He asked, rubbing one eye as he shuffled towards them, his Batman pajamas crackling with static electricity.

"It's okay, Phillip. She just had a bad dream." Michael told his middle child, who stopped next to them as Claire kept crying.

"And- and then they said Phillip had to get rid of Moodle!" Claire added.

Phillip's clear blue eyes grew giant. "Who did?" He asked as he stepped even closer.

"The pirates!" Claire shouted as Michael heard the mattress in the master bedroom shift. Fi was up.

Tears formed in Phillip's eyes, though he sniffled and tried to keep them at bay.

"It's okay, guys. It was just a dream." Michael said, though he held his arm out to Phillip because he knew what came next.

Phillip charged forward, crashing into Michael's shoulder, as he reached out to hug his sister. He then started to cry as well.

Michael sighed as the children cried, Fi appearing next to them moments later.

"I've got this." Fi said, kneeling next to him. "Hey," she said, somehow capturing the children's attention. "Why don't we go sit on my bed while Daddy checks on the baby?"

Claire and Phillip nodded, Claire letting go of Michael and Phillip letting go of Claire, and took a few steps towards their mom before Phillip turned and ran back into his room.

Michael stood as he furrowed his eyebrows. That was not Phillip's usual behavior.

Seconds later, though, he found out why Phillip had broken his usual protocol: He had gone back to retrieve Moodle, a green and red cow pillow that Sam had gotten for his Godchild last Christmas. "Only if Moodle can come too." Phillip said, clutching Moodle tightly as he approached his mom.

"Of course Moodle can come with us. Captain Flufflepaint and Moodle are always welcome, right Michael?" She asked, looking at him.

Michael smiled, albeit wearily, at the love of his life. "Of course." He confirmed.

Fi smiled back before herding the children in their room. "Let's bounce on the bed!" Was the last thing he heard her say.

Some spies spend their entire lives working. A rare few, though, get a chance to be happy.

It is less than 5% of spies who get that chance.

I was one of them.

Michael entered the nursery with a groan. The baby had quite the set of lungs.

"Hey, hey, it's all right." Michael said, crossing the room to the crib.

Baby- as the nickname for it was- refused to be calmed though. By the time Michael had picked his youngest child up, Baby was wailing like a siren.

Michael sighed, patting the child's back. "It's okay. Ssssh. It's okay."

Michael attempts at calming the baby, though, were futile.

I miss the option of sleep.

This will be a shorter fic. Just a few chapters and that's it. Just a series of chapters showing just what a normal day for Michael is now that he's married with kids.

Reviews are always lovely, like cake. ^_^

Flamers must direct all flames at my secretary, the Proto from Tomb Raider: Angel of Darkness. :D