A/N: Last chapter! My thanks are all at the bottom :)

Even the sun didn't want to get up Sunday morning. It fought, it tugged, it refused, however, the moon wasn't about to go overtime, and it left, prompting the sun to gather its wits and take up the most hated position in the world, next to an alarm clock.

It was time to wake up.

However, Hawkeye and Margaret, sound asleep in Crabapple Cove, weren't so happy about that idea.

The sun nudged the alarm clock, which rang out like a blaring car alarm, inciting the same level of annoyance. "Hawk, shut it off, or else–"

"I can take a hint," Hawkeye finished, slamming down on the alarm clock. "Morning, by the way."

"It's too early for mornings, wake me in two hours."

Hawkeye laughed, eyeing his wife across from him, in childish, naïve hopes that they could go back to sleep, even for fifteen minutes, with their children in the house. "What should I tell Ben and Emily when they wake up?" Teasing laced the edge of his voice, yet Margaret thought for a moment, as if she could really make a difference.

"Tell them Mommy needs more sleep, or else she'll never be able to bake again." After a brief pause, judging whether she would even fall asleep if she tried, she flipped over and shot a look at her husband, a look he had known since the war. "Which means you can't wake me up, either."

Her husband's arms wandered around her waist, and she sighed, either from relenting to staying awake for the next twelve hours, or at his touch. "You know, the kids might not be up for a little while…" he followed the words with a gentle, taunting kiss on her lips. "Even for hours…"

Despite the urge to shoot some witty, well-meaning insult at his face growing, she merely deepened the kiss as his hands wandered to her back, pressed her close against him. "Hawk…" she murmured, that oh-so familiar spell casting over her again. His lips traveled down to her neck, and her hands went to his shirt…

"MOMMY! DADDY!" Following these words, banging worthy of a kitchen disaster came from their bedroom door.

"That would be the children," Margaret laughed, seeing the submissive, defeated face of her husband.

"Yes, it would." He raised an eyebrow, gently playing with his wife's hair. "Should we let them in?"

"MOMMY! DADDY!"

Sighing, Margaret sat up against the pillows and nodded, resolved that, for the rest of the day, the children dictated her life. "We might as well, unless you want to fix a door today."

"Alright, come on in."

The door crashed open like a canon blasted through it.

"MOMMY!" A petit, wide-eyed, ebony-haired girl, hardly seven years-old, waved her hands and screamed as she jumped onto her parents' bed, where her mother welcomed her with open arms. "Can we go downstairs? Pretty please? I don't wanna go to sleep, I wanna go downstairs and stuff!"

Hawkeye hid his gaze from his smirking wife, and she only muttered, "Gee, I wonder where she gets a certain talkative tendency from?"

Laughing, Hawkeye gently kissed his wife on the cheek. "Hey, you thought I said some pretty nice things back in Korea, huh?"

"Some nice things, don't get ahead of yourself."

"Are you four ever getting out of bed?" Daniel, well-meaning yet too energetic too early in the morning, popped into the doorway and gave a good morning wave.

"GRANDPA!" Again, shouts filled the room to the brim, and Margaret gently slapped her husband's shoulder as he pretended to hide under the blankets.

Ben and Emily hollered and cried with joy as they leaped off the bed, crashed down to the floor, and chased the one ready-and-willing adult down the hallway. "I'll see you two down in fifteen minutes, the kids would never let you sleep in on a Saturday, obviously." With these parting words, Daniel tipped his head and followed his energetic grandchildren to the kitchen.

Unfortunately for Hawkeye, Margaret's maternal instincts kicked in, and she began getting up from the warm, welcoming blankets. "Where are you going?" He reached for her hand and caught it, nearly giving her enough reason to stay in bed.

Margaret shot a look at her husband, a look he had seen one too many times in Korea. "Sorry, we have children, and those children need breakfast. Do you really want your father to make it?"

A slick, boyish grin Margaret had also seen one too many times in Korea slipped onto her husband's face, and he reached up to her, gently brushing his lips to hers. "Breakfast can wait."

"Pierce," Margaret broke in, the use of his last name cutting through her voice. Hawkeye raised an eyebrow, knowing very well that 'Pierce' was either a term of endearment, or he was in a lot of trouble. His wife continued, "We have two children and your father downstairs, who are both hungry, and none of them can cook without setting something on fire. Am I all you can think about right now?"

"Yes."

Laughing, laughing like she only could with him, Margaret reach up and kissed him, warm and full on the lips. "Well, in that case…"

A/N: PHEW, it's done! I'm not too happy with how this came out, but I'm not done with my OTP or the M*A*S*H fandom, I'll be back, with oneshots and probably a longer one someday. Thank you SO SO much to everyone who has read and reviewed this story, especially bobcatwriter and oldmoviewatcher! THANKS FOR READING!