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Deckard sat in his room and stared at his computer screen and the folder an agent had the guts to give him. In person, no less. Another damn world-ending gig. Eh. He sighed and shut the folder and tossed it away. He rubbed his eyes tiredly.
He checked his phone and saw a missed call from Luke. He must have been staring at the computer too long to not have seen it. He listened to the voicemail.
“Hey beautiful,” Luke said in that damn drawl.
“Whatdya want, ya wanker?” Deck grumbled to the recording even though his cheeks warmed at the sound of Luke's voice.
“Uh, listen. I got this favor I gotta take care of tonight, so I won't be home until late.”
“Twat,” he muttered.
“And since I can hear your damn Harry Potter voice calling me a twat, how bout I pick up some dessert from that cafe you like.”
“If you get the chocolate eclairs, I'm gonna kill you…” he grinned.
“Those chocolate eclairs.”
He snorted.
“I know, I know you said you hated them, but I know you. Now, I look forward to my well-deserved punishment tonight,” he said, his voice dropping with the last few words.
He chuckled. “Ass.”
Luke chuckled. “See you at home, kitten. Bye.”
He sighed and put his phone down. He yawned. He spied the messy bed and soon plopped down and made himself at home…
Then he heard the click of a weapon.
He shot out of bed and pulled his gun out of the bedside table drawer. He opened the door and looked around cautiously. He listened.
He heard Sam and Hattie laughing and giggling and whispering in the kitchen. He waited. He heard another metallic click.
Then he heard Hattie say rifle.
He bristled and stood down, re-engaging the safety on his weapon. He felt a growl in the back of his throat as he rounded the corner into the kitchen. “The hell you mean rifle?” he said angrily. “Hattie, you know damn fucking well what Hobbes said about-” He stopped talking when he saw what was happening.
“I said trifle, you twat,” Hattie scoffed. “Trifle. Ya know, this dessert we had in England when we were kids.” She detached the mixing bowl and held it up to him.
He saw the custard. And he saw the fruit on the counter. And the cooling cake in the corner. He sighed through his nose and mustered the strongest glare he could at his sister.
She just smiled and rested her arm on Sam’s shoulder. “Boys.”
Sam giggled.
He groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Whatever.” He retreated back into his room. He made it to the door before he shouted back. “And no alcohol in it, ya hear me! Hobbes will kill ya for that!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Hattie waved off. Then... she waited until the door closed then pulled out the rifle again. “Let's see if we can be quiet this time, eh?” she whispered.
Sam swiped a bit of custard and put it back on the mixer. Hattie told her she needed to learn a thing or two about weapons. Even if her dads were against it.
Deckard heard Luke come home and boom at the wonderful trifle. He opened the door in time to hear Sam warn him that he couldn’t eat it all in one bite. He was very thankful he wasn’t out there yet, because he didn’t think he’d ever be ready to hear Luke’s inevitable, “Nah, I could eat something else in one bite,” in front of Sam.
“Nah, I wouldn’t,” Luke said though he did so with a wink.
Deck heard Sam’s laugh and her punch to her dad’s arm. He entered the kitchen. “Hey, you’re here early.”
“Eh, client opted for the easy way.” He shrugged and mimed punching. Then he grinned and pulled Deck close. “Hey baby,” he greeted with a sultry voice and a solid kiss to his lips - hard enough to earn matching ewws from Hattie and Sam and hard enough to make the Brit limp in his arms. “Hey baby,” he said again, softer and quieter. His eyebrow threatened to arc for a light smoldering effect.
“Shut up, you big lutz.”
Hobbs snorted. “Now, I'm gonna get me some of this fancy trifle,” he announced. He slapped Deck’s ass and headed for the counter.
Hattie sent her brother a glare and he tried to level it but his cheeks were bright pink. He hadn’t been prepared for that either. She handed him the brown bag that Luke brought home, saying, “Ew,” when she passed by.