A/N: This is post F8 and contains spoilers for the movie. I hope you enjoy.

He'd been dodging phone calls all weekend until finally she'd left a voicemail saying she wanted to have tea with him, Owen, Elizabeth, and to bring along his new boyfriend. When Mum called, they all went running to her side wondering who was about to die and what she needed of them. So long as his two siblings kept their distance, Deckard supposed it wouldn't hurt to introduce them: Owen only knew Hobbs as the two-bit government hack, and Beth knew him as that bloke he was shagging.

In the eight months Owen had been out of prison, the list of accomplishments he could claim were minimal. He'd stolen Cipher's plane, stashed it in a Ross & Co. Aviation hangar, and picked the biggest fight with their sister over who would use it. In Deckard's eyes, it all made for a very slow year. Their family was bound by their codes and the innate loyalty that had grown, but it didn't stop them from having a go at each other. In the heat of the moment and given the opportunity, irreparable damage could be done, as it was all those years ago between them and their father.

"This is home, I guess." Deckard gestured to the house with one hand as he punched in the code to unlock the front gate. "Mum's anyway."

"You've never said what she's like."

"Eh, either you like or her or you don't. There's no middle ground with Mum."

Luke took in the three storey house with an unintentionally wary, look on his face. There were no security cameras, nothing to suggest anyone with wealth lived here except the size of the house itself . . .

and the black Lykan Hypersport parked in the driveway. That was certainly a sign someone had cash to throw around. The sandstone bricks were a nice cream colour, glass exterior walls made up most of the upper two storeys, and Luke was sure he could smell someone cooking. "Nice place. You three buy it for her?"

"Nah, bought it for the ex. Didn't work out so we split and I kept the house. Couple of months later, Mum decided to move in. Make sure it was safe all year 'round."

Ah, the old 'let me take care of it' con, Luke knew that one well. "Of course she did."

"Mum's in the kitchen," Owen shouted from under a jacked up white Lamborghini on the grass, craning his neck to see two tall figures in the driveway. He'd been working on it for half an hour trying to figure out exactly what was wrong with it, but no luck so far. For all they were worth as mechanical engineers, Owen preferred being a soldier. "Said to dump our bags upstairs then grab a cuppa."

"Thanks, Oh." Deckard looked over his shoulder and met Luke's slightly wavering gaze. This was more so awkward for Luke than it was for him, he imagined. In the seven months they'd been together, not once had the topic of his little brother come up. He'd been trying to avoid the inevitable reintroductions, yet here they were. "Beth here yet?"

"She's asleep. Overnight flight back from Greece."

Deckard snorted derisively and walked inside with Luke backing him up. Course she's asleep. Partying in the tropics must be such hard work. The eventual meeting between Hobbs and his little sister was also one he'd hoped never to deal with. She wasn't exactly the easiest person to get along with on her best day, but he supposed that was for a reason.

The smells of a Sunday roast wafting from the kitchen made his mouth water and stomach growl. One of the few family traditions they managed to keep on occasion was a bimonthly gathering. Them, whoever they were involved with at the time, and the old bat who'd raised them around a table, just out of arm's reach of one another. Deckard dumped his backpack near the shoe rack and gestured for Luke to do the same. "Mum?"

"I'll be out in a bloody minute!" Silence fell for a moment, then a louder yell echoed within the house. One that could wake even the devil himself down in Hell. "Elizabeth, wake up, your brother's here!"

Deckard looked into the living room and saw a large duvet pulled up over her and a mass of unkempt black hair hanging over the edge of the sofa bed. He shook his head, muttered "that's Beth" to Luke and kept walking. It was best not to wake a Shaw before they were ready to regain consciousness. The three times Owen had decided to try his luck led to a confrontation where he was nearly put through a window.

"What's she like?"

"Leads a boring civilian life." He shrugged, interest in boring civilian life lost, and piqued in knowing exactly what would be on the table soon. Could it be they were actually having a conversation about something that didn't involve work? "Wouldn't have a clue, really. She's not around that much. Spends most of her time travelling."

"And your mom?"

"She's an odd one. Retired a couple years ago, never says what she's doing when you call. Dancing on my father's grave I imagine."

"Oh shut it, your father's not buried yet. No point dancing on his grave till then," Mags said, waving her wooden spoon threateningly at Deckard. Michael lived elsewhere and that was all she needed to know. Her children were the priority. "And you must be Luke. How's my boy been behaving?"

"Yes ma'am, and he's been great. Even managed to behave at Disneyland." She shook his hand with all the strength of a woman in her prime, her smile warm and reassuring. It was like being at home with his own mom, if she were British, white, and wielding a spoon like a deadly weapon. "Deckard said you're former MI5."

"MI5, MI6, it's all a bunch of numbers. Doesn't matter who I was, only who I am now. Come on, guest always gets first cut. Deckard, don't forget to wash under your nails, I know what you're like."

Beth slid off the sofa with the duvet wrapped around her and staggered towards the spiral staircase that cut straight through the middle of the house like a corkscrew, more brooding vampire than a vengeful sibling with an itchy trigger finger. "Cipher sends her regards," she said, beginning her slow ascent to the second floor, "and she wants her fucking plane back. I'd advise returning it."

This was the part he always hated. The fighting. They were all different people with differently views and values but surely blood trumped any false sense of friendship. Deckard followed her up the staircase, unrelenting in his pursuit. He wouldn't let her just walk away again without hearing his side of things. "Excuse me?"

"There was a message on your laptop. That's what the message said. Who's Cipher? She one of your crazy ex-girlfriends?"

Deckard scoffed. "She wishes. C'mon, come meet Luke."

"Jet lag. I'll say hi to him later."

"Who would've thought, the two-bit government hack dating my brother." Owen washed the grease off his hands in the kitchen sink and planted his arse on a stool while Mum pulled crispy potatoes from the oven. Of all the people Deckard could've fallen for, this wannabe warrior shouldn't have been it. "You think you're good enough for him, cop?"

"I think Deckard's already decided I am." Luke carved the roast beef and kept an eye on the devil in plain clothing in the meantime. What Deckard had said about Cipher corrupting Owen, did he really believe that? He'd said it straight to their faces but Luke's gut said he didn't, that it was just to assuage the guilt he felt. He'd refused Cipher's offer thus she went for his brother: subsequently Owen made his choice. "And your mom seems to like me."

"Luke, you done with that beef? Come babysit the gravy, I've got a hunch Deckard's up to no good." Magdalene waited till Hobbs had his back turned before smacking Owen lightly upside the head. "Watch your mouth, son. If not for his mates you'd still be locked up."

Owen shrugged the scolding off. She didn't know what Hobbs was like. How could she? While he'd been serving in the military and keeping his brothers in arms alive — the men he considered his true family — so they could go home intact, she'd been in her comfy bed with not a care in the world. "Yeah, no thanks to him."

"You made your choice."

Owen slid off the stool and went straight for the main staircase. Choice! What was it with women and the word choice? Cipher had loved slinging that around. Choice Theory, what a load of horse shit. There was no such thing as having a choice, only actions and consequences mattered. Bumping Deckard's shoulder as he pushed past him, he grabbed the duvet clad half-sister of his and hauled her upstairs in a hurry.

"Mum'll bring dinner up later. I need to borrow your brain."

Deckard sighed and sat in the middle of the stairwell. Whatever semblance of self control he still had was keeping him from punching the marble steps and shattering his hand. All things considered it was probably a good idea not to punch it. He needed his hands to deal with Luke, and anyone who posed a threat.

"I don't think Owen likes me very much," Luke said, giving a sigh and stepping past Deckard. He sat behind him, legs on either side of his shoulders and body tense. "Still running his mouth like his opinion's worth a damn."

Leaning back, he turned his head and nuzzled his face against Luke's sweaty pectorals. He was warm to the touch and smelt like garlic. A swipe of his tongue over Luke's nipple told him something had certainly left its residue behind. "That's his problem. What happened to your shirt?"

"I was babysitting the gravy and it decided it wanted to kill me."

"It's probably jealous of me. If the gravy can't have you, no one can."

The grin on his face said it all as he leaned down and placed a kiss on the middle of Deckard's head. He'd been hoping for a moment or two alone where they could just be their stupid cheeky selves and finally that moment was now. "Who wouldn't be? Not just anyone gets to see me without a shirt."

"Your arse ain't bad either!" came from upstairs. Elizabeth was leaning over the railing far enough to see the pair of them. When he looked up, she winked. Naturally Luke returned it.

"Yeah, and that's all you're gonna see of it." Deckard flipped her off and began trailing kisses up Luke's sternum, following it to his collarbone and along the length of his neck. He kept his voice low so the walls wouldn't hear as he spoke, "I can't promise Owen will come around."

"I don't expect him to." Luke hadn't thought Deckard would change either, but the involvement of Cipher and the proceeding breakout meant all bets were off. Reading that recommendation letter, however, and Deckard's personal recount of his last mission in Kunduz, who knew someone like this former sumbitch traitor was capable of gallantry like that.

"Alright you two, dinner's ready," Magdalene said, tapping her watch. "Decks, you know the rules, snog in your bloody room alright. Luke, welcome to the family."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Please, call me Mags, now hurry up and sit down, I'm fucking hungry."