A/N: Hi there! First incursion for me in the Fast and Furious universe. I literally just wrote this - went to see F8 yesterday and it was so freakishly good... Plus Deck with Baby Brian was too cute to handle. Hence this story, which is supposed to fit in-between the showdown in Russia and Deckard's return of the kid in New-York. Let's imagine it took a couple of days, which it probably did. Also, imagine Jason Statham changing diapers. Cutest thing ever. XD

Anyhow, I wrote this in a day - yep, the whole of it, today, I'm at it since this morning and I'm a bloody machine; so excuse any typos or incoherences.


Disclaimer: I don't own Fast and Furious or the characters of the Shaw brothers. I only own my OC Emma Elstree and the plot surrounding her.


1. The old friend


Emma was in the middle of a phone-call when she heard it. The characteristic sound of a key being turned in her lock. Someone was at her door, and was bent on coming in unannounced.

"I'll call you back, Magda," she told her caller, and ended the conversation before she could receive an answer.

She grabbed her gun from under the kitchen counter in less than a second, pointing it lazily at the door, eyes darting to her window and the fire-escape there in case anyone was trying to reach her from there. Her senses were heightened, she could feel the buzz of an incoming fight in her blood, and when the door finally cracked open, she crouched, like a tiger stalking its prey.

There were a couple of heavy steps in the direction of the living-room, and then a booming voice she'd recognize anywhere. "Ems? You home?"

Emma cursed loudly and clicked her gun's safety back into place. "Deck? What the hell, man?"

She straightened and switched the entry hall light on, and her oldest friend on this planet blinked away the sudden brightness.

He was as tall and broad as he had ever been, with his cleanly shaved head and his ever-there stubble shadowing his cheeks. He was smiling too, a sight she had not seen in far too long.

In fact, now that she was properly thinking about it, she had not seen nor heard from Deckard Shaw in nearly… "Four years, Deck, what in the Queen's name-?!"

He laughed then, a clear sound that made her smile involuntarily. "Yeah, I know. T'was supposed to be longer, though. C'mon now Ems, gimme a hug, willya?"

Emma tutted, placed her gun back into the hidden holster under her counter, and walked to the tall man, carefully wrapping her slender arms around his torso. She let out a laugh when he picked her up from the ground and squeezed the life out of her, as he used to do a lifetime ago. When he set her back on the floor, though, her brow furrowed.

"You still have my key?"

He laughed again. "Ems, seriously. I'm supposed to be in jail in the motherfucking United Stated of Assholes and all ya worry abou' are your bloody keys?" She grinned at that, realising she was maybe concerned about the wrong thing. "Jusso ya know, these are my mum's. Mine are still in the President's custody." Another laugh, and Emma noticed just how chirpy he seemed to be.

"Deck, what the hell are you doing here? Spare me no details." She crossed her arms in the manner she always did when trying to impress him, which always failed miserably.

He only leaned against the wall, his frame menacing in the hallway, if it wasn't for the toothy smile still on his lips. "I'm kinda free." He paused, and when he realised she was waiting for more, he carried on. "Someone asked me for a favour in exchange for freedom and I couldn' refuse. That's it."

"No, that's not 'it' Deck. You wouldn't be standing in my kitchen if there wasn't something else."

He produced a "Tssss…" before taking a few steps into the flat, grey eyes going to the new colour in the living-room and the new arrangement of the furniture. "Damn, does your job pay that well?"

Emma growled then, and he saw it coming when she launched an arm around his large shoulders to try and place him into a submissive arm-lock. He let her, then gently twisted his body to be able to lift her onto his shoulders and gain power over her. She struggled, but she was a lightweight and had always been.

"Calm down, cheesecake," he said as he set her back down. "I'll tell ya."

She stopped screeching and faced him again, her blonde hair slightly misplaced and giving her the look of a scorned kitten. "You better."

He smiled again, and scratched his ear, something he only did in her presence when he was embarrassed. "'Kay, um… The favour the guy asked for… I kinda need your help with it."

At that Emma's blue eyes widened in surprise and curiosity. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." Nervous laughter this time. "I kinda had to save a…well, a…a kid."

"A child? And you have them with you?" She was eyeing the corridor but could see no child in sight. "Deck…" she growled again.

"Not a child, exactly. More like a baby to be honest."

At that she exploded. "Deckard, are you telling me that you left a baby downstairs in your fucking car?"

"No!" he shouted defensively. "I didn't leave the kid alone! Are ya insane?"

Emma's anger died out as soon as she caught the protective tone in his voice. Deck was caring for the child already. It wasn't unseen, she had witnessed it once before, so she wasn't really surprised to hear it in his voice. It was more surprising to see him so red in the face after she even mentioned the possibility of him being irresponsible.

"Then where is it?" she asked more softly.

He took his phone from the inside pocket of his suit jacket – that guy and his suits, honestly – and pushed on one single button before he answered. "Coming right up."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, so, basically, what do you want from me?"

"I gotta bring the kiddo back to New-York in a couple o' days, just wondered if we could crash here until then."

Her brow furrowed at that. "You couldn't go to Magda's?"

He shook his head with another chuckle. "Nah, Mum's in L.A. doing some stuff and forbid me to bring a stray kid into her home."

They both laughed at that, because it was typically something that Deck's mother would say. Emma then thought of the matriarch's earlier call, the one she had prematurely ended because of Magdalene's son's appearance. Emma wondered briefly if she was going to ask for the same favour as Deckard, but then shook it off, thinking she just probably wanted to address the fact that she and the eldest Shaw brother would make such a perfect couple. Something Magda had been endlessly doing for the past eleven years.

There was a knock on the door, and Emma turned to her old friend once more, by then realising that a baby could not take four flights of stairs on its own. "Who's there with you?"

Deckard's smile turned a bit tentative. "My…brother?"

Emma let out a huff of surprise. "The same brother who refused to meet me because I was "just another gal from the army"?"

Deck moved to the front door to open it and shrugged. "Yeah, maybe."

He let his brother in and the unmistakeable coo of a young child suddenly awoke the whole place. A smile appeared on Emma's lips when she saw her old friend carefully take the baby seat from the other's man's grasp and greet his charge as if it was his own offspring.

"And how are ya little man? Fancy a bit more music do ya?" She noticed the pair of headphones on the small boy's head – he was ridiculously cute, she was already doomed – and then the echo of something suspiciously familiar reached her ears.

She approached the baby carefully and eyed her friend with a smirk. "Chipmunks, seriously, Deck? You made my life a living hell with those little monsters."

"Don't be daft," he countered, "Alvin always brings joy in the world."

She shook her head before greeting their charge. "Hi there. I'm Emma. And who are you?"

"Doesn't have a name," then came the voice of her third guest.

Emma had been purposely avoiding sight of Deckard's brother, still bitter about the rude way he had treated her ever since she met his brother. She had been invited to birthday parties, hell, even to Magda's fourth and fifth marriages, and the youngest Shaw had always made sure not to be around when she was. She had even ignored the photos Magda threw into her face at various occurrences, disinterested as she was to know what the man looked like. He had wounded her pride far too much to deserve her attention.

Arse.

When she turned around to face him and give him a piece of her mind, though, the first thing that registered in her mind was 'Damn, he's gorgeous', before she realised she was staring. But, to be fair, he was gorgeous, in a much different way than his older brother's virile handsomeness. Owen had grey-blue eyes, a chiselled jaw dusted with dark hair, a mop of the same colour tousled on top of his head, and the highlight of her day, burn scars that littered the left side of his face and gave him the look of an adventurous man.

Damn. He was so her type.

"Hi," she still managed to hiss. "Owen, right? The guy who didn't want to meet me?"

He had the decency of wincing at that, and she wondered if someone could actually change. She had heard so many things about that guy, about what he had done, about how many he had killed. And there he was, looking like a battered puppy.

"Yeah, sorry about that. And thanks for letting me stay."

She tilted her head to the side, smirking in Deck's direction. "I agreed for the kid, not for you guys."

"C'mon now, Ems, I know ya have two guest rooms, don't be a prick." Deckard shook off his jacket as if he'd lived there for ages – which he had, once upon a time – and Emma sighed in defeat.

"Alright. But you are cooking," she pointed at her friend, who shrugged with another toothy smile. He was a talented cook, after all. Emma then moved towards the baby, and back to her adult guests. "I hope you brought paraphernalia. 'Cause I don't sprout diapers out of thin air." She chuckled at the look of horror on Owen's face, and made her way to the second and third bedrooms of her flat, to prepare the beds.

She made sure Owen's room was the farthest from hers.

No other reason than to make sure the baby sleeping with her wouldn't disturb him. She had a feeling he was not fond of the kid. And she was willing to discover why.

No other reason than that…