Alya had been given a very high position as one of the head researchers at Manchester University, and Owen had (somehow) managed to be put in charge of a climbing centre. Since both of them had pretty demanding jobs, Alya moreso, it was impossible for them to leave their house for more than an overnight trip.

That made visiting either set of grandparents a problem.

Luckily for Alya, her parents were relatively close enough to visit them instead.

Jemma rang the doorbell, and it only took a few seconds before a tiny muffled voice could be heard from inside.

"Ding dong! Ding dong! Mama, ding dong!"

Then there was some shushing, and the door opened to reveal a slightly disheveled Alya trying to pull a very hyper Deke off her trouser leg.

"Hi Mum, hi Dad. Come- Deke, get off- come in."

"Hello!" Jemma and Fitz greeted simultaneously, walking inside. Though it wasn't raining (yet), the sky looked like it could open up at any moment and it was a relief to get inside.

Owen greeted them from the top of the stairs. "Hi Mr and Mrs F."

Deke ran towards the bottom of the stairway and stared up at his father. "Daddy! Daddy, ding dong! Ding dong!"

"The stupid doorbell's over, Deke!" Owen shouted, startling Fitz and Jemma. "If you're not gonna calm down then get the hell out of the house! We're trying to work!"

Alya sighed and rubbed her temple. Deke's face fell and his bottom lip began to wobble. Jemma looked confused. Fitz glared at Owen.

"What was that for?!" He exclaimed. "He's just excited to see us. Don't blame him for that!"

Owen began to descend the stairs. "Yeah but you don't have to live with this demon, do you?! All day, all day he's been screaming at us. We're providing for him, and he doesn't even let us work or at least give us some peace."

"Calm down, honey." Alya sighed. "Go carry on with your reports. I'll look after Deke."

Owen glared at his dejected son for a few moments, before disappearing into his office, slamming the door behind him.

"Sorry about him," Alya apologised, "he's been trying to get a loan for the centre, he's really stressed out. We both are."

"That's alright." Jemma said, but her voice betrayed her slight uneasiness. "We all get stressed sometimes. Your father more times than others."

"Hey!" Declared Fitz. "That's not true!"

"You still shouldn't take it out on Baby Deke, though." Jemma scolded, searching the hallway for said boy. "Where is he, anyway?"

Alya's expression hardened. "He's found a little corner between the sofas. He tends to go there whenever one of us shouts at him to sulk, but it's usually Owen." She smiled sadly. "He's even started to stash little trinkets there."

"Can I go talk to him?" Asked Jemma, and Alya agreed.

She found him sniffling exactly where Alya had said. In a little cranny between two sofas, big enough only to fit a three-year-old. Deke looked up at her with wide, wet green eyes and shrunk away.

"It's just Nana, darling." Jemma cooed, peering down at him. "Are you feeling a little bit sad?"

He nodded.

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" She told him, offering a hand to help him climb out. He climbed out without her help.

"Good boy. Now, what do we say?"

"Sowwy."

"Not to me, silly!" Jemma laughed. "I meant your mama."

He fidgeted with his t-shirt. "Oh, Mummy?" He dragged himself over to where Alya and Fitz had entered the room. "Sowwy Mama."

Alya smiled and lifted her son into her arms to hug him. "That's fine, sweetie. Just try and listen in one go, okay?"

"Oh-tay."

Jemma's heart warmed at the sight, but then her mind clicked on to what exactly had just happened. She turned to her husband. "Wait, did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Asked Fitz.

With a sudden determination, Jemma pointed at Alya. "Baby Deke, who's this?"

Deke's face brightened at the easy question. "Mama! Mummy!"

Fitz was still confused. "What?"

She laughed in disbelief. "He has a British accent!"

"Of course he does." Said Alya. "Did you think he was more of a Daddy's boy? No way."

"Hold on, you're right." Fitz said, his eyes widening. He scoffed. "He has an English accent, of all things."

It was Alya's turn to look confused. "What are you talking about? Why- oh, was the other Deke American or something?"

She had the humility to seem guilty when both of her parents flinched.

"He did." Informed Jemma. "But our Baby Deke? He's British. He's ours."

Jemma stroked her grandson's spiky brown hair. Deke just continued to tug at his Mummy's ear.