Mr & Mrs Shaw

A Typical Day in the Shaw Household

"Fuck!" Deckard swore as he ducked for cover behind a cement pillar.

"You good. Decks?" his wife called as she was hidden behind the adjacent pillar, the only difference being that she still had both guns in her hand. She peeked around the side of her pillar as she got off two shots at the small motorcade of guards that were chasing them after they'd just broken in and stolen some uranium to prevent some evil assholes from making nuclear warheads.

"I'm fine! It's just a graze!" he called back after assessing the now bleeding gash in his left bicep. Oh well, another scar to add to the collection. Katrina found his scars a turn-on anyway.

"What do you mean 'just a graze'? What grazed you?!" she screamed at him as she ducked from the splatter of concrete dust.

"What the hell do you think, Kats?" he fired at her before firing the few bullets he had left in his magazine.

"I don't appreciate the tone or the attitude, Deckard Shaw!"

"Oh, save the mothering for our daughter and not when we're fighting for our lives when we're already running late as it is!"

"You don't tell me what to do! And we're always fighting for our lives. Whether it's against each other or against these assholes!" Katrina pulled the ring of a grenade out with her teeth before throwing it in the general direction behind the pillar. "And we're not going to be late! We'll make it."

"If we're fighting, can it be against these assholes?!" he asked as the ticking of the grenade got louder.

They weren't really in a fight. Katrina's hormones just seemed to be all out of whack after she'd given birth, even years after. It just seemed to be a lot easier to make her mad, especially if you brought Olivia into it. As for Deckard, he just happened to match whatever mood she was in - most of the time. Sometimes, on rare occasions, he was able to see past it and remain calm until her mood swings subsided, but times like now were not one of those times. He couldn't really be blamed though as he was being shot at.

The grenade came sliding back along the floor, stopping directly between their two hiding spots as their eyes met.

"Oh, it's so against these assholes," she agreed.

"GO!" Deckard screeched before they went sprinting through the concrete structure and to a small dividing wall. They both crashed into each other as Deckard hugged her head to his chest, covering it with his hands as they hunkered down.

The explosion shook the entire building as the concrete started cracking and dust started pouring down.

They took a second to just breathe as they held each other, Deckard's hands cupping her face. "You ok? Kats? You good?"

She nodded dizzily. "I'm ok. You?"

"It feels like a minor concussion," he murmured as her vision still came into focus.

"Concussion?!"

"Relax, darling. I've had worse," he reminded her as he peered around the wall just to duck back behind it as gunshots rattled off the back of it, the metal mushrooms wedging themselves into the wall. "I'm empty."

"I've got three knives, two clips and one grenade left."

"No partridge in a pairtree?"

She smacked his arm. "Be serious!" she chastised. "This is no time for childish rhymes."

He just grinned at her as if they weren't pinned down and seriously late. "We're never gonna make it to the exfil point. And if they flank us, then we definitely ain't making it to the exfil point."